The Vanishing Thief(55)

“Drake told me what he saw that day. Now that he’s missing, I’m willing to keep silent. For a price.”

His eyes welled up with tears. “Then he saw more than I did. I lost my daughter at what should have been the happiest time of her life. Now I’m losing my wife to her grief, and we don’t know why Victoria died. She was sickly as a child and we were always careful to coddle her. I’ve always believed her weak heart gave out, but my wife—. Please, if you know anything, tell me.”

The mournful tone in his voice shocked me into silence. I hadn’t expected his grief, and now I was mortified by my thoughtless prying. I stood there gaping at him, wishing I could take back my words. Since I couldn’t do that, I hoped the sidewalk would swallow me up.

“You don’t know anything, do you? You just wanted to profit from our great misfortune. Go away and leave me in peace with my sorrow.” He turned and rushed back into his club, crushing my message in his hand.

I stood on the sidewalk with my mouth open until I realized how ridiculous I must have looked. If the words I’d surprised out of him were genuine, and I thought they were, Lord Dutton-Cox knew what state his wife was in and was as heartbroken as she.

Drake was blackmailing them over something other than their daughter’s death. Whatever it was, Dutton-Cox didn’t act like he had any concerns about Drake, so why would he go to the trouble of abducting the missing man? I was certain I could eliminate him from suspicion.

At the sound of a carriage pulling up, I glanced at the street and recognized the Duke of Merville’s crest on the door. I was in luck, but I’d have to improvise.

I stepped into his path between the carriage and the door to the club and said, “How is your son David?”

His face paled and his mouth opened and shut twice before he gasped out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go away.”

“There are those who know about David and are willing to keep silent. For a price.”

“Name your price. Just go away.” He didn’t seem angry. He kept glancing around and the red creeping up his face appeared to be embarrassment at the danger of being seen with me.

“A pound.”

“And you’ll never come back.”

“It’s a deal. What was your deal with Drake?”

“Damnation. You learned about this from him, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” I wasn’t about to tell him his wife had told me.

“I don’t know what he told you or why he put you up to this, but I wish he and you would just stay away. This is embarrassing for a man in my position.”

“So you’ll pay me the pound?”

“Gladly.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a gold sovereign as a coach stopped behind me. “I’ll take three of the flowers.”

We made the exchange. Then a man stopped next to Merville and said, “Going inside?”

The Duke of Blackford. I peeked up from beneath my hat brim and saw his eyebrows rise. My disguise was a failure. He’d recognized me.

Over my heartbeat banging like a drum, I heard Merville say, “Yes,” as he marched back into the building carrying the flowers.

Blackford gave me a shilling and a smile as he took one of the flowers out of my limp grasp and then walked inside.

All I could think was to disappear before he told Merville he’d been tricked by the Archivist Society. Clutching the coins in one hand, I hurried away, yanking off the shawl and balling it up in my other hand. I was certain Merville wasn’t Drake’s abductor. He was too happy to take any easy path to keep scandal from his door. And Dutton-Cox seemed to have no worry over what Drake might have known or seen concerning his daughter Victoria’s death.

Therefore, Drake must not have been blackmailing Blackford about her death, either. So why was Drake blackmailing the duke and Dutton-Cox? I was becoming increasingly certain I’d have to travel to the wilds of Northumberland to learn the answer from the duke’s sister, Margaret. I did not want to make that trip.

But first, I’d have to travel to Hounslow.





Chapter Twelve





IT wasn’t until the next morning that I had time to follow up on the information Edith, or Anne as I’d learned she was, had told me. Truthfully, I didn’t expect to learn anything, and Hounslow felt nearly as far away as Northumberland.

I walked to the Embankment station on the Metropolitan District Railway, preparing for a long, smoky trip out to Hounslow. I entered by the wide, concrete stairs to the platform and was immediately reminded why I seldom rode on the railways beneath London. The platform was dimly lit due to the thick air and I expected the train cars to be crowded and dingy with coal exhaust from the engines.