Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three)

by Driscoll, Maureen

  “Lynwood,” said Arthur, beside himself, “you cannot possibly…”

  “Arthur,” said Lynwood with a raised hand, “before you explode in anger or call me out or whatever it is you plan to do, pray listen for a moment. We are all acquainted with Miss Gans’s past, but only concerned about her current and future well-being. I certainly have no plans to ask her to leave this house. But do let Stapleton give his report. He did feel it was important enough to come here in the wee hours of the morning, after all. Stapleton, please proceed.”

  “Thank you, Lynwood,” said Stapleton. “Miss Gans, I did look into your past, as well as your service with the Home Office. As I have told the Kellingtons, I am most impressed with your work. You have proven yourself to be brave, smart and extremely capable. Indeed, were it not for prejudices about your gender, I believe you would have risen far above your current position.”

  “It is most unfair,” said Lizzie, “that Vanessa has been held back simply because she was born a woman.”

  Riverton, who was sitting next to her on the settee, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Not now, love. I believe there is more to Stapleton’s report. You can continue this lecture tomorrow. The world will still be unjust.”

  Stapleton continued. “As Lynwood said, I looked into Mortimer and Cassidy’s criminal records. They have been quite successful in their endeavors and, in the case of Cassidy in particular, quite ruthless. But there is something odd about their involvement in this business with the chest. According to my sources within the Home Office, the chest was deposited in the lake on Riverton’s estate by a former spy for the French.”

  “Is he in custody?” asked Vanessa.

  “No. And no one can tell me who he is or what exactly he did for the French during the war. Your spy appears to be a ghost.”

  “So you don’t believe he exists,” said Arthur.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Neither do I,” said Vanessa. “I’ve been thinking about the three items we were set to recover. There was an ancient sword in an armory swarming with guards, a jeweled chalice in the safe of a duke who would go to any means to protect it and a golden stake embedded in a bridge far off the ground. All three items were valuable and all three would be almost impossible for the ordinary thief to steal.”

  “So, someone had us do the work for him,” said Arthur, voicing the suspicion he’d had for days.

  “Exactly,” said Vanessa. “What better way to get the items than to have the Home Office take them? And while Mortimer and Cassidy have stolen two of the items from us, I do not believe they are the masterminds behind the crime.”

  “Why not?” asked Stapleton.

  “Because of the chalice Frederick Mortimer did not steal.”

  Vanessa and Arthur then filled them in on everything that had happened since leaving the Riverton house party, only omitting those details concerning their personal relationship. Everyone listened with rapt attention.

  “Who do you think is the Judas?” asked Ned.

  “I may be able to help you there,” said Stapleton. “I did not look into just your background, Miss Gans. I also investigated a few of your colleagues. Three of them stood out as suspicious: Sir Lawrence Eck, a Professor Dumbarton at Cambridge and Lord Willingham, your superior.”

  “Lord Willingham!” said Vanessa with genuine surprise. “Surely not.”

  “Do not get me wrong,” said Stapleton, “I am not sure of anyone’s guilt. But the three of them stood out for various reasons. Sir Lawrence comes from humble beginnings, though he does much to disguise that fact.”

  “He is a snob,” added Arthur quickly.

  “While Sir Lawrence avoids speaking of his background as much as possible,” continued Stapleton, “he is the son of a farmer, and not a particularly well off one.”

  “Just because the man doesn’t come from the gentry doesn’t mean he is a criminal,” said Vanessa, bristling slightly.

  Stapleton smiled at her. “Miss Gans, I am the last person who would cast aspersions on someone coming from a low background, since I am from the lower classes myself. And, with the notable exceptions of the people in this room, I care little for rank and even less for privilege. My point isn’t that Sir Lawrence is the son of a poor farmer. It is that he not only spends a great deal of money on housing and clothes, he also pays his bills. He has wealth that cannot be attributed solely to his salary at the Home Office. How did he get the money?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vanessa. “I guess I never gave it much thought.”

  “Dumbarton is another one with unexplained wealth,” continued Stapleton. “He claims much of it was from an inheritance from a distant relation in America, a claim that will be difficult to verify. But, he also has taken dozens of trips to the continent – some of them extended trips that lasted for months. And many of them occurred during the war.”

  “He is an academic,” said Vanessa. “And he wasn’t going to France during the war.”

  “Probably not,” conceded Stapleton, “but we do not know for sure. Finally, there is Lord Willingham. He’s also wealthy, although that can be explained by his inheritance and the fact his estates are prospering. In his case, my suspicions were raised because he has access to information most people in the government don’t have. And he has also taken several trips outside of England, many of them to the continent during the war.”

  “But, that is part of his job at the Home Office,” said Vanessa, not wanting to even consider that the man who’d been like a father to her might possibly be behind the scheme. Arthur might easily have died at the Iron Bridge. She couldn’t bear it if anyone she knew was behind it, but it would particularly hurt if it were Willingham.

  “It is indeed part of his job,” said Stapleton, “but because of his position, he would be able to offer Mortimer and Cassidy something even more valuable than money – safe passage out of the country.”

  Vanessa told herself there were any number of people within the Home Office who could be behind the conspiracy, but the three suspects Stapleton had mentioned would truly fall under the category of Judas for her.

  “Thank you, Inspector,” she said. “You have given me a great deal to think about.”

  “I want to see justice done,” he said. “I am available to assist in any way I can.”

  “As am I,” said Lynwood, a sentiment that was quickly echoed by everyone else in the room.

  Vanessa looked at each of them, read the sincerity in their eyes. She was truly touched by this outpouring of support. For so long she’d been on her own, having to depend only on herself. It was a marvelous feeling to know others were willing to share the burden.

  “I thank you all,” she said. “But it would be too dangerous. I shall find a way to uncover the truth myself.”

  “You mean, ‘we’ shall find a way, don’t you?” asked Arthur. “Surely I’ve done too good of a job as your assistant to be summarily dismissed now.”

  “Your assistant?” asked Hal with a grin. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

  “I believe,” said Lynwood, rising from his chair, “that Miss Gans has a great deal to consider. And since she and Arthur had a long journey, perhaps it is time for us all to retire. The best way to proceed may come to Miss Gans in the morning.”

  “Can it come in the early-to-late afternoon?” asked Hal. “I am extremely tired myself.”

  “Miss Gans,” continued Lynwood, ignoring his youngest brother, “welcome to Lynwood House. I expect you and Arthur will remain here at least until this matter is cleared up.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” said Vanessa. “But I plan to return to my rooms in the morning.”

  “You cannot do that,” protested Arthur. “It is not safe.”

  “Which is all the more reason for me to leave Lynwood House, my lord. I cannot allow any of you to be put at risk, especially with a child here and Lady Edward in a delicate condition.”

  “While I thank you for your concern,” s
aid Jane warmly, “this is not the first time the family has been under siege. You shall remain here and we will just make sure to be more vigilant.”

  Before Vanessa could object, Ned spoke up. “You cannot gainsay Lynwood and my wife, Miss Gans. If it were only Lynwood you were defying, I’d say you had a chance, but no one flouts Jane’s authority.”

  “So it is settled,” said Lynwood as he shook hands with Stapleton. “Thank you for coming here so late. We can prepare a guest room for you.”

  “Thank you, but I shall go back to my rooms. There are a few matters I have to settle at Bow Street in the morning, but I’ll be back here later in the day.”

  “In that case,” said Lynwood, with a glance at Lizzie and Riverton, who were holding hands and talking quietly, “perhaps you’d like to escort Riverton out of the house and to his home.”

  Riverton looked up at the mention of his name. “Surely you don’t mean for Stapleton to escort me all the way home. My horse is in the stable and I only live a few blocks away. Nothing will happen to me at this hour.”

  “You misunderstand me Marcus,” said Lynwood, with only a glimmer of a smile. “I am not as concerned with Stapleton delivering you to your home as I am with having him get you out of this house. Good night. I shall see you all in the morning.”

  As the party broke up, Arthur escorted Vanessa upstairs to her room. He kept the door open, but escorted her inside to see if everything was as it should be. The Lynwood servants had, of course, done their jobs well. But he wanted to linger. He wanted to remain there all night. However, one look told him he would be sleeping alone that night.

  “Thank you, Arthur, for bringing me safely back to London. Now I’m afraid things will really get interesting.”

  “Yes,” he said, as he kissed her briefly good night. “I believe they will.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When Portia Cassidy discovered that Frederick Mortimer had failed to take the chalice from Vanessa, she’d been livid. The plain cup she’d pulled out of the bag had been nothing like the famous chalice. Mortimer had sworn he thought it was the real thing when he took it out of Vanessa’s saddlebag but claimed to have been fooled by the wrapping around it. She didn’t believe him.

  He had raged at her for trying to shoot Vanessa at the bridge. He claimed it was because he didn’t want to attract the law any more than they already had. The Crown didn’t like it when its agents were killed and retribution tended to be death without benefit of a trial. But she suspected he still harbored feelings for the dim little miss who had turned traitor and worked for the law. And it was affecting his judgment. If they had the chalice, they could be on their way to America by now. But they were stuck with a sword that was too distinctive to sell without attracting unwanted attention, and a golden stake which wouldn’t bring them nearly enough wealth for the life she wanted to live.

  She looked at Frederick, who was working at the desk in their London safe house. They’d spoken little since her last tirade about the chalice. She was beginning to wonder if they’d ever speak again.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, milord, but no one has approached me with any of them items,” said Mr. White, the proprietor of a pawn shop with a rather shady reputation. It was Hal’s ninth such visit that afternoon. While he’d never had to pawn anything himself, he’d accompanied several of his friends who’d had to part with items of worth, so he was familiar with how they operated. Mr. White had a reputation for selling items of questionable provenance.

  “And I’m sure you’d tell me if you had been approached,” said Hal with a raised brow.

  Mr. White’s only response was a smile revealing a gold front tooth. “I can only tell you what I can tell you.”

  “I believe you’re acquainted with Inspector Stapleton?”

  Instantly, the man was on guard. “Aye,” he said warily.

  “I understand the Inspector recently helped your family.” Stapleton had come to the rescue of Mr. White’s sister, whose common law husband had beaten her. Stapleton had thrown the man in gaol for a few days, then helped Mr. White send his sister to live with a cousin outside of London.

  It was obvious Mr. White didn’t want to cooperate with Hal’s inquiry, but that his sense of honor made him. “He’s a good cove, despite being from Bow Street. Listen, I told you the truth. I ain’t been approached about them items, and I cannot think anyone else has either.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because for one thing, whenever anyone makes a good score, you can tell by the gloatin’ and no one’s done any of that lately. But the reason I’m really sure is it don’t do no good to buy somethin’ you cannot sell. All three of them items, the sword, the cup and the spike are too well known to sell. It would bring Bow Street down on you, then the gallows. The only way to unload something like that would be on the continent, most likely France. No ways to do it here.”

  “What about if someone were to try to sell the jewels on the sword and chalice?”

  “’Twould not work. Jewels that old are identifiable. Would be worth a man’s life to try to sell them. And while there’s all sorts of greedy folks in this trade, you won’t find too many that stupid.”

  Hal thanked the man with a coin then was on his way. Dusk was approaching and he had to walk a few blocks to where he’d told his driver to wait. The neighborhood wasn’t the worst in the area, but he still hadn’t wanted the carriage to be waiting on the street as a target to would-be thieves or drunks too inebriated to know the folly of crossing a peer such as Lynwood.

  And there was no shortage of drunks, even at this early hour, with taverns lining the streets. At this time of day most would be filled with working men, but as the night wore on, peers stumbling home from an evening spent gaming, whoring or both would likely stop by to further indulge.

  Hal had spent his fair share of time in taverns. Truth be told, he’d probably spent enough time in taverns for half the families in Mayfair. He had little inclination to indulge now, since not only did he have to get home to report on the pawn shops, but he’d never been a solitary drinker. He spent his nights in rakish pursuits because that’s what his friends did. If they were monks, he’d do monkish activities with them. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He couldn’t really see himself headed to a monastery any time soon. But he enjoyed his friends, so it only made sense that he’d accompany them about town.

  Midway up the block was a group of reformers. They were appearing with more frequency and in greater number throughout the East End and the area around Covent Garden. Their rather laughable goal was the banning of spirits, particularly Mother’s Ruin, the strong form of gin that caused blindness and death. While Hal believed efforts should be made to eliminate dangerous spirits, the very notion of banning drink in general was ludicrous, even if there had been many a morn when he’d awakened with a bruising headache and a pledge to never drink again.

  Fortunately, the pledge never lasted.

  As he approached the reform ladies, he could hear them singing. It was some sort of hymn. He might even have sung it at one point, though he couldn’t remember the words. The group of six ladies was much as one might expect. Grim-faced, dressed in dull colors, most of them grey-haired. He had no doubt all were humorless. He smiled and tipped his hat to the lady in front. She frowned, which only made him grin.

  He was just about to pass them, when he noticed a woman in the back of the group who was much younger than the others. Though most of her hair was stuck under a hideous cap, what little he could see was a rich mahogany. He couldn’t quite make out her face because she was bent over tying her half boots. She’d pulled up her skirts just enough to reveal silk stockings with delicate stitching. They were expensive. He knew that because his last mistress had insisted he buy her a dozen pairs. It was an odd clothing choice for a dour reformer.

  As if feeling his eyes upon her, she looked at him and her eyes widened – revealing a striking hazel color – then she quickly dropped her sk
irt and stood up. She looked like an angel, even if she was the only one who wasn’t singing the hymn. But a moment later, she blinked, turned from him and joined her friends in the next chorus.

  Hal stood rooted to the spot for a moment, wishing his angel would look at him again, but it was all for naught. He remembered that the carriage would be waiting for him, so he set off for Lynwood House.

  * * *

  Arthur vaguely recalled meeting Lord Willingham at some ton event a few years earlier. He’d seen the man now and then after that, but since Willingham was a good twenty years older than he and not much of a gamester, they’d had little social interaction. Willingham was short, with thinning hair which was mostly grey. He was a man of few words, and, like any good spy, listened more than he spoke. Arthur resented the man for forcing Vanessa into service to the Crown, even if it had saved her from being transported.

  When they arrived at Willingham’s office, the man was in a foul mood. He’d just yelled at his secretary and, as Arthur and Vanessa unexpectedly entered his office, Willingham looked like he wanted to throw them right back out again.

  The office was in disarray, with files covering every inch of his desk. Willingham was in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, packing a box, which he quickly set aside. He reached for his jacket, then nodded curtly to Vanessa.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to report in,” he said without preamble. “Sir Lawrence told me about the fiasco in Shropshire.”

  “Sir Lawrence was able to report in?” asked Vanessa.

  “He was here first thing this morning, why?”

  “I thought his injury would keep him from it.”

  “Perhaps he thought losing three of England’s greatest treasures was more important than a sore ankle. How the devil did that happen?”

  Arthur could restrain himself no longer. “Willingham, Miss Gans risked her life for those treasures and feels bad enough as it is. I would think the wiser use of our time would be to set a new course of action, instead of heaping recrimination and blame.”