To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  Nicholas tilted his head. “Speaking of Montague Moreland, it’s just come to me that there was a character in Murder at the Abbey who was named something remarkably similar to Kaffenburgh.”

  Daphne blinked. “Was there really?”

  “Indeed.”

  “What a coincidence, but I’m sure Kaffenburgh isn’t that unusual, what with how large my family is back in our old country, which is, umm . . . Scotland. They came to America after there was a horrible . . . potato blight.”

  Nicholas swallowed a laugh. “I would have thought Kaffenburgh to be a name that originates in Germany.”

  “And some of us came from Germany as well after a . . . a . . . drought.”

  “A word of advice, Daphne. If you want a con to succeed, you have to keep it simple or risk finding yourself tripped up by the most innocent of questions. I’m surprised Gabriella didn’t remember that.”

  “She didn’t have time to remember it, not with how she’d barely stepped foot in the boardinghouse this afternoon before finding herself thrust into a new plan, and—” Daphne stopped talking as her cheeks turned pink.

  Nicholas straightened. “You’ve got a lot to learn if that inquiry agency has a chance of surviving. I am curious, though, how you came up with the characters of Miss and Mrs. Kaffenburgh.”

  Clear annoyance clouded Daphne’s eyes. “Fine, you’ve found me out. And to answer your question, we needed a plan that would allow us access to the young ladies of society. Dangling an earl under their noses seemed like a brilliant idea.” She tilted her head. “But how did you know it was me? I thought the disguise Miss Lulah Wallace chose for me sufficiently concealed my true identity.”

  “There were a vast number of clues leading to your true identity, one being that I actually saw your costume, as well as your wig, at the Cherry Lane Theater when I recently took in a show there.”

  “And isn’t that simply bad luck,” Daphne muttered as couples began taking to the ballroom floor.

  He smiled and held out his arm to her. “Shall we continue our conversation while enjoying the first dance of the night together? I arrived late to the ball and have yet to add my name to a single dance card, save Miss McArthur’s.”

  “I’m not what anyone would call proficient with dancing.”

  “And I’m somewhat proficient on the floor, which means we’ll be fine.”

  Daphne glanced around and then blew out a breath. “Oh, very well, I’ll dance with you since we’ve obviously begun to attract attention, and the last thing I want to do is attract more attention by refusing to dance with a gentleman I’ve been told is one of the most sought-after in society.” She took hold of his arm. “Just remember, this was your idea, and I won’t be held accountable for the state of your feet when we’re done.”

  “I doubt you’re as incompetent as you’re claiming,” Nicholas said, earning a roll of the eyes from Daphne as he drew her onto the floor. “But just in case, when the music starts, we’ll be moving to the right.”

  “Good to know. But wouldn’t your time be better spent dancing with someone else since you told Gabriella you’re determined to choose a bride this Season?”

  “Considering that I’m currently feeling incredibly disgruntled toward many of the young ladies here tonight, given how much time they’ve spent fawning over you and Gabriella in a quest to become known to your fictitious nephew, I have no desire to take to the floor with anyone but you. Besides, the dance will allow us to discuss what you and Gabriella are up to tonight.”

  “When I say I’m not a proficient dancer, I’m not being modest,” Daphne said. “There’s little chance I’ll be capable of dancing and conversing, so you may find that disgruntled mood of yours increasing.”

  Nicholas grinned as the music started, his grin fading a mere thirty seconds after attempting to lead Daphne around the floor. She truly had not been modest about her abilities because she had absolutely no sense of rhythm, even when she took to counting out steps under her breath.

  “Not that I want to point out the obvious, Nicholas, but you seem to be having a tough time keeping me off your toes.”

  “I’ve lost feeling in my toes and have stopped noticing how often you tread on them.”

  Daphne’s lips curved. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea. Plus, it’s distracting me from figuring out which young lady could be behind framing Jennette.” She executed a credible turn, leaving Nicholas with the notion that her lack of proficiency had more to do with nerves than skill. Once distracted by thoughts of what she hoped to accomplish that evening, her hesitancy had evidently retreated, making it possible for her to glide across the room instead of stomp across it.

  “Why don’t you tell me what conclusions you’ve arrived at so far,” he encouraged, hoping his question would distract her enough to where she’d avoid mauling his toes with her sharp-pointed shoes.

  It took three turns around the ballroom floor for Daphne to disclose all the details of her and Gabriella’s plan.

  “I’m not sure how successful our attending the ball has been tonight, though,” Daphne finished as they danced by where Gabriella was holding court, Maryanne still by her side, smiling brightly. “Practically every lady I’ve spoken with has mentioned something about Duncan Linwood being a most sought-after bachelor, leaving me with the impression they wouldn’t be opposed to having him court them, but that leaves us with far too many suspects.”

  Nicholas frowned. “You said practically. Have there been a few young ladies who’ve not been interested in speaking with either you or Gabriella, or not mentioned Duncan?”

  Daphne stepped on his toe again as she cocked her head to the side. “Well, the only one that I can recall is the lady who was overwrought. I ran across her in the retiring room. She was lying on a fainting couch and seemed perfectly fine—until I asked Miss Blossom about who she felt were the most eligible bachelors. Miss Blossom listed you first, but then added Mr. Duncan Linwood, and that’s when Miss Celeste Wilkins became completely distraught, having to resort to borrowing my smelling salts because she was almost out, and—”

  Daphne froze, her gaze turning distant as other couples dodged them, craning their necks to see why Nicholas and his partner had simply stopped moving.

  “You do realize the dance hasn’t come to an end, don’t you?” Nicholas asked, to which he received a shush from Daphne before she blinked and caught his eye.

  “Do you recall the part in Montague Moreland’s book When the Shadows Fall where Mr. Reuben Antonelli, the villain, adopted a most dramatic air over the death of Mrs. Bainswright, but it turned out to be a complete act, done so to distract everyone from his guilt in murdering the victim?”

  “That wasn’t in When the Shadows Fall. It’s in A Murder Most Wicked.” Nicholas leaned closer to her. “What are you suggesting?”

  For some curious reason, Daphne’s eyes began to gleam. “You’re quite right, that scene was in A Murder Most Wicked, which means you are an admirer of Montague Moreland since you remembered that. However, that has nothing to do with the matter at hand, which is this—I believe that Miss Celeste Wilkins may be overplaying her part of Miss Jennette Moore’s distraught former friend. She became visibly distressed after Mr. Linwood’s name came up, but now that I think on it, she wasn’t breathing unusually rapidly when she made the claim she needed smelling salts. As a lady prone to swooning, rapid breathing is always a precursor before I suffer a fit of the vapors.” She took hold of his arm and began tugging him off the floor. “We need to tell Gabriella that Miss Celeste Wilkins may be the culprit we’ve been searching for.”

  “And then what?”

  “No idea. My job is to come up with scenarios and plots. Gabriella’s job is to figure out how to take things from there, although it might be tricky getting her away from all those ladies so that I can discuss this with her.”

  Nicholas pulled Daphne to a stop and smiled. “You may leave that up to me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s
a good idea. Gabriella was pretty firm about not seeing you again.”

  “True, but she might change her mind about that after you tell her your theory about Celeste, and then remind her that Celeste is presently languishing in the retiring room, which means . . .”

  “She’s not currently at home, nor are her parents,” Daphne breathed.

  “Exactly.”

  Daphne frowned. “But we don’t know where she lives.”

  “Which is why Gabriella’s going to realize she needs me because I know exactly where Celeste lives, and . . . I’ve been inside her home.”

  CHAPTER

  Nine

  “You’ll be pleased to learn, Mrs. Kaffenburgh, that Mr. Nicholas Quinn, the gentleman I mentioned earlier, is currently heading this way.”

  Gabriella’s head shot up, and she directed her attention to where Miss Maryanne Allen was looking, finding Nicholas striding toward her, holding fast to Daphne’s arm.

  The gleam she spotted in his eyes was incredibly telling and suggested her night had just turned more complicated than it already was.

  “He’s such a charming gentleman,” Miss Louisa Melville purred from where she was standing beside Maryanne. “You might have missed this, Mrs. Kaffenburgh, but Mr. Quinn was just dancing with your sister-in-law. I don’t imagine she’s given the opportunity to take to the floor often, but doesn’t Mr. Quinn’s kind gesture speak volumes about his character? He’s definitely your nephew’s greatest competitor.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him,” Gabriella muttered right as Nicholas came to a stop in front of her, released Daphne’s arm, and presented her with a perfect bow.

  Not that she cared to admit it, but he was looking quite dashing in his formal evening jacket, pristine white shirt and tie, and stylishly arranged jet-black hair. And even though his nose was slightly swollen, and his eyes were ringed with bruises from landing on hard cobblestones the night before, he was still a very handsome man.

  “Allow me to perform an introduction,” Maryanne said, stepping forward and sending Nicholas a sweet smile. The sweetness of that smile sent a sliver of annoyance through Gabriella because Maryanne had been talking nonstop for the past twenty minutes, recounting everything she’d ever accomplished to impress Gabriella, who might then feel compelled to point out Maryanne’s stellar attributes to her imaginary nephew.

  “Mrs. Kaffenburgh, this is Mr. Nicholas Quinn. Mr. Quinn, Mrs. Kaffenburgh.”

  The next thing Gabriella knew, Nicholas had hold of her gloved hand, raising it to his lips and placing a kiss on it. The amusement lurking in his eyes set her teeth on edge and had her tugging her hand back, which earned her the barest hint of a wink from him.

  “It’s delightful to meet you, Mrs. Kaffenburgh. Your sister-in-law and I just enjoyed a lovely dance together, and as we left the floor, it struck me that because you’ve only arrived in town and aren’t acquainted with many people, you may not have your dance card filled up yet.” He presented her with his hand again. “Would you do me the honor? I believe they’re about to play a waltz.”

  “I rarely dance.”

  Maryanne released a titter. “Now, you know that’s not true, Mrs. Kaffenburgh. Your sister-in-law told me that while you were in Paris, you enjoyed dancing until the wee hours of the morning.”

  “Did she now?” Gabriella asked, shooting a look to Daphne, who winced before she pulled out her ever-handy notepad from her reticule and bent over her notes.

  “What part of Paris did you enjoy the most, Mrs. Kaffenburgh?” Miss Louisa Melville asked, stepping forward. “When I was there last spring, my mother and I dined at this darling little café on the Seine that’s all the rage. I’m sure you’ve been there as well. It’s called Café Monet.”

  Every snippet of information she’d read about Paris as Lulah had gone about the daunting business of aging up her face disappeared into thin air. Panic was swift and had her reaching out and taking the hand Nicholas was still extending her way. “I’d be delighted to waltz with you.”

  “How wonderful,” he said, smiling a charming smile at the young ladies who’d been surrounding Gabriella before he led her onto the floor, taking her into his arms as they waited for the music to begin.

  “I told Daphne the two of you should have kept your scheme simple” were the first words out of his mouth before he grinned. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the panic flickering through your eyes after Miss Melville asked you about that café. Didn’t have much time to brush up on your Paris facts?”

  “I barely had time to get dressed. I worked most of the day and then was presented with this plan the second I returned home.”

  “You have a job?”

  “I do enjoy eating, Nicholas, so yes, I have a job.”

  He frowned. “What do you do?”

  “Nothing exciting,” Gabriella said, blowing out a breath when she noticed the members of the orchestra picking up their instruments. “You should know that I’ve never danced before, which is going to make this interesting since Daphne apparently has been telling everyone I’ve whiled away my nights dancing up a storm.”

  “You’ve danced before with me. Remember?”

  “Peering into fancy houses and then mimicking the dances we observed outside those houses is not the same thing as knowing how to dance.”

  “You were always able to pick up every step. Just follow my lead. You’ll be fine.”

  The protest Gabriella wanted to voice got stuck in her throat when the music began and Nicholas swept her into motion, the fluidity of his movements taking her by complete surprise.

  “You really did have dance instructors, didn’t you?” she asked as he steered her to the left, then to the right, holding her in a way that made it easy to follow his steps.

  “I did, but I didn’t ask you to dance to impress you with my ability to waltz. I needed to get you away from those ladies because Daphne believes she might have figured out who framed Jennette.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Celeste Wilkins, but I’ll fill you in more after we get out of here.”

  “There is no we in this, Nicholas.”

  Nicholas leaned closer. “I think you’ll soon change your mind about that. You see, Celeste is here, as are her parents. That means her house is empty, and I know where she lives.”

  “You could simply tell me where she lives.”

  “And leave you to go searching through a house you’ve never been in before, accompanied by Daphne? I think not. The two of you will find yourselves in jail alongside poor Jennette Moore before morning.”

  Gabriella shot a look to Daphne, who was surrounded by young ladies, scribbling away as those ladies pressed closer to her. “You’re probably right, and I don’t believe Daphne would survive long in jail. But how are we to get away from the ball without drawing attention? I’m sure one of the many ladies who talked so glowingly about you tonight will notice if you simply disappear. And I know those same ladies will notice if Daphne and I disappear, since all of them seem to keep remembering positive attributes that they neglected to disclose to me.”

  “It’s remarkable how many ladies are trying to impress you.”

  “It’s disturbing, not remarkable,” Gabriella argued. “In my humble opinion, their attempts to impress me show a great deal of shallowness. None of these ladies know the least little thing about my nephew, save that he’s an aristocrat.” She shook her head. “I even alluded that he needs to marry an heiress because he’s in need of funds, just to see what the reaction would be, and it didn’t concern any of the ladies in the least. That left me with the distinct impression that a title and a castle are enough of an incentive for these ladies to want to marry a man who could very well have a humpback and a sour disposition.”

  “You shouldn’t be so harsh in your assessment,” Nicholas said quietly, spinning her around before they headed back across the floor. “Many of them are simply victims of their upbringing. That doesn’t make them the ogres we once assume
d all society members were.”

  “Oh? The majority of them aren’t pursuing their little frivolities while children are starving in the streets?”

  It was telling that Nicholas had no easy reply to that. Instead, he pulled her a touch closer and bent his mouth to her ear. “I believe that’s something you and I should wait to discuss later. Right now, we need to get out of here with all due haste, so I’m going to twirl you again but this time, I need you to stumble—and not a small stumble. We’ll then be able to make the claim you’ve twisted your ankle. That will give us the excuse we need to leave because I’ll offer to see you home.”

  “Difficult as this is for me to admit, given how much you annoyed me last night, and annoyed me only moments ago by insisting I dance with you, that’s a marvelous plan.”

  Nicholas grinned. “Perhaps you won’t remain as annoyed with me if it actually works. On three, I’ll twirl you and then you stumble. One . . . two . . .”

  Unfortunately, Nicholas didn’t bother to say three, so when he twirled her, she wasn’t ready for it and went careening madly to the right, landing in a heap of borrowed satin from the Cherry Lane Theater on the hard ballroom floor, but only after she’d knocked over a few of New York’s finest society members in the process.

  “That certainly worked like a charm,” Daphne said fifteen minutes later as they sat in Nicholas’s carriage, speeding away from the ball.

  “I’m sure to have a bruise the size of a watermelon on my backside, as are at least two of the ladies I took with me to the ground,” Gabriella countered, frowning at Nicholas, who was sitting across from her in the carriage. “You never said three.”

  Nicholas winced. “I think I may have twirled you early.”

  “That’s exactly what you did, which left me giving everyone at that ball more than a glimpse of my legs.”

  “Mrs. Kaffenburgh gave them a glimpse of her legs,” Nicholas countered.

  Gabriella brightened. “Too right you are, and because I think Mrs. Kaffenburgh should now decide to travel on to Boston, I won’t have to suffer through the embarrassment of people remarking on my limbs at other society events.”