The Sinister Spinster

by Joan Overfield

  Elizabeth nodded, accepting that she had no other choice. "Certainly, my lord," she said, praying whoever had read her letter hadn't left behind anything of an incriminating nature. "I should be delighted to be of assistance. Search my room, by all means."

  A hasty council of war was held, with Adam quickly assuming command. It was decided that the earl, his wife, Adam, and the Duke of Creshton would search her room while Elizabeth waited for them in the countess's study. The arrangement was not at all to her liking, but she supposed it might have been worse. She could have spent her time locked in the cellar awaiting their pleasure.

  They stepped out into the hall and were stunned to find several of the other guests clustered around the door. Elizabeth was painfully aware of their suspicious glances, and of the angry mutters of "Jezebel!" and "Traitor!" being aimed at her.

  "Syestra!" Alexi pushed his way through the crowd, his handsome face set in furious lines. "What is this? Who dares accuse you of thievery?" He rounded on the earl, his hand closing around the sword fastened at his side. "You?" he demanded, taking a menacing step forward.

  The earl swayed and stumbled back. "I—I—"

  Adam stepped in front of him, placing himself between the terrified earl and the prince.

  "There is no need for bloodshed, your highness," he said, fixing Alexi with a warning look. "His lordship is as anxious to clear up this small misunderstanding as are we. Aren't you, my lord?" And he glanced at the earl.

  "Eh?" The earl's gaze flicked from Adam's hard face to Alexi's hand, still resting threateningly on the hilt of his battle sword. "Indeed, your highness," he stammered, bobbing his head in agreement. "Most anxious!"

  Evidently assured that the earl wasn't about to be slaughtered where he stood, Adam addressed their fascinated audience.

  "Miss Mattingale has consented to having her room searched to locate the missing papers," he informed them in the cool, imperious tones Elizabeth had once found so vexing. "She does so freely, with no coercion from anyone. I trust when they are not found, the rest of you shall prove equally as cooperative."

  Even as the others began vociferously voicing their objections in loud, indignant voices, Alexi was nodding.

  "Da, and you may begin first with my rooms. I insist." he said, blue eyes contemptuous as his glance flicked over the others. Without waiting to hear their response, he laid a gentle arm across Elizabeth's shoulders.

  "Come, little queen," he murmured, his touch comforting. "You are looking tired. You will allow me to escort you."

  Acting on her direction, he led her to the smaller drawing room, where the countess entertained her guests. The others followed them, and battle lines were soon drawn. Alexi and Elizabeth sat on one side of the room, the rest of the company on the other, the middle of the room lying between them like a wasteland.

  Despite her attempts to send him away, Alexi remained at her side, pressing food and tea upon her and ignoring the others with regal disdain.

  "You are only making matters worse, you know," she hissed, her face pinking with embarrassment at the daggers being cast at her. "Those who won't think me guilty of selling my country's secrets will now have me warming your bed."

  Alexi's mouth thinned with anger. "Let them say such a thing to me and I will take much delight in correcting them," he said, making no attempt to lower his voice. "And the ladies need not think their sex will protect them. A word from me to her Imperial Majesty, and they will find they are not welcome in her presence."

  The threat had the desired effect, and several of the ladies looked as if they might swoon. The fetes and balls being planned around the visit of the Russian court were all anyone could speak of, and the thought of being excluded from the festivities was too terrifying to be borne. The mutters stopped and the glares lost much of their heat, but none of the ladies, Elizabeth noted, made a move toward them. She was trying to decide how she felt about that when Lady Barrington picked up her cup and crossed the room to join them. She had a catlike smile on her lips and a speculative look in her blue eyes that had Elizabeth stiffening in awareness. Alexi sensed her unease and bristled protectively at her side.

  "Peace, your highness," Lady Barrington drawled with an amused laugh as Alexi rose to his feet to greet her. "I am only here to offer Miss Mattingale good day and my support, should she have need of it." She cast a cool glance over a creamy shoulder at the others, who were now clearly whispering about her.

  "Gossip is such a tiresome thing, don't you agree?" she observed, turning back to Elizabeth. "All the more so when it is fueled by nothing more than boredom and idle speculation."

  Elizabeth felt a sharp stab of guilt at the duchess's words. There'd been a great deal of gossip regarding her grace, and to her shame, she'd believed every word of it. Given the kindness the other lady had shown her, what did that make her? The words also made her realize that she'd been behaving like a coward, sitting in meek silence while her friends defended her. Well, no more, she vowed, her mouth firming in resolve. From now on she would defend herself, and heaven help those foolish enough to attack her.

  "That is so, your grace," she said, offering the other woman a smile of kinship. "And the more bored the tattler, the more vicious the tattle, or so I have observed." The outraged gasp from across the room made it plain her little barb had struck home, and Elizabeth was human enough the savor the small victory.

  At Alexi's insistence the duchess joined them, and the two shared an animated conversation on the coming festivities. Elizabeth was content to sit back in silence, sipping her tea and trying not to think about what was happening in her rooms. Over half an hour had passed; she brooded, doing her best not to take another peek at the clock on the mantelpiece. What had they found, she wondered, and what would happen to her if what they found were the earl's missing papers?

  "But of course your grace must call upon the Grand Duchess!" Alexi's voice recalled her back to the present, and she glanced up to find him beaming at Lady Barrington. "It will be my pleasure to introduce you, dama. You will come to visit us in London, yes?"

  The duchess murmured the proper words of gratitude, and Elizabeth fell back to brooding. Lady Elinore entered the drawing room, her sharp gaze noting the division between the two groups. Without hesitating, she walked over to join Elizabeth.

  Since it was evident Lady Barrington and Lady Elinore were already acquainted, Elizabeth introduced her to Alexi, and wasn't in the least surprised when Alexi immediately began flirting with the haughty beauty.

  "Lady Elinore, a pleasure, I am sure." Alexi was all charm as he kissed her hand. "Such beautiful women England has. No wonder that devil Bonaparte was so determined to conquer you. He wished to claim all you charming ladies as his own."

  Elinore stiffened, her gray eyes chilling. "We charming ladies may have had something to say about that, your highness," she said, withdrawing her hand and turning a slender shoulder on him.

  Elizabeth saw the shock and then the annoyance flare in Alexi's eyes. It was quickly followed by a sparkle of pure masculine determination, and she hid a quick smile. If Lady Elinore had taken Alexi into dislike, she would have to have a quiet word with her. Alexi was too much the autocrat to tolerate a snub, and he was also far too much the rake to allow a beautiful woman to treat him with such disdain. Whether or not it had been her intention, the other woman had just issued a challenge.

  Elizabeth's smile faded as quickly as it had bloomed, and she stole another glance at the clock. Forty minutes, she thought, chewing her bottom lip. What was keeping them?

  "Nothing." Adam didn't even attempt to mask the satisfaction in his voice as he met the earl's baffled stare. "Just as I told you there would be."

  They were standing in the plain, almost bare room Elizabeth occupied, the contents of her drawers and trunks spread about them. Touching her things and watching the others rifle through her few belongings had struck Adam as the foulest sort of violation, and he was determined someone would pay dearly for causing Elizab
eth a moment's pain.

  "But I do not understand," Derring said, looking genuinely baffled as he gazed about him. "I was led to believe the papers would be here."

  "Led to believe by whom?" Creshton demanded, before Adam could speak. "Think, man!" he barked when the earl remained silent. "It is of vital importance!"

  "I don't know!" Derring exclaimed, looking ill. "A note was slipped under my study door this morning, suggesting the papers would be found here."

  "Let me see it," Adam demanded, holding out his hand imperiously. Derring hesitated and then handed over the neatly folded piece of paper.

  Adam unfolded it, his face impassive as he glanced at the note. The script was crabbed, almost illegible, making it impossible to tell if the writer had been a man or a woman. The words, however, were perfectly plain.

  "That which you seek is in the companion's room."

  He re-read the letter a second time before handing it to the duke.

  "Written with the left hand, I shouldn't doubt. A common practice when one wishes to disguise one's identity," Creshton said, handing it back to Adam. Without a qualm of guilt, he slipped it into his pocket.

  "I—I beg pardon, my lord," Derring stammered, looking properly outraged, "but I believe that is mine."

  Adam studied him with icy calm. "And your pardon, sir, if I should choose not to return it. Papers have a way of disappearing about you, I've noted."

  "Lord Falconer! I must protest!" Lady Derring bristled in outrage. "You will not insult my husband in his own home."

  "Why should I not?" Adam challenged, making no attempt to soften either his tone or his expression. "He didn't hesitate to insult Miss Mattingale."

  The countess gave a loud snort. "That is hardly the same thing, my lord, and well you know it. My husband is a peer of England and a member of the Privy Council. Miss Mattingale is . . . or rather, was, my companion. Naturally"—her thin lips twisted in a self-satisfied smile—"I shall have no choice but to dismiss her."

  "Good."

  "I think not."

  Adam and the duke spoke at the same time, and Creshton silenced Adam with a speaking look before turning to Derring. "We shall speak later, my lord," he told the earl. "But in the meanwhile, you will give me your word you will not allow anyone—guest or servant—to leave this house until the missing papers have been located. Is that understood?"

  Derring opened his mouth and then apparently thought better of it. "Yes, your grace," he said, nodding stiffly. "As you wish."

  "Why the devil did you do that?" Adam demanded the moment the door had closed behind the Derrings. "Surely you can see it is best for Elizabeth to be out from beneath that harpy's thumb!"

  "And surely you can see allowing her to leave would tip our hand to the real thief," Creshton answered calmly. "He has gone to some risk to point us in Miss Mattingale's direction. If we let her go, he will know he has failed. It will better suit our purpose to leave things as they are, for the moment, at least."

  Much as he would have liked to deny it, Adam was forced to admit the duke's objections made sense. "But if we don't have her taken up, won't that be obvious?" he asked after a moment, forcing himself to view things from a strictly pragmatic point of view.

  "Perhaps," the duke said with an eloquent shrug. "But again, that is something we can only turn to our advantage. Since it will be impossible to keep secret the fact that our search turned up nothing of interest, we simply allow people to hear the tattle and think what they will."

  Adam's lips thinned in a grim line as he considered the most likely response. "Most will think her guilty and make her life a sweet hell."

  "That cannot be helped, I fear," the duke's reply was inflexible. "And who is to say she is not guilty?" he added, studying Adam with a lift of his brows. "She could simply be clever enough to have found another hiding place for the missing papers. Or she may even have managed to smuggle them out of the house. That is what I should have done."

  Adam shifted uncomfortably, the need to defend Elizabeth warring with his duty to his title and his king. He knew she was innocent, and yet could he wager that knowledge against his country's safety? If there was even the smallest chance she could be involved, how could he let her go? And if she was innocent, how could he stand by silently and let her face her accusers alone?

  "What is next to be done?" he asked, his head beginning to pound from the battle inside his head.

  "Next I shall return to London," Creshton replied decisively. "I'll meet with the Home Secretary and apprise him of matters here. I'll also contact the Foreign Secretary and seek his advice. Prince Bronyeskin presents something of a complication, and I fear it may prove necessary to remove him."

  Adam thought of the volatile Russian prince he'd come to admire, despite his many doubts. "What do you mean 'remove'?" he asked, eyeing the duke suspiciously.

  The duke gave a rich chuckle. "Nothing so grim as what you seem to think," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I merely meant I may have to arrange to have him recalled to London. It's dashed odd he should be here in the first place, if you want my opinion. But"—he waved his hand, dismissing the matter—"that is for another time. First things first, eh?"

  "Yes, your grace," Adam agreed, thinking proving Elizabeth innocent was the first of his priorities. "But it is a pity I shan't have more time with you—and Lady Elinore, of course," he added, not wishing to appear less than a gentleman.

  "Oh, Elinore remains here," the duke replied, studying Adam with an enigmatic expression. "The agent I spoke of, remember? He can hardly be here if she is not, what?"

  Adam grimaced, recalling the footman Creshton had only just put into place. "I'd forgotten about that," he admitted, feeling sheepish. "But won't it be considered odd if she remains behind when you leave?"

  "Shouldn't think so." Creshton led the way out into the hall, carefully closing the door behind them. "Gel's no green miss in the midst of her first Season, you know. She is more than of an age to make country visits without her papa trailing at her heels. Besides"—the smile he sent Adam could only be described as a smirk—"she already has the perfect reason for extending her stay."

  Adam braced himself as if for a blow. "What reason is that?" he asked, already fearing he knew the answer.

  "You, of course. She'll put it out, reluctantly of course, that she is here to consider if an agreement between the pair of you will suit."

  Even though he'd been expecting it, Adam felt himself pale. "I beg your pardon?"

  The duke gave a delighted chortle of laughter.

  "You needn't look so horrified, old boy," he said, clapping a friendly hand on Adam's shoulder. "You had your chance with the gel and you failed. No need to think Elinore would give you another. Besides, how else is she to meet with you so that you may pass on what you have learned?"

  That was so, and Adam resisted the urge to heave a relieved sigh. Then he thought of all that could happen should the thief learn the truth behind Lady Elinore's presence.

  "I'm not certain I approve of your making use of your daughter in this fashion," he informed the duke as they made their way down to the floor where the guests' rooms were located. "What if something goes wrong?"

  "I look to you to see that it does not," Creshton said, shaking a thick finger at Adam. "Guard my little chick well, Falconer, else I shall be most displeased."

  It was past midnight before Charles was able to slip away from the rest of the house party. The others were already abed or engaged in some silly game or another, and he was fairly confident his absence would not be noted. And even if it was, what matter? He'd already seen to it that the wagging tongues had more than enough to keep them occupied.

  The news that the earl had given orders that no one was to leave the Hall until the papers were found caused almost as much tattle as the fact Miss Mattingale had been exonerated of all suspicions. It was obvious most of the guests still believed otherwise, and Charles had done his best to add to their suspicions, tossing out just enough hints
to make them wonder. Charles was also wondering, and the sort of things he was wondering had the sweat breaking on his forehead.

  "I thought I made it plain you were not to contact me."

  The soft voice sounded from the shadows, and Charles whirled around as the hooded figure emerged from the darkness.

  "You lied to me!" he accused hotly, taking care to keep his voice low-pitched. "You told me the papers would be found in that bitch's room, and they were not!"

  "Of course they are there," the figured soothed, inching closer. "Those idiots just didn't look hard enough. Tell them to look again."

  The memory of the chance he'd taken slipping the note under the earl's door had Charles sweating anew. "You tell them to look again!" he snapped. "Wills told me his father said they did everything but tear up the floorboards, and they didn't find anything, not even those damned letters you told me about!"

  The figure jerked as if in shock. "They didn't find the letters?"

  "No, they did not," Charles replied, temper and fear making him incautious. "If they even existed in the first place, which I am beginning to doubt."

  There was a charged silence, and then the figure gave a wry chuckle. "Really, Charles, you're not questioning my honesty, are you?"

  Charles thought of whom he was dealing with, and the suspicions he was beginning to have. "No, of course not!" he denied hastily. "It's just that Wills is beginning to make noises; saying we had ought to give the papers back before someone gets hurt He says if I don't give them back by the end of the week, he'll tell his papa I am the one who took the damned things."

  "Does he?" The figure sounded thoughtful. "That could make things awkward."

  Charles thought of what could happen to him and tossed caution to the four winds. "Awkward?" he repeated with an ugly laugh. "They could hang me! And if they hang me, you had best be certain I shall make certain you are there beside me. Taking those papers was your idea, and so I shall tell them!"

  There was another silence. "That sounds suspiciously like a threat," the figure observed coolly.