A Poisoned Season (27 page)
“I hoped you would come tonight,” I said, a pleasant thrill tingling all the way to my toes.
“You were very foolish to announce to anyone who would listen that you’d be wearing diamonds from the queen’s necklace. Although, you know, it never precisely belonged to her. She insisted that she’d never ordered it.”
“I did worry about that, but obviously the technicality didn’t keep you away. Does it mean, though, that you won’t steal them from me?”
“That, my darling Kallista, remains to be seen. Are you enjoying Léonard’s letters?”
“Very much. From whom did you take them?”
“Why do you assume they’re stolen?”
“Really, Mr. Capet, isn’t the answer obvious?”
“I admit that my actions are not always precisely legal, but laws do not always lead to justice.”
“And what is the justice you seek?”
“I won’t be tricked into revealing myself so easily.”
“You can’t fault me for trying.”
“I should never fault you for anything. You’re terminally charming. I lost my heart the moment I saw you asleep in your bed.”
“I can’t say that I particularly like having a gentleman watch me sleeping.”
“Then I won’t do it again.”
“And I want Cécile’s earrings back.”
He stopped dancing. “Would you come outside with me?” This was no time to hesitate. He could vanish as quickly as he’d appeared. I followed him into the garden, which was filled with couples who had come outside for air and the privacy they could not find in a ballroom. Japanese lanterns hung from every tree, casting a romantic sort of dancing light over the scene. He took my hand rather than my arm, and I did nothing to protest. It was rather exciting to be escorted by such a skilled thief through a society ball. He paused to take two glasses of champagne off a footman’s tray, then sat on a bench in a quiet corner.
“Did you kill David Francis?” I asked.
He laughed. “I’m the last person on earth who would have done that.”
“I didn’t really suspect you. If you were the murderer, you wouldn’t have left the snuffbox at the scene.”
“No, I certainly would not.”
“Although given the cause of death, there’s no reason to think the murderer was there when Mr. Francis died.”
“I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you take the snuffbox when you stole the diamond?”
“I didn’t know Francis had it.”
“So you went back after you read about it in the papers?”
“No, darling, I didn’t. Someone else took it.”
“Who?”
“Now, don’t you think if I knew that, I would get it for myself?”
“How would you go about finding it?”
“I’m not about to reveal professional secrets,” he said.
“What do you do with everything you steal? It doesn’t appear that you’re selling it.”
“Investigating me, are you? No, I don’t sell what I take.”
“Do you give it to anyone?”
“No.”
“Do you work with anyone?”
“Do you really think I would tell you? Oh, darling, I would love to confide in you, but I’m afraid you’ve not yet earned my trust.”
A strange, heavy feeling crept up on me, and I found that I could hardly keep my eyes open. “How do I earn your trust?” It took a considerable effort to hold up my head.
“Forgive me, darling,” he said. He caught me as I started to slump over, and though my memory of the rest is, at best, hazy, I could swear that he kissed me before laying me on the bench.
I
need hardly say that he took the necklace. When I awoke, I was upstairs in a bedroom, Ivy, Robert, Colin, Jeremy, and Margaret hovering around me. I felt like lead and knew at once it would be pointless to try to sit. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Ivy said. “Margaret and Jeremy found you in the garden. They were unable to rouse you so thought it best to bring you inside.”
“How did I get here?”
“Bainbridge carried you,” Colin said.
“Oh dear,” I said. “The gossips must have found that a ripe scene.”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Ivy said.
“I didn’t faint. You know that I don’t faint. My champagne was
drugged.” I told them about my conversation with Sebastian.
“Good gad, Emily,” Jeremy said. “I should never have turned you over to him. I thought you knew him.”
“And I thought you did. It’s all right, Jeremy. You’re not to blame.”
“Shall I send for a doctor?” Robert asked.
“I think so,” Jeremy said. “We’ve no idea what he gave her.”
“I’m feeling much better,” I said.
“I’m getting a doctor.” Robert left the room.
“We found this next to you,” Margaret said, handing me a book.
“My
Odyssey
!” A note fell from the pages as I flipped through the book. “He’s left me a message: ‘You are not being careful enough, Kallista darling. It was too easy for me to take this from you, and too easy to get you to follow me tonight. Think what someone with a more nefarious purpose could do to you.’”
“Emily, I don’t think you should continue to pursue this man,” Ivy said. “He’s a thief and now reveals himself as dangerous.”
“Quite the contrary. He reveals himself to be concerned with my well-being. I do wish he’d given back my notebook, too.”
“He drugged you,” Ivy said. “How can you not see the seriousness of this?”
“I baited him to take the necklace. I should have known better than to drink with him.”
“If he didn’t get you with the champagne, I’m sure he would have figured out another way. Going into the garden with such a man was not, perhaps, the best decision,” Colin said, his eyes darker than usual.
“Easy to say now,” I said. “But I didn’t think he would divulge any useful information on the dance floor.”
“It doesn’t sound like he divulged anything useful in the garden, either,” Colin said.
I raised myself up on my elbows. “Well, I had to try. And he did
reveal one interesting tidbit: His name is Sebastian Capet. Does it seem familiar to any of you?”
“No,” Margaret said, but none of the rest replied.
“It was the name given to the French royal family during the revolution. Stripped of his title, the king became Louis Capet.”
“Surely you don’t suspect—” Ivy began.
“The dauphin would have changed his name,” Margaret said.
I shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s entirely possible that, later, his heirs adopted it.”
W
HATEVER SUBSTANCE
S
EBASTIAN SLIPPED INTO MY CHAMPAGNE
had been innocuous enough, and we were all relieved when Robert’s physician confirmed that there was no cause for alarm. Aside from sleeping extraordinarily late, I felt no ill effects the next day. Lady Elinor sent Isabelle to me in the afternoon, and I did my best to calm the girl’s myriad worries about becoming the wife of Charles Berry. Not an easy task. It was obvious that her loyalty was fiercely divided. She wanted to please her mother, but she still loved Lord Pembroke, and the feeling had only intensified at Ivy’s ball.
“He’s simply the most exquisite dancer,” she said. “He wouldn’t stand up with me more than twice, but, oh, Emily, I would gladly have given anything to dance with him all night.”
“Are you finding Mr. Berry an agreeable companion?”
“He’s tolerable. I understand why Mother thinks he’s a good catch, and I know that she’s always done what’s best for me. Do you believe she could be right? Am I too swept up in romance to be practical? Will I be happier with Mr. Berry?”
“Only you know the answer to that, Isabelle. Your mother’s inten
tions are good. There is no doubt of that. But you alone can determine what sort of a marriage you are willing to accept.”
“Mother insists that young people often fall in love before they really know what will make them happy.”
“That’s probably true.” I thought about the time, during our first season, that Ivy had come close to being convinced she was in love with a particularly dashing army officer. He turned out to be the worst sort of cad, something her mother had suspected from the beginning. “I don’t deny that mothers are sometimes useful for vetting one’s admirers. But she never objected to Lord Pembroke, did she?”
“No, but she’s certain that I’ll be happier in the long run with Mr. Berry. Charles. I should call him Charles.” She frowned. “Is it very awful, being married? One hears such dreadful stories.”
“No, Isabelle, it’s not dreadful in the least. Many people are quite content, even in arranged marriages. I was not in love with Philip when I married him, but the experience was far from unpleasant.”
“Perhaps there’s hope for me, then.”
Had I any courage, I would have convinced the girl to throw over Mr. Berry and run away with Lord Pembroke. I’m ashamed that I didn’t. How could I sit here and offer her comfort when I knew her future husband to be an utterly vile man? “I believe Mr. Berry’s most-admired quality is his proximity to the French throne. Rumors suggest that he may be made king soon. Does that change his estimation in your eyes?”
“Do I want to be queen? I ought to say yes, but, honestly, the prospect terrifies me.”
“An answer that shows more than a modicum of wisdom.”
“Well, it didn’t work out well for Marie Antoinette, did it?”
We talked for nearly three quarters of an hour, and I will say that, although it was abundantly clear that her heart was still very much with Lord Pembroke, she seemed less nervous about her betrothal by
the time she left. I wish I could say the same for myself. If anything, I was more convinced than ever that someone needed to find a way to help her escape.
I sorted through the mail that had come that morning, half expecting to see something from Sebastian, but he had sent nothing. I did have a letter from Cécile, and knew when I read it that I would have to show it to Colin immediately. There was no need for me to go to him, though, for even before I had returned the paper to its envelope, he walked through my door, his eyes sharp, his features marked with a severity I had not before seen on him.
“Have you anything from Cécile?” he asked, not bothering to greet me.
“Yes, I do, I was about to come—”
He took the letter from my outstretched hand. “Good. I’m glad to have a date. We never suspected they planned to act this quickly.”
“What will you do?”
“Berry told me not an hour ago that he’s arranged for passage to France. He’s using falsified papers so that no one will know he’s there.”
“Can’t you stop him?”
“I’m to go with him.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“I see.” I studied his handsome face. “Is there any chance the plot will work? Will the republic fall?”
“Not if I’ve anything to do with it.”
“And Cécile?”
“Her role may be more important than mine, but it’s you that I’m worried about. I don’t like to leave you in the midst of your own intrigue.”
“I’ll be perfectly all right.”
“No more drinking drugged champagne? Next time it could be laced with something less benign.”
“Well, I’ve won our bet, so you can rest easy knowing that I have every intention of staying alive to collect my prize.”
“What do you mean, you’ve won our bet? You most certainly have not.”
“I’ve identified my admirer: Sebastian Capet.”
“Would you recognize him on the street? Do you know where he lives? How to contact him without having to use the
Times
? I don’t think you can say that you’ve really identified him.”
“His eyes are an unmistakable shade of blue. Sapphire, really. I’d recognize them.”
“A Bedouin with sapphire eyes. Is there any hope for me?”
I was glad to see some light return to his eyes but couldn’t help thinking about Sebastian kissing me. Had it really happened? I could almost picture it, a foggy image, but the memory of soft lips was undeniable.
“Are you still with me?” Colin asked.
“Yes, sorry.”
“I’ve spoken with Manning. He’s agreed to help you with whatever you might need regarding the situation in Richmond. And should anything happen, telegraph me at once in Paris. I’ll be at the Meurice.”
Molly entered the room. “Excuse me, Lady Ashton, would you like me to light a fire for you?”
It was far too hot for me to want a fire, and I had never encouraged my maids to make a habit of dropping in, without being asked, to see if I needed their assistance.
“No, Molly, I don’t.” Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her skin was even more pale than usual. “Is something the matter?”
She looked at Colin, then back at me. “Of course not, madam. Just trying to be helpful.” She bobbed a curtsey and disappeared from the room before I could utter another word.
“Are you keeping a close eye on her?” Colin asked.
“I’ve spoken with her multiple times. She insists that she has no
idea what happened to the letters that disappeared from the library.”
“And you believe her?”
“I do worry that she may still be in contact with Mr. Berry, but surely once he’s in France he’ll no longer be concerned with me.”
“Someone is gravely troubled by those letters. If it’s Berry, you might be in more danger now than ever. Just because he’s out of the country doesn’t mean that he can’t harm you.”
“But you’ve been convinced all along that he’s not out to hurt me.”
“I’m not always right, Emily.”
“Do you expect violence in Paris?”
“I very much hope that we shall be able to stop this entire thing before it even begins.” He pulled me towards him and bent down, resting his cheek against mine.
“I wouldn’t object if you were to kiss me,” I said. “You are leaving the country headed for an attempted coup. Who knows when you’ll return? I feel almost as if I’m sending you off to battle.”
“Very nice try,” he said, stepping away from me. “But I won’t be so easily seduced. Did I tell you that I’ve found the perfect engagement ring for you? It’s from ancient Crete and is in the shape of a reef knot, gold inlaid with lapis lazuli.”
“It sounds lovely.”
“I keep it in my pocket at all times on the off chance that you might accept me. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared.”