The Vanishing Thief(9)

“My sister and my late fiancée.”

“I’d like to speak to your sister.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible. She’s staying at the castle, and there’s no way for you to reach her.”

Of course I would try. For now, I tried to sound deferential. “Perhaps you could speak for her. What is Mr. Drake accused of stealing?”

“A necklace and earrings from my sister, and a bracelet from my late fiancée. The thefts took place over two years ago, and nothing has been recovered.”

“Was this reported to the police?”

“Of course.” His tone said he was nearly out of patience.

“And did they determine Mr. Drake was the thief?”

“No.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “But you’re certain he’s responsible?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He strode to where I stood before his fire and stared down at me. Intimidatingly close. He stimulated my nerves in a way I’d never experienced before while being threatened. I swallowed, expecting him to bodily throw me out of his study. Or ravish me with kisses. He was a man who made the air sizzle with the threat of a long-ago highwayman. Instead, he said, “Because the cur admitted it to me a year later.”

“Did he return the jewelry?”

“He returned nothing.”

I gazed into his rough-hewn face. What I suspected, given his ducal seat on the North Sea coast, was his pirate-raider ancestry. Behind the fragrance of clean linen and sandalwood was a hint of gunpowder and male sweat. “And you didn’t pursue him in the courts?”

“It would have been his word against mine. My sister had no interest in reclaiming her property or having any more dealings with him, so I didn’t . . . do anything.” Behind the cold ducal expression, I saw passion flicker in his eyes.

But what passion? Hatred, anger, fear?

“How did you come to meet with him a year later?”

“He came up to me at a social event. He pulled me aside and he gloated.” The last word poured from his mouth like poison.

I glanced down and saw his hands were in fists. His rage against Drake made him a good candidate for the man’s abduction. But Drake lived in a very middle-class neighborhood. Under normal circumstances, these two men should never have met. “Why would Drake be at a social event with a duke?”

“He moves freely in society, befriending all the young people. He says his father was the younger son of a younger son, and his mother’s family was related to French royalty.”

“You didn’t share your knowledge of his thievery with society? As a warning, of course.”

“I should have.” His tone turned bitter. “I had no idea he’d continued with his crimes until the Duke of Merville mentioned after his daughter’s engagement party that certain items and Drake had left their lives.”

The Duke of Merville suddenly sounded less like an alibi for the Duke of Blackford’s coach and more like a fellow conspirator in a kidnapping. “When was this, Your Grace?”

“The party was over a week ago. Merville made the comment in our club a couple of days later.” He dismissed my question and his answer with a wave of his hand.

“Did the two of you determine a course of action in regard to Mr. Drake?”

“We asked some questions around our club. We found three more members who’d had similar experiences with Drake. He won’t be invited to any events this coming season, I can assure you.”

“You’re going to ostracize him? That’s all?” The man was accused of being a thief. Someone abducted him, and the Duke of Blackford’s answer to all of this was not to invite the man to the round of society parties and balls that would soon begin again? My middle-class sense of justice couldn’t begin to understand the duke’s idea of punishment. Once again I was thankful I wasn’t born to his class.

“It will make it more difficult for him to steal from us.” Any sign of his interest in our conversation gone, Blackford took my arm and led me toward the door. Firmly and quickly, but without discourtesy.

I dug in my heels, more questions churning my mind. “Who were the others who’d had thefts? And why only you, the Duke of Merville, and those three?”

“Surely, Miss Fenchurch, you don’t think I’m going to give you reason to burst into any more homes.” His tone said he thought I was exasperating.

Despite my best efforts, we were nearly to the door of his study. “You don’t think the matter of an abduction is going to disappear, do you?”

“It is, from my home. I’ve said all I’m going to on the matter.” He pulled open the door and hustled me into the hall. The butler hurried toward us. “Good day. Stevens, see Miss Fenchurch out.”