Lady Blue (19 page)

“Well, then, by all means, come in. Come in.”

Bewildered, Harmony followed Anthony and Agatha into the morning room, where Agatha generally sat and answered her correspondence. It was the most cheerful room in the house. Most of the climbing ivy had been cleared from the mullioned window, the flowered drapes had been pulled aside to let in the sun, and the furniture was lighter. The seat of the chair in front of Agatha’s escritoire was even covered in a cheerful, floral petit-point.

“Here you are.” Agatha opened a drawer in her delicate, French-made desk and withdrew a sheet of paper that she handed to Anthony. He scanned it and began a silent debate with himself.

To attend the soirée, even though he was personally unknown to any of the names on the guest list, would be the biggest risk he had ever taken. His true identity might very well be unmasked. Was it worth it? To escort the most beautiful, charming, intelligent woman in the world? Spend more time with her? Have others regard them as a “couple"? Was there really any doubt?

“Very impressive,” Anthony said at last with a slight nod. “There are, indeed, many important and prominent names on this list. None, alas, with whom I am personally friendly.” Agatha’s face fell, but Anthony smiled. “It will be a delight, therefore, to make their acquaintance.”

“You … you mean …?”

“I will be honored to attend Lady Margaret’s party. I shall make certain to return in ample time.”

“Oh, Lord Farmington!”

“But I really must take my leave now. Good day, Miss Simmons.”

Still slightly puzzled, Harmony walked Anthony back to the door. At the threshold he took her hands and squeezed them.

“I’ll count the hours I’m away, and think of you every moment,” Anthony said in a lowered voice. “Don’t forget me.”

“How could I?” Harmony replied simply.

Anthony squeezed her fingers one last time, turned, and was gone.

A
nthony climbed into the carriage without assistance from Sneed and they started off immediately. Sneed kept the horses to a sedate pace until they were well away from the house. Then, at the flick of his carriage whip over their backs, the team moved into a brisk trot. It was the moment Anthony had waited for.

He tugged at his cravat, removed it, and threw it on the seat beside him. The morning coat followed, and Anthony loosened the top buttons of his shirt. Then he pulled up the window on the door of the coach.

He was a slim man, lean and hard, with narrow hips. It served him well. Anthony turned his back to the window, leaned his upper body outside, and reached up to grab the luggage rails on the top of the coach. Once he had a firm grip he flexed his arms and, like a practiced acrobat, pulled himself up and through the window. He swung his legs and hooked one over the rail. A moment later he was on top of the carriage. He ran forward and jumped down onto the bench seat beside Sneed.

“What took you so long?” Sneed asked.

“What’s the matter? Did you miss me?”

“Every moment we’re not together,” he commented dryly.

Anthony laughed. “That’s almost what I just said to Harmony.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Anthony did not reply, but reached for the reins. Sneed relinquished them willingly.

Disdaining the use of the whip, Anthony manipulated the reins to coax more speed from the horses. Soon they were moving at an even faster pace. Fingers deft and nimble, he guided the horses expertly through the twists and turns of the narrow country road, branches from encroaching trees slapping at the sides of the coach. At last they came to a fork in the road and Anthony hauled on the lines. The carriage came to a halt.

“This is where I leave you, old friend,” Anthony said as he climbed from the bench seat.

“For how long this time?”

“I’ll be back by next Friday.”

“So soon?”

“I have a party to attend.” Anthony watched

Sneed’s jaw drop and ducked his head into the coach door before the man could say a word. He pulled a leather bag out from under the seat and extracted its contents. Then he stripped out of his clothing. Behind him, Sneed climbed down from the coachman’s box.

“You have a ‘what’ to attend?”

“You heard me,” Anthony replied without turning. He pulled on his tight buckskins. “I’m going to come back in time for a party.”

“I see.” Sneed watched Anthony fold the clothes he had just removed, tuck them into the leather bag, and push it back under the seat. “And we have considered the risks involved, have we?”

“We have.” Anthony exchanged his highly polished and fancy black boots for a more comfortable pair of brown doeskin. “I’ve also seen the guest list. I know no one.”

“Well, isn’t that comforting?”

Anthony chuckled. “I know some of the names, certainly. Local landed gentry, by in large. Nothing to worry about.”

“You hope.”

Anthony straightened, looked Sneed in the eye, and widened his smile. “Yes, I hope. If not, well, as I’ve said before, she’s worth every risk I take.”

Sneed’s reply was the barest arch of his bushy brows and an unusual, not particularly polite, noise

that seemed to come from somewhere in the nasal area.

“I’d tell you to go on home for awhile,” Anthony continued. “But by the time you get up there, it’ll be time to come back.”

“The accommodations at Maggie’s are adequate.”

“So glad you approve.” Anthony took a few steps into the wood until he came to the chestnut mare Sneed had earlier tied to a tree. He patted her shoulder, untied her, and led her from the shelter of the wood. “I’ll see you some time next Friday, Sneed.”

“Shall I meet you at Bluefield? Or will you go to Maggie’s?”

“I’ll go to the manor first. I’ll need the proper clothes, you know.”

“God forbid you should reveal the real you.”

“Yes, God forbid,” Anthony repeated with a grin. “Thanks for everything, old friend. I’ll see you next week.” He whirled his mare, putting his heels to her sides, and in moments disappeared around the bend in the road.

Lady Margaret fingered the pince-nez that hung from a golden chain around her neck. With her other hand she tapped a Sevres porcelain plate, rimmed in gilt. “I thought I’d use this set,” she said. “And this set

of crystal.” Lady Margaret waved a languid hand over the china and crystal that had been set out for display on the long, mahogany table.

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful,” Agatha oozed. “Your taste is impeccable, Lady Margaret.”

The ghost of a smile touched the older woman’s mouth. She picked up a cut-crystal goblet and put it down again.

“Your guest list is most impressive as well,” Agatha pattered on. “I showed it to Lord Farmington, and he agreed.”

“Did you, now?”

“Oh, yes. He was interested in looking at the list to see if he might know any of your guests. He said that although he recognized several names, he knew none of them personally.”

“Odd you should mention that. All the people I’ve talked to say the same about Lord Farmington. They seem to be familiar with the name, but can’t quite place the gentleman.”

“I’m having a bit of trouble pinning him down myself,” Agatha admitted.

“What do you mean?”

Agatha told Lady Margaret of her inquiry at the Millswich library and their response to her.

“Did you write to the county of origin, as they suggested?” Lady Margaret asked.

“Yes, I did. At least … I think I did.”

“What on earth do you mean, Agatha?” Lady Margaret demanded impatiently. Suddenly restless, she walked to the windows and began arranging the folds of the lavishly fringed gold damask drapes framing the tall, narrow windows.

“I mean, I wrote to three counties, actually. Lord Farmington never exactly told me where he lives.”

“How mysterious.”

“Well, yes, it is. Somewhat.” Agatha smiled with sudden brightness. “I’m sure it will all be explained to our satisfaction very soon. And your party will be a brilliant success.”

“Mmmmm. I hope so.” Thoughtful, Lady Margaret strolled from the ornate and formal dining room into the adjacent salon. “The season is over in London and many of the people I would have liked to invite have gone from the area to their summer homes in the country.” She stopped and looked around her, as if realizing where she was. “I’ll have the staff rearrange the furniture so there will be a bit more room. What do you think?”

Agatha’s face fell, but she quickly concealed it. “We aren’t going to use the ballroom?”

“I hardly think so,” Lady Margaret replied disparagingly. “The group is far too small, for one thing. For another, we still don’t know precisely who Lord Farmington is. Or how important. Do we?”

“No, we don’t,” Agatha agreed under her breath. “But, believe you me, I am
going
to find out.”

Mr. Henry, the constable, looked up from his cluttered desk. “What?” he asked tiredly.

“There’s been another one,” the man in uniform replied.

“Another what, Jones?”

“Another robbery, sir.”

Henry ran his hand over his bald head, as if rearranging something that had once been there. “Where?” he inquired at length.

“The McGowans, sir.”

“The who?”

“The McGowans,” the man repeated. “They’re the new folks on the other side of the village.”

“Oh, yes. Yes. Now I remember. An older couple, rather set in their ways, as I recall.”

The officer stared down at his feet for a moment. “You could put it that way. Yes, sir.”

“Well?”

“Well ‘what,’ sir?”

“The robbery, Jones!”

“Oh. Yes, sir. Mrs. McGowan apparently kept her heirloom family pearls in a cookie jar in the pantry.

They’re gone.”

This time Henry ran both hands over his head. “Might they have been misplaced?” he asked slowly.

“Definitely not, sir,” the man replied confidently. “Mrs. McGowan, well, let me put it this way, sir. The queen herself is not more proud of, nor fond of, the crown jewels of England. Or more likely to know where they are at any given moment.”

“I see.” Henry rubbed his eyes. “Did the thief leave any clues?”

“Not really, sir. There were hoofprints up to the house and away, and the McGowans don’t ride. They only use their horse with a cart or buggy. But there’s no telling whose horse made the prints.”

“Of course not,” Henry responded irritably. He pushed back from his desk and stood up. He crossed the room and stood before a map that had been pinned to the wall beside the single window. With a pen, he made a mark near the north end of the village. “Here, Jones?”

“Yes, sir. Right about there.”

Henry stepped back and surveyed the map. There were at least half a dozen other marks.

“He’s making fools of us, Jones.”

“We’re not the only ones, sir,” Jones replied. “There have been incidents in villages all around us.”

Henry ignored him. “It started with Miss Simmons and her sapphire ring.”

“But that was a simple bandit, sir, who struck right out in the open. You don’t think—”

“I don’t know what to think!” Henry snapped. “I only know that the residents of the village we’re supposed to protect are having their valuables stolen right out from beneath our noses.”

“Yes, sir.”

“'Yes, sir’
what,
Jones?!”

“Yes, sir, they are, sir. Being robbed right under our noses, I mean. But we’ll catch ‘im.” Jones grinned sheepishly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“A very short time, I hope,” Henry growled. “Because I haven’t got much time, Jones. The citizens are demanding a warm body behind bars, and I had better produce one. Soon. Or else.”

“Or else what, sir?”

“Oh, shut up, you idiot, and come with me.”

H
armony leaned over and clipped a dead blossom with her pruning shears. She straightened, a hand to the small of her back, and looked around her with a glow of pride. Slowly but surely, Agatha’s neglected garden was being transformed.

As soon as Anthony left, Harmony had sunk into a pit of despair. She did not realize how much she was going to miss him until he had actually gone. Then the full weight of his absence fell upon her. Anthony was gone. The light, happiness, and … yes … the love he brought into her life was gone. She had not realized how large, how important, his presence had become in her world.