The Baffling Burglaries of Bath

by Leighann Dobbs

  Lord Bath had mentioned hiring the best investigators. Could he have meant Wayland? If Wayland had access to the marquess’s resources, she didn’t have a hope of succeeding. Though if he was her opponent, she refused to quietly step aside. She had beaten him once, after all.

  Grandma Bath leaned forward, claiming Katherine’s attention once more. In a voice that wasn’t nearly as hushed as the old woman likely thought, she confessed, “You needn’t worry about him keeping company with that old widow. He was only seeing to her well-being.”

  Lyle frowned as he turned to Katherine. “What are you worried about?”

  “Nothing,” she answered in a clipped tone. She had only asked after the marquess because he doted so upon his grandmother.

  Fortunately, Grandma Bath seemed to recognize that Katherine didn’t intend to warm to the subject. She changed it, patting Lyle’s arm. “Have you heard about the wonderful invention Mr. Murphy is creating here? He wants to use the steam from our special water to identify criminals from the traces they leave at the scene of a crime! What a brilliant fellow.”

  Lyle’s cheeks turned pink at the praise. “I haven’t yet begun to build the apparatus—”

  Smiling, Katherine spoke over him firmly. “He is brilliant. Among the sharpest minds I know.”

  The color in his cheeks deepened.

  Grandma Bath craned her neck to look up at him. “Have you had a chance to speak with those craftsmen I recommended here in town?” She asked Katherine, “I’m rather proud of all the capable men hereabouts. It is true, with this year’s crops faring no better than anywhere else in England, I was a bit worried for our town, but they’ve come together to prove that they are very skilled in a variety of areas and willing to put in the work needed to get through this hard time. Luckily, men like Mr. Murphy here” — she patted his arm — “come to town every day, in need of all the things my good people can provide for them. Why, have you met Sir David Brewster? He’s here from Scotland, working with light and glass to create… Oh dear. It’s not a telescope…” She frowned then shook away the thought. “You know, you can ask him yourself. I saw him just a moment ago. Why don’t I introduce you?”

  Lyle stumbled over his tongue at the abrupt change in the conversation.

  Beaming, the old woman extracted her arm. “Wait here a moment, and I’ll fetch him. I’m certain you’ll get on smashingly, given that you’re both bright inventors!” With that pronouncement, she started an arduous journey around the perimeter of the ballroom.

  Katherine glanced at Wayland once more, still deep in conversation with Lord Bath and smiling.

  Lyle followed her gaze. “He isn’t as bad as you think he is.”

  Lifting her eyebrows, Katherine feigned innocence. “The marquess?”

  “Captain Wayland.”

  She twisted her mouth with distaste at hearing his name aloud and turned away before he noticed her watching him. Picking invisible dust from her bodice, she mumbled, “He’d best not get in my way if he knows what’s good for him. I must solve this crime myself.”

  “You solved the last one. I have every confidence that you’ll be able to solve this one as well.”

  “Yes, but in the last, I had your help.”

  Lyle frowned. “And I publicly took all the credit. Forgive me. I thought, erroneously, it seems, that you didn’t want to announce your involvement.”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “No, that’s not it at all. I can’t announce my involvement, or I’d be shunned from the very events I need to gain access to in order to solve these crimes. I’m happy you got to take the credit, rather than him.” She’d half expected to open the news rag and find Wayland’s name on the first story.

  For a moment, Lyle glanced at Wayland, deep in thought. “The clerk at Bow Street wanted him to take credit, since he is the heir to a viscount. He refused. He said he had no part in the discovery or capture of the murderer save for escorting the knave to London and insisted I take credit.”

  The man had never shied away from public praise before, so Katherine couldn’t account for his change of heart. She pressed her lips together.

  Her friend added, “We spent a great deal of time talking on the way to London. I think you misjudged him.”

  I think not. Katherine didn’t want to argue with her dearest friend, however. Fortunately, the arrival of Lord Bath — without the accompaniment of the man they had been discussing — put the conversation to rest. Although Lyle stiffened again and bowed for the new arrival, Katherine merely smiled as the marquess drew close. “My lord, nice to see you again.”

  She followed his former companion with her eyes, ensuring that Wayland didn’t intend to insinuate himself in their conversation. Fortunately, he stepped away. He paused to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Julien, of all people. Did he know them as well?

  Katherine fought back a frown and returned her attention to the marquess. “If you’re searching for your grandmother, I believe she meandered toward the Octagon in search of a man named Sir David so she might introduce us.”

  “Ah, yes. She’s been quite enamored with him since he arrived a week ago. It’s lucky he has a wife,” Lord Bath said with a wink.

  Katherine couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Grandma Bath setting her cap for a man at ninety.

  The marquess added, “I hope you don’t mind my deserting you earlier this evening, Katherine. I didn’t want Lady Dalhousie panicking the other dancers.”

  With his hands clasped behind his back, Lyle looked resolute not to comment and thereby draw attention to himself. However, when the conversation paused, he glanced from one to the other, curiosity worming its way into his expression.

  “Forgive the intrusion, but did you say you thought she might panic the others? Has there been another robbery?”

  “Keep your voice down!” Lord Bath glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying their conversation any mind. “There has not been anything of the sort. My cuff caught on Lady Dalhousie’s necklace, and she jumped to unreasonable conclusions. No one was trying to rob her.”

  “I should hope not,” Grandma Bath said loudly as she returned on the arm of a modestly dressed gentleman with wide brown side whiskers. “Oh, I was so afraid at first that this business of the jewel thefts would scare off our visitors, wasn’t I, Ernest?”

  With a pained look, Lord Bath answered her between gritted teeth. “Fortunately, that didn’t happen, Grandmama. Brewster, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “Oh yes!” Grandma Bath beamed and patted her escort’s arm. “Sir David, this is Mr. Murphy. He is an inventor, like yourself.”

  “Oh? What field of science do you study?”

  “Forensic,” Lyle answered. He paused a moment, looking uncomfortable, before he added, “I serve as one of Sir John’s Men in London.”

  The newcomer frowned. “Forgive me, but I’m not familiar with that organization. Where is it located?”

  “Bow Street.”

  “Ah, you’re a—”

  Katherine shook her head, hoping he would take the hint.

  Fortunately, the man seemed astute. He frowned at her and ended with, “Ah.”

  Silence fell over the group. No doubt it dug beneath Lyle’s skin, for he was the first to break it. He turned to the marquess. “As one of Sir John’s esteemed Men, I would be at your service to investigate this unfortunate string of thefts you’ve been having.”

  Lord Bath looked dubious. Even Grandma Bath didn’t warm to the idea as Katherine would have expected, not until Lyle added, “I recently apprehended the Pink-Ribbon Murderer. I know what I’m doing.”

  He shot Katherine a sheepish sort of smirk. Luckily, she knew him well enough to know that even if he was awarded the task of pursuing the Burglar of Bath, he wouldn’t do so in earnest unless Katherine asked. This was her case, even if she needed a proxy to claim it for her. Come to think of it, she needed someone to arrest the thief once she found them. Perhaps having Lyle on the case would be best.

/>   Lord Bath, on the other hand, didn’t seem to agree. “Catching a thief is a far different matter than arresting a murderer.”

  Was it? Katherine raised her eyebrows, exchanging a look with Lyle, but the marquess pressed on.

  “In any case, I’ve already hired someone.”

  Please don’t say Wayland. Katherine braced herself to hear his name.

  Instead, Lord Bath said, “Mr. Salmon is handling the matter.”

  Katherine gaped. What lunacy was this? “Mr. Harvey Salmon?”

  The marquess preened. “Why, yes. Do you know him?”

  When Katherine glanced at Lyle, she imagined she mirrored his look of horror. In unison, they answered, “Yes.” Mr. Salmon was the most inept, bumbling fool in the Royal Society for Investigative Techniques. Frankly, it was a wonder he hadn’t been asked not to return. To date, Katherine couldn’t name a single case that he hadn’t bungled. It had gone on to such an extent that she had begun to suspect him of taking bribes from the thieves he pursued and polluting the good name of detective, as his forbearers had.

  Weakly, she added, “Perhaps you ought to give further thought to hiring Lyle in his place. Lyle has a much better record of solved cases.”

  The marquess puffed up and adjusted his cuffs. “Of course you would say that, being as familiar with him, as you are.”

  Grandma Bath frowned. She adjusted her spectacles and peered up at Katherine. “Just how familiar with Mr. Murphy are you?”

  What in Zeus’s name? Was she trying to insinuate that she and Lyle had a carnal relationship? “We are close friends,” Katherine answered, biting off her words. She turned back to the marquess to add, “And even one solved case would be more than Mr. Salmon has to boast. I’m fairly certain that he’d be more apt to hand the thief some jewels than to apprehend him. He is the least recommended detective in all of London!”

  “Come now, don’t get yourself in a snit. I assure you, I asked for letters of reference before I hired him.”

  She balled her fists. “They must have been forged. I have never spoken to anyone who had anything good to say of Mr. Salmon.” At times, her compatriots lamented that he botched a case so badly as to scare off the criminal and make them impossible to find.

  “And who would you have spoken to who might shed light on the situation?”

  Lyle bristled. He answered, “Me.”

  At the same time, Katherine spat, “My father, for one.” She bristled with indignation. Why did every man assume that she sat by the parlor window all day and did needlepoint? Even the well-meaning ones — or, in Lord Bath’s case currently, the patronizing ones. She had a brain, and she used it often. More often than he had when hiring a complete dolt to find a clever thief!

  With a fond smile, the marquess said, “Don’t worry your head over it, my dear. It’s well handled. You see? He’s doing a splendid job of searching for clues as we speak.”

  Katherine followed the gesture of his arm to spot a man in a dusky-brown coat looming over a lady, jotting down notes in a handheld notebook. His forehead was creased with concentration beneath a lock of his silver-threaded hair as he examined her bosom — no, wait, her necklace. Good grief! No wonder Lady Dalhousie had shrieked of a thief so readily, with a cretin like Mr. Salmon lurking about. Watching his foolish efforts and knowing that others thought worse of her profession because of it made her blood boil.

  She turned away. “So it seems,” she said, her voice laced with venom. Lord Bath, it seemed, didn’t want to be swayed, so she didn’t see the point of trying. “If you’ll excuse me, I must check on Miss Burwick to see if she requires my presence. My lord, my lady.” She dipped her knees briefly to each of the esteemed hosts before striding away. She didn’t wait for a response.

  By the time she reached the far corner of the ballroom, across from the Octagon, she felt more in control of herself. She started to make her way across the line of occupied chairs toward where Pru likely awaited her in the card room, but caught movement in the corner of her eye. The door in the far left corner of the ballroom… hadn’t that been shut earlier? Now it was ajar.

  When she took a step toward it, she caught a glimpse of movement in the darkened room beyond. A tall figure, the hood of their cloak drawn to cover their face. Her heartbeat quickened. Could it be that the Burglar of Bath was here, after all?

  Picking up her skirts, she rushed toward the room.

  But she only made it a few steps before a figure stepped in her path. Mrs. Fairchild.

  No! The figure is getting away!

  Katherine craned her neck, looking over the woman’s shoulder to keep her eye on the door.

  Mrs. Fairchild cocked up her nose. “Fancy seeing you here, Lady Katherine. Did you follow me from London just to spite me?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Katherine snatched her gaze away from the door to examine the woman. Had she had a nip from the flask passed around the card tables as well? “Of course I haven’t.”

  Arms akimbo, Mrs. Fairchild glowered. “You expect me to believe that your presence at the event where I mean to match my next client is a coincidence?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t have time for this. She made to move to the left, but Mrs. Fairchild moved to block her.

  “You won’t fool me. What bit of deviousness are you up to, without your client at your side?”

  Katherine drew herself up, towering over her rival. “I could ask you the same question.”

  With a wave of her hand, the matchmaker indicated the dancing couples. There, with a perfectly plain gentleman, Mrs. Fairchild’s young client danced gracefully. Somehow, even in doing all the steps of the minuet perfectly, she seemed to fade into the background.

  Katherine’s attention wavered between Fairchild, the dancers, and the dark doorway. Was the figure still lurking there in the shadows, or had it disappeared?

  “Miss Newcomb is dancing.”

  “Not with the prince, I see.” Katherine turned her attention back to Mrs. Fairchild and raised her eyebrows pointedly. “That is who your client has set her cap for, is it not?”

  The grooves around Mrs. Fairchild’s mouth deepened as she scowled.

  “You needn’t worry,” Katherine informed her. “I’ve been hired to match Miss Burwick with somebody else. We shan’t get in your way. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  Katherine made to push past Mrs. Fairchild, but again the woman stopped her.

  Sard it all! She’d never catch the thief if Mrs. Fairchild didn’t leave her alone!

  “So you say, but I know you don’t play by the rules.”

  Katherine pressed her lips together and glanced toward the ceiling. She didn’t have time for this argument! “And what rules might those be? I’m afraid I never received my copy of A Matchmaker’s Etiquette. Lord Northbrook chose Annie to be his bride because he fell in love with her. For no other reason!”

  “Miss Young wasn’t even in attendance when he announced his engagement! You scared her off.”

  Katherine would have thought the murderer to have done so, but she was tired of arguing.

  Mrs. Fairchild crossed her arms. “Pray tell, why are you asking after women’s jewels? The only reason I can see is so that you can trick Miss Newcomb into thinking she’s been robbed.”

  Zooks! That got Katherine’s full attention. She wasn’t about to stand here and let Mrs. Fairchild accuse her. Two could play at that game. She retrieved the diamond earring from her reticule and presented it to Mrs. Fairchild.

  “I intended no such thing. I found this in the corridor. You can have it back.”

  Her rival dropped her arms and stepped back, appalled. “Have it back? I never took it in the first place! Of all the conniving accusations—”

  “This doesn’t belong to you or the Newcombs?”

  “No!”

  For a moment, Katherine was struck dumb. Mrs. Fairchild had to be lying. She had already determined that the earring didn’t belong to any other woman in the hotel.

  The
matchmaker took advantage of Katherine’s silence to lean forward and hiss in a venomous tone. “If you think for a moment that I’ll sit idly by and allow you to frame me for theft—”

  Katherine couldn’t possibly do that. Not only would it go against her integrity, but Mrs. Fairchild had been with Katherine at Lord Northbrook’s house party at the time of one of the robberies. She couldn’t be the thief.

  “That isn’t what I meant. I’m trying to find the rightful owner.”

  “Of course you’d say that. How am I to know you didn’t pilfer that yourself?”

  “I was at Lord Northbrook’s house party with you,” Katherine snapped. “I only just arrived in Bath. I wasn’t even here when most of the thefts took place.”

  The woman sniffed and arranged a lock of her auburn hair. “Perhaps there is more than one thief, each capitalizing on the last. You might be the latest in a long string.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I am not a thief. My dog stole—”

  “Stole?” The woman’s voice rose sharply.

  Katherine wished Mrs. Fairchild would be quiet. As it was, her annoying conversation and accusations had cost her the chase after the cloaked lurker who could be the real Burglar of Bath. The culprit was probably long gone by now, and she didn’t need the whole of the Assembly Rooms overhearing Mrs. Fairchild’s words and watching to see if she was the Burglar.

  A man’s steely voice rang in the hollow of silence that followed Mrs. Fairchild’s exclamation. “Is there a problem here?”

  The breath gushed from Katherine’s lungs as Wayland stepped alongside her, as if lending his support. She didn’t so much as look at him. Great, now she’d never be able to give chase to the lurker.

  Mrs. Fairchild, on the other hand, couldn’t avoid looking at Wayland, not with his shadow cast across her. Her expression smoothed to one of polite disinterest. “A minor misunderstanding, Captain. Nothing that requires a second opinion.”

  “I see.”