A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers) Page 3

  He considered it. He didn’t really have to make a deal with Miss Ballenger. He’d been commissioned to find Edgar Ballenger’s effects, not remove or search them. He could ride to town, wire his contact at the Foreign Office, Mr. Jones, and be done with it. Jones could handle divesting Miss Ballenger of her inheritance.

  But he didn’t do his jobs in half measure. Despite Miss Ballenger’s disparaging view of his heroic past, he took pride in his work. And in his position as a gentleman, ill-deserved though it might be. As long as Edgar’s things were in the house, the lady was in danger. As long as the lady was in danger, he’d not run off.

  Besides, she was probably right—without the proper oversight, Edgar’s things would be lost to bureaucracy.

  And then… He looked down into the wide amber eyes staring up at him… And then there was the mystery of her.

  “I agree to your terms,” he said, and was rewarded with a remarkably pretty smile. “I’ll make sure the contract and references are completed as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I’ll send a few men from the village to begin repacking your brother’s things.”

  The pretty smile evaporated like mist. “What? Absolutely not. You may send men to pack after the details are settled.”

  “Waiting for the details to be settled before packing will create unnecessary delay.”

  “If you pack these things and our deal falls through, it will create unnecessary work.” She indicated the room with a broad motion of her hand. “I’d have to begin this all over again.”

  “I’d recommend younot begin again. This house, in its current condition, is a danger to you and your staff.” It would be a danger regardless, for a number of reasons, but some of them could be mitigated with a little organization.

  “It isn’t. It just needs to be tidied up, that’s all.”

  He pointed to an open trunk near the window. “There is a saber sticking out of that trunk. Blade up.”

  “Well, don’t grab it and it won’t cut you.”

  He absolutely could not tell if she was being facetious or not. “The chairs in the front hall are going to fall on someone.”

  “Then don’t stand under them.” She gestured at the open doors leading into a modest dining room. “There’s a side door through there. You may use it if the front door frightens you.”

  “It doesn’t frighten me.” For God’s sake. “You’re missing the point. It isn’t safe for you to be here. One stray spark in the kitchen would set this place ablaze.”

  “We’ve not stored anything in the kitchen. That’s why I thought to take you there initially.”

  The comment gave him pause. “Isthat where we were headed?” He’d wondered about that. “Why did you change your mind?”

  “Well… It’s the kitchen. And you’re a guest. Obviously, it wasn’t appropriate.”

  “Then why did you think to bring me there in the first place?”

  “Out of habit. It’s a comfortable room. Even Edgar liked it.”

  He considered this. “Too comfortable for a guest?”

  “No… I didn’t mean…” Her mouth opened and closed a few times, then she leaned forward and asked, “Are you twisting my words?”

  He noted that her tone was one of confusion and not accusation. “Merely teasing you a little.”

  “I see,” she replied, and straightened. “Do you often tease ladies you’ve only just met?”

  “Only if I suspect the lady will find it amusing and not offensive.” Or when he was determined to find out whether she was the sort of woman to take offense or be amused. “Are you offended?” he inquired.

  “No.”

  He grinned at her. “But are you amused?”

  “Not at present,” she admitted, then frowned in thought. “Perhaps I will be later.”

  She couldn’t possibly be in earnest.

  Her frowned deepened for a moment, then disappeared with a shrug. “I’ll give it some thought. In the meantime, I must insist there be no packing until I’ve a contact and references in hand.”

  Contract, he mentally corrected. “I’ll agree to that, if you’ll agree that this house poses some dangers.”

  “It is not ideal,” she conceded grudgingly. “But there is little I can do about the state of things in the short term. I tried to take down the highest chair, but I can’t reach it. The ladder won’t fit in the house, and the stool I found doesn’t provide enough height.”

  “There’s an inn in the village. I suggest you make use of it.”

  “Leave the cottage?” She gaped at him, as if he’d just suggested she leave the planet.

  “It appears a serviceable establishment. You’ll be comfortable there, as well as safe. And I’ll remain here to watch over the house until men arrive—”

  “No.”

  Her tone brooked no argument, but everyone had a price…or a weak spot. Jane Ballenger might be a mystery, but her devotion to the other occupants of the cottage was clear as day. She’d referred to the Harmons as family. “There is the safety of your staff to consider.”

  He saw that hit the mark. Her lips pressed together in a frustrated line. “I suggested the Harmons stay at the inn last week. They won’t go.”

  “They might reconsider if you agreed to go with them.”

  Her gaze darted away. “You overstate the danger.”

  He really didn’t. “If you’ll not leave, then allow me to stay on as a guest for your own protection.”

  Her eyes flew back to his. “My what?”

  “Protection,” he repeated, wondering if he’d mumbled.

  She stared at him for a second or two, expression unreadable, and then suddenly her face seemed to light up. “Oh. Right. Yes, of course. That makes more sense.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have my things brought from the inn.”

  “Why would you…?No.” She reached out as if to grab his arm, then snatched her hand back. “No, I didn’t mean you could stay.”

  “You just said it made sense.”

  “No, not that. I was just… I was referring to something else.”

  “Referring to what?” Had he missed some portion of the conversation?

  “To…It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “I misspoke, that’s all. I don’t require your protection. I’ve sufficient sense not to impale myself on a sword or dally under unstable furniture. I certainly know how to run away from a fire.”

  “The occupants of this cottage are threatened by more than fire and impalement. As long as your brother’s belongings are in this cottage, you are in danger.”

  She blinked at him. “Because of the sensitive but valueless bit of paperwork, and all the people who don’t yet know that it may, or may not, be here?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Before he could reply, a small, gray-haired woman with handsome features and an armful of unfolded linens entered the room and came to an abrupt halt.

  Mrs. Harmon, he presumed. Information on her had been easier to come by than for Miss Ballenger. She was sixty-seven years of age, had worked for the Ballenger family for more than forty years, and had been married to Mr. Harmon for nearly twenty. He was her fourth, and by far longest-lived, husband. Unlike Miss Ballenger, she made regular trips to the village, and was well liked by its inhabitants.

  “We have a guest,” Miss Ballenger announced.

  Mrs. Harmon offered them both a bemused smile. “I see that, dear.”

  Miss Ballenger dipped her head in Gabriel’s direction. “Sir Gabriel Arkwright, may I present my friend, Mrs. Harmon.”

  “Sir…TheSir Gabriel Arkwright?” The older woman looked a little closer, pale green eyes lighting with interest. “My goodness, youare,” she breathed.

  Miss Ballenger moved through the crowded room to relieve her friend of her burden. “He’s here for Edgar’s things,” she explained. “He may or may not have been a spy.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The older woman’s gaze darted to Ga
briel as Miss Ballenger gathered the linens in her arms. “You were a spy?”

  “No,” Miss Ballenger replied and turned a half circle in search of a spot to set down her load. “Well, possibly. I’ve no idea. I was referring to Edgar.”

  “Edgar was a spy?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Miss Ballenger said again, then turned another half circle, then began to investigate a space behind the sofa. “But possibly.”

  “Possibly,” Gabriel confirmed when Mrs. Harmon continued to stare at him. “But possibly not.”

  But probably so.

  “Good heavens.” Mrs. Harmon brought one dainty hand up to her heart. “This is all very… Goodheavens.”

  Her tone and gesture spoke of shock, but there was an unmistakable air of fascination in her expression. She patted her chest several more times, then let her hand fall away as her eyes took quick stock of the room. “Well, if you are here to obtain Edgar’s belongings, then I assume you understand”—she looked a little embarrassed as she indicated the room with a waggle of her fingers—“the unusual circumstances in which you find us? I apologize for the inconvenience, and I hope you will make allowances for—”

  “Make what?” Miss Ballenger spun back, linens still in hand, to stare at Mrs. Harmon in obvious confusion.

  The older woman slid an odd glance at Gabriel before replying. “I was saying, I hoped he would…be tolerant and forgiving of our current situation.”

  “Oh.” Miss Ballenger scowled at her linens, then finally just tossed them atop a small bookcase lying on its side. “Yes, I believe he mostly has been.”

  Mostly? Whymostly? “There’s nothing to forgive. I understand that the passing of Mr. Ballenger has put the residence of Twillins Cottage in an untenable situation. In fact, I was just suggesting to your charge that it might be best if all of you stayed at the inn for a time.”

  Humor danced in the older woman’s eyes. “Miss Ballenger has not been my charge for many years, Sir Gabriel. She makes her own decisions.”

  “But she is under your influence, I believe. As you are under hers.”

  Miss Ballenger made a face. “Are you suggesting we each convince the other to leave?”

  “I’m suggesting you both take into consideration the safety of—”

  “Are we in danger?” Mrs. Harmon cut in.

  Miss Ballenger pointed toward the exposed sword. “Only if you’re fool enough to grab that blade.”

  “Ah.” Mrs. Harmon tsked and hurried over to the offending weapon. “That really ought to be moved.” She dug into the contents of the trunk, found the hilt of the sword and pulled the weapon free. Then she promptly stabbed the thing back into the trunk, blade down. “There we are.”

  Gabriel had intended to move the blade someplace safer, but he could admit that Mrs. Harmon’s approach was efficient. “The sword is but one possible danger. There are several”—he looked about the cluttered room— “possibly several dozen other concerns. If you would agree to leave until Mr. Ballenger’s things can be removed—”

  “What if we agreed to discuss the matter again when Mr. Harmon returns?” Miss Ballenger tried. “Would that appease you?”

  He felt a lick of irritation at her choice of words. “I don’t press the matter for my own benefit, Miss Ballenger. You should have a care for your safety, not concern yourself over whether or not I’m pleased.”

  She looked to her friend. “I did sayappease, didn’t I? Notplease?”

  “You did, dear.”

  “Good.” She turned to him. “I’m not concerned with pleasing you. I just want you to stop nagging—”

  “What Miss Ballenger means to say,” Mrs. Harmon said quickly, and a little too loudly, “is that we shall take your suggestion under advisement and discuss it with Mr. Harmon. It would hardly be fair to make a decision without his input.”

  That wasn’t what Miss Ballenger had meant to say, but since it was obvious that he wasn’t going to obtain her cooperation, Gabriel let the topic go for now. His efforts would be better spent seeing to the removal of Edgar’s belongings as quickly as possible.

  And keeping an eye on the cottage, and its inhabitants, from a discrete distance.

  ***

  Jane’s record for making polite conversation with a guest in her parlor was approximately twelve and a half minutes. She knew how long that visit had lasted because she’d spent the whole of it checking the clock on the mantle, which, in retrospect, may have been a bit rude, and probably explained why the vicar’s wife had left in under a quarter hour.

  Still, Jane had been inordinately proud of those twelve and a half minutes.

  She couldn’t see the clock clearly now; its face was obscured by a stack of books and an empty inkwell. But she was fairly certain she had topped her record. It had to have been at least twenty minutes since Sir Gabriel’s arrival.

  She squinted at the clock. Was that the tip of the minute hand peeking out of the gap between book ends? If so, she’d made it a full twenty-five minutes. More than double her record, and it hadn’t even been particularly difficult. Perhaps she’d improved in recent years. Maybe—

  “…reason with him, Jane.”

  She pulled her gaze from the clock to find Mrs. Harmon and Sir Gabriel looking at her expectantly. “I… Er… Well… I think…”

  Mrs. Harmon waved away her stammering and returned her attention to Sir Gabriel. “You must stay until Mr. Harmon returns at the very least.”

  Jane shook her head. Is that what she was supposed to convince him of? “That might be hours yet. He can’t stay that long. He needs to send a telegram and find a solicitor.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “She’s quite right,” Sir Gabriel interjected. “Perhaps another time, Mrs. Harmon.”

  “I insist upon it,” Mrs. Harmon returned, and turned to lead him the short distance into the front hall. “You must come again when the cottage is set to rights.”

  “I look forward to it. Until then…” He caught the leg of a footstool with his boot and dragged it close, then he stepped up and, with an ease Jane envied, neatly unhooked the top chair from the web and set it on the floor.

  “There we are.” Stepping down again, he studied the remaining tangle of chairs. “Appears sturdy enough for now.”

  Mrs. Harmon beamed at his back. “That was most chivalrous of you, sir. Thank you.”

  Jane inspected the web for herself. What if removing the top chair upset the balance of the entire system? The whole thing might shift and…

  She swallowed a yelp at the sharp poke of Mrs. Harmon’s elbow in her side.

  The woman gave her a pointed look and mouthed,Say thank you.

  “Thank you, Sir Gabriel,” she repeated dutifully, but returned Mrs. Harmon’s glower with one of her own, along with the whispered aside, “I was getting to it.”

  Only it wasn’t as aside as she’d intended, because Sir Gabriel turned to face her with a puzzled expression. “Beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing. I…just… I would have gotten to it.” She motioned toward the chair. “Eventually.”

  “Oh, rubbish,” Mrs. Harmon replied cheerfully. “It would have been there for ages. You’ve done us a tremendous service, sir.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Atremendous service seemed an overstatement to Jane’s mind, but she was accustomed to Mrs. Harmon’s penchant for drama. She smiled and nodded in agreement, then smiled again and dipped into another awkward curtsy as good-byes were said and Sir Gabriel took his leave.

  The moment she closed the door behind him, she let out a sigh and felt her shoulders relax. No, not relax, she realized. Theysagged in a mixture of relief and…disappointment.

  Her reaction confused her. Now that Sir Gabriel was gone, she felt strangely dissatisfied, as if she’d left something unsaid, or undone.

  “Perhaps we should have found a way to serve tea,” she said, mostly to herself. He would have stayed a little longer for tea. What difference would an extra half hour h
ave made? The telegraph office was open all day.

  Mrs. Harmon paused in her attempt to cram the loose gilded chair between two trunks. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Maybe it was for the best. Better a successful twenty-five minutes than a disastrous hour.

  “Nothing?” Mrs. Harmon gave the chair one more hearty, and ultimately futile, shove before giving up and simply dumping the thing atop one of the trunks. “Nothing to have Sir Gabriel Arkwrighthere? In Ardbaile? In our cottage?” She brushed off her hands and turned to Jane with lifted brows. “Why, exactly, was he in our cottage? And more important, will he truly be coming back?”

  “He’ll come back. He wants Edgar’s things, remember? I’ve agreed to lend them to him at a rate of fifty pounds every other month.”

  Mrs. Harmon’s mouth dropped open with a gasp. “Fifty? That is extraordinarily generous.”

  Jane was of the opinion that the ten thousand pounds she requested would have been a better example of extraordinary generosity, but she wasn’t given the chance to argue. Mrs. Harmon took her by the hand and tugged her out of the front hall and down the crowded hallway. “You must tell me everything. Everything. From the beginning. I’ll make tea.”

  Ten minutes later, they were comfortably settled in the tidy kitchen at the back of the house.

  It took a fair amount of time to relate a story to Mrs. Harmon. The woman wasn’t what one might call a passive listener. She preferred to pepper the storyteller with questions, comments, and opinions of her own, which made for energetic but lengthy conversation. Eventually, however, Jane was able to finish the retelling of events.

  “Three hundred pounds a year,” Mrs. Harmon said breathlessly. “It’s more than double what Edgar provided. We’ll be flush.”

  “Only if Edgar’s things are held for more than two months. Andif Sir Gabriel is sincere in his intentions.”

  “Of course he’s sincere. He’s Sir Gabriel Arkwright. He’s one of the Thief Takers.”

  “That was a long time ago. Besides, didn’t the papers dub him the…” She thought back to the piles of literature Rebecca had brought with her to the cottage. “The Charming Thief Taker, or some such? The Thief Taker most likely to seduce his prey? Something along those lines?”