Passion and Pretense

by Susan Gee Heino

  He did find entrance, through a narrow door that led directly down to the kitchen area. He could smell the cooking fires, still hot. Most of the lights had been put out, but a few noises in the distance assured him some in the household were still awake. He hung close to the wall, taking advantage of shadows as he moved toward the stairway that would take him up to the family’s level.

  His boots were far noisier than he wished as he hurried up the steps. Still, he had not run across anyone. He estimated the stairway would deposit him somewhere near the room that had held the dreadful musicale last night. It was then just a short distance through the entrance hall and to the room where the artifacts had been. A simple door lock was no trouble.

  He made it to the narrow corridor that would lead him in one direction toward the back of the house, and in the other toward the front. As stealthily as possible, knowing he was in dangerous territory here, he crept along, feeling his way in the near darkness. A weak lamp lit up the entrance hall, and he paused before leaving the safety of the dim corridor. All seemed clear, and he heard no sound of habitation on this level. Giving a final glance, he darted out.

  A large form suddenly loomed in front of him. Damn! One of Burlington’s footmen. Young. Big. No neck.

  “I know what you’re up to,” the liveried ogre said.

  Hell and damnation. This was going to be dicey. Harris wondered which would be the best tack at this point, to come to outright fisticuffs or to simply offer the man money. Which he didn’t have. That left him with fisticuffs, which didn’t seem such a wise choice.

  He opted for diplomacy.

  “Of course you do. You’re a good man, doing your job. His lordship will be glad to hear it.”

  “Er, what?”

  “That’s why he asked me to sneak in here this way, to find out if his staff could be trusted to stay alert. It appears that you can. Well done.”

  “Lord Burlington asked you to sneak in here?”

  “Of course he did! I’m a gentleman, sir. You don’t think I go breaking into people’s houses uninvited, do you?”

  “Well…that is…”

  “No, of course not.”

  “But why would, I mean…”

  “Because of the antiquities, of course. You are supposed to be watching over them, aren’t you?”

  Lord, he hoped he was playing this right. An adept footman would likely see right through him, especially if his master had already disposed of said antiquities.

  “Indeed I am, sir,” the footman replied. “I been at my post here since after supper.”

  “Very well, then. And I take it the treasures are locked up tight, just where his lordship had them?”

  “Yes, sir, just where they’ve been the last two days, and one of us is placed here to watch over them day and night. Her ladyship says someone tried to get in the window after them yesterday.”

  “What? Well, it’s good to know that’s not likely to happen again.” Damn it.

  “No, sir. We’ll be watching like a hawk the next two days.”

  “Two days?”

  “Well, that’s when the master says they’ll be sent out. Found someone to buy them off him, he did. Seems these treasures turned out to be more trouble than they’re worth, always needing guarding and such. And her ladyship making such a fuss over it all, not to mention Miss Lettice’s pug has been a bundle of nerves. Seems we’ll all be better off to get rid of these old relics.”

  “Indeed, so it does.”

  Two days, was it? That meant they were safe for now. Good. He still had time to think. Perhaps things would work out, after all.

  “And forgive me for thinking you was here to…uh, sorry, sir.”

  “Forgiven, lad. Rather humorous, actually. To think you almost mistook me for a cat burglar.”

  “Oh no, sir! I never mistook you for that. I thought you were here to…well…”

  “Well what? What did you think I was doing here, creeping about in the middle of the night if not to steal that treasure?”

  The man positively reddened. “I thought you was here to steal my girl, sir.”

  “Steal your…?”

  “Milly, sir. Milly Cooper, what used to work upstairs. I seen you with her a time or two, and she’s been going on and on about what a fine gent you are, and all. I been a bit jealous, you know.”

  “Ah, the little housemaid. Well, I’m happy to assure you, sir, you’ve no need for jealousy. I’ll not be…wait, did you say she used to work here?”

  Now the footman smiled. “Some young lady met her here last night and gave her a fine wage to come work at her house. Milly’s all tickled over it.”

  “A young lady, you say?”

  He had a fair idea which young lady that might be. Ah, but Miss Rastmoor was too obvious, stealing a housemaid from Burlington who just happened to have detailed knowledge of the treasure. So Penelope was more involved in this than she indicated!

  Of course he gave the neckless footman no inkling of his thoughts. He wished the man well and commended him for his attention to duty. He even dug into his pocket and pulled out the last coins he had in there.

  “Here’s for your trouble,” he said grandly. “Now, would you like to let me out the front door, or should I tiptoe back down the way I came?”

  “You should stay right where you are, Lord Harry,” a sickeningly sweet female voice called from above.

  Damn. Lady Burlington stood at the top of the staircase smiling down at them. She wore a demure wrap, but he did not for one minute misconstrue her intent as anything innocent.

  “What a surprise, Lady Burlington,” he said, wishing it were true.

  “That is all, Tom,” she said to the footman. “I’ll look after Lord Harry now. You may retire.”

  “But his lordship said I was to—”

  “That is all, Tom,” she repeated in a firm voice that bordered on frightening.

  The footman gave one questioning look at Harris, who shrugged. Apparently the footman knew better than to argue with his mistress, so he made a quick bow then took his leave. Harris wished he could do the same.

  “You were being so quiet, I hardly knew you had arrived,” Lady Burlington said, her voice sweet as treacle but no less frightening.

  “We have business, I believe?” Harris said.

  She nodded, and indicated that if he wished their conversation to continue, he would have to meet her upstairs. Unenticing as that was, he acquiesced and ascended the stairway. She smiled a predatory smile and took his arm. He allowed himself to be ushered into an intimate sitting room that was lit by two flickering tapers and doused with enough perfume to make the air nearly unbreathable.

  So much for hoping the woman had purely business on her mind.

  “I’m here as requested,” Harris said when the door shut behind him, leaving them conspicuously alone.

  “Yes, and prompt, I see. Rather eager to meet me, Lord Harry?”

  “You indicated it would be worth my while.”

  “Indeed. Brandy?”

  She made a fuss over the decanter that waited nearby on a low table, making sure to bend over and give him full display of her décolletage. He pretended to observe with pleasure, but in truth he’d seen better. On Miss Rastmoor, for instance.

  “I notice you’ve removed your jewelry,” he commented.

  Actually, she’d removed most of her clothing, as well, leaving the demure wrapper she’d been in draped over a chair as she swayed about in nothing more than a diaphanous dressing gown. Ordinarily he would have found the effect quite enjoyable, an attractive female making herself so available to him. She was a woman who knew what she was about and was accustomed to making men comfortable with her. Very comfortable. Since it was obvious what she intended to charge him in payment for whatever information she might offer, it seemed a shame that he could not dredge up any interest.

  This had never before been a problem for him. Certainly he’d had interest aplenty when he’d relieved Miss Rastmoor of her
scarab. Hell, he’d been a little too interested, in fact. Just now, however, he found the very notion of engaging in anything remotely intimate with his hostess to be exceedingly distasteful.

  “There’s no need to stand on formality here, Lord Harry,” she purred, sliding up to hand him a glass. “Why not take off your coat and make yourself at ease.”

  “Why don’t you first tell me why I’ve been invited up here, Lady Burlington?”

  “I should think that much would be obvious,” she said.

  “Indeed. What is obvious is that you have a house full of Egyptian antiquities.”

  “My husband is a collector,” she said.

  “Well, someone here is a collector. And what of that lovely bauble you were wearing at the ball? Oddly enough, it bore a strong resemblance to a piece I happen to know was stolen not too very long ago.”

  “You don’t say? How very fascinating. But let’s discuss it later. Right now there is so much else we could be doing.”

  “We’ll discuss it now, if you don’t mind. Where is the rest of the jewelry? In your possession?”

  She sighed as if this were a huge imposition. “No, I don’t have it. I only received a few pieces.”

  “A few? Who has the rest?”

  “How do I know? Gone to whomever would pay for them, I suppose. Come, my lord, surely you can think of something other than thousand-year-old trinkets just now.”

  “I can indeed. I’m thinking of a certain friend who is in need of my help just now. What do you know of that, my lady?”

  “Honestly, Lord Harry! You act as if he did not deserve what’s become of him.”

  “He’s being held prisoner by ruthless people! What can you mean, he deserves such a thing? What do you know of any of this?”

  “Perhaps I should ask just what do you truly know of it,” she said, running her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder to play with the hair at the back of his neck. “Just how well do you really know this Professor Oldham, exactly?”

  “Well enough.” By God, he knew the man a damn sight better than she did, if she could think for one minute he was deserving of the treatment he’d received.

  “Yet you still persist he had nothing to do with the disappearance of those artifacts?”

  “I do, and again I’ll ask what you know of it all.”

  “Only as much as I’ve been told by an interested party. Come, make yourself comfortable and perhaps we can discuss this at length. Afterward.”

  She was pulling at his coat, brushing her body up against his as if he’d asked her to. It should have been provocative; instead it was infuriating. Clearly she had the artifacts, but very little idea what was truly at stake. Where had she been getting her information? And what, exactly, did she plan to do with it?

  “There will be no afterward,” he said. “Tell me now: what do you know of my…of Professor Oldham’s situation and the theft of those artifacts?”

  “Perhaps you should ask Oldham, my dear.”

  “Well, that’s a bit difficult, as he’s being held captive in Egypt.”

  “Oh? So that’s what you think?”

  Now she had the nerve to laugh at him. This was too much. He’d never been one to manhandle a woman—unless she asked nicely, of course—but tonight his patience had been overtried. He took her by the shoulders and held her out where she had no choice but to face him.

  “Tell me what you know, damn it!”

  A shadow of fear swept across her face. “He’s in England. They’ve brought him here.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That doesn’t matter! The man stole from them. You’re right, they are ruthless people and they will do what they can to see their treasure is returned to their land.”

  So she did understand at least that much of the threat. Professor Oldham’s captors were a band of Egyptians, men they had worked peacefully with to help conserve the antiquities, to try and halt the wholesale thievery of artifacts. It was Oldham’s greatest wish to see his work revered by the people of that nation. He wanted to preserve and protect their rich history, not pillage it as so many of their countrymen did.

  Yet when a whole year’s worth of excavating turned up missing, suspicion fell on Professor Oldham. The Egyptians feared he had betrayed them, using their labor and their resources to find the treasure, then stealing it out from under their noses for his own greed. They held him, ordering Harris to find and return the treasure. If he failed, Professor Oldham would suffer. Their deadline was nearly up and Harris had pitiful little to show for his efforts.

  He could, however, vouch for the older man’s character. “Professor Oldham is an honest man. He would never betray his Egyptian friends! Someone else orchestrated that theft and implicated him.”

  He knew it was true. Of course he’d found very little to prove it, though. So far it was as if those artifacts had magically brought themselves to England. As of yet he could find no connection between the original thieves—whoever they were—and any of the persons who appeared to be in possession now. Without that proof, Professor Oldham’s captors would never absolve him, and without the return of the artifacts—or the exorbitant ransom they demanded—they would never release him. It all hung on Harris’s shoulders, and so far he’d failed miserably.

  “Silly boy, you think you understand him? Charles Oldham is not the selfless scholar you seem to think him. Trust me, if he felt there was more profit to be made by bringing those treasures here to England, then that is likely what he did. His friends in the desert are fully justified not to trust him.”

  “You don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. He loves Egypt; he’s dedicated himself to preserving those artifacts.”

  “Oh? Perhaps you never heard of a certain correspondent of his, one P. Anthonys, right here in London.”

  “Of course I know of this P. Anthonys,” he said sharply.

  Yes, he knew of this person. Professor Oldham had been corresponding for nearly two years, answering endless questions from the man, sending detailed descriptions of every article they unearthed. Of course Harris knew of him; he’d been the first person he tried to locate when all this insanity began and he came rushing back to England.

  “Then you realize no P. Anthonys really exists?” Lady Burlington said with a condescending sneer.

  Yes, that thought had crossed Harris’s mind when his search for the fellow turned up nothing.

  “Clearly he is just a ruse, a false name used by Professor Oldham’s collaborator. Together they plotted to get the artifacts out of Egypt and bring them here to be sold for profit.”

  “There you are wrong, my lady,” he was pleased to inform her. “I have seen several of Professor Oldham’s letters to and from this Anthonys person, and there was nothing in them to suggest any plot or conspiracy.”

  There was nothing to suggest they were completely harmless, either. He made no mention of that fact.

  “And if I could produce evidence to the contrary?” she said carefully.

  “Are you indicating that you can?”

  “Perhaps you ought to find out.”

  He thought about it; he truly did. In the end, he simply had no stomach for it.

  “I won’t play your game, Lady Burlington. If you have information that will help me rescue Professor Oldham, then share it. Otherwise, I’m afraid it’s time for me to take my leave.”

  She pouted. “I’m disappointed, Chesterton. You’ve not yet bothered to ask how any of this might actually benefit you.”

  “It’s clear what you think will be a benefit, my lady. Sorry to say, you are wrong.”

  “Your uncle may think otherwise.”

  What the devil did his uncle have to do with any of this?

  “As you must be aware, my uncle and I are somewhat estranged.”

  “Indeed. But he and I are not.”

  Hellfire. He should have known. Nedley Chesterton
was involved in this. Why had he not seen his uncle’s hand from the beginning? Who else had such reason to hate Oldham? Indeed, everyone knew of Markland’s resentment toward the man, but why had Harris not for one moment suspected his uncle? Damn, but he’d been a shortsighted fool.

  “Now, Lady Burlington, you have my full attention. What interest does my uncle have in this matter?”

  “Let’s see, to which matter do you refer? The matter concerning Professor Oldham’s shameful larceny, or the matter concerning your rather scandalous involvement here with me?”

  Damn the scheming bitch. “All of it.”

  “Well, then. Your uncle has graciously sent ransom to retrieve Professor Oldham, at your expense, of course.”

  “At my expense? Good God, the ransom they demanded was far beyond anything I can afford.”

  “True, but as your uncle firmly believes you are one of Professor Oldham’s conspirators, then surely you could easily repay him. In artifacts.”

  “What? Hell no. Even if I were in possession of any artifacts, I’d never give them over to my uncle. Those artifacts rightfully belong to the people of Egypt. It was Professor Oldham’s intent all along, and I’ll not have his reputation besmirched by even so much as a hint that he would ever condone what has occurred.”

  “I’m afraid you have no choice, Chesterton,” she said, toying with his lapels. “The ransom has already been paid, and the Egyptian faction believes what they believe. Professor Oldham has been sent back here, and his days among the pyramids are finished. He will never be allowed to dig there again.”

  “So this is my uncle’s revenge? He fabricated lies, then paid the ransom, condemning Professor Oldham to assumed guilt and public humiliation, did he?”

  “You should be grateful. He saved the man’s life.”

  “He destroyed the man’s life. That hateful old bastard.”

  “You should speak more kindly of your dear uncle, Chesterton.”

  “When he has reason to deserve it, I would be most happy to.”

  She’d been working at his cravat and now pulled it slowly away from his neck. Fine. Let the scheming slut have it. That would be all she was getting from him tonight.