A Crime of Manners (21 page)

“An excellent plan, Miss Lanford.”

Henrietta folded her hands together primly in her lap where they could not find their way about the duke’s throat, and turned her gaze to the beauty of the English countryside.

* * * *

At Viscount Baddick’s estate, his lordship was in his bedchamber enjoying the charms of his latest ladybird.

After a while, his butler was finally able to impart the information a man waited downstairs to see him. Attired in a paisley dressing gown, Lord Baddick strolled into the hall where the burly man stood.

“Well, where’s the blasted cat, McGrath?” Lord Baddick demanded.

“See ’ere, milord, you didn’t say the cat was a wild animal. I gots ’im in the sack easy enough after I drugged ’im. But soon as ’e woke up there was a terrible yowling, then ’e started jumpin’ around inside and rippin’ the bag with them needlelike claws.”

“Yes. His claws are sharp,” the viscount murmured, one finger tracing a long scar running down the side of his face.

“I’m sorry to tell you, ’e got away,” McGrath said nervously. When the master only nodded his head in dismissal, the man left the house quickly, happy to escape without punishment.

Lord Baddick shrugged the matter off. The cat’s kidnapping and eventual death had only been a whim.

Intending to return to Lily’s willing body, he began climbing the stairs, but was stopped by his butler. The servant’s message caused the viscount’s face to whiten around the red scar.

After giving lengthy instructions, Lord Baddick returned to his bedchamber, flung open the door, and said, “Lily, my love, we are going to Paris!”

* * * *

Knight’s arrival home brought loud exclamations of joy from everyone, with the exception of Felice, who, while she was sorry her mistress had been made unhappy, had secretly looked forward to having her ladyship’s clothing free of cat hair.

Lady Fuddlesby, holding Knight tightly in her arms, ordered Mrs. Pottsworth to prepare the cat a welcoming meal. “For he must have been too frightened to find anything to eat during his horrible ordeal, poor dear. Perhaps we can tempt him with a turbot and a dish of cream.”

“Yes, milady. Come along, Knight,” Mrs. Potts-worth called when Lady Fuddlesby released the cat onto the floor.

With amusement Henrietta noticed the cat’s jaunty walk when he followed the cook out of the hall in the direction of the kitchens. For Knight’s sake she decided it would not be prudent to mention the fish head he had devoured at the Nose of the Dog.

No one braved a remark on the Duke of Winter-ton’s astonishing appearance. Instead, over a refreshing cup of tea in the drawing room, Lady Fuddlesby and Colonel Colchester listened without interrupting while the duke and Henrietta told the story of how they had found Knight.

Sitting on the brocade sofa, Henrietta sipped her tea gratefully. They had left the tavern before she had had time to drink her lemonade, and her throat felt parched.

Lady Fuddlesby and Colonel Colchester expressed their relief at having Knight home again. They praised Giles and Henrietta for their actions, both privately hoping the incident had served to bring the young people closer together.

The colonel was hard-pressed to restrain his amusement at the thought of his austere godson searching the hedgerows for a cat. It seemed the spirited Miss Lanford possessed the power to make Giles behave quite out of character. All to the good. When he had first arrived in London, the colonel thought his godson seemed so stiff, he feared someone would mistake him for a corpse and bury him.

Having exhausted the discussion on Knight’s return, the duke concluded by saying, “You may be easy, Lady Fuddlesby, in that I shall be certain this time Baddick has left the country.”

“Oh, I do so thank you, your grace. I confess I shall be very careful with Knight in the meantime. Do you think I would be wise to hire a guard?”

Henrietta noted the duke’s lips twitched before he made his reply.

“I do not think you will be troubled again, my lady. Now I must take my leave. I apologize for staying as long as I have in all my dirt.”

Colonel Colchester smiled warmly at Lady Fuddlesby. “I should leave as well. May I call on you tomorrow to see how you are faring?”

“You know you may, dear Colonel,” Lady Fuddlesby said as everyone rose. “Will we be seeing you, your grace, before Henrietta’s ball next week? I daresay it will be the grandest affair of the Season thus far. I have spared no expense.”

Henrietta’s startled gaze flew to the duke. Mention of the ball reminded her forcibly of the contretemps over the pink tourmaline ring. Surely the duke had not forgotten they were to try to uncover the truth and save Lady Fuddlesby from scandal.

His next words reassured her. “Actually, I hope you and Miss Lanford will attend a small dinner party I am holding in three days’ time. I know it is short notice, but pray you forgive me since the gathering is impromptu.”

Winterton’s gaze found Henrietta’s, and a silent communication passed between them. She knew the reason for the duke’s invitation was so she

might share whatever information she learned regarding the ring.

Despite the long and harrowing day, Lady Fuddlesby beamed happily. “How delightful, your grace. Henrietta and I would be most pleased, will we not, my dear?”

Henrietta curtsied low, saying, “Yes, thank you, your grace. I shall look forward to speaking to you then.”

The duke bowed, indicating with a slight nod he understood Henrietta’s meaning, and he and his godfather took their leave.

Afterward Lady Fuddlesby cried, “Oh, the duke is a genuine hero, rescuing Knight as he did.” Her expression coy, Lady Fuddlesby declared, “He would make a splendid husband, dear.”

Henrietta stared at her aunt, annoyed that the lady gave all the credit for Knight’s return to the duke, ignoring her niece’s contribution to the salvation of the cat.

“Who do you mean would make a splendid husband, my lady? The duke or Knight?” she retorted mockingly before excusing herself and sweeping from the room, leaving Lady Fuddlesby to chuckle at her niece’s wit.

* * * *

The next day, Henrietta endured her promised drive with Mr. Shire with a grim determination. The duke was correct, she judged when the country gentleman pontificated on the subject of the proper care of a mare ready to foal. Mr. Shire was a dull dog. Still, dullness might be preferable to stuffiness.

Trying to spare her maidenly ears any breeding terms resulted in a garbled conversation filled with significant pauses, while Mr. Shire unsuccessfully

struggled to find an inoffensive word to replace the one he really needed for clarity.

Pulling the carriage to a halt outside the town house in Grosvenor Square, Mr. Shire surprised her by saying, “I shall be out of Town for a few days on a personal matter, Miss Lanford. Perhaps you might guess the nature of my task.”

At Henrietta’s blank countenance, he continued in his unexceptional way. “Well, my purpose will become clear to you at your ball. Lady Fuddlesby has been kind enough to extend me an invitation, and I am anxious to attend.”

Henrietta could not take the time now to try to fathom Mr. Shire’s words. The mystery of her aunt’s ring demanded her attention.

Making her escape as quickly as possible, Henrietta entered the house. Seeing Chuffley in the hall, she asked, “Where is my aunt, Chuffley?”

The butler responded, “Her ladyship has gone out on calls, miss.”

“Did she take Felice with her?”

“No, miss, Sally went along. I believe Felice is working on her ladyship’s ball gown.”

Thanking him, Henrietta ran up the stairs to her bedchamber. Quickly removing her hat and gloves, she hurried down to Lady Fuddlesby’s apartments. Felice was just the person to help her find out about the pink tourmaline ring, and this was a perfect opportunity to question her since Lady Fuddlesby was out.

Henrietta found the lady’s maid in Lady Fuddlesby’s sitting room repairing a tear in the lace of a pale pink ball gown. Knight was curled up on a velvet cushion near the fireplace, apparently placed there for his use. Henrietta’s eyebrows rose when she saw Felice and Knight in the same room. Since Knight usually left any room Felice occupied, Henrietta could only judge Knight’s harrowing experience had left him a more tolerant cat.

Seeing her, the maid started to rise, but Henrietta said, “There is no need to get up, Felice.”

“Her ladyship ees not here, mees,” the Frenchwoman stated, sitting down and resuming her sewing.

Henrietta casually walked into the room to stand by the fireplace. “Is that the gown my aunt plans to wear for my ball?”

“Yes, mees.”

“La, I would have thought she would commission Madame Dupre to make up a new gown,” Henrietta said carelessly, hoping Felice might let slip some information about her ladyship’s finances. Not that she considered Felice would be privy to details, but perhaps Lady Fuddlesby had muttered an aside in front of the maid about not being able to afford a new gown.

Felice pursed her lips and did not look up. “Thees gown will be as good as new once I have repaired the lace, mees, and looks very fine on her ladyship.”

Henrietta frowned. Well, at least she knew Felice was not one for servants’ gossip. Maybe a more direct approach was needed. Surely Felice knew the pink tourmaline ring was gone, since it would be her responsibility to maintain an account of Lady Fuddlesby’s jewelry, as well as keeping the various items clean.

“I suppose Lady Fuddlesby will wear the pink tourmaline ring the late Viscount Fuddlesby gave her. It would be ideal with that gown,” Henrietta said, watching Felice’s reaction closely.

Felice sat very still for a moment, then shifted the gown and began setting tiny stitches on another part of the lace. “I do not know, mees. It ees possible.”

Henrietta knew it was not possible since Lord Mawbly had the ring. Frustrated, she blurted, “Possible? Felice, I would like to examine the pink tourmaline ring, please. It ... it fascinates me.”

Felice glanced up, her sharp black eyes staring thoughtfully into Henrietta’s face. Henrietta shrank back under the scrutiny, but to her amazement, the maid rose, put the dress aside, and moved over to Lady Fuddlesby’s jewel case. She extracted a blue satin box and handed it to her.

Henrietta opened the case, and the pink stone winked in the afternoon sunlight. Disbelieving her own eyes, she stammered, “But this cannot be. ... The duke said ... Oh, I am confused.”

The maid stood with her hands folded across her chest. “Mees Lanford, it ees time you, how do you say it? Ah, yes, cut line. What do you know about thees ring?”

It was obvious to Henrietta Felice knew more than she did, and would not divulge any information unless she was told the whole story. She believed the maid could be trusted, so she explained the duke’s account of Lady Fuddlesby’s sale of the ring to Lord Mawbly, and his lordship’s assertion the stone was paste.

At the conclusion of the tale, Felice’s sallow skin took on a ghostly shade, and she paced the room, muttering fearfully, “Je ne sais quoi! It ees all over now. To the gallows, they will take us. The hangman, the noose—”

Henrietta grabbed the woman by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Felice! Calm yourself and help me untangle this muddle. How can Lord Mawbly have the pink tourmaline ring when I hold it in my hand?”

“A copy. Her ladyship charged me with obtaining a paste copy. My friend Monsieur Jacques made it. He did superb work.” At Henrietta’s look of confusion Felice explained, “You see, Lord Mawbly, he wants to buy the ring. But Lady Fuddlesby did not wish to sell it. Her husband had given it to her. So her ladyship decides she wants a paste copy she can keep to remember him. She sells the real ring because she needs the money for your ball—”

Felice stopped, hearing Henrietta’s sharply indrawn breath. “
S’il vous plait
, I should not have told you,” the maid said anxiously.

“No, it is all right. I suspected Lady Fuddlesby sold the ring to pay for my ball.” Henrietta bit her lip to keep from crying. That her aunt should make such a sacrifice for her! Her own parents would never forfeit anything they treasured to benefit their daughter.

She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Felice, the only explanation is that somehow her ladyship switched the rings by accident.”

Knight’s head popped up from the cushion, his green eyes suddenly alert.

Henrietta paced the room, still holding the ring in her hand. “This must be the genuine stone since Lord Mawbly has the paste.”

“But how could such a theeng happen? Her ladyship knew which ring was which. They were in deeferent-colored boxes,” Felice exclaimed.

Knight slinked out of the room guiltily.

Henrietta distractedly noticed him go, then turned her attention to the maid. She shook her head dismissively. “It does not matter. We must contrive to switch the rings again, so that Lord

Mawbly ends with the genuine stone as he was meant to. I shall take this with me the night of the Duke of Winterton’s dinner party. He can then make things right with Lord Mawbly.”

Felice’s dark eyes narrowed into a knowing look. “Ah, the duke ees to help you. He ees a virile man, no?”

Henrietta felt hot color rise to her cheeks. Ignoring the maid’s remark, she said, “Bring the ring to me the evening of the dinner. I dare not keep it now, because my aunt might miss it. Should her ladyship notice its disappearance after the dinner before the duke and I can replace it, will you be able to give her some excuse?”

Felice frowned for a moment, then said, “Yes, mees. I can tell her Monsieur Jacques wanted to assure himself the stone was secure, or some such excuse. But do not worry. Lady Fuddlesby will not wear the fake in company, and I do not believe she ees taking the ring out every day.”

Henrietta sighed with satisfaction. “Very well then.” Looking closely at the lady’s maid, she continued, “I know I can trust you not to repeat any of this, Felice.”

The maid’s back was ramrod-straight. “Yes, Mees Lanford.”

“Thank you. As I have told you before, Felice, you are a treasure. And if you wish to please me, you will cease scolding yourself because you were sleeping the night of the unfortunate incident with Lord Baddick. It is in the past, and I assure you, I never think of it.”