Lords of the Kingdom

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “You had better hide under the seat,” Lizzie advised.

  “Are you coming, too?” he inquired out of the darkness in the opposite corner. He spoke in English, surprisingly, although with a hint of foreign intonation she couldn’t place.

  “Of course not,” Lizzie said with dignity. “I didn’t steal anything.” She peered out of the carriage window. The pursuers had stopped some yards back, some gazing up the street, some in earnest conversation with the nearest coachmen. She thought one of them was Wilhelm and prayed he hadn’t spotted her. Providing neither he nor anyone else had seen them enter the carriage, she thought they were safe.

  The theatre staff among the group began to drift away, back to work, she supposed.

  “I think they’re giving up,” Lizzie said in relief.

  In the darkness, the thief seemed very still. “What makes you think I did?”

  Frowning, Lizzie turned her head toward the shadowy figure in the corner. “Did what?”

  “Steal something.”

  “I saw you,” Lizzie said dryly. “Half the theatre saw you.”

  “Rather less, I should think,” he argued. “But never mind. Given that you saw me, why are you hiding me?”

  Lizzie took a deep breath. “Because I want you to steal something for me.”

  The figure opposite stirred. His boots scraped against the floor as if he were stretching his legs out. “What do you want me to steal?” His voice wasn’t quite steady. He might have been laughing.

  “A necklace,” she said repressively.

  “Ah. Because I’ve just proved I’m good at those?”

  “No, no, it has to be a particular necklace.”

  “I see. And from whom am I to steal this particular necklace?”

  “My aunt.”

  As if that finally startled him, he leaned forward into the light, peering at her more closely. She’d been right. There was no softness, no fear of anything in the dark, careless eyes searching her face.

  He sat back into the darkness again. “You know, even thieves generally regard robbing their own families as beyond the pale.”

  Lizzie felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She hadn’t expected to be lectured in morals by a thief. “It isn’t robbing her if the necklace isn’t hers to begin with,” she said tartly.

  “It isn’t hers? Is it yours, then?”

  “Well, no, not exactly,” she confessed. “It belongs to my father’s estate and should be passed on to Ivan the Terrible—” She broke off, biting her lips as the family nickname for her abhorrent cousin spilled out unbidden. The figure in the darkness didn’t move or speak, although a hiss of breath escaped him. It might have been laughter, or impatience. “I beg your pardon,” she hurried on. “I mean it should be passed on to my father’s heir, some distant foreign cousin, along with the title and everything else.”

  “Everything else?”

  “Our home and just about everything in it. All our lands and property. It’s all entailed. So you see, the new baron won’t miss one necklace. There’s plenty more jewelry for his wife.”

  “Then this heir, your Ivan the Terrible, is married?”

  “I don’t know anything about him,” Lizzie said loftily. “And don’t want to.”

  “It’s not his fault he inherited your old home,” the thief pointed out.

  “No, but he didn’t need to kick us out of it the same day we buried my father, when he isn’t even in the country. So far as anyone can ascertain, he doesn’t even have any fixed plans to take up residence there.”

  From his pause, the thief was surprised by such callousness. “Did he do that?”

  “Yes, he did. My two sisters, my brother and I have had to inflict ourselves on my aunt, just when they were preparing to leave the country. Which, in fact, has worked out quite well,” she allowed.

  “Brother?” the thief repeated. “But if you have a brother, shouldn’t he inherit everything?”

  “Unfortunately not, because my father never quite got around to marrying Michael’s mother. He couldn’t really,” she added in the interests of fairness. “Being married to my mother at the time.”

  “I see the difficulty,” the thief said gravely.

  Lizzie peered into the shadows with suspicion. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Not in the slightest. I’m reviling the behavior of this unspeakable cousin who kicked you all out of your home.”

  “It is vile,” Lizzie agreed cordially. “Because my brother and sisters are too young to live on their own, and even if I got a post as a governess, which I do quite intend in time, they couldn’t really come with me. They’d have to live with my aunt.”

  “The aunt I’m to steal this necklace from?”

  “Precisely.”

  “But you said the vile cousin has taken possession of everything already—how could he, by the way, if he wasn’t in the country?”

  “His solicitors sent in his own people.”

  “I see.” The thief’s voice was unexpectedly grim, as if he were now genuinely shocked at such unfeeling behavior. “So how came your aunt to have the necklace?”

  “She’d already borrowed it for Minerva’s coming out—Minerva is her daughter, my cousin. But, apparently, there is a great deal of competition among debutantes in London and my aunt was convinced that Minerva would have better luck finding a husband at the peace conference in Vienna, since all the world is here. And she feels the necklace adds consequence.”

  “To Minerva?”

  “Indirectly. If her mother wears the necklace on special occasions, it makes Minerva’s family appear to be of consequence.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “They’re well enough, but my uncle is employed at the Foreign Office. They’re not the wealthiest people in the world, so they want Minerva and James to marry well.”

  “I see. So wouldn’t it be better to leave the necklace with your aunt until after the Congress?”

  “Well, no, because then we’ll go back to England and the opportunity will be lost. I can’t sell the necklace in England. It’s too well known.”

  “So I’m to steal it and you will sell it?”

  “Well, I expect you know better than I how and where to accomplish the selling.”

  “I presume you’re going to pay me for my trouble?”

  “Of course.”

  “How much?”

  Lizzie closed her mouth. She’d expected to be given a price and whatever that was, had resolved to beat it down as far as she could. She had no idea of the going rate for thieves. Finally, she lifted her chin. “How much do you want?”

  “Make me an offer.”

  “One percent of whatever you sell the necklace for,” Lizzie said cunningly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The risk is all mine. Fifty percent.”

  Panic widened her eyes. “Oh no, that can’t be the normal rate. If I give you fifty, I won’t have enough!”

  “For what?”

  “To hire a cottage and live in it for two years and pay something toward Henrietta’s first London season when she’s seventeen. If I can’t do that, there’s no point in stealing the necklace at all.”

  The thief shrugged in the darkness. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  She scowled in his direction. “Are you trying to talk yourself out of a job? You’re a very odd thief.”

  “So are you.”

  She glared at him indignantly, though she was forced to concede the point. Perhaps the thief saw that, for he relented somewhat.

  “Very well,” he said. “I can see you’re in need. I’ll take ten percent.”

  “Ten,” Lizzie said, her shoulders drooping. “I suppose that might do.” Though unless he got an excellent price for the necklace, she thought she’d still be a few hundred pounds short of what she needed.

  “You’re not very good at this, are you?” the thief said. “You should offer me two.”

  Lizzie brightened. “Will you take two?”

  “No, but I�
�ll take five.”

  “Done,” Lizzie said, impulsively offering her hand to shake on the deal. The thief’s stretched out of the darkness and grasped hers. His fingers felt warm and rough. A faint scent of horses emanated from him, along with alcohol, which gave her pause. “How foxed are you?” she inquired.

  His breath of laughter ruffled the back of her hand. “Drunk enough to make a bad deal for a pretty face,” he said, suddenly dipping his head and kissing her fingers.

  Her skin flushed under his lips and she snatched her hand back in outrage. “But not so drunk that you’ll forget our agreement in the morning, I trust?”

  He sighed. “No. Though I may regret it.”

  Approaching voices from the street jerked Lizzie out of her isolation. Wilhelm, her aunt’s coachman, was returning.

  “Oh dear, the performance must be just about over!” she exclaimed. She slid along the seat, reaching for the door on the road side of the carriage. “Can you escape now without being caught?”

  “Easily,” the thief said. He moved quickly, opening the door before she could reach it and jumping down. He didn’t lower the step, but simply seized her round the waist and spun her out of the carriage. Her feet barely hit the ground before he propelled her across the road behind a passing carriage.

  Lizzie, unexpectedly shocked by such careless treatment, could think of nothing to say except, “Don’t you have a coat?”

  His teeth gleamed in the light from the carriage. “Yes, of course. I just left home in too much of a hurry.”

  “To go thieving?” Lizzie asked, with more interest than condemnation. After all, she was making use of his services, but she’d never thought of it quite like a position one could be late for, like her uncle’s at the Foreign Office.

  “Exactly. Didn’t want to miss my chance.”

  Lizzie suddenly had a lot more questions about the theft of the beautiful lady’s necklace, but she had run out of time and all was not yet settled between them.

  “Twenty-five Skodegasse,” she said hastily. “There’s a lane that runs behind the houses. I’ll speak to you there tomorrow, when it’s quiet. Noon.”

  As she hurried away from him, she couldn’t prevent a quick glance over her shoulder to see where he went. But there was no sign of him. He’d vanished like the proverbial thief in the night.

  “That girl,” Wilhelm the coachman said, pointing to the young English woman’s ill-dressed back scuttling into the theatre against the flow of the rest of the audience, “met with someone in her own coach. A man. The police were chasing him.”

  He spoke to the shadowy figure he knew only as Agent Z, who lounged against his coach door, watching the world go by as only the Viennese could. Though Wilhelm doubted Agent Z was a true Viennese, he’d never ask. At once bland and chilling, the secret policeman was not someone Wilhelm wished to get on the wrong side of, hence his new double employment with the state police and Mr. Daniels. He’d been afraid to say no. Besides which, the double pay was good.

  “And she is…?” Agent Z prompted.

  “Niece of my master, Jeremy Daniels, one of the British diplomats, if you remember. He arrived yesterday. Don’t know who he is, though.”

  “I’ll find that out easily enough,” Agent Z said, with a nod. “Good work. Keep your eyes open.”

  Chapter Two

  On her way to bed, Lizzie found herself snatched into her brother’s chamber. Well, she thought of it as Michael’s, though, in fact, he shared it with the currently absent Cousin James, much as Lizzie shared with Minerva as well as her two sisters. The house was much more cramped than they were used to. However, at this moment, her sisters were with Michael, waiting to ambush her.

  “How was the theatre?”

  “Did you see Herr von Beethoven?”

  “Was the tsar there? Or Emperor Francis?”

  “Did you see the Duchess of Sagan? She’s meant to be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “Did Minerva attract many admirers?”

  Bombarded with questions, she had to admit to seeing none of the famous personages and allow that Minerva had seemed to attract respectful interest.

  “Sounds pretty tame,” Georgiana, her youngest sister, said with clear disappointment.

  “Not in the least,” Lizzie assured her. “In fact, there was a robbery in the box right next to ours. A lady—one James admired excessively—had her necklace stolen quite blatantly, in full view of anyone who happened to be looking at her rather than the stage.”

  “What a coincidence!” Michael exclaimed. “Did you observe his methods?”

  “Better than that,” Lizzie said modestly. “I followed him out of the theatre and engaged his services.”

  “Oh goodness, Lizzie, how brave of you!” Henrietta breathed. “Was he terribly fearsome?”

  “Not fearsome exactly,” Lizzie said doubtfully. “Though I had the impression he cares for nothing and is afraid of nothing. In truth, he wasn’t really anything like I imagined a thief would be. But he’s agreed to steal the necklace for us and will come at noon tomorrow to receive his instructions.”

  Henrietta said, “You don’t think we’ll be ruining Minerva’s chances by stealing the necklace?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Georgiana said stoutly. “Why should the fact that Aunt Lucy’s wearing a particular necklace have any bearing at all on who does or does not offer for Minerva?”

  Lizzie, who was of a similar opinion, merely nodded. She rather thought her aunt liked the added consequence of wearing such a fine piece of jewelry for its own sake.

  “Where is the dog?” she asked, frowning with the sudden realization she hadn’t had to fend the animal off since returning from the theatre.

  As if on cue, the dog hurled itself through the bedroom door, lunging at Lizzie with insane delight. The children, who all understood that though old and unfashionable as it was, this was her best gown, all threw themselves at the dog to save the garment from the inevitable muddy paw prints.

  “Well done!” Lizzie approved.

  “Well done to you, too,” Michael said. “Very clever of you to find us someone so quickly!”

  In the morning, since Lizzie needed to be free at noon to meet her newly engaged thief, she made herself particularly useful arranging the house and organizing the servants to her aunt’s liking. Aunt Lucy complained of the tiny size of their accommodation and the number of stairs, but in truth, they were lucky to have a whole house at all in the overcrowded inner city. Most diplomats of Jeremy’s rank had to make do with an apartment or even a couple of rooms in someone’s attic. No doubt, Aunt Lucy’s rank and influence had pulled a few strings.

  Fortunately, such activity excused Lizzie from accompanying Aunt Lucy and Minerva on their shopping expedition. New gowns were apparently required to prevent Minerva living up to the reputation the British had already managed to acquire in Vienna of being ill-dressed, and most especially needed for the masked ball at the Imperial Palace which would formally open the Peace Congress.

  As she bustled about the house, her cousin, James, kept leaping out of his bedroom door to ask her opinion on coats and the style of his cravat, until his anxiety finally penetrated her own distracted thoughts.

  “Are you going somewhere special, James?” she asked.

  He flushed, making his appearance even younger than his years. “Madame Fischer invited me to her salon this afternoon.”

  “Well that was amiable of her! Um…who is Madame Fischer?”

  “The lady in the box next to ours at the theatre!”

  Lizzie, about to hurry on her way, held still, instead. “The lady whose necklace was stolen?”

  “Yes, wasn’t that shocking? But she is a great sport, didn’t let it upset her evening at all. She wasn’t even frightened.”

  “Well, I suppose she’d no reason to be frightened since the thief ran off with several stout men after him. Leaving you to guard her,” Lizzie added hastily. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”

/>   Leaving him, she hurried downstairs to join the children in the garden, where they were setting up a picnic in the midday sunshine and squabbling over who should be fending the dog off the food.

  “Tie his leash to the clothes pole,” Lizzie advised. “That way he won’t reach the food, but he can still sniff around a bit.”

  Michael duly dragged the dog a few feet away and tied his long leash around the pole. “We’ve been talking,” he said over his shoulder. “And though you’ve been very clever finding a thief, we think I should go with you to meet him. Just to show him you’re not alone.”

  Lizzie didn’t have the heart to tell him that the presence of a twelve-year-old boy was unlikely to intimidate a hardened criminal like her blatant thief.

  “Actually,” Georgiana interrupted her brother’s reasoning, “we decided we should all come, but Michael thinks it’s the male presence which is important. Rot, if you ask me.”

  “No one would ask you,” Michael retorted.

  “Because I’m a girl?” Georgiana fired up.

  “No,” Michael said at once. “Because you’re—”

  “Enough,” Lizzie interrupted. “I don’t want to scare him off, so I’ll go alone. Besides, I need you here to cover for me if anyone else comes into the garden – and to keep the dog quiet if he hears a stranger’s voice.”

  “But we’ve never met a thief before,” Georgiana objected, clearly disappointed.

  “Well, that’s one of the desired, if unwritten, accomplishments of a lady,” Lizzie assured her. “Do not, under any circumstances, number thieves among your acquaintance.”

  The children giggled, although, sobering first, Henrietta pointed out in her soft voice that Lizzie had already ruined this accomplishment in herself.

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m going to be a governess instead of a lady,” Lizzie claimed.

  Georgiana crowed with laughter, but Michael said sternly that it would matter more. “What respectable family would employ a governess who associated with thieves?” he demanded, not unreasonably.

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I won’t associate with him again once he’s stolen the necklace and sold it.”