The Vanishing Thief(8)

“No.” He tossed the cloth on the floor as he came out from behind his desk. “And if you’re going to continue this ridiculous debate, you need to stand close to the fire. Otherwise, you’ll soak my carpet.”

The infuriating man was making this as difficult as possible. Debate, indeed. All he had to do was answer my questions. But the grip on my elbow was gentle as he led me close to the comforting blaze.

For a moment, I shut my eyes in bliss. The welcome warmth made my fingers and toes tingle with renewed sensation. When I opened my eyes, my gaze fell on a seventeenth-century terrestrial globe in pristine condition. “Oh, how beautiful,” slipped out before I thought.

Blackford strolled over to the sphere and ran one forefinger along the Atlantic. “It is magnificent, isn’t it? The third duke brought it back from Italy.”

I stared at the globe in wonder for a moment before I gave him a grateful smile and said, “Perhaps you’ll save both of us time by telling me where your coach was on the night of March fourteenth?”

“Which coach?”

He was a duke. He probably had more carriages than I had dresses. “A tall, ancient one, all black, pulled by black horses.”

“The Wellington coach. Why? Was that the night Drake disappeared?”

I shook out my damp skirts before the fire, reveling in the heat. Perhaps that was what made me less cautious. “Yes. If your coach was otherwise engaged, then it couldn’t have been involved, and I needn’t bother you any longer.”

The duke returned to his desk and opened a slender volume. As he flipped through the pages, a curly lock of black hair slid over his stiff white collar. I was certain he’d have the errant strand chopped off for unruliness. “Last Thursday, I attended the theater and then had a late supper at the home of the Duke of Merville, where my carriage waited for me. My coachman was unaware of when I would next require him. We returned here at two o’clock on the fifteenth.”

“The theater let out about eleven?”

“Yes. The duke and duchess rode to the theater and back in my carriage.”

Eleven was the time Edith Carter saw Drake tossed into the duke’s carriage. “I will, of course, verify this with the Duke of Merville.”

A smile, a genuinely amused smile, crossed the duke’s face. “Merville will enjoy providing my carriage with an alibi.”

“Then the task will prove an easy one.”

The smile broadened. “He won’t see you. He’s less tolerant of young women breaking into his study than I am. You’ll have to take my word.”

“Why?”

His smile vanished. In its place, his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. Hadn’t anyone given this haughty man a taste of his own insufferable attitude before? “He doesn’t see anyone without an appointment. Neither do I, but when you burst in I made a bet with myself that you were here on behalf of Miss Carter. She also entered unannounced, dramatically sobbing threats.”

“Who won the bet?”

Good heavens. The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement for an instant. “Despite your charming demeanor, Miss Fenchurch, I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for the use of my carriages. None of them have ever been used to abduct anyone.”

He was toying with me now. Bigger, meaner, uglier men had tried this same technique in the past. Of course, as a duke, he did it with more elegance. “I’m certain that’s true, Your Grace, but I wish to clarify this matter so there can be no doubt in anyone’s mind your coach is blameless.”

He studied my face in silence. I fought down the urge to fidget as I watched him watch me. All businessmen and aristocrats wore unrelieved black and white, but no man had ever looked so exquisite in the absence of color. Perhaps because his skin was unusually tanned for an Englishman. Electricity seemed to crackle in the air between us.

Then he stalked forward, looming over me. Was he planning to physically throw me out of his study?

“Why do you want to find Drake?”

“Because he’s missing, and no one deserves to vanish without someone trying to find him.” I stared back in part because he cut a mesmerizing figure, and in part because I wanted him to know I was serious about my search.

“You’re not looking for his stolen treasures?”

That surprised me. “What are you referring to, Your Grace?”

“That’s not important.”

“Did he steal something from you?”

“Not precisely, no.” He was pacing around the room now. No, I paced around my bookshop. This room was large enough for the duke to stride about the room.

“Who did he steal from?”