by Merry Farmer
“Nothing new,” Nigel growled. “Only that a witness may have heard the thief confess to the crime.”
Gibbon’s brow shot up. “A witness? Who? What did they hear? Who is the thief?”
Nigel swallowed, praying the conversation would be over as quickly as possible, before his balls fell off. “A student at Miss Dobson’s School, the building that adjoins the house owned by the East India Company,” he said. “But she did not see the man’s face. She only heard his confession.”
“When?” Gibbon took a half step forward. “Where did she hear it?”
Nigel hesitated. His protective instinct was to keep Rebecca out of the center of things as much as possible, but he couldn’t withhold information from his superior. “A Miss Rebecca Burgess heard the confession through the walls of the house,” he said. It was true without implicating Rebecca or her friends for trespassing in any way. “The confession was heard the day before yesterday. She did not see the gentleman’s face.” He didn’t have to tell Gibbon why.
Gibbon frowned and rubbed his chiseled jaw. “The thief was in the house the day before yesterday,” he said as though thinking. He hummed, then shook himself out of his thoughts. “If he is so bold as to return to the scene of his crime, perhaps he’ll be there again tonight.”
“Tonight, sir?” Nigel asked.
“We’ve received information that the East India Company is hosting a bacchanal tonight,” Gibbon went on. “It’s just the sort of ribald entertainment that a diamond thief would enjoy thoroughly. As I understand it, most of the key suspects will be in attendance.”
“They will?” Nigel’s brow shot up.
“Yes, and as it happens, I’ve secured an invitation for you as well,” Gibbon went on. “You are to attend tonight’s revelries discreetly and to observe our key suspects.”
“Yes, sir,” Nigel said with a nod.
Gibbon turned to go. “You can pick up the invitation in my office. There is time still before you need to leave to prepare so—” he smirked before stepping into the hall, “—carry on with your previous activity.”
Nigel didn’t have time to reply before Gibbon shut the door. He heard the man’s laughter ring in the hallway as he walked away. That was enough to wither any lingering need he had within him. He sighed and sat against the side of his desk. There was nothing to do but to follow orders and attempt to nab the thief at the revels that evening. And if he was lucky, he would see Rebecca again as well.
“Have you seen the costumes that the gentlemen entering the East India House tonight are wearing?”
All it took was Lady Miranda Pope’s loud question echoing across the dining room at Miss Dobson’s school for a near riot to occur. Within seconds, half the girls at the two, long tables had leapt to their feet to rush to the windows that looked out on the street.
“Girls, sit down at once,” Miss Dobson shouted over the sudden chaos. She stood and rapped the serving spoon she’d been using to dole out weak soup against the table.
It was no use, though. Rebecca, Jo, and Caro leapt up along with the others, rushing to the window. Caro managed to wedge her way to the front and called back, “It looks as though they’re having a fancy-dress party. They’re all wearing masks and cloaks.”
Another vocal thrill of excitement passed through the room as the rest of the pupils jumped up to get a glimpse.
“This is an outrage,” Miss Dobson shouted. “You will come away from the windows at once and go to your rooms, all of you. Miss Cade, Miss Conyer, Miss Warren, get the other girls up to their rooms.”
As was always the case in a place like Miss Dobson’s school, there were a number of girls who prided themselves on being loyal to Miss Dobson. Rebecca was certain it was because the young ladies in question delighted in bullying their peers and, in the case of Miss Warren, physically pushing them whenever she had the chance. Rebecca would have resisted the might of the bullies and fought—like some of the others were doing—to stay by the window. But after the discovery of the secret passageway connecting their room to the Ease India Company’s house, Rebecca, Jo, and Caro were only too glad to be sent to their rooms.
“It isn’t fair,” Lady Miranda cried out as Miss Warren grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the dining room and into the hall, where Rebecca and her friends had already fled. “This is not a prison. My papa will hear about this.”
“Your papa is a sour old lush who left you here to rot,” Miss Warren informed Lady Miranda, who gasped and turned as if she would slap her.
As wickedly fun as it would have been to stay and see a fight, Rebecca had grander plans for the evening.
“We can sneak next door to observe the party,” she whispered as she, Jo, and Caro raced up to their room. “Perhaps the thief is in attendance again.”
“Do you think he’ll reveal himself tonight?” Jo asked quietly. Other pupils had given up the fight and were returning to their rooms as well, although that could have been because their bedrooms faced the street.
“I would settle for the thief exposing himself once more,” Caro said with a snort.
They giggled as they climbed to the second floor and slipped into their room. “You are wicked,” Jo said as she shut the door behind them.
“Not as wicked as Rebecca,” Caro said, arching a brow at Rebecca.
Instantly, Rebecca felt her cheeks heat. She’d told her friends about her rendezvous with Nigel in as much detail as she dared. They knew that she and Nigel had ended up alone, that they had kissed, and that there had been a bit of inappropriate touching. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to confess the other wonderful things Nigel had done to her, though, and she certainly hadn’t breathed a word about how close he had come to taking her virginity. The whole experience was still too new and too raw within her to speak openly about it. But she had spent the last two nights, long after Jo and Caro had fallen asleep, attempting to duplicate the delicious sensations Nigel had provoked in her. She’d managed to pleasure herself, but it wasn’t the same. Not by a long shot.
“What do we do now?” Jo asked as the sound of more pupils returning to their rooms filled the halls.
“We wait until things settle down,” Caro said, “and then we investigate.”
As it happened, they didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, Miss Dobson made her way through the halls, shouting and raving about how horrid and ungrateful every one of her pupils was, and locking every door as she went.
“I wish she’d never discovered locking doors,” Jo said with a sigh as the three of them sat heavily on her beds to wait. “It doesn’t matter for us, but I feel sorry for the rest of the girls.”
“Who knows?” Caro shrugged. “There might be doorways to the secret passages in some of the other rooms as well.”
“If there are,” Rebecca said, “I doubt anyone has discovered them yet.”
They waited for some time more, until Miss Dobson had stopped raging and complaints had stopped coming from the other rooms on their hall. The entire school grew silent. Rebecca was tempted to draw a blanket around her shoulders and to nap for a while. As soon as that sort of weariness hit her, she knew it was time.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, standing. The three of them moved the heavy wardrobe enough so that they would be able to slip into the passageway. They each lit candles, but before Rebecca pulled the lever to open the door, she said, “We should branch out this time. We can explore just how extensive the passageway is and whether there are more exits if we split up.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Jo asked, her eyes wide as she lit her candle.
“No more dangerous than this entire enterprise is to begin with,” Caro said with a shrug.
Jo took a breath and nodded, and Rebecca opened the passageway. Once inside, she started off in the direction they’d gone during their first trip. Caro headed off in the opposite direction, disappearing around a corner. Jo followed Rebecca for a few yards, then took a side passage that must have involved stairs
that led to the floor below, since her candle quickly moved down in the darkness.
It was nerve-wracking being without her friends, but the sense of adventure and purpose that filled Rebecca was so potent that it pushed her on. She was filled with the same sort of giddy excitement that had filled her the night of Lady Charlotte’s party. And the afternoon she’d spent with Nigel. Just the thought of him in combination with what she was doing had her skin prickling with excitement and her blood running hotter.
That could also have been due to the sounds of revelry she heard on the other side of the walls around her. In all directions, she heard laughter and music. She stopped at the room they’d observed the day before, sliding the panel aside to have a look. The room was empty. The chaise was draped with cloaks of all colors, and a table on the far side of the room held a basket that appeared to be filled with masks.
The spirit of adventure filled Rebecca further, and she brushed her free hand along the wall, looking for hinges. There had to be a way out of the passage and into the rooms of the East India House. If she could make it into that room in particular, she could—
Her hand brushed across a familiar-feeling switch and she pulled. With a click, the wall swung in. Rebecca held her breath and opened it wide enough to slip through. She searched the room frantically to be absolutely certain no one was there, and when she was sure, she dashed into the room, shutting the secret door behind her. Now that she’d crossed through it, she would be able to find it again.
Without wasting any time, she blew out her candle and set it on the table with the basket of masks. The sound of guests echoed through the halls, and a laughing man and woman even passed by the door to the room. Rebecca snatched a mask from the basket and put it on as fast as she could. She grabbed a cloak from the pile next and clasped it around her shoulders to hide her drab school uniform. There were no mirrors in the room, but there was a window. She studied her reflection long enough to be satisfied that her identity was concealed, then skipped to the door.
For a moment, she hesitated. Was she truly ready to face the consequences of being caught, if that was what happened? She wasn’t sure. But that merely meant that she needed to not be caught. What she had to do was find out more about the man who had stolen the diamond. There was no possible way she could go around tugging down men’s breeches to look for a half-moon birthmark, but she could listen for the voices she and her friends had heard that night.
She darted out into the hall, holding her breath and looking around, uncertain where to go. That much was decided for her when a man turned the corner and started at the sight of her. He wore a mask shaped like a wolf and a silver-grey suit to match. A shock of ginger hair stood out around the edges of his mask.
“Well, well,” he said in a wolfish voice. “I knew Khan was hiding treats in this part of the house.”
“Is he?” Rebecca asked as the man came closer. She needed to prompt him into speaking more so that she could discern his voice.
“You look like a fetching little minx,” he said as he prowled closer to her.
Panic filled Rebecca’s gut. She couldn’t tell if his voice was the one from the other day or not. It was unlikely that the first man she encountered in the house would be the thief. “I lost my way,” she said as the wolf-man came closer.
“You most certainly did,” he said, a growl to his voice. It was then that Rebecca noticed the bulge in his breeches. “Shall we step into this room to become better acquainted?” he asked, coming close enough to her to reach for her cloak.
Rebecca leapt away. “I’m looking for someone,” she said, backing down the hall and hoping someone would stumble across them. She wasn’t exactly frightened by the man. He certainly smelled delightful—like musky cologne. But after what she’d shared with Nigel, she had no wish to become better acquainted with anyone else.
“I’m not who you’re looking for?” he asked, his mouth—which was visible under the bottom of his mask—turning down in a pout.
“No,” she said, moving faster down the hall. “I’m looking for—” A flash of inspiration hit her. “I’m looking for a man with a half-moon birthmark on his bum.”
The wolf-man laughed out loud. “What do you want him for? He’s a cad and a bounder. And he only has half a moon, if you catch my meaning.”
Rebecca thought perhaps she did. She couldn’t help but giggle at the idea, in spite of feeling as though the wolf-man was stalking her down the hall. He would respect her refusal, wouldn’t he?
Fortunately, she didn’t have to find out. She reached the corner at the end of the hall and was overjoyed to find a staircase leading down. Better still, there were a great many people at the bottom of the stairs. She rushed down to join them, no longer quite as anxious as the wolf-man followed her.
But the moment she fled into a large, highly-decorated room filled with the scent of exotic spices, she had a bigger problem. Dozens of people turned to look at her. Two-thirds of them were men dressed in all manner of costumes, all wearing masks. The rest were women in various states of undress. Many wore gowns that were soaking wet and which clung to their bodies, hiding nothing. A few wore dry gowns, but had their bodices peeled down to expose their breasts. One wore nothing at all, but was bedecked in jewelry. A man whose mask had curling ram’s horns protruding from it paid special attention to her, fondling the paste gems spilling across her chest as much as her breasts. About half of the women were Indian, but regardless of their national origin, Rebecca was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were all harlots. They were the evening’s entertainment.
All but one. For right there, in the center of the room, her sagging breasts fully exposed, a trio of older men leering at her, was Miss Dobson. Rebecca gaped at her. Not an hour ago, the harridan had been storming the halls of the school, locking her pupils in their rooms, and now there she was, already in her cups. She wore a half-mask made of green feathers, but there was no mistaking her wide, mean mouth. When one of the men circling her grasped one of her breasts and squeezed, Miss Dobson gasped and laughed.
Rebecca took a step back in shock, but the movement caused her to run smack into the wolf-man. He caught her around the waist, his hand reaching into her cloak and finding one of her breasts.
“Are you certain you’re not looking for me?” he asked, squeezing her breast and grinding something stiff against her backside. “I’m hung like a donkey, you know,” he whispered against her ear.
Rebecca shivered—not so much from fear, but because she suspected that, were it not for Nigel, she would have spread her legs for the man in a heartbeat. He smelled so good and was obviously fit. She refused to betray the man her heart wanted simply to satisfy her body’s curiosity, though.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, praying he would understand, “but I’m afraid—”
“Hold on,” Miss Dobson called out, turning to Rebecca and losing her smile. She pushed her half-mask up to her forehead and squinted hard at Rebecca, or rather at her skirts. “Where did you get one of my uniforms?”
Chapter 5
Within minutes of arriving at the house owned by the East India Company, Nigel’s list of possible diamond thieves began to narrow.
“Of course, Coleman swore he’d never return,” he heard a pair of masked men—who were obviously the Duke of Westmoreland and the Earl of Derby—saying. “That ruddy diamond thief stole his gold watch right out of his waistcoat pocket in the frenzy after the Runners arrived.”
“You don’t say.”
Nigel edged past the men, deeper into the small refreshment room across the hall from the ballroom, where most of the entertainment was taking place. That information matched what some of his colleagues had already discovered about Coleman. The sheer cluelessness of Westmoreland and Derby was enough for him to cross them off the list of suspects, pending further investigation.
The true thief might very well have been present at that evening’s entertainment, though. Nigel had a strong hunch that the t
hief hadn’t just taken the diamond and run. The East India Company was too rich a target to strike once and vanish. He would have bet his inheritance that the thief was planning to strike again. Which meant he could very well be just around the corner.
No sooner had the thought popped into his head than the man who was helping himself to a cup of punch at the table where Nigel stood knocked over a bottle of spirits. The bottle tipped over, splashing amber liquid on Nigel’s breeches.
“Sorry, friend,” the man said scrambling to set the bottle upright. “How clumsy of me. I was just admiring that elephant-headed chap there.” He pointed to a gold statue of the god Ganesh that sat on a small dais in the center of the table. A fat ruby adorned the statue’s forehead. “How much do you suppose that’s worth?”
Nigel’s nerves bristled, and he glanced up at the man, narrowing his eyes behind his plain, black mask to study him. He could tell at once he was speaking to Lord Herrington, even though the man wore a mask in the shape of a wolf’s head. His ginger hair was a dead-giveaway, not to mention the cut of his jaw and the way his mouth slanted in his tell-tale grin. Herrington was right at the top of Nigel’s list of suspects. And he was pointing out the house’s valuables.
“Are you in need of money?” Nigel asked, hoping bluntness would take Herrington by surprise and make him lax.
Herrington laughed. “Aren’t we all?” He sighed and studied the statue once more. “I’m in need of something else even more though.” He adjusted his breeches with his free hand. “Thank God Khan is footing the bill for the ladies tonight.”
Nigel wanted to question Herrington further, but another man bumbled into the room. He wore a ram’s head mask and shuffled straight to the punch bowl, where he poured himself two glasses.
“Bloody hell,” Nigel muttered, wishing the ram’s headed man would leave so he could interrogate Herrington.
Herrington finished his punch and put the empty cup aside. He nodded to Ganesh once more and said, “Khan should be careful about keeping that out. It’s small enough that one could simply slip it in one’s pocket and carry it off.”
