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The Vanishing Thief(31)

By: Kate Parker


I took a gulp of wine to wash the panic out of my voice. Hoping I didn’t sound like a fool, I asked, “What interests do you share with Mr. Drake?”

“We both love a good practical joke. Drake has such a keen sense of humor. We both play cards, although I play badly. And we both like horse racing and horse trading. He’s supposed to be looking for a new filly for my stables.”

“You breed horses?”

“Yes.” He started on a long story about horse breeding at his stables. All I needed to do was make appropriate noises at the correct moments and Naylard provided the rest of the conversation. Now I had the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop on other conversations around the table.

My interest quickly waned in Lord Hancock trying to sell shares in his latest weaponry to Lady Westover, and Inspector Grantham’s increasingly forceful refusals on her behalf. I turned my attention to studying Blackford. His voice was a deep hum in answer to Miss Daisy’s chatter. He ate neatly and sparingly. I dared not look at him directly, but I could glance in his direction as I sipped from my soup spoon. His jacket sleeve was made of the finest black material and his cuff link was a bloodred ruby.

I swallowed the last of my now-lukewarm soup and turned my attention back to Naylard just in time. A moment later, he finished his tale about his barns with “Don’t you think?”

Giving him my best smile, I said, “I’m afraid I’m not an expert on raising horses, milord.”

“We’ll continue later,” he said in a soft voice as the footmen picked up the soup bowls.

When the fish was set before us, Blackford turned to me with a cold smile. The clatter of silver and the rumble of voices faded in my ears. Apprehension must have shown in my eyes because my heart was pounding and I’d lost my appetite.

In a very low voice he said, “I didn’t realize you were Lady Westover’s country cousin, Miss—Peabody. Or should I say Miss Fenchurch? Does the presence of a Scotland Yard inspector have anything to do with why we’re enjoying this meal together?”

“No.” The duke deserved a better answer. He’d not given me away yet. I kept my voice low to match his. “The inspector’s here to even the numbers and make it appear more of a family dinner. And he’s curious about Drake’s disappearance, although it’s not his case.”

“Scotland Yard inspectors don’t attend dinner parties to even the number of men and women, even for as persuasive a hostess as his grandmama, and they don’t get curious.”

“I think they must. Curiosity is the most important characteristic an investigator can possess.”

He took a bite of his fish and considered. “You’re probably right,” he said when he’d swallowed. “So what is this dinner in aid of?”

“Drake was introduced to Victoria Dutton-Cox by Lord Naylard. Lord Hancock was a victim of Drake’s. I want to question them without them realizing what I’m doing.”

He’d jerked in his seat when I mentioned Victoria’s name, but by the time I finished speaking, he had himself under control again. “That’ll be easy with Naylard. The man lacks both suspicion and brains.” He took a sip of his wine. “Do you want to question me again?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will only be fair if I question you, too.”

“All right.” What does he want? “Did Drake try to blackmail you?”

“Yes. How long have you been looking for missing people?”

I glanced around, trying to hide my surprise. I hadn’t expected the duke to admit that Drake had blackmailed him. Fortunately, no one at the dinner was paying any attention to us. “Over ten years. What did Drake possess that would make him think he could blackmail you? You’re a formidable man. He’s very ordinary.”

A smile flickered over his lips. “Letters written by my sister. I control her money; therefore, he came to me to sell his silence. Have you ever been someone’s mistress?”

I felt my eyes widen and my cheeks burn. That was hardly a question one could ask in polite society, but then, the same could be said of questions about blackmail. I thought I had the upper hand until he’d turned the tables on me. The man had the instincts of a hunter hidden inside impeccable tailoring. This was a man I could understand.

Glancing across the table, I saw Lady Westover staring at me. Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice my discomfort. I gave a half smile and turned my attention back to the duke.

He raised his dark brows. “Surely you didn’t think you could ask my deepest secrets without revealing your own?”

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. “No and no. I’m not. Did you pay his blackmail and for how long?”