Elizabeth Kidd (14 page)

Carey winced. “A low blow, your lordship. Don’t Jackson teach you not to fight dirty?”

“He does, but I never followed that advice. Something’s needed to knock sense into you.”

Carey looked uncertain whether to challenge Kedrington or throw himself on his mercy and guidance. Robin Campbell joined them just at that moment, however, allowing him, after a perfunctory greeting, to sink back into the shadows and lick his wounds.

“What’s the matter with him?” Robin asked,
sotto voce
, as they strolled along together ahead of Carey.

“Female trouble.”

“Not with the fair Elena? She seemed quite taken with him, which I admit struck me as odd, but there’s no knowing what some girls fancy.” Mr. Campbell had known Mr. Fairfax during their mutual military past and felt no qualms in abusing him to another friend.

Kedrington grinned, but then sobered quickly. “So I would have said to him only a short time ago, but he’s beyond taking a joke just now. She broke it off with him, and he hasn’t quite recovered.”

“But why?”

Kedrington shrugged. “There’s some mystery about that. My wife is on a crusade to uncover it, and I am charged in the meanwhile with keeping an eye on the rejected swain and finding him something to do to take his mind off his misery, so I brought him along with me today.” He glanced back, but found Mr. Fairfax still following, hands in pockets and stopping occasionally to peer at a sculpture as if determined to become acquainted with it, however dull company it might prove.

“I was surprised when he agreed to come in here with me,” Kedrington continued, “but I suppose we may take it as a good sign—even if he has learned nothing about the marbles since he was first introduced to them.”

“Have you?”

“Not directly. I apologize for not joining you last night, by the way, but I was—distracted.”

“Please say no more. I scarcely expected you to spend every night here. Indeed, I am beginning to think I was needlessly alarmed and that you were right about the fake panel being part of the collection all along.”

“That is what I thought when I left here the other morning.”

Robin gave him a sharp look. “But you no longer think so? What has happened?”

“That is for you, perhaps, to tell me. Do you recall mentioning seeing a young man here who came several times?”

“Yes, I believe so. Why?”

“What did he look like?”

Robin thought about it for a moment, then said, “Dark, average height and weight. Good-looking. Possibly not English, although he dressed like an Englishman.”

Kedrington nodded, satisfied. “I think that may have been Miss Melville’s brother, a Greek patriot. You have not seen him since?”

“No, I am quite sure he has not been here. Her brother, you say? Do you suspect him of something?”

“I have no evidence to go on, but he is the most likely suspect to come along so far. He has been behaving in a secretive manner, but of course that may be for another reason entirely.”

“Or it may be designed to distract us from other suspects. Looking for other suspects, that is.”

“A valid point. Let us look at that panel again, shall we?”

They made their way to the frieze with the questionable panel and looked at it, Robin frowning and Kedrington pensively.

“Observe the lighting,” Kedrington suggested.

“It is the same as before—as we arranged it.”

“Quite right. Now follow me.”

The tap of Robin’s cane on the floor became more pronounced as he became less conscious of it, his mind being occupied with the puzzle Kedrington was hinting at.

They stopped in front of a vividly rendered relief figure of a horseman, his arm raised as if to urge on his steed, or the men who followed him.

“And here?”

Robin glanced around at the candle sconces on the wall and floor, where they were artfully concealed behind miniature plaster Ionic columns.

“You’re on to something…it’s dimmer here than it was.” He examined the candles behind the pillars and saw that every other one had been snuffed out.

“Our culprits apparently had the same idea we did about distracting the eye from a flaw,” Kedrington said, moving on to the next figure. “Observe this chariot.”

Robin leaned closer for a more careful inspection.

“Oh, God…another one.”

“What do you two find so fascinating in these old stones?” Carey demanded just then. “I’ve been trying to catch your attention forever. Well, five minutes, anyway.”

Robin straightened up, and both he and Kedrington turned to look at Carey as if he had just turned to stone himself. Then they looked at each other as if the same thought had occurred to both at the same time.

“What?” Carey demanded, with greater liveliness than he had displayed all day.

Kedrington put his arm around Carey’s shoulder. “My boy, I think you can give us valuable assistance in a matter of some importance.”

“Do follow me to my office, gentlemen,” Robin bade them, and led the way.

Chapter 12

Lady Kedrington was returning home from a visit with Julia Wilmot—to which she had been suddenly summoned by that lady and which had proved most intriguing, if not quite enlightening—when she chanced to see Arthur Melville walking down Bond Street. She signaled her coachman to stop, and when he pulled up a short distance down the street, Antonia leaned out just as her quarry came alongside.

“Mr. Melville!”

He stopped, glanced up, and smiled. Doffing his hat, he said cordially, “Good afternoon, Lady Kedrington. What a pleasure to see you.”

“I was thinking just the same, sir. May I offer you a lift to wherever you are going? Better still, if you have half an hour to spare, will you not come with me and have your tea at Brook Street today?”

Melville looked as if he were torn by conflicting obligations, but it was only a moment before he made up his mind.

“Thank you so much. I should be delighted to accept your kind invitation.”

Once again Antonia thought that Arthur Melville trod a fine line between obsequiousness and insolence, but before she could have second thoughts about renewing this acquaintance, the groom had jumped down and opened the door. Mr. Melville climbed in and took the seat opposite her. Again he removed his hat, but he said nothing more, allowing Antonia to choose the course of the conversation. She dismissed her flutter of irritation. She was, after all, not inviting him for his charming presence, but to learn what more she could about his ward’s behavior.

Nonetheless, she thought it might be prudent to delay questioning him on that head until she had him firmly seated in her parlor and, further, that a little interest in the man himself might well loosen his tongue when it came to more important—in Antonia’s view—matters.

“I cannot suppose you were on your way to a modiste or a dressmaker,” she said with the kind of coquettish smile that her husband would have recognized as designed to prise some indiscretion out of an unsuspecting male. “That is, of course, why we ladies visit Bond Street, but I cannot imagine you engaged in so frivolous a pursuit as shopping.”

He answered in an appropriately light manner. At least, Antonia thought, he did not entirely lack a sense of humor.

“In a manner of speaking, I was—shopping, that is to say. As you may recall, I take an amateur interest in the fine arts, and I was on my way to visit a new gallery which I had heard boasted some very fine drawings.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ve kept you from your mission.”

“It is no matter. The gallery will be there tomorrow.”

“But I will have my coachman return you to Bond Street after we have refreshed ourselves. I would not wish you to miss acquiring a particularly fine work of art to a rival for delaying a day.”

“I daresay there is very little I miss that is worth the acquisition,” he said confidently. Antonia was interested to note that there was no hint of boasting in his tone, only the certainty of a man who knew what he was doing. She was unsure whether to feel reassured or apprehensive about this. She must not underestimate the man.

When they arrived at Brook Street, she was glad to see that her staff took their cue from her behavior and treated Arthur Melville as graciously as any other guest. Indeed, when Antonia took Trotter aside to ask him to use the best china, Melville was treated to a display of courtesy and deference which bordered on the overwhelming. If she could not trick him into letting something slip in conversation, Antonia thought, she could appeal to his ambition.

“I am so sorry you have not been able to visit us here before today,” she began, as she poured tea herself, waving Trotter aside. “Naturally, I would not have expected you to come to dinner alone after Miss Melville decided that night to break off her engagement to Carey. You were quite correct not to think of it.”

“To be frank,” he said, “I did not think of it only because I was concerned about Elena’s feelings.”

“Naturally.” Antonia smiled sweetly at him, offering him a plate of bread and butter. He took a slice.

“Has she confided nothing further to you about her reasons for her action?”

“I’m afraid not. I was hoping she would feel easier about doing so if I did not press her, but thus far that plan has borne no fruit.”

Antonia took a sip of tea and considered her next tack.

“It is a pity,” she said, “that we have not been able to do more for Miss Melville—that is, in the way of introducing her socially. I blame my brother for being so secretive about his feelings for her, but then, I daresay he was swept away by love. You know how young people are.”

Melville said nothing for a moment. Antonia sipped her tea and wished there were some sweet cakes. She rang the little bell on the tray to call Trotter, who shortly appeared with another tray of delicacies.

“In the course of a long engagement,” she went on when she had fortified herself with a slice of currant cake, “we should have been able to introduce her to our friends and perhaps even escort her to Almack’s. I know she has been to Wyckham with Carey, but it would have been pleasant to have her to Windeshiem as well for a longer period so that she might become known in the neighborhood. I expect that sort of life would be more to her liking in the end, but still, young ladies must go through these little rituals, must they not? I did myself, although I confess I rebelled quite publicly at some of them. Indeed, I was considered quite the hoyden.”

She smiled sweetly at him, forcing him to murmur that he would not have believed it.

“That is why I am so happy that my brother has found such a sensible, pretty-behaved girl. I daresay you had a great deal to do with that, Mr. Melville.”

“I like to think I set a good example,” he conceded. “One does not wish to be too strict, so that a young girl cannot enjoy her season, but neither does it do to be too permissive.”

Antonia nodded sagely, then asked, “I don’t suppose Elena has been presented at court?” She was pleased to see that this query arrested Mr. Melville’s teacup halfway to his lips.

He recovered quickly, however, and gave a little laugh. “Oh, no. Indeed, I have never looked so high for her. And I suspect that it is an honor Elena would feel beyond her imaginings.”

“You may be right,” Antonia replied, pretending to consider this carefully while she mentally chastised herself for leading Melville on. “Miss Melville is far too modest and retiring. I daresay she would find the prospect as daunting as—as being singled out to perform on the pianoforte before the Regent. Of course, she would be only one of many young ladies being presented, and contact with royal personages would be of the briefest…still, I wonder if I might suggest it to her?”

Antonia thought it unlikely that Elena would ever agree to a presentation, even if it were possible, and even if the Kedringtons might be allowed to sponsor her—although there was no point in letting Arthur Melville know how unlikely this was. In addition, despite her modesty, Elena had a firm mind once it was made up, and if she did not wish to be presented, she would not be presented.

“I would, naturally, leave the decision entirely to Elena,” Melville said.

She had been correct in thinking that even a tentative offer would make a strong impression. Melville positively beamed. She had him in her hand now.

“It is a pity that Miss Melville has no family to see to such things,” Antonia went on, then leaned a little closer to her guest in a confiding manner. “We do still think of ourselves as her family, despite this temporary setback in her relationship with my brother. Do you not agree that it must be temporary? I cannot think otherwise.”

“I sincerely hope that is the case,” Melville said, still smiling. Antonia pressed her advantage.

“If only we could locate her brother. He might be able to persuade her to look to her own happiness, even give his blessing to her marriage.”

“Unfortunately, as I believe I mentioned at our last meeting, Elena has been estranged from her family for some time,” Melville said, a little more cautiously. He was glancing meaningfully at the teapot, but Antonia withheld the offer of a second cup, as if quite forgetting her hostess’s duties in the emotion of thought which struck her.

“But surely not from her brother!” she breathed. “Is he not her only really close family? And if he is in England also….”

“That is by no means certain. He does not maintain any contact with us—or not with me, in any case, and I do not think Elena would keep from me any correspondence she may have had.”

“Are you acquainted with Dimitri at all?”

“Yes, indeed, although I have not seen him since….”

He paused, and Antonia did not fill the silence, hoping he would say where and when he had seen Dimitri Metaxis. But Melville was thoroughly on his guard now.

“We have not heard from or about him since before we engaged our current house for the season.”

Antonia sighed inwardly, but smiled brightly at her guest and at last remembered to refill his cup. “Well, that is a pity. Still, perhaps my husband may be able to locate him….”

A flash of alarm crossed Melville’s face. “Oh, my dear Lady Kedrington, please do not put him to the trouble! I’m certain I can—that is, allow me to make a few inquiries, even perhaps a discreet advertisement in the
Times
…if I am unsuccessful, perhaps then we may impose upon his lordship.”