The Vanishing Thief(52)
I hoped I’d find out what happened to Lady Merville shortly. “One other thing has occurred. Emma and I have received invitations to the Duke of Arlington’s masked ball.”
Lady Westover gave me her full attention again. “Really? How did you arrange that?”
“The Duke of Blackford gave them to us with instructions to let him know what our costumes would be.”
Her teacup stopped halfway to her mouth. “How very odd. What is he up to?”
“I think he hopes to set something up so we can learn more about Drake’s blackmailing and who is most likely to have abducted him.”
“Blackford? Being helpful? I should hope not. Next you’ll see the queen frolicking in Hyde Park.” She took a sip of tea, her eyes sparkling at the image.
Lady Westover’s irreverent humor was one of the things I liked best about her. However, she raised a question I hadn’t wanted to delve into too deeply. What was Blackford up to, and why was he helping us?
I finished the delicate fish paste sandwich I was eating and admitted, “I can’t see any reason for him to go to the trouble of obtaining invitations for us if he weren’t planning on helping us.”
“Oh, my child, can’t you see? He’s not going to help you, he’s going to use you. Emma’s quite handy with a knife, but we must think about how you will protect yourself.”
*
I WAS MAKING my sixth slow passage around the edge of the winter-blighted park in Portman Square, cursing the tardiness of the anonymous letter writer, when the lady in green with a green parasol decorated with bows approached me at a steady pace. She was matronly, a hat topped with flowers and birds sat on hair liberally streaked with gray, and she was accompanied by a hatchet-faced young woman I took to be her companion or lady’s maid.
There were a few women strolling and plenty of children playing under the watchful eye of their nurses, but I was the only one in the park with a daffodil stuck over my left brow. The scent was already starting to fade from the flower and I knew it would soon droop. I’d set my hat back at a jaunty angle so the bloom could be seen, and as a result, I feared my straw boater would soon slide off my hair or pull a large chunk of my coiffure out of my scalp.
The woman slowed as she approached me. “I like your flower. One of the first harbingers of spring.”
“It cheered me no end.”
She came to a stop, the other woman hovering behind her. The fine fabric of her clothes and her well-fed, buxomly figure alone weren’t enough to tell me she was the wife of a duke. But when I added in her upper-class accent and the patience of her warmly dressed, well-shod companion, the signs said this was a member of the aristocracy. “Do you think spring is finally here?”
“I’ve been noticing buds on all the trees and there are hyacinths in the center of the park.” I wondered how long we’d be discussing the weather before she decided to trust me.
“Please show me. Helen, you may wait for me on that bench.”
We took a few steps into the park, the maid settling onto the bench, before I released the breath I’d been holding. “I’m Miss Georgia Peabody.”
“Mrs. Watkins.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Watkins.” I’d used a false identity. I was surprised she used something I could check as easily as the Merville family name.
“I expect a high level of discretion from associates of Sir Broderick duVene.”
“The Archivist Society prides itself on its silence. Which makes me wonder how you found out about us and our investigation.”
“The Archivist Society has performed a number of services for members of our class. If someone needs something . . . corrected, a few discreet inquiries will get them the name and address of Sir Broderick and the Archivist Society. Blackford told me about your inquiry. I need your silence because this blackmail has to stop without starting gossip.”
“Nicholas Drake is blackmailing you rather than your husband?”
She nodded. “I assume you don’t have children.” She lowered her voice more as we walked through the park. The children running past showed no interest in us as anything but an obstacle.
“No, ma’am.”
“The world believes I have four, but in truth, I have five.”
My surprise slowed my speech and my steps.
She gave me a sharp look. “Come now. You must have met women before who had to hide, ah, an unusual child.”
“Yes. Yes, I have. And I think it must be difficult for the mother to have to hide one child and show off the others.”
She turned soft brown eyes toward me, eyes growing moist as she spoke. “But that child can’t go out in society. He, and his entire family, would be ridiculed.”