Moon Love (7 page)

Of course he would assume it was a man. “What is it you want to know? I know as much about what is going on as anyone.”

“Very well, if that is your attitude. If you refuse to tell me who the Cougar is –” He turned and strode to the door.

And with him went Amy’s hopes for adventure. If he convinced Sir George that her father was in his dotage, she would be left out of the investigation completely. They would pay no attention to her findings. “Wait!” He turned. She looked him in the eye and said firmly, “I am.”

He blinked, waiting. Had he not understood? “Yes, go on. You are what?” he asked.

The impossibility of convincing him was made clear in that speech. He had asked who the Cougar was. She said, “I am.” And he not only didn’t believe it, he didn’t even hear it in any meaningful way. She might as well have said she was the Queen of England, or of Sheba. What was the point of trying to convince him?

“I am – under an oath of secrecy,” she said gravely. “The gentleman for whom I send messages wishes to remain anonymous because of his position.” Now what would the Wolf make of that?

His sardonic sneer told her he didn’t believe it. “What are you suggesting, ma’am? That the Cougar is an archbishop, perhaps, or a member of a religious sect that abhors physical violence? Or just a gentleman who wishes to be thought a fool!”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

“Then by God I’ll get it from him myself. This is a ridiculous, childish way to carry on.”

He stormed out the door, hopped on his mount, and pounded through the meadow to Bratty Hall, with Amy hard on his heels. He didn’t take his mount to the stable, but left it tethered to an iron ring in the forecourt. Amy caught up to him as he strode to the front door.

“You can’t disturb Papa!” she said, clutching at his arm.

He shook her fingers off. “It is not your papa I am going to give a piece of my mind.” He yanked the door open and went in.

“Then who?” she asked, scrambling after him.

“Your cousin, Bratty.”

“Felix? He won’t be up for hours yet. Why do you want to speak to him?” As his meaning sank in, she could only gasp in disbelief. “You cannot think he knows anything!”

Hearing voices, the butler came rushing forth from his room, where he had been going over Cook’s accounts. “Miss Bratty! Your lordship, can I be of any assistance?”

“I would like to speak to Mr. Bratty,” Ravencroft said. “It is urgent.”

“I’m afraid he’s out, sir,” the butler said.

Ravencroft directed a triumphant stare at Amy. “He’s never up before noon,” she said.

“He was up early this morning, ma’am,” the butler insisted.

“Has he returned to London?”

“Oh no, ma’am. He had his lordship’s gelding brought around. As he asked for a gun, I assume he went out for a spot of shooting. He should be back soon.”

“I’ll wait,” Ravencroft said, and strode into the saloon.

Amy asked Bailey to bring coffee, then went to join Ravencroft in that cold, grand room. “I can’t imagine where Felix has gone,” she said.

“Cut line, Miss Bratty. You know perfectly well where he has gone. Where I should be myself – looking for Bransom’s body.”

“He’ll not find it near here. I spent the whole afternoon yesterday looking for it. And I know the likely spots for hiding better than Felix. Have you asked Felix to help you?”

He gave a mock smile. “Let us say, he volunteered.” Ravencroft preferred working alone, but if there was an unofficial agent on the job, he must know who it was, and what he was doing. Bratty’s familiarity with the area could be useful.

“So that is what you two were discussing so long last evening when you let on you wanted to see the Chinese wallpaper. I could have saved you time if you had included me in your discussion. I believe Bransom must be buried on the far side of Easton.”

“If he is, they did a good job of it. I and my servants went over the area with a fine tooth comb yesterday.”

Amy considered this a moment. “I shouldn’t think they would have killed him in town, or buried his body there.”

“Not in the parts of town a lady is likely to be familiar with,” he said. “There is usually a part of every town where the low life, criminal element gather. A gun shot there wouldn’t cause undue concern. Or it might have been a brawl, and a knife in the back.”

Amy’s lips clenched. She had not known Bransom long, but due to their work she had come to know him fairly well. She had thought him a glamorous, gallant gentleman. She had accepted mentally that he had been killed, but to actually picture him with a knife in his back, or a bullet in his head was unnerving. This was a dangerous business she had pitched herself into. Perhaps Sir FitzHugh was right to think it was not for ladies.

“I expect Easton has such an area?” he said.

“The coal yards,” she replied. “Just beyond the northern edge of town, right on the coast. An estuary there has been deepened to allow the ships to come in. Coal is stored there. There are great black mountains of it. Ships bring it down from the north, smaller ones come and are loaded to take it to the cities in the south.”

“I expect there is a guard posted to protect the coal from theft.”

“Yes, Jemmy Folker. But he drinks. Give him a bottle of wine and you could carry away the whole shed. The McIvors keep their house boiling hot all winter and have never had the coal wagon call.”

Ravencroft shook his head. “Why doesn’t the constable arrest him?”

“McIvor is the constable,” she replied.

Ravencroft’s lips trembled. “I see. What else is at the coal yard?”

“I have never been there, but you can see it from the High Street. There are some ramshackle old houses and a tavern and a place called the Spanish Lady where, er–” she came to a halt.

“Where gentlemen go to be entertained?” he asked, chewing a grin.

“Yes, cards and so on,” she said, pretending to misunderstand him, but she felt the warmth on her cheeks. “But Mr. Bransom never went there.”

“He might have, if he thought he could learn something useful. I’ll look into it.”

The coffee arrived and was served. “I can’t imagine where Felix is,” Amy said.

Ravencroft glanced at his watch. “I can’t wait much longer. Please ask him to call on me as soon as he returns.”

She looked at Ravencroft uncertainly. “Milord, I trust you have not taken the absurd notion that Felix actually is the Cougar?”

For a long moment, she thought he was not going to answer. He studied her with an expression she couldn’t read. Then slowly a smile, not mocking yet not gentle either, curved his lips and he said, “His secret is safe with me. “

“Any secret you might tell him is not safe. Truly, his discretion is not to be relied upon, milord. I particularly asked him last night not to – that is, to keep quiet about Papa, and he took you right into his room.”

Ravencroft sat frowning a moment. If Felix had announced that he was the Cougar, Ravencroft would not have believed him. He was pretty generally considered a foolish fop, but that was obviously an act. Seeing Ashworth, and knowing that someone close to him had taken over his work, he had no choice but to believe the mantle had fallen on Felix Bratty. And who better than the Cougar’s nephew and heir?

“Perhaps he wanted me to know Lord Ashworth’s condition,” he said.

It was slowly beginning to dawn on Amy that Lord Ravencroft was not so intelligent as she had hoped he would be. Anyone who could imagine that Felix was anything but a fool, after having spent an evening with him, was no genius himself. She must continue working on her own, to make sure Ravencroft did not go too far astray. As to Felix, it would taken an army to handle the mess he would make.

The coming of the Wolf, instead of making her job easier, had complicated it immeasurably.

Ravencroft finished his coffee, set his cup aside and rose. “I expect you will be paying a visit to the coal yards,” Amy said.

He noticed a sharp look in her eyes. Miss Bratty was taking too keen an interest in this affair to please him. He must caution Bratty to limit her involvement in the matter. She had spent yesterday afternoon looking for Bransom’s body. He didn’t want her to go wandering about a treacherous place like the coal yard.

“If Bransom was killed there, on the coast, I expect they would have hauled the body out to sea to avoid discovery,” he said. “I’ll make inquiries, see if anyone heard or saw anything.”

Amy said, “How could they have hauled it out to sea? There are no fishing boats or private boats there, just the ships that haul coal. And if they threw the body in the estuary, it would have been found. Bransom may have been killed there, but what was done with the body?”

She was not only keen to help, she was not easily conned. “That is what I hope to discover,” he said, turning toward the door.

Before he could escape, she said, “We have not discussed who Alphonse’s partner might be, milord. That matter is of the utmost importance.”

“Thank you for telling me my business, Miss Bratty. If you have any ideas, I would be happy to hear them.”

This unhelpful reply sent a spurt of anger shooting through her. He was happy enough to pick her brains, but he had no intention of sharing his findings with her. He thought a woman incapable of thinking. Very well, then, she would use her feminine weapons to try to win by guile what common sense had failed to win.

She tilted her head archly and gave him a saucy, teasing smile. “I would also appreciate hearing your ideas, milord. I am sure any agent of Sir FitzHugh’s must be very clever. I hope you don’t plan to leave me out of it.”

Ravencroft reached out and chucked her chin. “Minx,” he said, and left, laughing. Miss Bratty was becoming more interesting by the hour. Last evening the prim spinster had turned into a lady of fashion. This morning she had revealed a sharp intelligence, and now she was playing the flirt. He had best watch out or he would be tumbling into infatuation with her.

Amy was in no danger of succumbing to an infatuation with Lord Ravencroft. She had looked forward to his coming, and had been impressed by his dashing appearance. He had seemed attractive and exciting, but the more she talked to him, the more she realized his incompetence. He actually thought Felix was the Cougar! He could not even conceive that she, a lady, might have usurped the title. He misconstrued all the clues she fed him.

She sat pondering these clues. Bransom might very well have met his end at the coal yard. Lure him to a game of cards at the Spanish Lady, use a shaved deck to cause a fight. They would leave the house for that. Two or three men against him, he wouldn’t have a chance. They wouldn’t take his body to town to dispose of it. It was probably right there, hidden somewhere in that jumble of old sheds and coal mountains.

If Ravencroft didn’t know enough to look there for it, then she would have to do it herself. She couldn’t go alone. Felix she considered only to reject him. George, the head footman, was the cleverest and strongest of the servants and loyal to a fault. His family had served the Ashworths for generations. It was a foregone conclusion that George would become butler when Bailey retired. They would take Papa’s duelling pistols, one each. George was an excellent shot. Of course they would have to wait until after dark, which left a long day to get in first.

Chapter Nine

Amy spent the morning reading to her papa and tending to household duties. Felix returned for luncheon boasting of his morning’s shooting, A visit to Cook revealed that he had indeed brought home a brace of scrawny rabbits that would be tough eating.

“Did you happen to see Ravencroft?” Amy asked him. “He called this morning.”

“Yes, I ran into him. Did I mention I shall be dining with him in Easton this evening, Amy?”

“Why do you not invite him here?” she suggested at once, hoping to discover what Ravencroft was about.

Felix’s head rose, his eyes narrowed to slits. He stared with noble mien across the room at the sideboard as if it were the flag and the crown and the Houses of Parliament rolled into one and announced, “It is not a social occasion, Cuz. I am not at liberty to divulge the nature of our business. Suffice it to say, it is of national importance.”

“But how interesting!” she cried, hoping to entice him into revealing their plans. Felix loved to boast. “Can you at least tell me where you will be going?”

“I fear not.” He looked over his shoulder and all around. “Not a word to anyone.”

She continued pestering him until she was convinced he didn’t know what Ravencroft had in mind. But she knew it was Ravencroft he was meeting, and she was fairly sure Ravencroft would be searching for Bransom’s body.

Felix spent part of the afternoon examining old maps in Ashworth’s study. At four o’clock, he changed into evening clothes and left the house. As soon as he was out the door, Amy went to see what maps he had been examining. The scattering of red x’s on a map of the parish told her where he imagined Bransom might be buried. She was a little surprised to see he had chosen his locations so well. Perhaps Ravencroft had coached him. As they were the areas she had already searched, however, she knew there was no body there.

She was happy to see he had not marked the coal yard. If Ravencroft was depending on Felix’s expertise of the neighborhood to help him, he would have a fruitless night.

Amy ate alone in the morning parlor, nursing her plans and worries. When she had no company, she spent the evening in that same cozy room, where the fire had already taken the chill off the air and the tea pot was handy on the table nearby. The journals were left on a table before the grate, with a stuffed armchair on either side. A sewing basket, a tin of mints and a novel left face-down on the table indicated this was where Amy passed her idle hours. Since her papa’s illness, this had become her sanctuary. The saloon was too huge and too grand to be comfortable for one.

This evening, she did not pick up the journal or her sewing basket, which held a new flannel nightshirt she was stitching for her papa. Her hands were idle, but her mind raced feverishly. She was uneasy that Ravencroft was making no effort to find Alphonse’s partner, the man who was distributing the paper money in England. It must be someone who handled large quantities of cash. She mentally ran over the list. Mr. Hardy, the shipbuilder, had seventy men in his employ, each receiving a weekly pay packet in cash.