For Love Alone (25 page)

It had been decided that they would return to London on Thursday, and so, the next morning, there was quite a bustle about the house. Early that morning, her trunks were repacked and, along with Ashby and Peggy, sent on their way to London. After a leisurely breakfast, Sophy and Ives set out for London a few hours later.

The return trip to London was very different from the journey out. Sophy was relaxed and, while not comfortable in her marriage, at least not fearful. Her mistrust was still alive, but her fears of the marriage bed had been greatly diminished. In fact, to her growing consternation, she was discovering that she actually looked forward with growing relish to her husband's nightly visits. To her chagrin and no little dismay, memories of their lovemaking had the disconcerting habit of suddenly popping into her mind when she least expected it, making her breasts tingle and a damp heat surge in her loins.

There were many practical things to talk about on their ride to London and by the time the outskirts of the city came into view, they had decided upon several things. It would be simpler and less disruptive if Ives, and those members of his staff he deemed vital to him, removed to the Grayson town house on Grosvenor Square. His own house would be shut up and the staff sent back to Harrington Chase.

Edward's death had changed the entire outlook for Marcus and Phoebe. Ives was confident that he and Sophy would be named trustees of her father's estate, and the problem of Edward's raids on the remaining Grayson fortune would be halted. Marcus, with Ives and Sophy's help, could finally learn how to handle the reins of his vast estate.

Life for Phoebe would continue as it was for now. In due course she could make her debut into society, and Sophy was quite positive that she would make an excellent match. As she told Ives, Phoebe possessed not only a pretty face and delightful manner, but a huge fortune, even after Edward's depredations were taken into account. It was understood between them that Phoebe would live with them and Anne at Harrington Chase. Marcus, Ives had murmured, would of course, always be welcome to join them.

Arrangements for when they left London, which would be occurring in less than a month, were a bit more tricky. It was unlikely that Marcus would be willing to abandon Gatewood for an indefinite period of time and live with them at Harrington Chase. At nineteen, Ives and Sophy agreed, he was too young to be simply turned loose on the estate with no family or guardian for company.

Ives considered the problem for several miles, then said slowly, “I see that for the next few years, we shall have to divide our time between Harrington Chase and Gatewood. It is the only solution. I cannot abandon my own home, and yet I cannot in fairness expect Marcus to abandon his. What do you think? Will it suffice?”

Her heart full, Sophy had merely nodded, too moved by his thoughtfulness to speak.

Their arrival at Berkeley Square was greeted with great fanfare; the coach had barely halted and Sophy helped down, when the front doors were thrown wide and Marcus, Phoebe, Anne, and even Lady Beckworth tumbled down the steps to greet them like the commonest inhabitants of London.

Laughing at their exuberant greetings, Sophy and Ives were swept into the house, everyone talking at once. Her eyes smiling, Sophy said, “My goodness! If I had known that just a few days' absence would arouse such enthusiasm for my presence, I would have left you more often.”

Marcus grinned at her. “We have missed you,” he said, “but that is not why we are so relieved that you are home.” His eyes suddenly lit with excitement. “Sophy! It is the most famous thing!
A robber broke into the house last night
!”

“
A
robber!”
Sophy repeated, aghast, her smile fading. “You must be bamming me.”

“Oh, no, he is not,” chimed in Lady Beckworth, her plump cheeks quivering with indignation. “A robber
did
break into the house! Only the fact that Marcus was unable to sleep and had gotten up to go to the library for a book saved us, I am sure, from being murdered in our beds.”

Frowning, Ives herded everyone out of the main hallway and into the sitting room. “What happened?” he asked Marcus.

His eyes shining, Marcus said excitedly, “I was just going down the hall when I noticed a light coming from beneath Sophy's bedroom door. It was deucedly strange. I could not think of a reason for a candle to have been left burning in her room, but I never suspected a robber, I can tell you! And he never expected me either! I do not know which one of us was more astonished when I opened the door—I was simply going to snuff out the candle and go on my way—when I found myself staring at a fellow wearing a black domino and a mask. He was in the act of sweeping some of Sophy's crystal perfume bottles into a sack, and before I had time to think, he had snuffed out the light and flung himself at me, bowling me over.”

Marcus unconsciously rubbed his temple, and closer examination revealed a slight bruising. “He swung the sack at my head and hit me so hard, I nearly passed out.” Marcus looked crestfallen. “By the time I righted myself and my head cleared, he was gone.”

“How very, very interesting,” Ives said thoughtfully. “Do you know for certain if anything was stolen?”

“Not very much that we can tell,” Marcus replied. “Emerson and the housekeeper had the servants check. They discovered a few things missing—a small pair of silver bowls and a silver candelabra from the dining room, and several of the jeweled snuffboxes from Father's collection in the library.” He looked apologetically across at Sophy. “But Sophy, your room is a shambles! We can only guess that I surprised him before he had time to go more thoroughly through the rest of the house.”

“Has Sophy's room been straightened already?” Ives asked sharply.

An uncertain expression crossed Marcus's face. “No. The maids were just starting to do that when your man, Ashby, arrived. When he heard the news, he asked me to stop the servants and to lock the doors to Sophy's rooms. Said you would like to see it just as it is.”

Ives smiled. “One can tell a great deal by viewing the, er, remains.”

“But how did he get in?” Sophy asked, her features still shocked. “Have you been able to discover that?”

It was Lady Beckworth who answered. “Oh, indeed we have, my dear. The door to the conservatory was found standing wide-open, the key on the ground. One of the servants must have forgotten to lock it last night before we retired for the night, although they have all denied doing it.” She shuddered delicately. “To think that we might all have been murdered because of such a little oversight.”

“Have you sent word to Bow Street?” Ives inquired.

Marcus shook his head. “No. Again, it was Ashby who suggested we wait until you and Sophy had returned.”

Ives nodded. “Very good. I shall see to it, but for now, I suppose we should view the damage.”

Flanked by Phoebe and Anne, who each held tightly to one of her hands, Sophy followed Lady Beckworth up the stairs. Ives and Marcus were right behind them.

“Oh, Sophy,” Phoebe began in quivering tones, “I am so glad that you are home! When Lady Beckworth woke us and told us what had happened, Anne and I were terrified. To think that a robber was actually in the house!”

Holding on to Sophy's other hand with a death grip, Anne blurted out, “We were so scared! Once your brother had awakened Emerson and the footman, and they had searched the premises to make certain the intruder was gone, I was too frightened to go back to my own room. Phoebe felt the same even after Marcus assured us that we were safe. Lady Beckworth kindly let us sleep with her for the rest of the night.”

“Poor darlings,” murmured Lady Beckworth as she reached the upper floor. “They were shaking like terrified little birds. I was not hard-hearted enough to send them to their own rooms for what remained of the night.”

“I am glad that you did not,” Sophy replied warmly. “I can imagine how they felt.”

“Which reminds me,” Ives asked Marcus, “what time was it that you discovered the intruder?”

Marcus shrugged. “I do not know exactly, but I had heard the clock in my room strike the hour of two o'clock a little while before I decided to go in search of a book.”

Ives nodded. “A good hour, if one wanted all the inhabitants asleep.”

They reached the entrance to Sophy's rooms, and, throwing wide the door, Lady Beckworth said dramatically, “There! See for yourself the wanton carnage.”

Sophy gasped at the sight that met her eyes. It was as if a savage storm had swooped down upon her room. Candleholders, pictures, and various garments were scattered wildly around. Pillows had been cut open, the feather mattress half-torn from the bed, chairs upended and their bottoms slashed open, while every drawer in the room had been flung about and lay on the floor in frantic abandon.

“Oh, my,” Sophy said weakly as she stood in the middle of the once-elegant room.

“I agree,” said Ives from behind her, one warm hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder. “It is a good thing that we already decided to commandeer another set of rooms for our use, isn't it, sweetheart?”

“You are going to live
here?”
Marcus exclaimed excitedly. “You are not going to take Sophy to live at your house on Bedford Square?”

Ives smiled at him. “Not until next Season, if
you
have no objections. Your sister and I agreed that it would cause less disruption, if I, and some of my staff, simply moved here for the remainder of the Season.”

“Oh, I say, that is a capital idea!” Marcus said artlessly. “I did not know what you had planned, but I knew that Sophy would insist that the girls be with her, and I confess, I did not much like the idea of having such a large house all to myself.”

“We will talk about it later,” Ives replied easily, “but for now, we have a robbery to solve.”

“Do you think that you can?” Phoebe asked doubtfully, her eyes very large.

“Hmm. I certainly hope so,” Ives murmured, glancing around at the carnage. “At the moment, I think the best thing would be for the rest of you to go back downstairs and let Sophy and me estimate the damage. We will join you shortly.”

The room seemed very quiet once the others had obediently trooped out. Sophy sighed, and said, “I am so thankful that Marcus surprised him so early. Otherwise, I shudder to think what the rest of the house might look like.”

“You think that it was just a common thief that your brother interrupted?” Ives asked quietly.

Sophy looked startled. “Of course. Don't you?”

Ives shook his head. “Think about it, my dear. It takes a brazen criminal to break into a house full of people. And instead of quickly and silently ransacking the first floor and making off with what he could, he merely filches a few items and then sneaks up the stairs, where any thief worth his salt has to know the family is sleeping, and proceeds to waste a good deal of time wreaking this sort of havoc.” Ives frowned. “No, it was not just any sort of thief who did this. I'll wager whoever broke into the house was after something specific, something he thought would be here in your room.” He glanced at Sophy. “Something that he obviously thought you might have gone to great pains to hide, if the condition of this room is anything to go by.”

Sophy looked blank. “But what?” she cried agitatedly. “I have nothing to hide.”

Ives's frown increased. “He was after something ... something he did not find.” He glanced at Sophy. “Have you purchased anything rare or unusual lately? It is apparent that he was not just after the commonplace.”

It was Sophy's turn to frown. “Not that I can think of. It is true that we have spent a great deal of money since we have come to London, but it has been mostly on clothing and silly fripperies. Marcus bought some horses, and we did splurge on a new carriage, but none of those things are what would tempt a thief. At least not a thief bold enough to break into the house while everyone slept!”

Ives sighed. “I agree with you. For the time being we shall just have to assume that it is one of those odd occurrences that has no rational explanation. In the meantime I shall notify Bow Street.”

But Ives did not like odd occurrences, and instinct told him that there was something else going on here besides a deucedly peculiar robbery. He said nothing to Sophy, however, and after reporting the robbery to the authorities, spent the next few hours overseeing the settling in of his servants and belongings in the Berkeley Square house.

While one part of his brain was on the mundane and practical, another part was busy with the details of the robbery—and Edward's murder—and the trail of the elusive
Le Renard.
Since those three topics were on his mind and since he and Roxbury had already tentatively agreed that the Fox was the most likely person to have murdered Edward, it was an easy leap to connect last night's attempted robbery to Edward's murder and the Fox.

Scowling fiercely, Ives watched as Ashby moved about his new quarters. Was it conceivable that the robbery was somehow tied to the Fox? His scowl deepened. But how could that be?

For the life of him, he could think of no earthly reason to connect Edward's murder to the destruction of Sophy's former bedroom. Except that there was the same sort of ruthless efficiency about it. And it took a cool head to break into an occupied house, an even cooler head to think quickly enough to react as the robber had when confronted by Marcus. Which, Ives freely admitted, did not mean it had been the Fox who had knocked Marcus down and struck him, but he had his suspicions.

“That's a right nasty look on your face, m'lord,” Ashby said after several sidelong glances at Ives.

“I feel right nasty,” Ives confessed. “There is something about this robbery that smells rotten, my man.”

Ashby nodded. “My sentiments exactly. Which is why I asked the young master if he would wait to have Lady Harrington's room set to order.”

Ives flashed him a smile. “For which I am grateful. Words alone would not have described the chaos.” Changing the subject abruptly, he asked, “Any problems settling in here?”

Ashby grinned. “None with me, or most of the others, m'lord, but I think that Ogden and the Grayson cook might be at daggers drawing before too long.”

“Oh?”

Ashby's grin widened. “Ogden don't approve of all them fancy sauces that the Grayson cook insists are necessary for a
properly
prepared meal. He made no bones about the fact that he thinks such niffy-naffy stuff is a shameful waste of good ingredients. Of course, she took offense and proceeded to ring a peal over him, telling him that she'll not have him in her kitchen. Ogden replied that since your lordship had ordered him there, that
she
couldn't throw him out. And that he
would
cook for you just as he has these past dozen years or so.”

Ives laughed. “I'll have a word with Ogden. Carnes and Williams are staying at the stables, I presume?”

“Yes, m'lord. I am quartered upstairs with the other servants, just down the hall from young Grayson's valet, and Sanderson has ingratiated himself so thoroughly with Emerson that they have agreed to share duties.”

Domestic chores taken care of, Ives slowly descended to the first floor in search of his wife. He found her, along with the others, in a comfortable room at the rear of the house sharing some coffee and biscuits. The girls, in gowns of pale blue and pink muslin, were clustered around Sophy where she sat on a sofa of dark green damask. Lady Beckworth, a pile of knitting spilling off her lap, was opposite them, and Marcus was standing in front of the fireplace.

At his entrance, Sophy looked up expectantly, and said, “Marcus has been telling us the most interesting news. Grimshaw and several of his cronies came to call yesterday. They are openly speculating that robbery was the motive for Edward's murder—several items owned by him were found in Etienne Marquette's rooms.”

“Marquette?” Ives exclaimed, surprised. “A thief? I doubt that. And it hardly seems a motive for murder.” He glanced at Marcus. “Did they tell you how it came about that the items were discovered?”

“Not exactly. None of them seemed to know why it was that Sir John Matthews decided that all of their rooms should be searched before any of them could leave,” Marcus replied. “Grimshaw and Dewhurst seem to think that someone had alerted him to the possibility of a robbery.” He grinned. “From what Lord Coleman and Sir Alfred Caldwell indicated yesterday, everyone was highly incensed at the notion that they might be considered thieves. No one really expected anything to be found. They were all stunned when Uncle Edward's watch and a few other items turned up hidden amongst Marquette's clothing. Dewhurst thinks it is all a trick to throw Sir John off the scent of the real murderer. Marquette vehemently denied having any knowledge of how Edward's possessions got into his room—and his valet backs him up, swears he'd never seen those items until they were found in Marquette's clothes.”