His Improper Lady--A Historical Romance

by Candace Camp

Desiree yawned, and suddenly weariness swept over her like a tide. She began to undress, undoing the buttons at the neck of her costume in the back and pulling the fitted garment off over her head. She glanced in the mirror as she folded the costume. Her heart began to pound, her body recognizing what was wrong a second before her mind identified it. Her necklace wasn’t lying around her throat.

  Her hand flew to her chest and she moved closer to the mirror. The lucky piece she always wore around her neck, the first gambling token she’d won at Brock’s club, was gone, chain and all. Icy fear pierced her. She wasn’t just rusty; she’d committed a ruinous mistake. She’d left something of herself behind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TOM QUICK TROTTED up the steps to the entrance of Broughton House. The first time he’d seen the stately mansion, he’d been eight years old, hungry and dirty. The place was so imposing that at first he’d thought that Reed Moreland had brought him to the bobbies’ headquarters. After all, it would have been the normal thing to happen after the well-dressed man caught Tom picking his pocket.

  Instead, Reed had taken him into what was obviously a house, though far grander than anything Tom had ever been inside, and there he’d been fed (to his astounded delight) and bathed (over his strenuous objections) and given a clean set of clothes that had once belonged to Reed himself. Tom had never felt anything as soft as those garments. By that time, Tom had become convinced that he’d been kidnapped by a band of lunatics. He’d told his benefactor that, expecting a blow but needing to maintain his cocky image. All Reed had done was laugh and say Tom was probably right.

  Over the years, Tom had become accustomed to the enormity of the duke’s house and grounds in the crowded city, at least enough so that it didn’t make him pause anymore when he turned up the walkway to the house. He’d also managed to train himself to knock at the front door. When he’d started working for Reed, then Olivia, he had headed instinctively to the servants’ door on the side, but finally the family’s badgering had pulled him into line with their determined egalitarian attitude. It was difficult to go against the tide of the Morelands.

  A footman opened the door, doing his best to maintain an expression of dignity despite the puppy currently tugging on his trouser leg and growling ferociously. “Mr. Quick. Good day. If you’re looking for Lord Constantine, I believe that he is still in the breakfast room. This way, sir.”

  The servant started to escort Tom to the room, trying to unobtrusively shake the determined puppy loose as he did so, with no success. Tom managed to suppress a laugh and said, “That’s all right. I know the way.”

  Tom started toward the back hall just as the Duke of Broughton rounded the corner into the entryway. The older man was tall, though his shoulders had a bit of a scholar’s stoop to them, and his hair was almost entirely white save for a small mingling of strands of his original black at the back of his head. Bits of packing straw clung here and there to his well-tailored suit. A magnifying glass hung on a cord around his neck, and a pair of spectacles stuck out of one of his pockets. In one hand he held a large knife. His other arm was courteously given to the woman beside him.

  The woman carried herself proudly, her back straight and her head high. What Tom could see of her hair beneath her hat was an iron gray, not a strand out of place. Even though she was too squarely built to achieve the sort of elegance that the duchess displayed, her clothes were expensive and fashionable, if somewhat conservative. She might have been attractive if not for the sour expression on her face.

  The duke was saying, “Sorry I couldn’t help you, Tabitha. But I promise I will look into it.”

  “If you remember,” the woman replied tartly.

  “Certainly, certainly. I’ll tell Smeggars. That’ll do the trick.” The duke looked up and saw Tom. “Why, hullo, Tom.” He smiled at Tom in his usual benign way. “Nice to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, sir. How are you?”

  “Quite well, thank you. I’ve been unpacking a new crate. It had an excellent Cretan knife.” He held out the knife for Tom to examine. “A very nice terra-cotta head, as well—only a bit of the chin knocked off.”

  “Very nice, sir.” The knife looked like nothing but a battered old knife to Tom, but the duke was always so pleased about his acquisitions that Tom would never say anything to disappoint him.

  “Really, Henry,” said his companion, who clearly did not have the same qualms about disappointing the duke that Tom did. “All this puttering about with old pots and tools is so undignified.”

  “Mm, yes, I suppose it is,” Henry replied affably. “Never paid much attention to dignity.”

  “Obviously,” his companion said, her gaze turning to the harassed footman, who had finally freed his trousers from the puppy’s mouth and was now trying to catch the pudgy little thing. The puppy, finding it a fine game, darted around, jumping and barking merrily.

  “I beg your pardon, I haven’t introduced you to Mr. Quick,” Henry said, oblivious to the noise behind them. “Tabitha, this—”

  “For pity’s sake, Henry.” Lady Moreland’s eyes swept over Tom dismissively. “I am not accustomed to being introduced to servants.”

  The duke looked taken aback. “Oh, but Tom’s not a servant.” His brow furrowed. “How do you know their names, then?”

  She heaved a sigh. “Goodbye, Henry.” She gave him a short nod, adding, “Don’t forget.”

  “Yes, of course.” The duke watched her walk away. When the door closed behind her, he turned back to Tom. “Sorry about that. She’s a bit...”

  “Haughty?” Tom suggested.

  “Precisely.” The duke’s eyes twinkled. “Well, one can’t choose one’s relatives, more’s the pity.” He shrugged. “Ah, well. Are you here to see Con? I believe he’s back there.” He gestured vaguely down the hall. “I must get back to my crate. Good to see you.”

  “You, too, sir.” Tom nodded to him, and the duke strode eagerly back down the hallway. Tom turned the other way, heading toward the babble of laughter and voices. There was no telling how many of them were in there; three Morelands could manage to sound like an army of people.

  In fact, when he stopped in the doorway, he could see that it was only a few of them—the twins Con and Alex and their wives, along with Megan, holding her youngest daughter, Brigid, while Alex played some sort of hand-slapping game with Brigid’s slightly older sister, Athena.

  “Quick! Quick!” Brigid crowed when she saw him, reaching out to him. For some reason, the two moppets seemed to have a particular fondness for him. Tom suspected it was because of his name; quick was a word perfectly suited to Theo and Megan’s little girls.

  Tom took the child and rubbed noses with her in their customary greeting. Athena ran over to throw her arms around his legs in a hard hug, then abandoned him to return to her game. Tom shifted Brigid to his hip. “I see you have a new puppy.”

  That statement was a mistake, for Brigid’s face clouded and her chin began to tremble. “Rufus went to heaven.”

  The aging dog had passed on six months ago, but clearly Brigid was not yet over it. Tom felt a moment’s panic at what to say. “Um, yes, I’m very sorry. I’m sure Rufus is looking down on you, and he’s glad that you have a new puppy to love. What’s the little dog’s name?”

  “Rufus Two-fus,” Brigid replied, brightening. “Where’s Two-fus?” She looked around and wriggled down from his arm.

  “Let’s find Rufus!” Athena joined her sister, and the two tore out of the room.

  “I better go save the poor puppy,” Megan said and started after her girls. “Nice to see you, Tom.”

  Aside from the Greats, Megan was the Moreland with whom Tom felt most at ease. She was from the States, and, like other Americans, lacked a proper understanding of class distinctions. Moreover, she had grown up in a rough-and-tumble neighborhood of New York City, more akin to Tom’s own background.r />
  “Likewise,” Tom said as Megan walked out the door. He turned back to the four people left in the room. The black-haired, green-eyed twins, Constantine and Alexander—given the appellation of the Greats because of their names—were almost like younger brothers to Tom. It was hard to be in awe of someone when you’d taught him how to pick locks.

  “Sit down,” Alex said, sweeping a hand at the empty chairs. “Want some breakfast? It should still be warm.”

  “No, thanks. I already ate.” In fact, the roll he’d grabbed from the bakery hadn’t erased his hunger, but Tom had long been reluctant to accept the food the Morelands frequently offered. It was foolish pride, he supposed, but he hated to appear that he was using the family in any way.

  “Could I get you some coffee, then? Or tea?” Lilah, whose plumper face and rounded stomach were finally beginning to show her pregnancy, started to rise from her seat.

  “No, no, I’ll get it.” Con patted her arm and jumped up.

  Lilah rolled her eyes. “Con, I’m not an invalid.”

  But Con was already at the sideboard, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to Tom. “What brings you here this morning?”

  “Well, I wanted—” Tom was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, cradling a blanket-wrapped baby in her arms.

  “I think Miss Marjorie has decided it’s time to eat,” the nanny said, and Sabrina, Alex’s wife, rose with alacrity to take the child from her.

  “Tom, you must see the baby. You won’t believe how much she’s grown.” Alex, beaming, went to stand with his wife and gaze down with delight at the baby. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  “A fortnight, I expect,” Tom answered, going dutifully over to look at the baby. Tom was of the opinion that the baby was prettier than most infants even though her tiny head was bald as a billiard ball, but he always found it hard to see the changes in growth that the proud father proclaimed. It was easier and kinder, however, to agree. “Ah, yes, she has grown. She’s a beauty.”

  He held out a finger, which one wildly flailing hand latched onto and tried to drag to her mouth before realizing that it wasn’t food, at which point she screwed up her face and began to howl.

  The nurse and Sabrina quickly left the room, but Alex dropped back into his chair. “I’m of utterly no use there.”

  “I believe she’s louder than even Athena,” Con said with something like pride.

  “Just wait. Yours will be louder still,” Alex retorted. “It’s only fitting.”

  “I was not a loud child,” Con protested, to everyone’s amusement.

  “Boys,” Lilah said. “Let Tom tell us what he came to say.”

  “Yes, Mum,” Con replied, taking her hand and smiling at her in a besotted way before turning back to Tom.

  “Someone broke into the office last night.”

  “Moreland & Quick?” Con’s brows shot up.

  “Yes, the agency.” He glanced over at Alex. “No one got into yours. I don’t know if I caught her before she could make her way down to it or—”

  “Her?” Lilah interrupted. “The intruder was a woman?”

  “Yes. Though she didn’t fight like one. We wrestled a bit, and she stamped on my foot and punched me in the stomach. Then she went out the window and walked across the ledge like a cat.”

  “What ledge?” Alex asked.

  “Exactly.” Tom nodded toward him. “The stone that’s below the windowsill runs all the way across. Couldn’t be wider than six inches. Then she swung across to the awning next door and slid down it and was off like a rabbit.”

  The other three stared at him. Con said, “I don’t know whether I’m more surprised that someone broke into our office or that she exited like that. Did she take anything?”

  “Not that I could tell. You’d have to come down and look to make sure she didn’t get something from your desk, but there was nothing gone from mine, and I couldn’t see that any files were missing. I’m positive she wasn’t carrying anything when she left.”

  “Why would anyone break into our office?” Con mused. “Something about a case, you think?”

  “I don’t know what else. It’s not like we have any cash or valuables there. She didn’t break into the safe, but I don’t know if that’s because she wasn’t interested in it or she just hadn’t reached it yet.”

  “Do we have a case that would warrant that? I haven’t been paying much attention lately, I know, but nothing I can think of would make anyone want to steal anything from us, even information.”

  “I wouldn’t think there would be too many thieves who can move like that,” Alex pointed out.

  “No, she obviously has acrobatic skills. I’m going to ask some people I know.” He didn’t need to finish the thought. Everyone knew that Tom kept in contact with people in the criminal world. “But I have another clue.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gambling chip. “This came off in the struggle.”

  The other three leaned closer. “The Farrington Club,” Lilah read. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a fashionable gambling parlor,” Alex explained. “A casino. It’s very exclusive. You must be a member or come with someone who is. Or have an invitation.”

  “I don’t know what I can learn from this place, but obviously this gambling chip has special meaning to our thief. She wore it on a chain around her neck, and the chain broke.”

  “My guess is it’s a good luck charm,” Con said. “Gamblers are notorious for believing certain rituals or objects can bring them luck at the tables.”

  “Want me to see if I can get anything from it?” Alex offered.

  His words didn’t surprise Tom. He was well used to Alex’s unusual ability to draw information from inanimate objects. They’d used it many times at the detective agency to help them find a lost object or missing person.

  He handed Alex the charm, and the other man closed his hand around it. He shut his eyes as well, as it was easier to focus on the object that way. After a moment, Alex said, “Lilah?” She reached out to lay her hand atop his. For reasons none of them understood, Lilah was able to increase the Moreland twins’ odd abilities, though it worked better with Con than with Alex.

  “Yes, that’s better. But I still can’t get much that would help you find her. It belongs to a woman, but I get no picture of her. There’s a sense of happiness with it, but there’s more—triumph, perhaps? I’d guess she’s had it for years, and there’s a great deal of affection for some other person attached to it, as well.” Alex sighed and handed the charm back to Tom. “I can see a large indoor room, ornate, smoky and full of people and tables. It looks like an expensive casino, but it could be that I’m seeing it because I already know what sort of location it is. No faces. That sort of thing is always more difficult to discern. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, I’ll have to go there to find out anything,” Tom responded.

  “But would a thief belong to an expensive club?” Lilah questioned. “And do women frequent such places?”

  “A few women, but not many. And I think she’d stand out.”

  “But how are you going to get inside if one has to be a member or hold an invitation?” Lilah asked.

  “I have an invitation,” Con said. He glanced at his wife. “I’ve never used it, you understand. But they’ve sent me one more than once.”

  “And you’ve never offered to take me there?” Lilah said indignantly.

  “Well, um, I presumed you wouldn’t care to be seen in such a place.”

  She laughed. “Darling, when I married you, I tossed aside all thought of adhering to society’s rules.” Lilah gave Con a playful push on the arm. “Go on. Get that invitation for Tom and go to the agency. I know you want to investigate.”

  “Are you certain?” Con asked doubtfully. “You felt ill yesterday.”

  “Feeling ill is a so
litary occupation, my love. And since I just ate a trencherman’s breakfast, you can see that I am not ill today. If I have an emergency, I am surrounded by servants and a good number of your family. And if you stay here, asking me how I feel or if you can fetch my needlework for me, I shall wind up throwing something at you.”

  “You know, there are a number of women who would appreciate their husband’s concern,” Con told her with an offended air.

  “Perhaps you should have married one of them,” Lilah retorted sweetly.

  “Don’t be silly,” he told her, grinning. “Then whom would I have to annoy?”

  “Con. Go.” She leveled a firm gaze at him, but her smile when Con bent to kiss her cheek belied any irritation.

  The three men went to the office, invitation in hand. Tom paused outside the front door to show the others the thief’s escape route. Alex whistled in admiration, and Con walked about a bit, going to the awning next door and back. Like his twin, Con possessed a particular ability. He had an innate sense of true north and could often pick up a person’s trail. Con walked slowly up the street to the next intersection, head down, then returned to Tom and Alex.

  “It’s hopeless,” Con said in disgust. “I’ve been working on tracking specific people, but I still have difficulty unless it’s someone close to me. I can see which way you went this morning, Tom, and there are lots of traces of all three of us around here. But in public places like this, where so many people have walked, it’s hard to distinguish one trail from another. I think I picked up her track, but it soon vanished completely.”

  Upstairs, Con looked through his desk and files and found nothing missing. Alex was able to pick up some emotions of excitement and fear, but the place was too much fixed with the presence of Con and Tom for him to acquire any information about the thief. Alex soon went down the hall to his architectural office, and Con sat down to go through the stack of mail on his desk before starting on a more thorough search of their files. Tom went looking for information from his various contacts who lived in the shadowy world of petty criminals.