The Baffling Burglaries of Bath

by Leighann Dobbs

  To her surprise, as Katherine circulated the antechamber on Wayland’s arm and then proceeded up the stairs to the corridor behind the first row of boxes, she spotted altogether too many people who she recognized. Had no one attended the dress ball tonight? As they strolled past the first box, Lady Dalhousie’s voice carried.

  “How dull it is in Bath of late.”

  “How can you say that?” Mrs. Oliver’s voice was sharp. “I was robbed only yesterday. You’d think that would be enough entertainment.”

  Movement caught her eye ahead. Someone’s wide cuffs as he greeted another in a private box two curtains down. The Marquess of Bath. Katherine’s stomach lurched. She didn’t see his grandmother at his side — thank Zeus for small favors — but panic seized her as she realized she had nowhere to run. At any moment, he would turn and find her in the company of Captain Wayland. If he sent word to her father…

  The box next to the biddies had the curtain drawn. Was it occupied or empty? Katherine took a chance and dragged Wayland behind the curtain, pressing him against the divider with a hand to his mouth. Her heart thundered in her ears, and her knees weakened in relief, as she realized that the box was empty.

  Next door, Lady Dalhousie’s voice was unusually amplified by the roaring of blood in Katherine’s ears as her pulse pounded. “One theft. They come so few and far between, it’s not worth staying in Bath.”

  As the flood of panic weakened, Katherine became aware of how close she stood to Wayland. She dropped her hand from his mouth, the rough skin where he’d shaved scraping her palm. To alert him to remain silent, she raised a finger to her lips. She eased back, safely away from the heat of his body.

  His eyes, wide and dark in the shadow of the private box, narrowed. “What are you doing? This time, I know better than to think you’re stealing a kiss.” His lips barely moved as he spoke in a whisper. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  “I spotted Lord Bath. He mustn’t see us.”

  Wayland frowned. “Why not? Are you following him?”

  “Far from it. You are the enemy of my father, and he is my father’s friend…”

  “He didn’t seem to hold any rancor toward me. Besides, I wouldn’t exactly say your father and I are enemies.”

  Not enemies? Hardly! Katherine knew her father did not approve of Wayland, but she didn’t have time to think much about it as footsteps thudded along the corridor toward her. Her lungs seized. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp.

  Wayland bracketed her shoulders with his warm hands. “You’re being needlessly skittish.”

  She jumped at Lord Bath’s voice. “Good evening, ladies. What’s this about leaving Bath?”

  “On account of the thefts,” Lady Dalhousie said with a sniff.

  “I assure you, we have the best investigators searching for the thief. You’re in no danger should you choose to stay.”

  “No danger?” Mrs. Oliver parroted, her voice shrill.

  Katherine pictured Lord Bath’s cringe. She nearly mirrored it herself.

  “Madam, my investigators are doing everything possible to find the thief and have your belongings returned. I promise, you won’t be inconvenienced for long.”

  Lady Dalhousie scoffed. “It was only a string of pearls. So common, you can practically pick them out of the sludge. I thought the thief was more discerning…”

  Wayland angled himself toward the curtain, reaching to pull back the drape. Katherine stopped him with a hand on his arm, shaking her head. She wanted to hear this while she still had a private moment. Perhaps the gossipmongers would have something new to say regarding the robberies.

  Mrs. Oliver answered in a vicious tone. “The thief is discerning. Perhaps you need to check your jealousy!”

  “Ladies, please, let’s act civil. I can see all this talk of the robberies is doing us no good.”

  Katherine stifled a sigh as Lord Bath continued to placate the old women. She would learn nothing. Taking Wayland by the hand, she searched the corridor for occupants before slipping out with him and towing him to the nearest staircase. There, she dropped his hand to gather her skirts so she wouldn’t trip.

  “You’re frightened over nothing. Lord Bath has nothing against me.”

  She stopped midway up the stairs to turn back toward him. “My father does.”

  “If you and your father would put aside your prejudices—”

  “I know all I need to.” Her father didn’t make enemies lightly. The fact that Wayland had elevated himself to such a position spoke volumes. Papa didn’t approve of his methods, and given that Katherine’s methods closely mirrored her father’s, neither did she. “Thank you for your escort, but I believe I can handle myself from here on. I would be at an acute disadvantage should word of my association with you reach my father.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he would not approve.” Her dowry was firmly hers, not belonging to the husband she never intended to take, or to her father. However, hers was an open, loving family. Her father trusted her.

  “Of what, forming your own conclusions?”

  She snapped her mouth shut, turned on her heel, and continued up the stairs. Katherine knew Wayland’s character, much though he might protest. He wanted something, something he believed she would provide him. He must hold her abilities in high esteem if he thought she had the Burglar of Bath in her sights after only two days in town. Regardless, she didn’t intend to share her information.

  On the second floor, she set about her task: finding someone who wore shabby silver ornaments. Surely such a person couldn’t be that difficult to find.

  She approached the first box, where the curtain was still drawn. Mrs. Quicke’s voice wafted out of the box, laden with wistfulness. “Of course I asked Lord Bath to hold more events at Prior Park. I know how you love the plants they import, my dear. I tried hinting to him that Tuesdays are a perfect day to have a bit of a picnic and make a day of it, but he didn’t seem very enthusiastic. We’ll have to go on our own. But darling, do you think I should wear my ruby necklace or the citrines?”

  “To the park?” That gruff, male voice must belong to her husband.

  “Yes, of course. I have to look my best.”

  “You always look radiant, my dear. Wear whichever tickles your fancy; the jewels are never as lovely as you. Perhaps I’ll buy you another if you can’t make up your mind.”

  “Oh, Mr. Quicke…” His wife giggled.

  Katherine made a face. She referred to him by his surname? Granted, Katherine hadn’t spent much time in their presence, but theirs seemed a superficial marriage. Katherine’s stepmother was far younger than her father, so she knew firsthand that marriages involving an age difference could still be based on love and respect… not compliments and jewels.

  If Mr. Quicke spent so much effort appeasing his wife with gifts, however… He might be desperate enough to steal someone else’s gems and gift them to her.

  As Katherine approached the half-open curtain, she stumbled. Her foot caught in the fabric, and what was meant to be a ruse turned into a genuine tumble as she fell into the box, landing squarely in Mr. Quicke’s lap. The old man looked flabbergasted. No more so than she. She immediately kicked her legs to try to maneuver herself off of him, only to recollect that she was searching for silver.

  None on his buttons. None on Mrs. Quicke’s dress, or in the fan she was angrily snapping in front of her face.

  Katherine turned to spill herself onto the floor once more, an apology pouring from her lips, when Wayland entered the room. He plucked her from the old man’s lap by the waist and deposited her on her feet, brushing her down.

  “Terribly sorry, sir” — he nodded to Mr. Quicke, his face impassive as he gave the same perfunctory nod to Mrs. Quicke as well — “madam. She tripped, and I wasn’t quite able to catch her. Please, forgive her clumsiness.”

  Without waiting for a response, Wayland clasped her by the elbow. He steered her down the row of boxes, checking for occupants along the way. W
hen he found no empty ones, he drew her into the shadows of the staircase leading to the boxes above instead. There, he rounded on her.

  “Are you mad? What in tarnation were you doing?”

  It seemed she wasn’t the only detective to use foul language on occasion.

  Katherine detangled herself from his hold. “Keep your voice down. I’m trying to investigate.”

  “By sitting in the laps of married men?”

  She made a face. That hadn’t been her intention, precisely. “I tripped on purpose to get close enough to see whether or not they were wearing anything with silver on it.”

  His eyes gleamed with interest, and his expression took on a keen edge as he leaned forward. “Silver?”

  Tarnation! She hadn’t meant to let that clue slip out. Thus far, she’d managed to keep it contained only to those who were helping with the investigation.

  “Yes, I… saw a flash of it on the cloaked figure as they ran.” She held her breath, hoping he would believe the hasty lie.

  Unfortunately, it seemed as though she’d hesitated too long. Wayland leaned his hand on the wall opposite her, barring her exit and effectively trapping her. She inhaled sharply, her nose filled with the cedar scent of his cologne.

  “Is that the only reason, or have you found silver elsewhere?”

  Katherine remained silent, thinking. You could lie.

  “You can trust me.”

  He could not be trusted.

  “I can help.”

  That might in fact be true. Reluctantly, Katherine admitted, “I found some silver among Mrs. Oliver’s clothes. It could only have been transferred from the thief’s person.”

  “And you think they will wear the same artifact the very next day?”

  “Perhaps not,” Katherine snapped, angry with herself for placing all her hopes on this one course of action. “But I need more suspects than the ones I have currently. If I can find someone with clothes worn enough to indicate they might own such an item, I’ll have more to work on.”

  For several moments, Wayland studied her, his face impassive. He dropped his arm from next to her. “You must be desperate if you’re resorting to falling into people to gain such knowledge.”

  “It seemed the most expedient means to do so. After Lord Northbrook’s house party, it seems I’ve gained a reputation for clumsiness. I thought I’d use it to my advantage.”

  He released an audible breath. “Very well. I suppose I’ll help.”

  Katherine bit back a laugh. “You suppose? You forget, I haven’t asked.”

  “I just rescued you from a man’s lap. At the very least, you should allow me the dubious pleasure of examining the men’s clothing, and you, the women’s. The silver could have come from a pocket watch, and that isn’t immediately visible.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? She smiled grimly, knowing that he had her cornered. She needed his help, and for that, he would surely exact a price.

  “Very well. I concede.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it,” he commented as he steered her up the stairs to the third-floor boxes.

  “I’m not. I’d prefer to do this on my own if I could.”

  “We’ll work faster together.”

  She sighed as they reached the landing and turned to face him. “I know. That’s why I’ve acceded to you joining me.” She said nothing more, not a word of thanks or discouragement.

  He caught her gaze and held it a moment, intense. He broke the silence first. “Has anyone ever told you how exceedingly stubborn you are?”

  “Several, but none manage it as eloquently as you.” With a saucy smile, she turned to find their next target.

  Wayland, as it turned out, was especially adept at turning a stumble from Katherine into an introduction with a couple or group. He flashed his dimple at the women, coaxed the men to brag about their pocket watches, and managed to extricate them from the group without consuming too much of their time. Even so, they only managed to make their way through half the theater before the production began and they sought out their seats. Thus far, the only person with shabby enough clothing to have been the thief was Sir Hugh.

  By the time intermission arrived without Pru and Annandale having joined them, Katherine frowned. Fortunately, she felt comfortable enough in Wayland’s presence not to worry for her safety. He might steal her investigation out from under her, but she felt secure in the knowledge that he would never harm her.

  In fact, he was attuned enough to her distress that when she stood the moment the curtain closed, he did as well, frowning. “What ails you?”

  “Have you seen Pru?”

  He laid his hand on her back beneath her shoulder blades, steering her toward the curtain of the box Lord Annandale had reserved. “I’m certain she’s caught up at the card table. She was quite popular there on Saturday.”

  “Perhaps… If you’d like to continue searching, I’ll check on her and meet you in the far boxes.”

  Without waiting for a response, Katherine turned to seek out the second-floor card tables. Instead, she found Mrs. Fairchild strolling with Mrs. Newcomb, the mother of her charge. Curiously, Miss Newcomb was not with them. Perhaps she was hanging on the prince’s coattails — he wasn’t nearby either, though Katherine had spotted him earlier.

  She swallowed a groan and greeted the pair with a smile, hoping to slip around them and find the card tables without hassle. Instead, Mrs. Fairchild planted herself firmly in Katherine’s path.

  “Why, Lady Katherine, how nice to see you. I hear you’re spending the evening with Captain Wayland again. Where has he run off to?”

  Katherine clenched her teeth. “I wouldn’t know,” she bit off. “Contrary to popular opinion, we aren’t joined at the hip.”

  “No?” Mrs. Fairchild raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “Only at the lip, then?”

  “We have never kissed. Nor do we intend to.”

  Confound it, why did she have to rise to the bait? Mrs. Fairchild’s smile grew. She looked sly.

  “There’s no need to deny it so effusively. All women get caught in the end.” She tapped her wedding ring, a plain gold band.

  Katherine considered stumbling into the pair, if only to break through them to the other side of the walk. Neither had been in Bath long enough to be the burglar. Instead, Katherine opened her mouth to counter. “My business, like yours, happens to be orchestrating such a happening for someone else, not for myself.” She warmed to the subject as she realized it might be precisely the thing to quell this rumor once and for all, before it made its way back to London. She straightened. “In fact, that is the only reason I was speaking with Captain Wayland in private. I have a client who needs a marriage; he is a wealthy, unmarried man. I’m surprised you haven’t considered him for your client. If you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to my charge.”

  Her smile faded the moment she was past the two women and into the corridor once more. Hopefully, that would be the last she heard about the rumors regarding her and Wayland. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward the private box repurposed as a card room.

  And found it empty. Where was Pru? The cards and fish had been left on the table haphazardly, awaiting the return of the players. At least four, by the number of piles. Why had everyone suddenly left?

  Uneasy, Katherine hurried through the theater to find Wayland. She kept on the lookout for Pru and her escort as she crossed the row of boxes and the antechamber. How difficult could it be to find a Scotsman, especially one with a brogue like thunder? Unfortunately, he wasn’t to be found.

  Wayland encountered her first, lingering by the staircase on the first floor of the boxes. “There you are! Did you find her?”

  Katherine shook her head. “Have you seen her? Or Annandale?”

  He frowned. “I haven’t, but…”

  “But?”

  “I spotted Prince Karl loping for the exit. Miss Newcomb was following in his wake like a stray puppy. I assumed he meant to go to the dress ball.”


  Katherine frowned. Could something be happening outside? It was out of character for Pru to leave the building without telling Katherine, especially when Katherine had been so easy to find during the performance.

  “Let’s see if the doorman has seen them.”

  Wayland followed on her heels as she hastened to the exit. Outside, her eyes adjusted to the bright lamplights to either side, their luminescent halos fading fast after ten feet. They silhouetted Miss Newcomb’s figure, a wadded handkerchief held to her chest as she peered down the street.

  “Miss Newcomb!” Katherine raised her hand and trotted to the young woman’s side. “What is amiss?”

  With a sour expression, the mousy woman turned to glare at Katherine. “That hoyden of yours! She has the men eating out of her hand. Oh!” The young woman twisted the handkerchief violently.

  What was going on? Katherine and Wayland exchanged a confused glance. As she did, a rumble started. She couldn’t tell if she heard it first or felt it beneath her feet. She turned.

  Horses raced around the corner, four of them. In the lead, Pru rode astride. Her hair tumbled from its pins down her back, waving in the wind. Her skirts were hiked to her knees, exposing her thick ankles and muscular calves. She whooped with glee as she galloped down the street, a nose ahead of Lord Annandale, who grinned just as broadly. As she caught sight of the finish line, Pru leaned closer to her steed’s neck and urged it to a faster pace. She charged past, first by half a horse length. Annandale and Prince Karl came neck and neck, with Sir Hugh taking last place. He grimaced at his defeat.

  Beaming with triumph, Pru turned her horse and trotted back to the entrance of the Theatre Royal. The other two men pulled alongside her, plying her with praises of her riding prowess.

  Despite Pru’s repeated proclamations that she didn’t want male attention, Katherine had never seen her happier.