The Vanishing Thief(91)
He laughed, a seductive sound if I were to fancy him. I didn’t, but I could understand why the young debutantes flocked around him. “I didn’t take you for a coward. Come on. I won’t hurt you.”
No, he wouldn’t. That was why I wore a dagger.
We walked a little way into the garden and looked around to make certain we wouldn’t be overheard. “We had your house under watch. You were safe there. Why come here tonight?”
“No place is safer than in the middle of a crowd.”
He might sound foolhardy, but I saw how his eyes glanced all around him. He was scared. “What is the duke’s proposition?” I whispered.
“All of my blackmail material in exchange for a sizable sum of money and two first-class passages to Canada.”
“It sounds like a good deal. You should take it.”
He shook his head and glanced around, making certain no one was approaching. “I want assurances.”
“What kind of assurances?”
“The kind that doesn’t have me handing over the letters only to get a knife in the back.”
“I think if the Duke of Blackford wanted to double-cross you, you would already be dead.”
“Are you positive he isn’t the one who’s sent his thugs to kill me?” Despite the shadows, I saw him raise an eyebrow.
I considered my answer. “Yes. He’s done everything to make himself look guilty, including lying to the Archivist Society and planning whatever is supposed to happen here tonight. But I’m certain he’s not the person threatening your safety. He doesn’t threaten. He just acts without warning or explanation.”
“Thank you for that robust defense of my honor.” I peered into the thick shadows away from the house where the deep, ironic voice came from. Then a highwayman stepped out of the darkness. Black half mask, black tricorn hat, a pistol tucked into the black sash at his waist. Straight black hair gleaming in the light of a hanging lantern. The only white was his shirt. I suspected there was a knife strapped to his forearm under the loose sleeves.
The air fairly hummed with danger, and I could have sworn I smelled gunpowder mixed in with the scent of spring flowers.
I glanced from Drake to the duke. There was no comparison. The duke raised my heart rate. Drake annoyed me.
Wanting answers to the mysteries he left in his wake, I took a step toward him. “We need to talk, Your Grace.”
“No time for that now. Stand guard while Mr. Drake and I negotiate.”
Drake took a couple of steps into the darkness and I stood next to a tall bush, keeping an eye out for anyone entering or leaving the veranda. I rubbed my hands up and down my bare upper arms as I grew chilled standing outside. The overwarm, overbright ballroom looked more appealing by the moment.
I could hear the two men talking behind me in low, strident tones. There were no other sounds of footsteps or voices nearby, and the only time I could hear the music was when someone opened the French doors. It was peaceful out there. Unfortunately, I was only aware of being cold and bored.
To fend off boredom and, I admit, to satisfy my curiosity, I tried to hear what the two men had to say to each other. I thought I heard a large sum of money mentioned and decided that couldn’t be right. A couple, a Harlequin and an Elizabeth I, started in my direction and I moved a little. They must have wanted privacy because they turned toward the far side of the garden.
Between the gasps and giggles at a distance and Drake and the Duke of Blackford muttering figures closer at hand, the evening was less boring but still chilly. I tried counting stars but the sky was too cloudy. I resisted the growing urge to tell the two men to make up their minds before the ball ended.
Just as I ran out of patience, they approached me. “Miss Fenchurch, if you’d come with us,” Drake said. “For a sum of money that the duke is going to remove from the bank tonight, I’m going to hand over all my . . . incriminating papers. I’d like you along to assure fair dealing.”
“How do you plan to get into a bank at this hour?”
“Sir Izzy Fairweather is in the card room. I’ll ask him to join us,” the duke said.
“And the papers?”
“Are in a safe box in his bank,” Drake said.
The duke laughed. “Wise man.”
Amazing how the letters Drake held and the duke’s money were both in the bank owned by a guest at the ball. Some people would call that a coincidence. Knowing how much the Duke of Blackford had interfered, I suspected he’d somehow learned where the papers were and made certain the money and the banker were available tonight.
We’d reached the French doors. “I need to tell Emma all is well and to enjoy the ball without me.”