Otherwise Engaged

by Amanda Quick

  They had gone for a walk on the promenade deck and stopped to watch the celestial fireworks produced by a distant storm at sea. They had stood together at the railing for nearly an hour, watching the far-off lightning flashes in the night sky. Amity had been captivated by the scene. He, in turn, had been enchanted by her excitement.

  That was the night he had taken her into his arms and kissed her for the first and only time. The experience had proved more electrifying than the night storm. It was only a kiss, but for the first time in his life he had understood how passion might cause a man to defy logic and the dictates of common sense.

  Mrs. Houston swept through the pantry doorway.

  “Here you go, sir,” she said. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  She set a plate heaped with eggs and sausages in front of him. He inhaled the aromas and was suddenly ravenous.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Houston,” he said. He unfolded his napkin. “This is just what I need.”

  She beamed and poured coffee into his cup.

  He forked up a bite of eggs and looked at Amity.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said. “I trust the press has exaggerated somewhat?”

  Penny responded before Amity could say a word.

  “Unfortunately, the incident occurred very much as the press portrayed it,” Penny said.

  “Except for the bit about me fleeing the carriage in my nightgown,” Amity said grimly. “That was a gross exaggeration. I was fully clothed, I assure you.”

  Before he could respond to that, Penny continued with the story.

  “A vicious killer they call the Bridegroom seized Amity right off the street in broad daylight and tried to overcome her with chloroform,” she said.

  “Chloroform.” Benedict felt his insides turn to ice. If the killer had been able to render Amity unconscious, it was unlikely that she would have escaped. “Damn it to bloody hell.”

  He realized that Penny and Mrs. Houston were looking at him.

  “My apologies for the language,” he said.

  It occurred to him that he had apologized twice before even finishing breakfast.

  Amity raised her brows. He got the impression that she was amused. It was, he reflected, not the first time that she had heard him swear. Nevertheless, he was back in London now. There were rules.

  “Fortunately, I was able to employ my fan before the chloroform took effect,” Amity said. “I leaped out of the carriage and ran for my life.”

  He frowned thinking about it. “Who drove the carriage?”

  “What?” Amity frowned. “I have no idea. It was a private carriage so I assume the coachman was in the employ of the killer.”

  He gave that some close thought. “It was a private carriage?”

  “Yes. In the rain, I mistook it for a cab.” Amity’s gaze sharpened. “What are you thinking, sir?”

  “That the coachman is either an accomplice or a member of the criminal class who was hired for the occasion and paid to keep his mouth shut. Either way, he will know something that could help identify the killer.”

  Amity’s eyes widened. “An excellent notion. You must mention that to Inspector Logan.”

  Benedict shrugged and ate a bite of sausage. “It’s an obvious avenue of investigation. I’m sure the police are pursuing it.”

  Amity assumed an ominous expression. “I would not depend upon that, if I were you.”

  Penny looked thoughtful. “Until Amity’s escape no one knew how the other brides were taken. They simply disappeared.”

  Benedict ate some more eggs while he pondered that. Then he looked at Amity.

  “Why you?” he asked.

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Do you have some notion of why, out of all the women in London, the killer selected you as a victim?”

  Amity looked at Penny, who cleared her throat discreetly.

  “I assume that you are unaware of the gossip, Mr. Stanbridge,” she said.

  “Gossip flows through London like the Thames.” He picked up his coffee cup. “What gossip in particular are you referring to?”

  This time it was Amity who answered.

  “The gossip about us, Mr. Stanbridge,” she said coldly.

  He paused the cup halfway to his mouth and looked at her over the rim. “Us?”

  She gave him an icy smile. “There has been a great deal of idle speculation in certain circles about the nature of our association on board the Northern Star.”

  He went quite blank. “What in blazes do you mean? We were fellow passengers on board a ship.”

  Penny narrowed her eyes. “There have been rumors to the effect that your relationship with Amity was of an intimate nature.”

  “Well, she did save my life, which could certainly be viewed as an intimate sort of connection.” He stopped, aware that Amity and Penny were both looking at him in a decidedly odd manner. Belatedly, comprehension finally arrived.

  Thunderstruck, he looked at Amity. “Do you mean to say that there are rumors that you and I were lovers?”

  Mrs. Houston snorted and became very busy with the coffee pot. Penny’s jaw tightened.

  Amity flushed a vivid shade of pink.

  “I regret to say that is the case,” she said.

  He grappled with that for a moment and decided that it would probably be best not to tell her that he wished it were true. He forced himself to focus on the problem at hand.

  “What does the gossip have to do with the fact that you were nearly murdered?” he said instead.

  Amity took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “According to the press, the Bridegroom chooses female victims whose reputations have been tarnished by scandal.”

  She spoke so quickly—practically mumbling—that he was not certain he heard her correctly.

  “Tarnished by scandal?” he repeated to make certain he understood.

  “Yes,” Amity said, her tone clipped and brusque.

  “You’re telling me that the rumors about you or, I should say, us somehow reached the killer’s ears and that is why he fixed his attentions on you?”

  “That appears to be the case,” Amity said. She poured a little cream into her coffee. “I fear the gossip has been circulating in certain circles for some time.”

  “Ever since the Channing ball, to be precise,” Penny added. “As far as I can determine, it started the morning after that affair.”

  Benedict frowned. “Did you two attend?”

  “No,” Penny said. “But it was not difficult to establish that the rumors began circulating immediately afterward. Polite Society is a small world, as I’m sure you’re aware, Mr. Stanbridge.”

  “True,” he said. “And an overheated hothouse when it comes to gossip. I do my best to avoid it.”

  “I’m not particularly fond of it, myself,” Penny said. “But thanks to my late husband, I spent some time in that hothouse and I still have my connections. That is how I learned where and when the rumors began.”

  “Did you discover who was responsible?” he asked.

  “No,” Penny admitted. “That sort of thing is more difficult to pin down. Until Amity was attacked our chief concern was that the gossip might cause her publisher to change his mind about publishing her book.”

  Benedict looked at Amity. “You’ve finished your travel book for ladies, then?”

  “Almost,” she said. “I am making one or two small changes but I had hoped to send it to Mr. Galbraith later this month. Unfortunately, what with the rumors about my association with you and now this situation involving a killer, things have become quite complicated.”

  He considered various possible solutions to the problem while he downed the last of the eggs. Then he sat back to savor the rest of his coffee.

  “The problem of ensuring the publication of your book is simple
enough to resolve,” he said.

  Amity and Penny stared at him.

  “What, exactly, do you mean by simple, Mr. Stanbridge?” Amity asked. She was clearly wary. “Do you intend to threaten or intimidate Mr. Galbraith? Because I assure you that, while I appreciate the gesture, I really cannot countenance such an approach.”

  “You would appreciate the gesture?” he asked.

  She smiled the first real smile she had bestowed upon him since he had arrived. It was the kind of smile that warmed her eyes and the atmosphere around her; the kind of smile that made him feel very, very good deep inside.

  “It is kind of you to offer to intimidate Mr. Galbraith in order to help me get my guidebook published, but I fear that under the circumstances that might be somewhat awkward,” she said.

  “Well, in that case I will save the option of inducing fear in your publisher as a last resort,” Benedict said. “In any event I don’t think it will be necessary to take such drastic measures if we apply the simpler, more straightforward solution that I have in mind.”

  Penny still appeared somewhat bewildered, but a faint gleam of comprehension lit her eyes. “What is that, sir?”

  “From what you have told me it is obvious that the easiest way to deal with the question of Amity’s reputation is to announce that she and I are engaged to be married,” he said.

  Pleased with the obvious perfection of his answer to the problem, he drank some more coffee and waited for Amity and Penny to display the appropriate delight and appreciation of the scheme.

  Amity stared at him as if he had just declared that the end of the world was near.

  But Penny seized upon the solution with profound relief.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “It is the ideal answer. I confess that it had actually occurred to me. But I must admit I did not expect you to suggest the notion, Mr. Stanbridge.”

  “What?” Amity switched her attention to Penny. “Are you mad? How on earth will such an announcement solve anything?”

  Penny assumed a knowing air. “I’m sure Mr. Stanbridge has all the answers. Something tells me he concocted the plan before he arrived on our doorstep a short time ago. Is that correct, sir?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said, trying to appear modest.

  Amity clutched her napkin very tightly. “Mr. Stanbridge, I would remind you that you were unaware of the gossip about us until you sat down to breakfast at this very table a short time ago. How on earth can you declare that you conceived this harebrained notion on the way from the ship to this house?”

  The harebrained notion comment hurt but he reminded himself that Amity had been under considerable stress lately.

  “It was the news of the attack on you that convinced me that an engagement is the only alternative,” he said.

  Penny nodded, satisfied. “Yes, of course.”

  Amity glared at both of them in turn. “Why is a fake engagement a sound notion?”

  “Because it will do two important things,” Benedict said. He was trying to be patient but underneath he had to admit he found her lack of enthusiasm for the plan decidedly depressing. “First and foremost it will allow me to be seen regularly in your company. That will make it easier to protect you.”

  Amity frowned. “Protect me? Do you mean to say that you believe the killer might try to kidnap me a second time?”

  “We cannot know the mind of a monster like this creature they call the Bridegroom,” he said gently. “Until we are certain that he is dead or in prison I do not think it wise for you to go about by yourself. If he is out there in the shadows, he will have had time for his wounds to heal. You should not leave this house alone under any circumstances. As your fiancé I will be able to escort you wherever you wish to go.”

  Amity started to speak, stopped and then took a breath and tried again.

  “And the second reason you believe this fraudulent arrangement is a good idea?” she asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “It will put a stop to the gossip. You will no longer need to be concerned that Galbraith will refuse to publish your book because of the damage to your reputation.”

  Penny looked at Amity. “You must see that an engagement really is a perfect solution to both problems.”

  “Excuse me,” Amity said evenly, “but I’m not at all sure of that.”

  “Why?” Penny asked.

  “Why?” Amity got out in a half-strangled voice. “You have to ask me that? It’s a terrible idea. Such an engagement would be a complete fiction. How on earth could we possibly maintain the illusion? Even if Mr. Stanbridge is content to play the part of my fiancé, what of his parents? I’m sure they will raise some objections.”

  “No, they won’t,” Benedict said. “You may leave my parents to me. I will deal with them if it becomes necessary.”

  “How could it not become necessary?” Amity shot back.

  “As it happens, they are in Australia at the moment.” He brushed the problem of his parents aside. “They will have no notion of what is going on here in London. And while we’re on the subject, rest assured that I will deal with my brother and his wife, as well.”

  Amity’s mouth tightened. “I do appreciate your offer, Mr. Stanbridge, however—”

  “Kindly stop saying that you appreciate my offers,” he said.

  He realized how sternly he had spoken only after she fell abruptly silent. She stared at him with an air of astonishment that made him aware that he had never before shown her the edge of his temper.

  He suppressed a groan and tried to explain.

  “It’s the least I can do after what you did for me,” he said quietly. “You saved my life on St. Clare. I wouldn’t have made it without you. It was that incident that led to the compromising situation which in turn inspired the gossip about our supposed liaison. Now you have been attacked because of that gossip. I am in your debt and I would very much appreciate it if you would allow me to try to repay it.”

  “By pretending to be my fiancé?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Until the police find the killer,” Benedict said.

  “What if they fail?” she asked.

  “Then we shall have to do their work for them.”

  It had been a stab in the dark but he had made it based on what he knew of her personality. She was, above all else, extremely curious and intrigued by the prospect of adventure. It was that spirit that had compelled her to travel the world.

  He knew at once his strategy was working. Amity suddenly glowed with excitement.

  “Hmm,” she said.

  Penny eyed him dubiously. “Have you had any experience with criminal investigations, Mr. Stanbridge?”

  “No, but I imagine it is like any problem in engineering or mathematics,” he said. “One assembles all of the relevant facts in a logical manner and then one solves for the unknown.”

  “If it were that simple, the police would catch every criminal on the streets,” Amity said crisply. She got to her feet. “If you will excuse us, Penny, I would like to show Mr. Stanbridge the garden.”

  “I was about to ask Mrs. Houston to bring me some more coffee,” Benedict said.

  Amity looked at him. “A tour of the garden, sir. Now.”

  Seven

  The summer rain had stopped and the sun had emerged, but the garden was still damp. Amity whisked her skirts above her ankles to avoid the wet flowers and shrubs. She made for the little gazebo at the far end, very aware of Benedict following close behind her. The gravel of the path crunched beneath his boots.

  She stepped up onto the floor of the gazebo and rounded on him.

  “You appear to have recovered quite nicely from your wound,” she said.

  He touched his right side in the vicinity of his rib cage somewhat gingerly and immediately lowered his hand. “Thanks to your medical skills.”
/>   “As I told you at the time, it was my father who taught me some elementary field medicine.”

  “I will be forever grateful to his memory.” Benedict looked at her. “And to you.”

  She knew she was flushing again. A wistful longing swept through her. It took a firm act of will to suppress the emotion. She did not want his gratitude, she thought.

  “Well, sir?” she said. “What of the outcome of your journey to California. Was your mission successful?”

  “My mission?”

  “You need not be coy. Did you think that I was not aware that you are a spy for the Crown?”

  “Damn it, Amity, I’m an engineer, not a spy.”

  She glanced meaningfully at the black case he was holding. “Very well, I understand that you are not allowed to tell people that you are involved in the Great Game. But can you at least assure me that your venture, whatever it was, ended successfully?”

  He braced one hand against a nearby pillar and loomed over her. “The answer is, yes, I was successful.”

  She smiled, pleased in spite of her irritation. “Excellent. I am delighted to know that I was able to contribute in some small measure to that success—even if I will never know exactly what happened.”

  He tapped one finger against the pillar while he contemplated that comment. Then he appeared to come to a decision.

  “I don’t see any reason not to tell you a few facts now that the affair has been concluded. But first, let me be clear, I am not a professional spy. I did a favor for my uncle who happens to have connections in the government. Those connections asked him for his assistance in a certain project and he, in turn, asked me to help because of my knowledge of engineering. The mission, as you call it, was my first and very likely my last experience in that sort of thing. I don’t appear to be particularly adept at the business. It nearly got me killed, if you will recall.”

  “I’m hardly likely to forget.” She hesitated. “Do you have any notion of who tried to murder you on St. Clare?”

  “No. Presumably the same person who killed the inventor I went to see while I was on the island.”