Читать книгу The Gentleman Thief - Deborah Simmons, Deborah Simmons - Страница 7

Thrilled at the first true challenge to her abilities, Georgiana rose early the morning after the incident and seated herself at the rosewood writing desk in the drawing room, where she put to paper every detail she could recall of the evening and the company. Unfortunately, she had been unable to view the scene or question the principles, but she was very thankful to have been present during the actual theft.

The mystery itself was a positively splendid one, not your average crime, but obviously a well thought out and daring perpetration, and Georgiana smiled absently as she made note of that which she deemed important. The time, of course, was of interest. When had Lady Culpepper last been in the room before returning with Mrs. Higgott? And what of the servant outside the room? Had he heard nothing? Was he truly there all night, or had he left his post?

And what of the room itself? Did it open onto any others? Georgiana would dearly love to look for any clues the thief had left behind, including the jewel case itself. From what she could understand from the two women’s ramblings, the container had been left behind, despite the gems that remained inside it.

Georgiana frowned. Why steal just the necklace? Had the thief been pressed for time, or hindered by what he could carry with him? A man who scaled the exterior wall could not be hampered with a bulky parcel, but Georgiana found it difficult to believe that someone had gone to such lengths to gain entry. Perhaps the fellow had tossed up a rope, she thought. Uncertain of the logistics of that sort of thing, she vowed to ask Bertrand. And she fully intended to view the building in the daylight.

If only she could see the room itself! Something about the open jewel box sounded familiar, but, unable to place the memory, Georgiana made a quick note of it and then pulled out another sheet of foolscap upon which to name her suspects. Her hand nearly trembled with the force of her excitement, for here not only was a challenge to her skills, but an opportunity. If she could solve this puzzle and present the culprit’s name to the authorities, she might finally receive the respect she craved.

Resting her chin on a hand, Georgiana smiled dreamily as she imagined the accolades due her, especially if she managed to recover the stolen jewels! More important than praise, however, was the possibility that she could make a name for herself, and she enthusiastically pictured a future filled with investigations as people from all over the country came to consult her, Georgiana Bellewether.

Heaving a sigh of delight at such pleasant fantasies, Georgiana nevertheless turned her attention back to the task at hand, for she must first determine the identity of the man who had taken Lady Culpepper’s necklace. Although the burglar might be someone unknown to her, a member of the criminal community who had lain in wait for his chance, logic argued against it. No common cutpurse would rob a house on a night when it was filled to brimming with guests and servants.

Whoever had done the deed did not waste time ransacking other rooms, but knew just where to go to find his prize. Georgiana abruptly dropped her hand and lifted her chin as the conversation she had overheard behind the plant came to mind. She had known from their whispers that Lord Whalsey and Mr. Cheever were plotting something nefarious, but little did she imagine the two men capable of a crime of such epic proportions!

With a grim expression, Georgiana tried to copy down everything the two had said, including Mr. Cheever’s complaint that he was hampered in his efforts to “get it” by the presence of servants. Oh, it was really all too simple, Georgiana thought, and as visions of acclaim once more rose to mind, she placed Mr. Cheever and the man who hired him first upon her list.

But, as promising as the two men were, Georgiana still intended to consider all possibilities, and so she wondered just who else at the house that night might be responsible. The culprit could be a servant, she thought, though such instances were rare, and who among them during the busy party would have found time to scale the building? She wished that she might question those in Lady Culpepper’s employ in order to obtain all pertinent information.

As to the guests, Georgiana found it difficult to name too many candidates among the genteel inhabitants of Bath. Most she deemed not clever enough to pull off such a scheme, while others were too honest and bland to suddenly take up a life of crime. But as she thought of all those simple faces, Georgiana suddenly remembered the vicar and his vocal contempt for the wealthy. Frowning, she wondered if the good cleric could have managed to steal the necklace. The venom in his words had disturbed her and, without hesitation, she counted him as her second suspect.

Once more, considering everyone she had seen, Georgiana easily dismissed the dowagers, the gouty old men and the young ladies as incapable of entering and escaping through the window. No, the culprit was definitely someone agile, slender but with the strength to climb, graceful undoubtedly, and…dressed all in black?

Georgiana’s eyes narrowed as an image of Ashdowne, dark and elegant, filled her mind. Ashdowne, who seemingly appeared and disappeared at will, certainly looked as if he could do anything, including scale the side of a building, and his strength had been evident in the way he lifted her with ease off his prone body. The memory made Georgiana flush with an unwelcome heat, as did the knowledge that the handsome nobleman had reduced her to a yammering ninny.

Georgiana scowled, angry with herself and at the man who was so carelessly capable of rendering her speechless. He was up to something, and she knew it! He was far too…healthy to need the waters. Of course, his presence in Bath might well be due to a lady, Georgiana realized with an odd surge of disappointment. All too often, gentlemen of the ton dallied with wives, widows and other available females. But somehow Georgiana had expected more from the possessor of those startlingly intelligent eyes.

And as she considered the women who had been in attendance last night, Georgiana was hard-pressed to come up with viable candidates. To her mind, the ladies present did not look worth the effort, but she was not a man, and everyone knew that their thoughts were unpredictable, at best. Georgiana had seen Ashdowne with the widow, but she had gone on to dance with others, while he was nowhere to be seen. As usual. And in the end, it was his unexplained disappearances that convinced Georgiana to add his name to the list of suspects with a flourish.

Although she had no liking for Mr. Nichols or any of her other admirers, in all good conscience, Georgiana could not include them, for none seemed to possess the wherewithal for so daring a burglary. And even should she have misjudged them, according to Bertrand, the young bucks were congregated in the card room during the time of the robbery, engaged in some sort of wagering. She had questioned her brother thoroughly and accounted for those few young men who might have the necessary agility.

Which left very few suspects. Of course, it was possible that the burglar was someone outside the party, abetted by a knowledgeable insider, a prospect that Georgiana found most frustrating. She was simply going to have to obtain the names of all the guests and talk to the servants—and to Lady Culpepper herself.

Putting aside her list of suspects, Georgiana swiftly penned a note to the lady, begging to call upon her as soon as possible concerning a matter of gravest importance. She decided to send a servant round this very morning with the message, for the sooner she gathered her information, the better the chance of retrieving the stolen gems.

Although the theft had been brilliantly executed, Georgiana did not doubt her own abilities, and she envisioned a swift resolution to the mystery. Mr. Cheever’s pinched features rose in her mind only to dangle there uncertainly, for somehow he did not appear capable of such cleverness. Indeed, as much as she tried to fight it, Georgiana felt an unwitting admiration for the culprit. Here, at last, was someone worthy of her own talents. She sighed and sank her chin onto one hand.

It was simply her ill luck that he was a criminal.

After waiting impatiently throughout the morning, Georgiana finally received a response to her missive, and, hurrying off to avoid her sisters, she arrived at Lady Culpepper’s elegant home shortly after noon. There she was shown into a salon, where the hostess was seated upon an elegant wing chair, a luncheon tray on the table beside her.

“Come in, young lady!” the older woman called in a shrill voice, and Georgiana stepped forward into the lavishly appointed room, with its carved white marble chimneypiece and cut-glass chandelier. The furnishings looked much as they had last night, but Lady Culpepper appeared far older in the daylight that streamed in through the tall windows.

Georgiana felt the noblewoman’s assessing gaze upon her as she took a seat. “Thank you for seeing me, my lady,” she began politely, only to be met with a sour expression.

“And well you should be grateful,” Lady Culpepper said. “I have refused all callers today, as befitting my distraught condition. So tell me, what is this matter of grave importance you have to discuss? Do you know anything about my necklace?” Georgiana nodded, and the older woman leaned forward, one bony hand clutching the mahogany edge of the chair. Her eyes glittered shrewdly, and Georgiana realized that Lady Culpepper was no fool.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

“I have reviewed the incident with the information at my disposal and have narrowed down the suspects to a likely few,” Georgiana answered. At Lady Culpepper’s odd look, she added, “I consider myself most adept at the solving of mysteries and hope to come to a definite conclusion soon. However, I would like to speak with the servants, if I may, and ask you a few questions.”

“Who are you?” Lady Culpepper demanded.

“Georgiana Bellewether, my lady,” she answered, wondering if the woman was forgetful. If so, that might put a different slant on the case, making it more difficult to ascertain the time of the theft.

“A nobody!” Lady Culpepper said in an imperious tone. “Just what makes you think you can barge in here—”

“But you invited me, my lady,” Georgiana protested, earning a rebuking glance for her interruption.

“You, young lady, are impertinent! I agreed to see you because I thought you knew something about my stolen necklace!”

“But I do!” Georgiana said. “I can help you, if—”

“Bah! The help of a silly girl who thinks she knows more than her superiors!”

“I assure you that my abilities are quite well-known at home, though here in Bath—”

“Home! A tiny village of no importance, I am sure!” Lady Culpepper sniffed, and Georgiana decided another tack was called for at once.

“What have you to lose, my lady?” she asked. “I want no reward, but only wish to assist you as well as I may.”

A look of avarice flashed in the older woman’s eyes at the mention of a reward. “And you will most certainly have none,” she confirmed. A moment passed in which Georgiana met her glare impassively, and finally Lady Culpepper sniffed, her chin held high. “Very well. Ask your questions, but quickly, for I have more important matters demanding my attention than to indulge the whims of every silly girl in Bath.”

In the few minutes that Lady Culpepper allotted her, Georgiana discovered that the jewel case had been found open, its other contents left intact. The door was locked, and the servant stationed to watch it swore that none had entered.

“And why did you set the servant to guard your room? Does he do so at all times or only during entertainments at your home?” Georgiana asked.

Lady Culpepper appeared startled by the question, then she lifted her chin to look down her nose at Georgiana. “That, young lady, is none of your affair. Enough of these questions!”

“But, my lady!” Georgian protested. Unfortunately, all her efforts to see the premises were met with haughty refusals, as were her requests to talk to the servants, while Lady Culpepper grew increasingly short-tempered.

For her part, Georgiana was unimpressed with the noblewoman. The more she spoke, the more Lady Culpepper resembled a fishwife, and Georgiana wondered about her antecedents. Biting back a sigh, she persevered as best she could. “Can you think of any servant or guest at the party who would do such a thing?” Georgiana asked.

“Certainly not!” Lady Culpepper answered. “One hopes that none of one’s acquaintances is a foul criminal! Of course, this is Bath, not London, and it is no less than what I deserve for opening my home to the ill-bred rabble that frequent this city. I assure you that as soon as I have my jewels back, I will be returning to London, where I am far more selective in my invitations.”

Georgiana refrained from mentioning the higher incidence of theft in the more notorious city, but nodded in a placating manner before continuing. “You have no enemies or those who might seek to target you in particular?”

Georgiana noted the sudden paling of the older woman’s face with interest. Whether Lady Culpepper was angered by the very suggestion of malice or by the truth of it, Georgiana could not tell. “Begone with you, child! I have wasted enough of my time with this nonsense!” she said, her tone brooking no opposition.

With a wave of dismissal, Lady Culpepper called for the butler to show Georgiana out, and there was nothing to do but thank the ungracious woman for her time. As Georgiana took her leave, she could not help feeling dissatisfied. She was struck by the uncharitable notion that the obnoxious woman deserved to have her jewels stolen, but firmly quelled such thoughts, for it would not do to let emotions color her investigation.

Once outside, Georgiana told the startled butler that she was going to have a look around the grounds and walked into her ladyship’s garden without a qualm, leaving him sputtering on the doorstep. She made her way slowly to the rear of the building, where she stood staring up at the reported locations of the bedroom windows. The view was much better in the daylight, and Georgiana noticed an arched pediment that curved above them—as well as upon the windows below.

Blinking at the sight, she wondered if, instead of scaling the side of the building, the culprit had simply slipped into another room and out onto the pediment to climb inside Lady Culpepper’s bedroom. The footing for such a feat looked quite precarious, and Georgiana’s heart began hammering fitfully at the idea, for she did not like heights in the slightest. However, an agile man who was unafraid and trained in such dexterous movements might well—”Harrying the plants again?”

Georgiana was so lost in thought that the abrupt sound of a caustic voice close by startled her and she whirled around, sending her reticule swinging wildly. It connected quite firmly with the form of a man she had not realized had come to stand behind her.

“Oomph!” he said, laying a hand upon his patterned silk waistcoat. “What do you have in there, rocks?”

Georgiana’s gaze flew from the slender gloved fingers to the handsome face, where one black eyebrow climbed upward, and she blinked in horror. “Ashdowne! I mean, my lord! I beg your pardon!”

The marquis’s beautiful mouth turned down at the corners as he smoothed the elegant material, drawing Georgiana’s attention across his broad shoulders and wide chest to his flat abdomen. The sight seemed to make her own far more rounded stomach dip and pitch, and with effort, Georgiana tore her gaze away and back to his face. “What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.

The black brow lifted again, above eyes brimming with distaste. It was a look Georgiana recognized from the night before, and once more she felt like an insect that the marquis found particularly annoying. While she stared, he tilted his head to the side as if to better study the strange specimen that was she.

“I’ve come to offer Lady Culpepper my condolences, of course,” he said, his tone implying that his movements and their cause were none of her business. “And you?” he asked, glancing rather pointedly toward the side of the building that had so occupied her interest.

“Yes, I was just doing that myself,” she muttered, trying to marshal her wits. If Ashdowne had been attractive at night, dressed all in black and moving at one with the shadows, he was startlingly so in the daylight, the sun catching the even contours of his face and glinting upon his golden skin. His dark lashes were thick and lustrous, his blue eyes so vivid that they stole Georgiana’s breath, and that mouth…

When she found her gaze lingering, Georgiana wrenched it away to look down at her toes. If the simple sight of the man wrought such havoc with her senses, then she would do better to inspect the ground at her feet, she decided with some aggravation.

“Ah,” Ashdowne said in a voice that told her he did not believe her explanation for an instant but was too much of a gentleman to argue. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, Miss—”

“Bellewether,” Georgiana said, relieved to find speech much easier when she had no real view of the marquis. “I, uh, should beg your pardon for, uh, knocking you down last night.”

“I must say, I think a potted plant hardly the place for an assignation,” Ashdowne said, and Georgiana’s gaze flew to his face.

“Oh! I was not…” As the words left her mouth, Georgiana realized her mistake. Just one glance at those lips and already she was becoming stupid! Fighting back a snort of disgust, she turned toward the flowering shrubs that carved pathways through the rear of the property and lifted her chin.

“I was not meeting anyone,” Georgiana declared. When silence met her protest, she frowned. “Actually, I was listening and learning, a habit of mine, you might say, for you never know what interesting things you can discover.”

“Ah, gossip,” Ashdowne said in a tone of dismissal.

Georgiana stared at his neck cloth, determined to be able to speak to the man without swooning. “I am not concerned with rumor or innuendo, but facts only—facts, in this case, pertinent to the events of last night,” she said. “You see, I have a knack for solving mysteries, my lord, and I intend to lend my talents to the resolution of the theft that occurred here yesterday evening.”

Georgiana looked up in challenge, but Ashdowne’s expression was unreadable. He neither scoffed at her declaration, nor did he appear particularly threatened, and she had to stifle a surge of disappointment that her bold words did not result in his immediate confession to any number of misdeeds. He only tilted his head, as if to study her in that way of his which she found vastly insulting.

“And just how do you intend to do that?” he asked. His lovely lips curled wryly, and Georgiana suspected he was laughing at her. Unfortunately, it was an attitude with which she was more than familiar.

It was the curse of her appearance. If only she looked like Hortense Bingley, the spinster who haunted the lending library at Upwick, or Miss Mucklebone, a bluestocking who wore thick glasses and was known to brandish her cane at tart-tongued youngsters. Once, during her schoolroom years, Georgiana had borrowed a pair of spectacles from a classmate in an effort to be taken more seriously, but her parents had put a stop to that immediately upon her return home. And so she had to bear the scorn of those who took her at face value, including, apparently, the marquis.

“I intend to discover the culprit through simple reasoning, my lord,” Georgiana said, tossing her curls. She was so annoyed that she managed to eye him directly without feeling anything except contempt. “By studying the facts, eliminating all but the most probable of possibilities, and drawing a conclusion.” With a curt nod, Georgiana begin moving. “And now, if you will excuse me, I must be on my way. Good day, my lord.”

“Don’t hurry away,” Ashdowne said, and to Georgiana’s consternation, he fell into step beside her. “I find your comments most fascinating. Please tell me more.”

A sidelong glance at his restrained expression told Georgiana that he did not believe her capable of doing what she claimed. Few men did, but somehow his skepticism riled her more than usual. If he had so little faith in her abilities, why was he pretending interest? Georgiana scowled suspiciously. “I hardly think so,” she murmured, keeping to her pace.

“But I find these methods you spoke of most interesting,” he said. His blue eyes were suddenly intense as they met her own. To Georgiana’s relief, they had reached the front of house, where Ashdowne presumably was headed to make his call, and she seized the opportunity to escape that intent scrutiny.

“I fear I must be on my way, my lord. Perhaps another time,” she murmured, her hand trembling as it found the gate. And then, aware that she was acting rather rudely, but resentful of the way he seemed to be toying with her, Georgiana slipped away without a backward glance. As she hurried onto the street, she heard no steps behind her to indicate the marquis’s entrance into the house, and it took all of her will not to turn around to verify the speculative gaze she sensed was upon her.

It was only when she had reached the corner that Georgiana realized she had once more let pass a golden opportunity to question the man. Fast upon the heels of that discovery came selfcensure. Never before had she behaved like such a pea-goose with someone! Ashdowne, it seemed, had a most peculiar effect upon her.

The knowledge was decidedly lowering.

Georgiana stood in the Pump Room surveying the crowd and leaning on one foot in an effort to rouse her weary limbs. She felt as though she had been waiting here forever, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lord Whalsey, who usually made an afternoon visit. Indeed, everyone appeared at the social hub of the city sooner or later, on a daily basis, more often than not.

At least that’s what Georgiana told herself to strengthen a resolve that was sadly slipping. Although Whalsey would be wise to conduct himself in his accustomed manner, she knew that he might even now be racing toward London with his booty. It was a discouraging thought, for how was she to follow? Again Georgiana cursed the limits of her gender, which prevented her from pursuing her prime suspect wherever he might go.

Unfortunately, she could only look for him in the Pump Room, and she had to admit that she was becoming weary of her watch. Her sisters had long ago left for a walk in the Crescent and her other acquaintances dispersed to hillside climbs or carriage rides. Only Bertrand, content to do nothing, lounged in a corner chatting to a couple of young men she had tried her best to discourage.

Georgiana was able to turn them aside more easily than usual today because they, along with everyone else, were occupied with discussion of the theft, including wild conjectures as to the culprit. She had listened to the speculation with some impatience, for rumors were growing apace. Most of the dowagers were certain a group of ruffians had moved to Bath to terrorize the town, and it was all Georgiana could do not to scream in exasperation at such nonsense.

The theft was not the work of a gang, but one man alone, Georgiana thought, shifting to her other foot. A vision of Ashdowne as he had been last night, all in black, swam before her, and she dismissed it. Although he was certainly suspicious, she was here to concentrate on Whalsey and his cohort, who were the most likely candidates.

Blinking, she searched the room once again, and her hours of vigilance were rewarded when she caught a glimpse of the viscount. He moved through the crowd, greeting his favorites among the middle-aged widows, before finally settling down with a serving of the odoriferous water for which Bath was famous.

“Lord Whalsey! Good afternoon!” Georgiana said, stepping forward boldly. They had been introduced briefly a few days before, but she saw no recognition in his eyes, only a spark of interest as they focused eagerly on her bosom. Hiding her annoyance, Georgiana forced a smile. “I did not see you leave the ball last night. Did you depart early?”

The inquiry, innocent though it was, made Whalsey start, and his gaze moved up to her face in what could only be described as a most anxious manner. Georgiana felt a surge of triumph rush through her, though she held it firmly in check. “And what of the fellow who was with you? Mr. Cheever, wasn’t it?”

Whalsey, his mouth working silently, looked guilty as sin, and Georgiana wondered just how swiftly she could bring him to justice. “Look here, Miss…Miss…”

“Bellewether,” Georgiana answered with a confident smile. “You two seemed to be discussing something frightfully important, and I was wondering if—”

He cut her off with a choked sound, his face growing red and mottled. “I hardly think—”

“Did you accomplish all that you intended?”

With an alarmed expression, Whalsey rose to his feet. So eager was he to escape her probing that his hand swung from his side, knocking over the cup and sending the contents splashing up the front of Georgiana’s muslin gown. Shocked by the dash of hot water, she stepped back only to come up against a stand used by the orchestra.

For a brief moment, Georgiana teetered there before losing her balance entirely and crashing backward, taking the support with her. It struck the violinist, who fell into one of his fellows, and before long the musicians were all collapsing into each other like a set of dominoes. After a series of loud, wailing screeches that accompanied their downfall, the music came to an abrupt halt and silence descended as every head in the Pump Room turned toward Georgiana.

Her skirts entangled with the stand and one arm stuck through the bow of the violinist, Georgiana watched dejectedly as Lord Whalsey made a hasty escape. Blowing out a breath to dislodge the curl that had fallen across her face, she blinked when a gloved hand appeared before her. Glancing upward, she felt an odd sense of disorientation at the sight of Ashdowne, tall and handsome and collected, leaning over her.

“You, Miss Bellewether, are dangerous,” he said with a wary scowl. Nonetheless, he pulled her to her feet just as easily as he had the other night, and one look from him had the musicians rising without complaint to continue their concert. As if by decree, the other visitors turned back to their conversations, and Georgiana could only gape in wonder at a man who could wield such heady influence.

“Thank you. Again,” Georgiana mumbled as he led her away from the orchestra. “You have come to my rescue more than once.”

“I admit, Miss Bellewether, that you appear to have a penchant for mishaps, and I count it my ill fortune to be in the vicinity,” he noted with a wry grimace.

Was that an insult? Georgiana wondered as she struggled to discreetly pull the wet material of her bodice away from her chest. Although dampened muslin was rumored to be all the rage among the more daring London ladies, she had no desire to display her body so unerringly beneath the clinging fabric.

From somewhere, Ashdowne produced a shawl, which he dropped over her shoulders, but not before his blue gaze traveled the length of the front of her in a rather stimulating perusal that caused the tips of her breasts to stiffen in response. Curious. Plenty of other men had stared at her bosom without causing such a reaction, Georgiana thought, wrapping the shawl around her tightly.

It was a measure of her own flustered state that she did not note where Ashdowne had obtained the garment or that she did not find his rather intimate study annoying. Indeed, she knew a strange sort of thrill to have attracted his attention in that manner, which was only fair considering that the very sight of him usually reduced her to an unparalleled state of idiocy.

Ashdowne, however, looked none the worse for his brief display of interest. His expression was that of a man wearied beyond endurance, and Georgiana began feeling like a bug again. If only she could actually sprout wings and fly away…

“I suspect these disasters are all part and parcel of your unusual…pursuits, but I’m beginning to think that you need someone to keep you out of mischief,” he said.

Georgiana blinked. Surely a marquis would not bother himself to complain to her father about her? Nor, as far as she knew, were there any laws against accidents such as the one that had just taken place.

What could the man possibly do to her? Georgiana wondered. But then he smiled, his elegant lips moving into a positively decadent curve that well answered her question. Anything he wants, she thought with the last of her wits.

“And since I seem to be the one most affected by your antics, perhaps I should apply for that position,” he said, stunning her speechless.