His Wicked Charm Page 9

  “Yes. She thinks it would be a most appropriate marriage.”

  “Egad.”

  “Just so. It would be convenient.”

  “I can’t see how. He seemed a dead bore.”

  “He inherited my father’s title. But Father left the main house to me. It’s the family seat—the Holcutts have owned it for ages. So marrying him would reunite the estate and the title. Everything would be in the direct line once again.”

  “That scarcely seems a reason to marry.”

  “Not in my opinion. Though perhaps he is less stiff once one gets to know him.”

  Con frowned. “Don’t let them talk you into accepting him. It would be a terrible waste,” he said, his voice unaccustomedly serious.

  Lilah glanced at him, surprised. “I would have thought you’d say the two of us were well matched.”

  “Lord, no. You are aggravating but never boring.” He grinned. “I am always available to chase off suitors, should you need me.”

  A laugh bubbled up out of her throat. “You seemed quite adept at it. Though I must say you overdid it. Eyes as blue as the sky?”

  “In my defense, I was unprepared. But you are right, your eyes are more the color of the ocean.” His irrepressible grin flashed. “A stormy ocean.”

  “Nor are they like stars in the velvet sky. And hair like the sunset? Really, now...”

  “But that is the truth.” His eyes went to her hair, his expression changing subtly. “Your hair is beautiful. It’s what first drew my eye.”

  “I thought that was my lilac stockings,” Lilah said drily, struggling to ignore the hot, jittery feeling the look on his face evoked in her.

  “No. Your lilac stockings were why I followed you. Your hair was why I was I watching you closely enough to spy your lilac stockings.”

  “You have no absolutely no shame, do you?”

  “I’m sure I must. Somewhere.”

  “It’s well hidden.”

  Con turned into a small park, little more than an oasis of grass and a few trees in the midst of the city, and led her to a wrought iron bench in the shade of one of the trees. She sat down, and Con took his seat beside her, his expression so serious it raised a faint twinge of alarm in Lilah.

  “Con, what is it? Why did you call on me today?”

  “I came to ask a favor of you.”

  He had surprised her again. “What? Surely no one in your family has been abducted again already.”

  “No. It’s about Sabrina.” He looked into her eyes. “I need your help.”

  “Yes, of course. Anything.”

  “You know her better than any of us do. Can you tell me about her key?”

  Lilah stared at him blankly. “Key? What key? I don’t understand.”

  “Damn. I’d hoped it would be something you recognized.” Con leaned back with a sigh. “We think the ruffians yesterday were actually after Sabrina.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They seemed to be interested only in Kyria. I think they probably hadn’t expected the other women to fight them, and in the course of trying to subdue them, they threw them in the wagon, too. But Kyria is the only one they questioned. They asked her repeatedly about a key. Kyria had no idea what they were talking about. There was never a demand for a ransom, as one would expect from kidnappers. This key seems to be all they wanted.”

  “It’s certainly peculiar, but what does that have to do with Sabrina?”

  “Kyria was carrying Sabrina’s parasol. It’s very distinctive.”

  “The white one with the painted blue scene and the Fabergé handle?”

  He nodded. “I don’t know if it’s Fabergé, but the handle is carved out of some blue stone.”

  “Lapis lazuli.”

  “Kyria says Sabrina carries it often.”

  “She loves it. Her mother gave it to her. But are you saying the men mistook Kyria for Sabrina because she was carrying Sabrina’s parasol? That’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it? Why would Sabrina know anything about this key?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I hoped you could tell me. Kyria’s interrogator insisted her father had given it to her. But our father never gave Kyria any key.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they thought she was Sabrina.”

  “Who then? The men were just hired help. No doubt they were told when and where to abduct her—my mother’s plan to attend that meeting with her daughters and daughters-in-law was well-known. But they would have to have been able to identify their target. So, a certain parasol, one that was easy to recognize...”

  “Yes, I can see that. Did you ask the kidnappers why they picked Kyria?”

  “No,” he said in disgusted tones. “Kyria told us about it after they’d already hauled the men off to jail. I’ll try to question them at the jail, but I have nothing else to use to threaten them, so I doubt they’ll be willing to talk.”

  “Still...”

  “Who has been in danger recently? Who is an heiress? Who is it that already has a set of enemies?”

  “I know you suspect the Dearborns, but...”

  “It is the Dearborns. Alex let them go before because he didn’t want any scandal attached to Sabrina. They might think they could get away with it again. They have a grudge against the Morelands, Sabrina and Alex in particular. And they’re still in great need of money to pay their debts.”

  “But that’s a rather circular argument. You say Sabrina was the target because she has the Dearborns as enemies and that the Dearborns are the ones who orchestrated it because the victim was Sabrina.”

  “Why are you always so bent on defending them?” Con scowled.

  “I’m not. Don’t growl at me because you have a weak argument.”

  “I’m not growling. I’m grinding my teeth.”

  Lilah ignored his interjection. “The Dearborns acted in a villainous manner to Sabrina. I shall never forgive them for that. And it does seem likely they might be behind it.”

  “Aha! You see? You think it was them, too. You just want to argue.”

  “I think it’s important to approach it in a logical manner,” she corrected. “To think it through before you rush off to accuse the Dearborns.”

  “I already accused the Dearborns.”

  Lilah sighed. “Naturally. I do hope you didn’t blacken that poor footman’s eye this time.”

  “No, I did not.” He adopted a dignified look. “I was quiet and restrained.”

  “So, in the face of your quiet restraint, they must have admitted their guilt.”

  “Of course they didn’t,” he replied cheerfully. “However...” He held up a finger like a professor making a point. “When I brought up the matter of a key, it was clear they knew what I was talking about.”

  “They told you what the key opened?”

  “No. But when I said the men were looking for a key, Niles said, ‘The key?’ And Dearborn the Younger said, ‘Her key?’ Not a key, but her key. The key. As one would say about a specific object. There was this look in their eyes—it wasn’t bewilderment, as yours was a moment ago. It was knowledge. Tom Quick saw, too. Even if—and it’s a very unlikely if—they were not the ones who seized the ladies, I am certain they know about that key.”

  Lilah knotted her brow, thinking. “What kind of key are we talking about? What would it open?”

  “Something that contains money. Why else would the Dearborns be interested? A safe? A room? A chest full of gold doubloons?”

  “That’s what this is all about.” Lilah narrowed her eyes. “You want to hunt for pirates’ treasure.”

  “Aye, matey.” He gave her an unrepentant grin.

  “Oh, hush.”

  “I’d make a grand pirate, I think. I could get an eye patch. I already have the parrot.”

  Lilah began to laugh. “Are you never seri
ous?”

  “Only when it’s absolutely necessary.” But his face turned serious again. “That fourth kidnapper got away. He’s still out there. What if he tries again? What if he is still looking for the key? Whether I’m right about Niles Dearborn or not, someone hired those men, and I’m sure he’s still looking for this key. I have no intention of letting him steal something from Sabrina. Besides, the man’s dangerous, and if I find what he wants, he hasn’t any reason to go after Sabrina—or my mother and sisters—again.”

  “If you have it, he’ll go after you.”

  “Exactly.” His smile this time held no humor.

  “But if you don’t know what the key looks like or what it unlocks, how are you going to find it?”

  “That’s why I came to you. You know Sabrina and her father and the Dearborns better than I. You’ll be a great help when I search Sabrina’s house.”

  Lilah stared at him blankly. “Carmoor?”

  “No, the Blair house here in town. I’m going there this afternoon.”

  “But I haven’t a key to it. Do you?”

  “No. I’ll pick the lock.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CON REACHED INSIDE his jacket, bringing out a small leather case and opening it to show her the two narrow metal rods inside.

  “Con!” Lilah said, aghast. “That’s illegal.”

  “You know Alex and Sabrina wouldn’t mind.”

  “It’s still illegal.”

  “That’s why I plan to not get caught.” Con grinned at her as he slipped the lock picks back into his pocket. He shouldn’t tease Lilah—she always took things so seriously, and he was asking for her help. But when she was on the edge of temper, cheeks flushed and eyes snapping, it sent a primitive thrill through him.

  Lilah gave him a reproving look—which he also somehow found perversely enjoyable—but she said, “Well, if Mr. Blair hid anything, I don’t think you’ll find it at the town house. It would be at his country estate.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s where he preferred to live.” She began to tick off the points on her fingers. “There are many more hiding places at Carmoor. The house is larger, and there’s the land around it, as well. Most of all, that’s the house Sabrina knows well. She never lived at the town house. I’m not sure she even visited there.”

  “You’re right.” Con considered her words.

  “Anyway, Con, this is absurd. Why would Mr. Blair stick some gold in a chest, lock it up and hide it somewhere?”

  “I refuse to give up on my buried treasure,” Con said. “But I admit it’s odd. What if it—whatever it is—wasn’t Mr. Blair’s? He and Dearborn were friends, weren’t they?”

  “Yes, they were all three friends—Mr. Dearborn, Mr. Blair and my father.”

  “If Sabrina’s father was close enough that when he died he entrusted his daughter to Dearborn, might he not have been holding some family heirloom or other valuable for Dearborn?”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Dearborn was smart enough to know he couldn’t keep from spending it if he held it himself. Or maybe he gave Blair money to invest for him, Blair obviously being better with money than he. Now, with creditors at his heels and Sabrina’s fortune no longer there for him to ransack, Dearborn wants to get whatever it is back. ‘Family honor be damned. I need cash in hand.’”

  Lilah drew breath to speak, but Con held up an admonitory finger. “However...his friend Blair hid it away safely somewhere, hid the key, then died without telling Dearborn where it was. Sabrina’s father died unexpectedly, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. Apoplexy, I believe.”

  “There you are. Blair was young to die, had no reason to think he would, and so he didn’t tell Dearborn where he hid the key. He didn’t even think to leave a letter.”

  “But why did he find it necessary to not only store this unknown ‘thing’ in a secret place but also to hide the key?”

  “Fear of thieves,” Con replied airily.

  “You should write novels.”

  Con laughed. “I doubt I have the patience for it. Besides, I understand it requires at least a modicum of skill.”

  “If you’re right, that makes it even more likely that he would hide it in the country. That’s where they always met.”

  “Met?” Con’s curiosity was piqued.

  “The Dearborns regularly came to visit Sabrina’s family for a week or two.”

  “A house party?”

  “I’m not sure you’d call it that—they didn’t invite any other guests. There weren’t hunts or organized entertainments. It was just our families. They’d have dinner, play cards, that sort of thing. Mr. Blair and Mr. Dearborn often rode over to our house for an evening—I presume so they could leave their wives behind and have a cozy time drinking and chatting. Sometimes Mrs. Blair would host a ball and invite some of the local people, but most of the time it was just them and my father and aunt.”

  “Mrs. Summersley lived with you?”

  “No, no.” Lilah chuckled. “My father’s sister, Aunt Vesta.”

  “Aunt Vesta—now there’s a name with a ring to it.”

  “No doubt you would like her,” Lilah said bitingly.

  “I’d wager she had a hand in naming you Delilah.” Lilah didn’t deign to respond to that, and Con went on, “They did this often?”

  “Oh, yes, I’d say three or four times a year.”

  “Good Lord—even Aunt Hermione only dropped in once a year to bedevil us.”

  “It’s odd,” Lilah mused. “I don’t think my father liked Mr. Dearborn.”

  “Discerning man. Why do you think he disliked him?”

  “I’m not sure that he disliked him. But I never had the impression that Father was fond of him. They didn’t correspond, and Father never went to London to see him, whereas he and Mr. Blair called on each other often. My father and Niles were very different.”

  “Fortunately for you.”

  “I don’t mean only that the Dearborns are cheats and liars and Father was not—though that is true. But they didn’t enjoy the same pursuits. My father was a solitary man. He was quiet and stayed at home, rarely went to London. Niles Dearborn, on the other hand, thrives on social activities. I understand his parties are lavish. He spends a great deal of time in the city—going to his club and parties and the theater. Gambling.”

  “Perhaps your father and Dearborn were each friends with Sabrina’s father, so they were simply thrown together.”

  “But Father and Mr. Dearborn continued to get together even after Mr. Blair’s death. Father mentioned them sometimes in his letters, and I remember seeing the Dearborns at the house once when I was at Barrow House visiting my father.”

  “Visiting?” Con glanced at her, startled. “You didn’t live with your father?”

  “No.” Her face returned to its usual cool expression. “When I was twelve, he and Aunt Helena agreed that it would be better if I lived with her. A woman’s touch, you know.”

  Con suspected there was some story hidden there, but he said only, “So if they weren’t friends, what if they met for some other reason? Like business?”

  “What business?”

  “I don’t know. But meeting as regularly as that doesn’t sound social—or, at least, not only social. It’s more like meetings of a board. Father is on the board of trustees for a charity. They meet quarterly to discuss it—make rules or allot the money. Uncle Bellard belongs to a society of historians that meets every month, and twice a year they also have a meeting of their board.”

  “So you think they met because they were trustees of...something?”

  “It could have been a business their fathers owned jointly.”

  “If they did, it’s not something my Father passed on to me. Perhaps he gave it to Sir Jasper, though I’m not sure why he would
. He resented having to leave the title to him, as I remember.”

  “I examined the books on Sabrina’s estate when we were investigating Dearborn’s guardianship of her,” Con said. “I don’t remember her father sharing any possession with your father and Dearborn—though Dearborn could have already stolen it from her.” He frowned. “I should dig further back.”

  “You looked into the fraud?” Her eyebrows rose.

  “Yes. You always seem surprised by my investigations. You must not think my agency does much work.”

  “I presumed Mr. Quick did most of it.”

  “And I just put on costumes and beards and chase bizarre things.”

  “Well...yes.”

  “Your faith in me is astounding. But I’ll ignore that. Going back to the subject at hand, they didn’t have to share a business. It could have been a charity. Or a club—that could involve a key. Some clubs have silly ceremonies, don’t they? Maybe this key opens the place where they meet—like the Hellfire Club.”

  “The Hellfire Club!” Lilah goggled at him.

  “Yes, it was a club where, uh...” He stopped, realizing it was going to be difficult to explain the subject genteelly.

  “I know what the Hellfire Club was,” Lilah retorted. “And I can assure you that my father would never have—” She blushed. “Or Mr. Blair either.”

  “No, of course not.” How was it that he always managed to say the wrong thing to this woman? Maybe it was because there were so few things she considered right. “I didn’t mean they were engaged in anything nefarious. I just meant a club in a secret place out in the country. You said there was ample land on Mr. Blair’s estate.”

  “Yes, and ours too, but there aren’t any caves. And what kind of club would have only three members?”

  “Good points. Well, we’ll find out all that later. Right now I must go to Carmoor to search.”

  “But Carmoor is closed.”

  “So is the town house,” he reminded her.

  “I realize that you can continue your criminal career in Somerset if you wish. What I meant was, there’s no place for you to stay.”

  He cast a sideways grin at her. “Why, Miss Holcutt, I was rather hoping for an invitation from you.”