The Vanishing Thief(92)

“No need. Sumner is here watching out for her, and I’m sure you have guards here, too. We’ll bring you back as soon as our business is finished.”

Sir Izzy Fairweather, dressed as a portly Lord High Justice in judicial wig and gown, appeared overjoyed to see us and rose from the card table immediately. As I collected my cloak, I heard him grumble to Blackford, “You’ll drop me off at home after we stop by the bank? I’ve had enough of Arlington’s kind regards for everyone in my family. The man must want something, and it’s difficult to say no to your host.”

The duke gallantly swung my cloak over my shoulders, one hand tenderly grazing my neck. For an instant, I felt as if I belonged in this dress, in these jewels, with these men.

As soon as I stepped outside, Fogarty approached me, reminding me of my place in society. “It’s all right,” I told him. “Emma is still inside. Watch out for her. I should be back shortly. If I’m not, question Blackford.”

I entered the carriage with the Duke of Blackford, Sir Izzy, and Drake. In the hours between the beginning and the end of a ball, the roads to the City appeared empty compared to the workday. We were soon at the bank, where the night guard recognized Sir Izzy and let us in.

All I was required to do was stand nearby and make sure all the papers from the safety box came into Blackford’s possession and a stack of banknotes from Blackford’s account was handed to Drake. The whole business took two minutes, and then we left the bank to the visible relief of the guard.

Blackford summoned a hansom cab for me and said, “Go back to the ball. I’ll take the papers to Sir Broderick after I drop off Sir Izzy and then I’ll join you there. I look forward to claiming a waltz.”

I stopped him with a hand on his sleeve before he sent the cabbie on his way. “I would love to waltz with you, Your Grace. But first, I must know. Why are you giving blackmail material you paid so much for to Sir Broderick?”

“There are only a few letters I’m interested in. It’s best if Sir Broderick is in charge of the rest. He’s famous for his discretion.” He gave my hand a squeeze and signaled the driver to take me back to the Arlingtons’ ball.

I returned and handed my cloak to a servant. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I could hear a lively dance tune from the orchestra. I walked past the card room, down the stairs, and into the ballroom, picturing myself at the center of the dance floor with the duke.

I didn’t see Emma. Brightly costumed revelers filled my view in every direction, but I couldn’t find the shimmering blue fabric.

Jacob, dressed in a formal footman’s uniform now splattered with goo, frantically waved to me from a doorway in the corner of the room. I bolted toward him around chairs filled with wallflowers and chaperones.

“Georgia. Thank God. Emma was carried out of here not five minutes ago. She’s been abducted.”





Chapter Twenty





I GRABBED Jacob’s flailing arms. “What happened? Who carried Emma out?”

“I don’t know. She looked fine the last time I saw her, dancing with a man in a wizard costume. Then I saw that same man carrying her down the servants’ hallway. I ran after them, but the wizard knocked over two maids carrying trays of ices and strawberries along the back way to the dining room. In all the slipping and sliding, I lost the man carrying Emma. He escaped the house through the side door. And Emma was limp.”

The wizard. Not Price dressed as the angel of death. “Oh, good heavens. Where were they going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Show me the route he took.” I held up my skirt to follow Jacob as fast as he ran. My feet skidded on the liquid left on the wooden floor. Once out the service door, we were on a dark, narrow path that led in two directions, to the garden or the street.

“Which way?” Jacob asked.

A glimmer close to the street caught my eye. I rushed forward and pointed, since my corset wouldn’t allow me to bend enough to pick up the jewels.

Jacob reached down and swept up Emma’s tiara. Her very expensive tiara. “No common thief would leave this behind,” he said, pocketing the crown.

A bulky shadow in worn clothing and a battered hat came up to us. “Georgia, Emma’s been snatched. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Oh, no, Fogarty. Did you see where Emma was taken?”

“I heard,” the ex-policeman said. “He told the driver Chelling Meadows. I couldn’t get a good shot at the man in the funny robes without hitting Emma.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “We’ll save Emma.”

Fogarty was pacing in front of me. “I told your driver to come around front and I told the bobby on this beat to get word to Scotland Yard.”