The Vanishing Thief(105)

I probably hadn’t missed too many customers. And I did want to see this investigation finished. Perhaps I just wanted to make certain Drake left the country if he wasn’t going to be prosecuted for his crimes. Spending a little more time with the duke was a bonus I hadn’t planned on. “Yes, thank you, Your Grace. And you may call me Georgia.”

“Call me Blackford.” The hair at the nape of his neck seemed to be curling in a most beguiling fashion. I’d taken my gloves off to comfort Emma and Dominique, and without thinking I reached out to touch his curls and discover if they were as soft as they looked. They were wringing wet. His collar was soaked. Blackford may have appeared indifferent while we’d faced Hancock, but he’d broken out in a sweat. No doubt he was as frightened as I was.

He pulled away with a shocked look. When I continued to study his face, he gave me a fleeting smile before setting his expression into one of ducal disdain.

I shoved my surprise away and focused on the problem at hand. “All right, Blackford. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell society Drake had been your stable boy and why you’re letting him leave the country. His blackmail has had terrible consequences.”

The duke’s eyes proclaimed his honesty as he said, “I gave him my word as part of the deal to obtain his blackmail material, all his blackmail material, that I’d help him start a new life. I don’t go back on my word.”

“That was a terrible promise, Your Grace.”

“It was his condition for exchanging his blackmail papers for pounds, and he made me promise, knowing I don’t go back on my word.”

We gathered Emma and Sumner and climbed into the duke’s carriage. This time I was slightly more graceful about it. I decided I was getting too much practice.

Emma spent the ride fixing her hair, which had been mussed while she was tied up. Sumner sat across from her, staring with naked devotion in his eyes. I looked from him to the duke, caught Blackford’s eye, and grinned as I nodded toward the other couple. He nodded solemnly.

We rode to Waterloo Station and easily found the Drakes. They were outside the station watching a porter load their luggage onto a cart to move it to the train. We climbed down to join them.

Immediately, Lord Naylard and his sister arrived, followed by Inspector Grantham with the finely dressed young Viscount Dalrymple and his wife. All of them appeared angry, and Viscount Dalrymple, standing beside the inspector, looked as if he would strike Drake. I stared at the group, trying to puzzle out why all these people were there to see off their blackmailer and his wife.

Sumner and the duke shifted slightly to fence the Drakes in on one side while a couple of constables took up positions behind them.

Drake forced a smile and said, “What is this?”

“Is this the man?” Inspector Grantham asked.

“Yes,” Miss Lucinda Naylard said.

“That’s the cur,” the viscount responded, his hands in fists.

“Nicholas Drake,” Grantham began, “I am arresting you on suspicion of blackmail.”

“What?” Drake swung toward Blackford. “You promised.”

“I promised I wouldn’t press charges. But these honest citizens, once they received their stolen papers, have elected to press charges. The Earl of Waxpool has pressed charges in writing, since his health doesn’t permit him to point you out to the law in person.” Blackford smiled broadly.

“What? You can’t!” Drake shouted as two bobbies fitted him with handcuffs. “I’ll tell. I’ll tell the papers!” he bellowed as he struggled against the policemen leading him away to a police carriage with bars and locks on the double doors on the back. “You’ll be sorry, Blackford.”

Anne Drake broke down and sobbed.

Blackford moved next to her. “You can go to Canada without him. You can go back to Blackford village. Or you can stay in his house in London and wait for him. Let me know when you make up your mind and I’ll assist you. In the meantime, you have the money I gave him last night in exchange for the letters he stole.”

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face, and nodded. He squeezed her hand and then turned away to assist me into the carriage.

The four of us took the same seats as before and the driver took off at Blackford’s signal.

“You need to answer some questions, Your Grace,” I said.

“And those are?”

“When did you find out about Viscount Dalrymple? He’s not a member of your club, is he?”

“Yes, he is. Before they married, his wife, Elizabeth, wrote Drake some foolish letters. Her parents, the Dutton-Coxes, paid Drake off, but her husband refused. Until last night, the viscount had avoided a private meeting with Drake so he was saved from knowing his wife was the one who wrote the letters Drake held. Once he read them, he was pleased to receive the letters in return for pressing charges. I don’t believe Elizabeth was as happy to have those letters in her husband’s hands.”