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The Vanishing Thief(59)



“Someone in your family, perhaps?”

“My son, George. The boy has been a terrible disappointment.”

When he stopped, Lady Westover said, “Tell her the rest.”

“It’s private,” he said.

“It’s abduction and possibly murder,” I said.

“What?” Lady Westover exclaimed as Lord Waxpool said, “Not George.”

“Tell me the story. If we can verify it, we may be able to keep a police enquiry from your door.”

Lady Westover nodded at my words.

“All right, young lady, but this goes no further than this room. George was responsible for part of the family investments. Not satisfied with his allowance, he embezzled from the family. From me. This Drake person found out, got hold of some records of George’s that showed the embezzlement, and began to blackmail him. George’s response was to embezzle more to pay the man. Idiot. I found out and put a stop to everything. The embezzlement and the blackmail.” Waxpool stomped his cane into the rug twice for emphasis.

“You weren’t afraid Drake would spread the story?”

“He saw it wouldn’t do him any good. George has been sent to the south of France. I’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, it should win me sympathy.” He laughed wheezily again.

“You met with Nicholas Drake? How long ago was this?”

“A month ago. I told him there would be no more money, and if he persisted in trying any more of his nonsense, I would press charges.”

Curiosity wouldn’t let me drop the subject. “But won’t your son control all the investments one day?”

“He’ll have the title, but that’s all he’ll have. I’ve organized my affairs so my grandchildren, a boy and a girl, will manage the investments and see to his allowance. My grandchildren take after me. Sensible, reliable, intelligent. I have no fears for the family fortune or name after I’m gone.”

Into the silence that followed, Lady Westover said, “Georgia, why did you come by today?”

I couldn’t hide my smile. “I mentioned Emma and I received invitations to the Duke of Arlington’s masquerade ball. Time is getting short and I have no clue as to what to do about costumes.”

“Something unusual,” the Earl of Waxpool suggested.

“Yes, shepherdesses and Marie Antoinette have been done to death. You want to stand out, so whoever is looking for you can find you,” Lady Westover said.

“What is this in aid of?” Lord Waxpool asked.

I answered him the way I would respond to Blackford. “In aid of justice for the blackmail victims and their families, and justice for a killer.”

“A killer?” Lady Westover looked concerned. Whether for me or for her police inspector grandson and the dangers he faced, I wasn’t sure.

I made a quick decision. The house fire that led to Drake’s death would remain a secret for the time being. “Drake has been abducted and no one has seen him. There’s always the chance he’s been murdered.”

“That’s terrible,” Lady Westover said.

“But what is the problem?” Waxpool asked.

“If this person would kill Drake to keep his secret safe, he’ll kill again if he thinks his secret is in danger. And,” I added, giving the old man a hard stare, “Drake’s abductor doesn’t have the right to kill the first time.”

“Blackford obtained invitations to the Arlingtons’ ball for Georgia and her friend Emma,” Lady Westover broke in before the Earl of Waxpool and I could begin a heated row over Drake’s right to live.

“Blackford? Did he? How extraordinary.” Waxpool smiled. “Then you must find these young ladies singularly unique costumes. Amelia, I always enjoy seeing you.” He rose shakily, using both canes. “Good luck, young lady.”

I rose and walked across the parlor to open the door for him. His man Price immediately appeared and helped the old man from the room. I went back to my seat on the sofa with Lady Westover.

Before I could say anything, she smiled at a jest I didn’t see. “Can you close the shop early tonight? I want both you and Emma here by six. I have an idea. We’re going to work on unique.”





Chapter Thirteen





EMMA and I arrived at Lady Westover’s town house just as the bells of the nearby churches were tolling six. Our hostess was waiting for us in the parlor with two other women who were introduced as Madame Leclerc and her assistant. The assistant stood by with tape measures, a notebook and pencil, and a bored expression. Madame Leclerc greeted us with, “Take off your clothes.”

“Madame Leclerc is my dressmaker. I have in mind very simple gowns of rich silk for you both. Seeing you together, I’m sure my idea will work. A pale blue for Emma and a deep red for you, Georgia.”