“Why do you ask?”
Even as the words left her mouth, Katherine turned to discover what agitated her companion. Lord Annandale strolled no more than six feet behind them. Although he spoke with his companion, Sir Hugh, he didn’t lift his gaze from the pair of them for a moment.
Pru lowered her voice and hissed, “He stared at me all through the sermon.”
Perhaps, if she had noticed, whereas Katherine had not, she had spent a good deal of time staring back.
“I don’t think winning at loo was enough to convince him I’m undesirable. I even sat out one hand and advised on his, but he didn’t seem the least bit offended at the advice. He isn’t the most skilled of card players.”
This is Wayland’s fault. As Katherine glanced behind her to note that Sir Hugh had parted ways with Annandale, leaving the marquess to dog their steps alone, she could only assume that Wayland was at fault. He had promised to put a good word in Annandale’s ear, much as Katherine didn’t wish him to do that. It seemed the rival investigator held as much sway over his friends as he claimed. If he, for a second, believed this would ingratiate him enough with Katherine for her to spill the secrets of the thefts she uncovered, he was wrong. If anything, this was going to make things more complicated.
As they stepped past a short row of carriages awaiting the arrival of their owners from the church, Katherine had an idea. If her prowess at cards wouldn’t work, perhaps she could have Pru act unladylike in other ways. Wayland’s promises of Pru’s well-mannered traits wouldn’t stretch far. A twinge of guilt had her wondering if it was fair to Pru to foist her off while Katherine’s attention was otherwise occupied.
“Your plan isn’t working,” Pru hissed. “I’ve never had a man pay so close attention to me before. I have much better things to do than hold a lord at bay. Why, I could be solving the string of thefts here in Bath. If I only gave it my full attention, I’m willing to wager that I’d be able to solve it faster than you.”
“We solved the last case at the same pace,” Katherine snapped. She needed a way to keep Pru occupied for a few hours while she investigated at the King’s Bath. If not, the other woman would certainly make good on her threat and seek to investigate herself. Any lingering guilt over what she intended to do dissipated.
Pausing in front of the entrance to the King’s Bath, Katherine turned to Pru. “Do you want to help investigate that badly?”
“Of course.” Pru looked shocked that Katherine would ask. “It’s the most interesting thing happening here in Bath!”
Katherine motioned for the other woman to keep her voice down. “Very well, then I’ll need you to do something specific for me.”
“Anything.”
“How well do you know horses?”
Pru frowned, as though trying to connect horses to the investigation. In actuality, there was no connection. Katherine merely needed something with which to occupy Pru to prevent her from following Katherine into the baths.
“I can ride, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Sidesaddle or astride?”
Pru hesitated a moment before she admitted, “Both. I went hunting with my father a time or two before he passed.”
“Excellent.” It might be easier than Katherine thought to convince Lord Annandale that Pru wasn’t the match for him. She had never met a man who welcomed a woman’s input on hunting, not that she tried unless it involved hunting a criminal.
She shot a quick glance at the man who had prompted this conversation. He had halted next to a marked carriage emblazoned with a thistle in the seal, where he softly exchanged words with the driver.
“Go speak with Lord Annandale. Keep him by the horses and prove you know more than him about those, as well.”
Pru shot a glance over her shoulder to the marquess. She looked dubious. “How will that help with the investigation?”
“He seems friendly with Sir Hugh. Try to discover how long they’ve been in Bath and whether he knows anything about the jewel thefts. Most importantly, if Wayland arrives, keep him out with Lord Annandale. I don’t want him interrupting my investigation again.”
Pru sighed. “Very well. For what it’s worth, I still think I’d be more help inside with you.” Squaring her shoulders, she marched upon Lord Annandale as if confronting the French army.
The moment he noted her approach, he greeted her with a smile.
I hope this cools his interest, Katherine thought. If, by some bizarre coincidence, he was even more interested in Pru as a potential wife, Katherine would have one very disgruntled woman on her hands.
For now, she resolved not to think about it and stepped inside.
The King’s Bath was the only bathing pool in Bath that catered to both men and women. The Queen’s Bath, a short ways away, was open to women only. Katherine chose to attend the mixed baths, figuring that if the thief meant to strike, it would be there. To date, none of the robberies had happened at one of the public baths. However, with the way the visitors to town flaunted their jewels in the hopes of drawing the burglar’s eye, in Katherine’s opinion, it was only a matter of time. These women made no secret of coming to the baths, nor did they bother leaving their jewels in their rooms while attending church. It was a veritable feast to a thief.
The door to the baths led to a wide, vaulted antechamber. The ceiling was intricately carved with Vitruvian scrollwork and flourishes. Several red divans, a dark contrast to the pale walls and floor, were situated around the perimeter of the room. On the back wall, a window showed glimpses of the large bath below, even now populated with people — men, in their shirts and drawers, women wearing shifts that covered them to their ankles. A footman, in matching red-piped livery, smiled at Katherine as she entered.
“The women’s dressing chambers are this way, madam. Bess will have everything you need inside.”
He indicated one of two doors, situated on opposite walls. The other must be for the men. Thanking him, Katherine slipped through the door to the other side. It led to a long, sparsely lit corridor. The sounds from the bathers seemed amplified and distorted to her ears. At the end, a neat little cubbyhole was guarded by a single female servant of middle age. The moment she spotted Katherine, she helped herself to a pile of towels on a bench by the entrance.
“Here you are, my lady. Will you need help undressing?”
Undressing? Katherine smiled tightly. “No, thank you. I don’t mean to go in the water.”
The woman looked confused. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but everyone who comes here bathes in the King’s Bath, unless of course they are an attendant of one of the bathers. Forgive the assumption, but you look far too deep in the pockets to be in such a position.”
That, Katherine was. She peered around the small room, plain in comparison to the grand antechamber through which she had journeyed to get here. The walls were plain, unadorned stone. Shelves lined them, each with neatly folded clothing and jewels sitting atop them, sparkling in the daylight spilling through the arch into the pool.
“I am not an attendant,” Katherine informed her. However, when it seemed as though the woman would protest her venturing to the bathing area if she had no intention of immersing herself in the water, Katherine added, “I’m afraid of water. Terrible affliction. I can’t swim, but I’d hoped to dip my feet in the water. Perhaps the healing powers will have the same effect.”
Mollified, the woman allowed Katherine to pass to see the bathers, but not before first confiscating her slippers and stockings. Frankly, Katherine was lucky she’d been allowed to keep her dress rather than stripping down to her shift as everyone else had been. Despite the warmth seeping into the air from the hot spring filling the baths, the day was far too chilly for that.
By the time she entered the area with the pool — dressed in Neoclassical pillars holding the roof of the covered walkway aloft on all sides, with the large, rectangular water in the center, open to the sky above — she felt as though she’d survived a battlefield. Adjustin
g the sleeves of her dress, she lingered in the shadow of a pillar as she surveyed those gathered.
She found Mr. and Mrs. Oliver at once, both swimming in the water at the near end of the pool. The older woman conversed loudly with Lady Dalhousie, who… tarnation, was she wearing that diamond necklace even in the pool? Her hair wasn’t wet, nor was the top of her shift, attesting to the fact that she intended to remain in shallow waters to preserve the gems, but it seemed a foolhardy choice, if you asked Katherine. Every few minutes, Lady Dalhousie lifted her hand to touch the necklace, wetting it as she assured herself that it remained around her neck. They spoke with another couple of affluence, the woman younger than the man by at least three decades as they boasted of the jewelry they’d left at home, of course, so as not to chance it becoming damaged by the minerals in the water. Lady Dalhousie didn’t at all look pleased to hear such a proclamation, even if it was the truth. Katherine heard her refer to the woman as Mrs. Quicke.
Annoyed at such insipid conversation, Katherine walked along the warm tile of the outer floor and circled the perimeter. Across the pool, a young man was being helped out of his bath chair by an attendant in the livery of the King’s Bath. Recognition toyed with Katherine at the sweep of his brown hair and the set of his chin. Had they met? As her gaze traveled lower, to his bare leg where his clothes ended, revealing his puckered scar, she deduced that he must be Scott Julien. She barely recognized him.
Where were his grandparents? She didn’t see them nearby, but perhaps they required assistance themselves in order to use the baths. Mr. Julien, in particular, moved with difficulty and could likely benefit from the purported powers of the baths. They were certainly too old to help their grandson safely out of the chair and into the water. Out of respect, Katherine averted her gaze and wished others would do the same to grant Scott a moment or two of dignity while the footman lowered him into the water. Even from across the pool, the pain on his face was prominent.
The moment she averted her gaze, Katherine spotted Mrs. Fairchild in a particularly high-necked, frilly shift, and grimaced. She took a step back, deeper into the shadows cast by the covered walkway, in the hopes that she wouldn’t be seen. Fortunately, the rival matchmaker seemed much too occupied in attending to her charge, who was presently swimming after Prince Karl. Oh dear. That wasn’t the way to woo a man at all. Katherine almost felt sorry for the poor girl.
Her gaze paused on the broad shoulders of a man as he resurfaced midway along the pool. The water dripped from his dark hair, flattened to his head, along the translucent white shirt that now clung to his muscular shoulders, back, and arms. As Wayland turned, Katherine’s breath caught, and she clasped the cold column by her hip. Their gazes locked. She tried not to notice the way his wet shirt clung to his chest, but it was impossible. Although it had been over a year since the Battle of Waterloo had marked the end of the war, Wayland clearly continued to keep himself fit for battle. Why was she even noticing? She certainly had no interest in taking up with a man, and if she ever did, it wouldn’t be Wayland.
He had noticed her momentary interest. As he turned fully toward her, Katherine tried to make a subtle gesture to tell him to remain in the pool. Thus far, no one had remarked upon her presence along the perimeter, but if he approached to speak with her, that would certainly change. Not to mention the rumor circulating about them. She had to negate that somehow, before a tarnished reputation prevented her entry into the very events she needed to attend in order to solve crimes.
First and foremost, she had a thief to catch. Movement at the corner of her eye drew her attention to another shadow, one across the pool from her. The sun peeked out from between the clouds, glaring down at her and inducing sunspots that made it difficult to make out the figure. Tall, the figure wore far more clothing than Katherine expected anyone to be let in with. Was there another entrance? At this distance, with the shadows and the sun in her eyes, the figure looked to Katherine to be wearing a long cloak and… was that a bicorn that had lost its shape or a shepherdess hat? The wide brim obscured the wearer’s face. Katherine’s heartbeat quickened as she realized that she must be looking at the same lurker whom she had seen the night before at the Assembly Rooms. The thief!
Blinking away sunspots, she started around the perimeter of the pool, shortening the distance between her and her primary suspect. Although she tried to appear casual, the figure bolted. No! Katherine wouldn’t let them escape again.
She rounded the far end of the pool, the tile slick with moisture. Her foot slipped, and she nearly toppled into the water. Someone shouted her name, but she paid them no mind. The moment she had her footing, she raced toward the suspect. Cloak billowing, the figure followed the shadows behind the pillars toward the open doorways leading into the dressing rooms.
Katherine skidded to a stop halfway along the pool edge as she nearly collided with Mr. Oliver, groaning with effort as he climbed out of the pool. He startled, losing his balance. If Katherine hadn’t reached out to clasp his arm, he might have fallen in and injured himself. The others nearby climbed out and gathered around them.
“Mr. Oliver, are you hurt?”
“Shame on you, Lady Katherine! You should watch where you walk.”
“Walk? I saw her running as if her life depended upon it.”
“Youth these days…”
With empty placations, Katherine managed to extricate herself from the wall of people. Her heart thundered as she glanced around. Where was the thief? Nowhere did she spot where the figure must have run. They had escaped.
Sard it all! Why must everyone have gotten in her way? Frustration gripping her, Katherine fought the urge to smack her fist into the nearest pillar. That was twice now that the figure had eluded her, for no reason other than that other people seemed determined to delay her progress.
“Katherine?”
She stiffened and nearly turned at Wayland’s voice. The water sloshed as he exited the pool. She didn’t look. Think. The women’s attendant, Bess, would never have let the figure pass with so many clothes on. Katherine doubted that the men’s attendant would, either. That left only one explanation; there was another means by which the thief had entered the pool. How?
Wayland touched her arm from behind. Water soaked through the thin material of her dress, making her shiver despite the warm humidity rising from the bath.
“Are you all right?”
About to answer in the affirmative, Katherine lost her voice as a woman screamed. Where? It sounded as if it came from the direction of the women’s dressing rooms.
“My necklace! It’s been stolen!”
Katherine bolted for the dressing room, weaving between startled men and women who gawped at the open door and sluggishly followed in her wake. She paused in the threshold to catch her breath. Mrs. Oliver clutched a towel to her ample bosom as she pointed to a pile of clothes on the shelving unit. Bess, the attendant, looked so pale that she might swoon.
Although her expertise as an investigator wasn’t known, Katherine took charge nevertheless. She turned to address the women hovering behind her like a gaggle of geese. “Stay back. The investigator who Lord Bath has hired will want to look for clues.”
Not that she intended to wait for Mr. Salmon to arrive and examine the scene before her.
Violating her own advice, Katherine turned and approached the two women. “This is a very great shock for you both, I’m certain.”
“Of course it is,” Mrs. Oliver exclaimed. “My pearl necklace has been stolen!” She shot a look of triumph to the door.
Katherine gritted her teeth and shooed both women toward the bench where the towels were stacked. Once the women were seated, Mrs. Oliver close enough to tell the women gathered by the door exactly what had transpired while Bess shut her eyes and leaned back against the wall in a fit of vapors, Katherine turned to look at the shelf containing the clothes. What had changed since she had last been in here?
When she was small, her father had played a game with
her called Magic Music. While she was out of a room, he would rearrange certain items and then have her return to seek them out again. As a clue, he would hum loudly if she was nowhere near the correct area, and grow quieter the closer she came to discovering what had been misplaced. The older she became, the less he hummed. The last time they had played the game, he had simply sat back and read the latest newspaper while she catalogued precisely what had changed in the room. Over time, it had honed her mind to notice small details.
Taking a breath, she pictured the room as she had seen it when she had passed through. Judging by the neatly stacked clothing and jewelry, three women had arrived after her. Curiously, of those who had already been in the pool, only Mrs. Oliver’s jewelry had been snatched. The others, often in plain view and sparkling atop the pile of clothing, hadn’t so much as been moved to be examined. Either the thief hadn’t had time — which was the case if that cloaked figure had passed through and robbed Mrs. Oliver on the way — and had snatched the first item to meet their fingers, or else they had known precisely what they intended to steal.
Why the pearls? Could there be merit to that ridiculous rumor of the thief having good taste?
As she stepped closer, Katherine noticed the wink of metal from the floor. She stepped closer and knelt in front of Mrs. Oliver’s discarded slippers. A curl of silver leaf resided in the heel of the shoe, newly deposited since it hadn’t been flattened by someone stepping on it. Positioning her body to shield her actions from the view of the other women, Katherine opened the reticule on her wrist and removed her tweezers and a small vial. Gently, she plucked the delicate piece of silver and examined it. At her guess, it hadn’t fallen off any piece of jewelry, but had chipped off something larger. A large button, perhaps? The top of a snuffbox, a buckle… the possibilities were endless. It might even have fallen off Mrs. Oliver’s clothing. Not her shoes, for they had not the slightest hint of silver, but her clothes. After depositing the sample into the vial and slipping it out of view once more, Katherine stood to examine the folded clothing. It didn’t look to have been touched. The dress had no embroidery in silver thread, no silver embellishments, buttons, or buckles. That curl of silver could not have come from Mrs. Oliver’s clothing.
The Baffling Burglaries of Bath Page 9