by C. J. Archer
I smiled back; but of course Matt would say he wanted to stay in England. For one thing, he knew it was what I wanted to hear. And for another, he could not leave. Not while Gabe Seaford lived here. Matt needed the medical magician just as much as he needed me, the watch magician. Without us, he could not survive when his watch began to fail again.
We decided to visit Lord Coyle after breakfast and ask him some direct questions about Sir Charles Whittaker. If anyone had answers, it would be him.
Whether he would reveal them to us was another matter. I suspected he would want something in return. Lord Coyle never did anything for free. At least this time we knew what he would ask of us—convincing Hope to marry him.
"Make it quick," Lord Coyle said when he greeted us in his study. "I'm on my way out." He'd hardly looked up from his desk when we entered and simply waved us to the chairs opposite. The distinctly masculine room matched the rest of the distinctly masculine house, with the dark wood paneling, the lack of feminine frills and decorative items. Paintings framed in thick gold depicted hunts and cows rather than flowers and cottages.
"We have a question about Whittaker we hoped you would answer," Matt began.
Lord Coyle continued to write. "You still haven't solved the mystery of the coronet's theft?"
"Not yet," Matt said tightly. "We dismissed Whittaker as a suspect almost immediately, but—"
Lord Coyle looked up. "Why?"
"Because he didn't seem to have a magical collection of particular note. He didn't seem to display it nor were there any locked trunks or other hiding places for it. He has not asked India to add anything either."
"Those are not good reasons to strike him off your list completely."
"He's back on the list, as it happens," I said. "Tell us, my lord, have you seen his collection?"
Lord Coyle dropped the pen in the stand and flipped the lid on the inkpot closed. "He doesn't show it to anyone. Nor does he keep it on display like the Delanceys, as you pointed out. But that doesn't mean he hasn't locked it away in a well-kept hiding place, or even in a safety deposit box."
"We found no evidence of such hiding places," Matt said. "But there's more. According to one source, he has two magical objects that he does display. He just doesn't advertise that they're magical."
"There you have it. He has a small collection. Everyone has to start somewhere."
"I have touched both items, but neither contain magic," I said.
Lord Coyle stroked his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. "I suspect they're a ruse to put others off. If one of the other collectors covets his items enough to steal them, he will only lose two worthless objects. It's a clever security measure. I wish I'd thought of it."
"And the real magical collection?" Matt asked. "Where does he keep it?"
"I don't know."
"Why has no one seen it? Not even you?"
"He showed me two items some months ago when he requested to join. I assumed they were magical."
"Why accept his word for it?" Matt was like a hammer, relentlessly pounding away with his questions, not giving Lord Coyle a chance to think—to connive—in between.
"The truth is, no one in the collectors club has any way of knowing if any items are magical. Membership is based on an interest in magic, more than anything. Our collections are a vehicle for those with a mutual interest to come together."
"You value your collection," Matt said.
"I never said we don't value our collections, Glass. We all do. We trade or purchase items. They have value to us. A value that we alone set. What I'm saying is, if Whittaker doesn't have a collection, he can still belong to the club. Lady Louisa doesn't have a collection, either. As long as they abide by the rules of secrecy, they can stay." He placed his hands flat on the desk and pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. "Now, if you don't mind. I must be off."
I rose too. Matt did not.
"We haven't finished," he said. "Why is Whittaker seeing Mrs. Delancey in secret?"
"I don't know," Lord Coyle said. "But I can think of one good reason that should not be discussed in the presence of a lady."
"My wife doesn't mind hearing unpleasantness," Matt shot back.
I narrowed my gaze at him.
"What is the real reason you're here, Glass?" Lord Coyle said. "Is it because there are only two days left before you must convince Hope to accept my proposal if you wish to wipe away your wife's debt? Because I will not change my mind. I will not extend the timeframe."
"That is in hand," Matt said. "As you say, there are still two more days. Leave it with me."
My gaze narrowed further.
"We're here because we have no suspects in the coronet's theft, Whittaker notwithstanding," Matt said. "Someone bribed the identity of Cox out of the newspaper editor but all suspects have an alibi for the time the note was left on his desk."
"Alibis can be bought, Glass. You of all people should know that." Lord Coyle gripped his walking stick hard and stamped it into the floor. I imagined the sound must send a shudder through the house that could be felt all the way down in the service rooms. It probably acted as a warning to the servants to prepare to be summoned.
Matt stood slowly. I could see him considering which of our suspects could easily bribe someone, and whose alibis would be the most susceptible. Not the post office, but maids and other servants, certainly. But the most likely in my opinion were the attendants at Tattersalls.
"Farnsworth," I said to Matt.
Not only was Lord Farnsworth a valued Tattersalls client, he had led us there without much prompting on our part. He'd offered up the alibi quickly and easily.
"I have no evidence to the contrary," Lord Coyle said, "but I suspect Farnsworth is not as stupid as he seems."
"If you have no evidence, why do you think that?" I asked.
"Because nobody can be that idiotic." He walked past us and opened the door. "Fetch the conveyance," he ordered the waiting footman.
The footman hurried off without a word.
"I hear he's fishing around for a wife," Lord Coyle went on, leading the way across the landing. "That will cause his mistress some distress."
It didn't surprise me that Lord Coyle knew about Angelique. "What does that have to do with Farnsworth stealing the coronet?" I asked. "Or do you think she did it?"
"I'm merely suggesting she is a weak link for you to exploit." Lord Coyle regarded me fleetingly before dismissing me and turning to Matt. "I see you understand, Glass. Explain it to your wife. She's too innocent to think like us."
I arched my brows at Matt.
Matt's lips flattened. "If Angelique does know about Farnsworth's hunt for a wife, she'll know her days as his mistress are numbered. With no benefactor and no prospect of one, she will have to live the life of a prostitute in the slums to make ends meet. It would be a hard life."
"Courtesans are a dying species in England," Lord Coyle agreed. "It's our prudery. I blame the queen. They're still in demand in France, however, but Farnsworth's girl won't return there unless she's desperate. Her brother is in Paris and he was cruel to her, I believe. She was forced to work for him and his gang. Farnsworth took her away from all that by bringing her here." He stopped and leaned heavily on the walking stick.
"What Coyle is suggesting is for us to use Angelique's dire future to our advantage," Matt went on. "By putting pressure on an already desperate Angelique, she might spy on Farnsworth for us."
"I don't know about spy for you," Lord Coyle said. "But she will certainly give you answers. I'd wager she knows Farnsworth's movements better than anyone."
He had an excellent point. It might be worth asking her if she knew where Lord Farnsworth was last Monday at a quarter past six. I wasn't so sure about putting pressure on her, however. It seemed unnecessarily heavy-handed. Hopefully a bribe would convince her to speak up. After all, she wasn't going to lose Farnsworth over it; she'd already lost him.
Lord Coyle signaled to a footman. "See Mr. and Mrs. Gl
ass out." As we headed down the stairs, he called after us, "Two days. Don't waste them."
We alighted from the carriage outside the butcher's shop and were about to knock on Angelique's door when I asked Matt to wait.
"The butcher's boy," I said, nodding at the window. "He's watching. According to Angelique, he's always watching. Perhaps he can tell us something."
Matt signaled for him to come outside. The lad spoke to someone over his shoulder then joined us on the pavement. He wore a bloodied apron but his hands were excessively clean.
"What do you want?" he asked. He wasn't as young as I first thought. I guessed him to be about twenty. He still had the gangly limbs and spotty face of youth, but the direct gaze of someone used to talking to those older than himself.
"We just want a few words with you," Matt said. "About your neighbor, Angelique L'Amour. How well do you know her?"
"Not well."
"You spy on her for Lord Farnsworth."
"No!" he cried. As if he surprised himself with the volume of his vehement reply, he ducked his head and looked around to see if anyone overheard. "No, I don't," he said, quieter. "I would never do that to her, and I wouldn't do it for him."
"Why not him?" I asked.
"Because he's a…a turd." I suspected he was going to say something more vulgar, but stopped himself. "I hate him."
"Why?" I asked again.
"The way he is with her…it's not right. He lords it over her."
"Do you understand their arrangement?" Matt asked.
The youth flushed and nodded.
"Does Lord Farnsworth treat her poorly?" I asked. "Is that why you dislike him so much?"
He shuffled his feet and wiped his hands down his apron. "I heard them arguing once. Over a week ago, it was."
"Just the once?" Matt asked. "They don't usually argue?"
The youth shook his head.
"What did they argue about?"
The lad hesitated. "I shouldn't say. It's their private business."
"We're worried about Miss L'Amour," Matt said. "If Lord Farnsworth is mistreating her, we can help."
"I don't think he's cruel to her."
"And yet you don't like him," I added.
"It ain't right, what she is to him. It ain't decent."
It was interesting that he blamed Lord Farnsworth for Angelique being a courtesan. He didn't see it as her fault. Perhaps, in a way, he was right. Women didn't become prostitutes because they wanted to, but because it was the only course left for them to take. Angelique was luckier than most to be housed in an apartment and have only one…customer.
Matt pulled out some coins from his pocket. The lad's eyes widened and Matt dropped the coins into the apron pocket. "What was their argument about?"
The butcher's boy checked inside the pocket. His lips moved as he counted the coins and when he looked up, there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes. "The lord told her he couldn't keep her much longer because he had to get married."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded.
So Lord Farnsworth definitely lied to us about not informing Angelique of his plans. "What else did they say?" I asked.
"She yelled at him in French, mostly, and he spoke back to her in French, only he can't be real good at it because he changed to English. He suggested she go back to Paris and she said she can't because of her brother." The youth shrugged. "She said she liked it here and wanted him to keep their arrangement the same. Then they spoke quieter for a bit before she started shouting again. She said she hated him for abandoning her."
We thanked him and waited until he'd returned inside the shop before knocking on Angelique's door. She opened it wearing a pink and green dress with pink ribbons in her hair. The outfit would be far too lurid on most, but looked fetching on her.
"Mrs. Glass, how delightful." She looked past me. "Is Willie with you?"
"Not today," I said and introduced Matt. "May we come in?"
Her smile tightened. "May I help you?"
"We're investigating the theft of a family heirloom," Matt said. "We suspect Lord Farnsworth may be involved and hoped you could answer a few questions for us."
She went to close the door but Matt blocked it. She spat a few words at him in French and he responded in the same language, startling her. He took the opportunity to enter, forcing her back.
"I think you'd prefer it if we asked our questions away from prying eyes," he said.
Angelique glared at me. "You lied."
"Yes," I said. "I am not from a charity. We're private inquiry agents tasked with finding a stolen artifact, as my husband explained."
She lifted her skirts and stomped up the stairs. "You think Davide stole it? Bah! He is not a thief. He is rich!"
"The artifact in question is priceless," Matt said. "He would steal it just to possess it."
She showed us into the small parlor where a chemise and sewing basket were laid out on the table. The door to the bedroom was closed. "I do not know how I can help. Davide has not said a thing about a theft."
"We know he's releasing you from your arrangement," I said. "You don't have to protect him anymore."
She descended gracefully onto a chair and folded her hands on her lap. "It will be very hard for me. I will need a new benefactor. It will take time to find one."
Once again, Matt removed money from his pocket. This time it was bank notes, not coins. He placed them on the table as if casually setting them aside. Angelique's gaze followed the movement of his hand from beneath her lush lashes.
"Was Lord Farnsworth here with you Monday before last at about a quarter past six?" he asked.
She considered this then shook her head. Her fingers twisted together.
Matt and I exchanged glances. "Do you know where he was?" Matt pressed.
"Non."
"Come now, Angelique," I said. "Please tell us if you know."
"I do not."
I wasn't sure I believed her, but I suspected she was too loyal to Lord Farnsworth to betray him, or too frightened.
Matt wasn't prepared to give up as easily, however. "Last Monday, at a quarter past six, someone left a very nasty note on the desk of the editor at The Daily Courier. The letter threatened to hurt the editor's family if he didn't reveal the name of a man alluded to in an article printed the day before. That man is the owner of the stolen artifact. As you can appreciate, the person who left that letter might be dangerous. He is almost certainly a thief."
Her chest rose and fell with her deep breath but she did not look up.
"Lord Farnsworth is a suspect, but we need to know what his movements were last Monday at that time to be certain. We suspect you know where he was, Miss L'Amour."
"Please, do not ask this," she whispered.
"He is releasing you, Angelique," I said gently. "You don't have to protect him anymore."
Her thumb pressed into the flesh of her other hand. "Please understand, he is still my benefactor."
She wasn't going to answer. We couldn't get the information we wanted from her, but perhaps there was a question she would answer. It didn't implicate him directly. "He's not what he seems, is he?"
The question seemed to take her by surprise at first, but she shook her head.
"He's quite intelligent," I went on. "Someone you like to be with. Someone worthy of your love."
She nodded and pressed her fingers to her lips. Tears welled in her eyes.
Matt handed her his handkerchief. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes then handed it back. She picked up the bank notes and gave them back too.
"He is still my benefactor," she said with a lift of her chin. "I cannot accept this."
We let ourselves out and returned to the carriage. Matt gave Woodall instructions to drive us to Lord Farnsworth's house.
"Are we going to confront him?" I asked. "With what? We have no evidence against him."
"I'm hoping inspiration will strike when we get there."
"That doesn't seem like
a particularly clever plan. Speaking of clever, are we in agreement that Lord Farnsworth is not as stupid as he pretends to be?"
"We are."
"Do you think Angelique lied to protect him?"
"I do."
An idea came to me. One that might get us some answers from Lord Farnsworth. I told Matt my plan and he kissed me thoroughly on the mouth. I took that as a sign that he liked it.
Chapter 15
Lord Farnsworth had just got out of bed, according to the gentleman himself, despite it being nearly lunchtime. He greeted us in the drawing room wearing a purple and red housecoat with gold dragons embroidered through it and matching indoor shoes. He liked lurid clothing as much as his mistress.
"Bring tea and cake for the Glasses," Lord Farnsworth ordered his butler. "And a chocolate for me. I haven't had my morning cup yet," he said for our benefit as the butler retreated. "So, tell me what this is about. Does Mrs. Glass wish to come to my club now? Or sit in parliament?" He laughed.
I no longer believed that laugh. This man was no fool, I was quite certain of it. I didn't know why he pretended to be one. The act had been going on for years, apparently, so it had nothing to do with the theft of the coronet. He wasn't hiding a cunning mind behind a mask of stupidity for nefarious reasons.
Unless the coronet was the latest theft of many.
"You lied to us," Matt began.
Lord Farnsworth hesitated barely a moment before scoffing. "About horses? Come now, Glass, if you knew your stuff, you'd have recognized that colt as a potential winner when you inspected him. It's not my fault you can't recognize a dasher from a disaster."
"You lied about Angelique L'Amour."
"What's she got to do with Tattersalls?"
"You told me you hadn't informed her about your pending marriage," I said. "But we've just been to see her and she said she knew."
"Ah."
"You argued about it, according to the butcher's boy," I went on.
Lord Farnsworth clicked his tongue. "The spying little prick."
"Between he and Angelique, we learned quite a few things about you," Matt said.
