by Alice Gaines
“The deed is done,” he said. “Check to see if anyone’s in the corridor.”
Eve tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against it. When she heard nothing, she opened it a crack and listened again. Finally, she stuck her head outside and glanced up and down the hallway. “No one here.”
“Good,” Wesley said from right behind her.
Eve jumped and turned. Somehow, Wesley had managed to sneak up behind her and now stood no more than a foot away. So close that his breath played over her cheek.
“Don’t do that,” she ordered.
“Do what?”
“Come up on me like that. I don’t like being startled.”
“I’d be happy to explore your likes and dislikes later,” he said. “But right now, we ought to make our escape, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she said. “Finally.”
He gestured toward the door. “After you.”
Nearly half an hour had passed, and Eve had finally started to feel secure when a cry rang out from the direction of the study. Lady Farnham, the Orchid Thief’s own mother, came running—none too steadily—into the ballroom, clutching her bosom with one hand. In her other hand, she held the white orchid.
“Oh, dear heaven,” she gasped. “Someone help me.”
“Mother,” Wesley cried and rushed to her side. Eve followed. Lady Farnham had obviously stumbled upon their handiwork, and Eve needed to hear every detail the woman had to impart—if only out of morbid fascination at having the theft discovered while she was still on the premises.
Wesley slid an arm around his mother, who leaned in to his chest for support.
“Someone find a chair,” he ordered.
A cluster of blue bloods gathered around Lady Farnham, and one of them produced a seat. Wesley lowered his mother into it, while she fanned herself with the orchid and rolled her eyes as if about to swoon.
“How perfectly ghastly,” she said. “How terrifying. I may never survive the shock.”
“What on earth is wrong, Mother?” Wesley said. “What happened?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, waving the flower in her son’s face. “That dreadful Orchid Thief has been here.”
“Are you sure?” Wesley asked.
“Concentrate, Philip,” his mother said. “I went to the duke’s study, looking for you, and I found this in the duke’s safe. Why would His Grace keep an orchid in his safe?”
An audible gasp rose from the crowd, along with tsk-tsks and loud clucking of tongues. This was probably the most excitement any of them would have all season.
“The duke,” one of the men in the throng declared. “We must inform the duke.”
“Do that, Aldensham,” Wesley said. “And someone bring my mother a glass of sherry.”
“Brandy,” Lady Farnham corrected.
“Brandy!” Wesley declared. “Now, try to calm yourself, Mother.”
“More easily said than done. You didn’t stumble on that dastardly creature. He might have been in the room right before me.” She stopped, and a look of horror crossed her face. “He might have still been there—hiding behind the curtains or somewhere. Ye gods, he might have been watching me.”
Good Lord, the woman was putting herself into a perfect fit. Eve walked to her and took her hand. “Please not to perturb yourself, Lady Farnham.”
“He might have killed me. Struck me dead right on the spot.”
“He’s a thief, Mother, not a murderer,” Wesley said. “Please don’t work yourself into a state.”
“What do you know of the Orchid Thief, Philip? I might have been staring into the blood-red eyes of a killer. Looking straight into the fangs of Death himself.”
“Mon Dieu,” Eve said, more to shut the woman up than anything. “But you were not so, were you, my lady?”
“No,” Lady Farnham said. “But I might have been. Oh, where is that brandy?”
A footman appeared with a healthy dose of liquor in a glass on a brass salver. The duke came right behind the footman, his face ashen.
“I must inform you all that we’ve been robbed,” the duke said. “This very evening. During the ball.”
Another gasp went up.
“You see?” Lady Farnham declared. “I know when I’ve faced down a ruthless killer and when I haven’t. Oh, it’s all too horrible for words.”
“I’m afraid I’ve had to send for the constable,” the duke said. “I imagine he’ll want to talk to everyone here.”
Not the constable. She’d never had to face the constable before.
Only barely aware of what she was doing, Eve reached out and touched Wesley’s arm. He took her hand in his and smiled ever so faintly, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head that seemed meant to give her courage. The gesture might have warmed her heart, if his asinine plan to steal the Wonder of Basutoland hadn’t landed them in this mess in the first place. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull her fingers from the comforting grip of his.
The dowager duchess appeared by the duke’s side, and the family resemblance became immediately apparent. They both looked as though displeasure was their permanent state. Only now, the lady’s expression held some triumph around the eyes, too, as though she found nothing more satisfying than a good catastrophe.
“My wife?” the duke asked his mother.
“Taken to her bed,” the duchess said. “Her maid’s given her a potion.”
“Good,” the duke replied. “We’ll wait for the constable, and then I’m afraid I’ll have to end the ball.”
“Not Chumley,” the duchess said.
“Yes, Constable Chumley, Mother.”
“I won’t have that man in my house,” the duchess said. “He’s an idiot.”
“Unpleasant, but necessary, Mother. Please resign yourself to it,” Kent said.
“Oh, I say, yes,” Wesley agreed. “Nothing better to liven up a party than Chumley and his perturbations.”
Eve pulled her hand from his. Why on earth she’d left it there so long was a mystery. She did her best to glower at him out of the corner of her eye, but he ignored the look.
“Must I really be subjected to an inquisition?” Lady Farnham asked. She took a swig of her brandy. “After everything I’ve been through tonight?”
“So not necessary,” Eve said, bending toward Lady Farnham. “Allow me to escort to home the lady so that she will not be unfortunate.”
“What a dear child. And such good sense, especially for someone from my husband’s side of the family.” Lady Farnham’s eyes narrowed, and she dropped her hand. “Where is the man? This is all his fault. If he hadn’t been discussing those blessed pigs…”
The crowd parted, but not to allow Lord Farnham passage. Instead, a small, odd-looking man appeared, bringing with him the scent of rain and a cold blast of air that somehow clung about his person.
“Well, well,” he declared, twiddling with the end of his mustache. “The Orchid Thief has struck again. Just as I predicted he would.”
“Good evening, Constable Chumley,” the duke said.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” the constable said without even looking at him. Instead, he began a slow circuit of the assembled guests, hands behind his back, looking up into their noble faces. The circle grew ever wider, for each of his examinees took a step backward as he approached.
The man wore a bowler hat rather too far down on his head, and his tweed suit seemed normal enough until you noticed the very loud houndstooth waistcoat beneath the jacket. He stopped right in front of Wesley and craned his neck to look into Wesley’s face. “You found the diamond missing, did you?”
“Not I,” Philip said. “My mother did.”
Chumley turned to glare at Eve next, and one bushy eyebrow went up. “Is this your mother, your lordship?”
Eve laughed. What possible other response could she have to such a ridiculous question?
“I’m his mother,” Lady Farnham said. “I found the safe opened, and I also found
this.” She held out the orchid, which she’d reduced to a few torn petals during her earlier fit of hysteria.
“Fascinating.” Chumley took the remains of the flower from her and studied it. “It seems we have our first clue.”
“Dear Lord,” the dowager duchess grumbled.
“I went into the study and found the safe open,” Lady Farnham said. “This orchid was in the safe, inside a box.”
“And it was then you noticed that the diamond was missing?” Chumley asked.
“But I didn’t see a diamond,” Lady Farnham replied.
“Exactly,” Chumley said, wagging one finger in the air. “Because the diamond had already been stolen!”
“Obviously,” the duchess muttered.
Chumley cleared his throat. “Now then, Lady…”
“Farnham,” Lady Farnham supplied.
“Let’s retrace your steps, shall we?” Chumley said.
Lady Farnham took a breath. “Well, I couldn’t go into His Grace’s study with my son and the princess because of the pigs.”
“The pigs,” Chumley repeated.
“Yes. You see, my husband was telling Lady Quimby about his pigs,” Lady Farnham said. “She’s of a delicate constitution, I’m afraid, and can hardly tolerate horticulture, let alone animal husbandry.”
“Your husband, madam?” Chumley said.
“No. Lady Quimby. My husband isn’t delicate at all, more’s the pity.”
“Mother, I think the constable is asking who your husband is,” Wesley said.
“You, of all people, should know who he is, Philip,” Lady Farnham snapped. “He is your father, after all.”
Wesley looked at Chumley. “The lady’s husband is the Earl of Farnham.”
“Well, of course he is,” Lady Farnham said. “Where is the blessed man?”
“Right here, my dear,” Lord Farnham said, appearing finally. Eve stepped aside to allow him access to his wife’s side. He walked to Lady Farnham and took her hand. “What’s all this, then?”
“Really, Reginald,” Lady Farnham said. “The Orchid Thief’s been here and a diamond stolen. The entire company is in an uproar, and you know nothing about it?”
Lord Farnham huffed a few times. “I’m here now, and I’ll take you home where you can be safe.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Chumley said. “I need to interview all of you.”
“Rubbish,” the duchess declared. “I won’t allow my guests to be interrogated.”
“Mother,” the duke said softly.
“It’s too much,” the duchess complained. “I won’t have it.”
Chumley walked up to Lord Farnham and stuck his nose into the taller man’s face. “And may I ask where you’ve been all this time, my lord?”
Lord Farnham cleared his throat. “In the privy, if you must know.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Really!” the duchess interjected.
“No, I can’t prove it,” Lord Farnham answered. “I didn’t have anyone in there with me.”
Wesley snorted at that last, and Eve managed to get an elbow into his ribs just before Chumley turned his attention to him. “And you, my lord. You were in the duke’s study with a princess of some sort?”
“Not of ‘some sort,’ but of this sort,” Wesley said, indicating Eve with a nod of his head. “The Princess Eugenia d’Armand of Valdastok.”
“Your Highness,” Chumley said. Eve didn’t answer, but merely smiled. Regally, she hoped.
Chumley gave his mustache another twirl and turned his attention back to Wesley. “You were in His Grace’s study earlier, hmm?”
“Yes.”
“To what end?”
“To satisfy my curiosity,” Wesley replied.
The idiotic man. He had that look about him again—arrogant, smug, confident to the point of cockiness. How could he stand there and stare down a constable? Even one as pudding-headed as Chumley. He was doing his best to get the both of them arrested with that look. If only she could stamp her foot onto his instep without anyone seeing.
Chumley’s eyes narrowed. “Curiosity about what?”
“I’d heard that His Grace kept his prized collection of Lepidoptera in there, and I wanted to see them.”
Lepidoptera? What in hell were Lepidoptera? And why was the fool making up stories that could be easily exposed as fakery?
“The butterflies,” the duke exclaimed. “That dastard can’t have taken my butterflies.”
Chumley glanced at the duke. “Then you keep such things, Your Grace?”
“Of course. Oh, blast…he can’t have taken my butterflies.” The duke rushed from the room, presumably to check on the safety of his butterflies. Only how had Wesley known about them?
Chumley looked back at Wesley. “So, you went into His Grace’s study to look at butterflies.”
“Yes.”
“And the princess was with you?”
“Yes.”
The little man looked into Eve’s face. In fact, she was the only one he didn’t have to look upward to do it. “You went in there to look at some butterflies?”
“Mais oui,” she said. “They were…ah…how shall I say?…words fail me.”
“Hmm.” Chumley looked them both up and down. Clearly, he didn’t believe a word of the butterfly story, and Eve couldn’t blame him.
The constable walked all the way around Wesley. Slowly. Wesley just stood his ground as if having stupid little men examine him happened every day. Finally, Chumley stopped in front of him and gave him an oily smile. “What do you have in your pocket, your lordship?”
“My pocket?”
“Your pocket, sir.”
“A box,” Wesley said. Eve’s knees nearly buckled. Wesley had a box in his pocket, all right. He had a box with an enormous, uncut, stolen diamond in it. The purloined Wonder of Basutoland was in the box in his pocket, but he himself appeared completely at ease. The man was either made of stone, or he was mad.
“May I ask what’s in the box?” Chumley said.
“I’d rather not say,” Wesley said.
Dear God, could he have said anything more wrong than that? Maybe she could get them out of this somehow. Maybe if she could manage to faint dead away she could distract everyone from the fact that this idiotic man had just begged the inspector to examine the contents of the box in his pocket.
“I’m afraid I must insist,” Chumley said.
As calmly as if he were removing a handkerchief, Wesley reached into his pocket and produced the box, finally placing it into Chumley’s outstretched hand. Eve watched, her limbs leaden, and the constable opened the box to reveal…nothing. Nothing? The box was empty!
She looked up into Wesley’s face and found that smug glint in his eyes. She was going to kill him. With her bare hands. The very minute she had him alone, she was going to rip him into pieces and throw the scraps into the Thames. Really she was.
“There’s nothing in here,” Chumley said.
“I might have told you that,” Wesley said.
“But you didn’t, your lordship.”
“Well, you see, there’s a story behind the fact that the box is empty,” Wesley said.
There bloody well was a story, and Eve planned on hearing it the moment they were alone.
“Earlier this evening, the box held the earrings that the princess is wearing right now. They were a gift from me, and I don’t usually discuss such things in public,” Wesley said.
“Is this true, Your Highness?” Chumley asked.
“Mais oui,” she said. What else could she say?
Chumley stood in skeptical silence, staring at Wesley and twirling his mustache.
“Very well, Constable Chumley,” the duchess intoned. “You’ve had your interrogation, now you can set about finding the diamond, which is why we summoned you in the first place.”
“But, Your Grace,” the man implored.
“Never mind all that,” she growled. “You’ve insulted my gue
sts quite enough for one evening.”
“I should say so,” Lord Farnham said as he helped Lady Farnham to her feet. “I’ll just take my wife home.”
“Please do,” the duchess said as Lord Farnham escorted his spouse from the room. The duchess glared at Chumley. “Why don’t you go search somewhere? Make yourself useful.”
She followed that last with a sweep of her hand that left no doubt that the constable had been dismissed.
He took one last parting look at Wesley. “You’ll be available if I have more questions?”
“Of course.”
Chumley turned and stalked from the room, followed by most of the assembled throng.
Wesley took Eve by the elbow, just as he always did, and led her in the direction of the front door.
“Now, where are you taking me?” she whispered.
“To a certain flowerpot—third from the end under the study window.”
“Why in God’s name there?”
“Because that’s where I tossed the diamond, and I’d rather we got to it before Chumley does.”
Unbelievable. She really was going to kill him. Really, she was.
Chapter Seven
“And so you threw the diamond into the flowerpot while I was checking to see if the corridor was empty?” Miss Stanhope asked.
Philip studied her across the darkened carriage. Her eyes had taken on an almost feverish gleam, her skin had flushed, and her voice had lowered to a throaty contralto. Anyone happening across them right now might think that he’d interrupted them during the first stages of heated lovemaking. How utterly delightful and utterly sexual. And exactly the sort of excitement Philip had sought when starting out in his career in crime.
For now, he’d keep his pleasure to himself, though; he merely smiled pleasantly at her.
“Hiding the Wonder seemed the safest course of action,” he said. “In case it came up missing while we were still there.”
She pursed her lips in the most delicious way imaginable. “And the butterflies, how did you know about them?”
“Kent is almost as tedious about his butterflies as my father is about his pigs.”
“But I didn’t notice them in the study.”
