The Baffling Burglaries of Bath

by Leighann Dobbs

  When Wayland glanced toward her, Katherine winced. She didn’t like fingering suspects without proof, particularly those of the working class. Altogether too often, the nearest titled peer was happy to blame someone of a lower status without a shred of evidence, and the matter was closed. She hadn’t thought Lord Bath to be such a sort, but it appeared she was wrong.

  “It was one possibility,” Katherine muttered under her breath. “I’m merely a matchmaker, so what would I know?”

  It hurt her to speak the words aloud. She was much more than a matchmaker. She had the experience and intellect to rival Mr. Salmon. No, that wasn’t much competition at all — to rival Wayland.

  In this case, he didn’t leap to her defense. He knew, as well as she, that confirming the suspicion that had slipped past her lips might lead to an arrest. They needed evidence to support such an eventuality. She wanted justice, not an easy answer. Though, given that Lord Bath had hired Mr. Salmon, he might have hoped for the latter.

  Ushering Lord Bath backward a few steps, Wayland drew the door to the room shut behind him as he spoke. “I must examine the door in case this was the mode of entry. Do you think this looks sturdy? Katherine, perhaps you should lock it, so we might see if it poses much of an obstacle to intruders.”

  Lord Bath huffed. “If it were locked, the thief would not have been able to gain entry.”

  “We aren’t looking for the thief,” Wayland reminded him, his voice muffled by the closed door. “Our aim is to determine whether or not Mrs. Quicke will be safe in her room tonight. Katherine?”

  Smirking, she turned away and started to search the room as thoroughly as she could under such circumstances. She couldn’t take too long or else Lord Bath would certainly barge in again. As she looked, she called, “I don’t see the key. Give me a moment, and I’ll find it.”

  Upon finding nothing silver where it might easily be seen, Katherine dropped to her hands and knees on the clay-caked rug. She peered beneath the vanity, hoping that the daylight would catch on a sliver of silver and she would be able to say with certainty that this crime had been committed by the same person as the last. Not a glimmer of metal. She checked beneath the bed and along the windowsill for good measure, only to come up empty handed. Could this theft have been the fault of the butler, after all?

  As she glanced out the window, she spotted the dark cloak of a figure lurking down the lane as they emerged from behind a bush on the corner of the house. The cloaked figure! This was the third time she’d seen them, the second time it had been a part of a theft. She burst out of the room, solidly colliding first with Lord Bath and then careening into Wayland, who caught her by the upper arms.

  “Katherine? Are you all right?”

  She detached herself and babbled as she hastened toward the stairs. “I can’t find the key. I’m afraid Mr. Salmon will have to do so after all. So sorry to disturb anything! I’d best get out of your way.”

  Her slippers clicked against the stairs as she took them at a jog. Dimly, she heard Wayland call her name again, but she didn’t have time to stop. She exited the townhouse and turned down the alley.

  The only person she saw was Mr. Salmon. Sard it!

  No, she wouldn’t admit defeat so easily. She hiked her skirts above her knees and bolted down the lane. Mr. Salmon shouted as she nearly ran him down, steering to the side at the last moment as he straightened. At the end of the house, near the bush, she peered down the adjacent street. Neat fences abutted the lane, without a single person to be seen. She was too late. Her frustration mounting, she examined the bush, but she didn’t find a single trace that someone had been loitering there, not even a smear of clay aside from her own footprints.

  Swearing under her breath, she used the lane to avoid the crowd at the front of the building as she meandered back to the Sydney Hotel. Once again, the cloaked figure had been lurking nearby. That must mean that Mrs. Quicke’s and Mrs. Oliver’s thefts were connected. This was, in fact, the Burglar of Bath.

  Unfortunately, Katherine hadn’t been quick enough to catch him.

  Her route took her along a back entrance to the Sydney Garden Vauxhall. Just as well, for she wasn’t in the mood to speak with anyone who might be loitering by the main door, as Harriet had been earlier. Dejected, she dragged her heels as she crossed through the Vauxhall toward the looming hotel at the front.

  As she neared, she spotted a figure tiptoeing around the corner of the building and attempting to use the back entrance. Was that… Pru? Katherine quickened her step.

  “Pru?”

  Flinching, the other woman turned. She looked guilty.

  “Where have you been?” Katherine had been out all morning and hadn’t noticed Pru’s absence, but the other woman didn’t know that, judging by the expression she wore. She looked like a child caught stealing sweets from the pantry.

  “I’ve been…”

  Pru grappled for words, but a plausible excuse seemed to elude her. When she next spoke, Katherine hoped it was the truth.

  Pru’s breath gushed out on a sigh as her shoulders slumped forward. “Lord Annandale has just given me my first driving lesson. He let me take his coach around Bath!”

  That was much more innocent an explanation than Katherine expected. What would she care if Pru learned how to drive? It was more unladylike behavior, but Pru ought to have realized by now that Katherine embraced such things in her own life and others.

  “How did you enjoy it?”

  A wide smile broke across Pru’s face. “Why, it was exhilarating! It’s so freeing to be able to act as I please without worrying whether a man will find me to his liking. I’ve been under Mama’s thumb for far too long.”

  Given that she was older than Katherine, she had to agree.

  “You must be doing well in driving away Annandale’s romantic opinion of you, then.” For all that he had given her a driving lesson, it wasn’t precisely the sort of thing a man did when he was courting a woman… was it?

  Pru’s cheeks turned pink, and she gave a little shrug. “As well as can be expected. I’ve thoroughly demonstrated that I’m not at all like the insipid young girls who usually seek to catch his eye.”

  Did that mean she had successfully rebuffed Lord Annandale or not? Katherine frowned.

  “Oh,” Pru exclaimed. “I meant to ask how your investigation was progressing. It slipped my mind earlier this morning, but I’d dearly love to help if you’ve a moment to apprise me on the situation.”

  Their agreement had been that she wouldn’t interfere in Katherine’s investigation. Then again, the Burglar of Bath was proving to be more elusive than Katherine had hoped. With so little clues, perhaps Katherine needed help.

  She was spared the need to answer as Sir Hugh exited the stairwell, which led directly to the rooms above — near Lady Dalhousie’s room if Katherine recalled correctly, far removed from the one Sir Hugh had been allotted. His face brightened as he beheld them.

  “Miss Burwick, there you are! I hoped I might encounter you if I went into the garden.”

  Pru blinked rapidly. “You… sought me out? Why?”

  Why indeed.

  Sir Hugh held his hands up in surrender. “You play a wicked hand of loo, Miss Burwick. I wondered if perhaps you had a few moments to teach me how to better play. You never seem to lose.”

  Her cheeks flushed with pride. “I do sometimes lose. The key is in knowing when your cards aren’t strong enough, and when you can outbluff your opponents. I have some time now, if you’d care to sit and play.”

  “Absolutely,” Sir Hugh exclaimed. “I’ll find us a table in the hotel straight away.”

  He hurried off, at which point Pru turned to Katherine, an apologetic look on her face. “Would you mind playing chaperone? I can’t very well be seen alone with him.”

  And yet she didn’t mind being seen alone with Lord Annandale during her driving lesson. How very curious.

  Katherine accompanied her charge and resigned herself to playing chapero
ne for the rest of the afternoon. Pru barely sat at the table before they were joined by the other gentlemen who had chosen to take lunch in the hotel, including Prince Karl and, soon, Lord Annandale. As Katherine hovered in the background, trying to supervise the game without being noticed, a hot gaze pierced the back of her neck.

  When she turned, she found Mrs. Fairchild seated at another table with Miss Newcomb and her mother. The rival matchmaker did not appear the least bit pleased. Her expression boded ill for Katherine’s week ahead.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Burglar of Bath had to have gained entry into Mrs. Quicke’s townhouse somehow. Had it been through the window, as she had been adamant? When she had been in the room, looking down, Katherine had thought it possible. Now, the next morning, with the sun slanting down the tall side of the townhouse and into the alley where she lingered with Lyle, she started to second-guess her judgement.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Quicke are taking breakfast at the hotel. Lyle, climb up to the window before they get back, would you? I want to see if it’s possible.”

  He straightened with a sigh of disgust from the trampled footsteps he’d been examining. The clay had dried overnight, leaving myriad impressions, all of them likely belonging to Mr. Salmon. Her friend gave her a dubious look. “What makes you think I have the skill to scale the side of a building? I’m an inventor.”

  And a thin one at that, Katherine had to admit.

  Still, she knew his physique to be deceiving. “And you’re one of Sir John’s Men. You chase down criminals all the time.”

  “Yes… through the streets, not up tall buildings!”

  Katherine opened her mouth to argue further — after all, she couldn’t possibly climb. Not only would her skirts hamper her progress, but she had never done so before. Seeing as the side of the building was made of stucco, with little handholds for purchase, she had no hope of being able to climb the wall. As a shadow fell across the back of her neck, abruptly cooling her, she shut her mouth and turned.

  Wayland arched an eyebrow. “What are you arguing about?” His eyes gleamed. No doubt he hoped that they had found a clue as to the thief’s identity. If only Katherine were so lucky…

  “I want to see if it’s possible for the thief to have climbed in through Mrs. Quicke’s window. She isn’t at home, so she won’t raise the alarm at the moment, but that may change.” She gestured at her reticent friend. “If Lyle would only try—”

  Wayland reached for the buttons on his jacket. “I’ll do it.”

  “You will?”

  “Yes. I’m a captain, if you’ve forgotten. I keep myself in fighting shape.”

  As he peeled away his jacket then handed it to her and rolled up his sleeves, Katherine couldn’t help but study his fighting form. She’d noticed in the pool that he had the defined muscles to indicate an athletic build. He proved it further with every inch of skin he revealed on his muscular forearms. The day was chilly, but he didn’t appear affected.

  In fact, Katherine no longer felt chilled. Perhaps it was the warmth of the jacket over her sleeve, but she suddenly felt rather hot. As Wayland caught her ogling his arms, he winked. Her cheeks warmed, but she tried stoically to ignore the reaction.

  “Are you ready?” Wayland asked as he stretched his arms over his head, then from side to side. Was he doing that to warm up his muscles or to show off?

  Katherine steeled her spine and nodded.

  After taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and taxed the buttons on his waistcoat, Wayland backed to the mouth of the alley. He took a running leap and then, true to her prediction, used the close proximity of the wall opposite to clamber up to the second story. He hooked his fingers onto the sill, holding himself aloft a moment before he dropped back to the ground, bending his knees as he landed.

  There was her answer. The Burglar of Bath could have climbed in through Mrs. Quicke’s bedchamber window and left via the same means.

  “Thief!”

  Katherine stiffened at the call. Wayland straightened, whirling. The wooden rattle of a city watchman’s alarm filled the air, calling his compatriots. It seemed Lord Bath had increased the number of men in the area, true to his word. The only problem was that the dark-clad group now converging on their position thought them to be criminals.

  Wayland caught her by the hand. “Run!” he shouted. Lyle lurched into motion, Wayland on his heels as he dragged Katherine to follow. With her free hand, she gathered her skirts to keep from tripping.

  “Shouldn’t we stop and explain?” They weren’t thieves — they were detectives!

  Neither man seemed keen on the notion.

  At the nearest street, near where Katherine had seen the cloaked figure, they split paths. Lyle turned right, whereas Wayland urged Katherine to the left. He didn’t slow the punishing pace for even a moment. They raced past neatly fenced yards. At the next alley, Wayland turned right. He turned again shortly after, and again. Did he have a map in his head to follow, or was he choosing their retreat at random? Katherine didn’t have the breath to ask. She was sorely pressed simply to keep running.

  The sounds of pursuit grew dimmer, though perhaps that was in part due to the roar of blood rushing in her ears. Wayland turned them down another alley. Ahead, a long awning projected over a sunken door, the entranceway providing room and cover for the various crates stacked there. As they came abreast, Wayland stopped. Without preamble, he bracketed Katherine’s waist and spun her to press into the door. It held beneath their combined weight as he pressed in after her, concealing her body with his.

  The beat of his heart thrummed against her chest. His breath tickled the hair by her ear as she strained to hear whether or not their pursuers would find them. She heard the clatter of boots and held her breath, afraid to give away their position. Wayland pressed closer, stiffening as he waited for the danger to pass. His warm body surrounded her.

  The noise faded away as the patrol continued down the street rather than entering the alley where she and Wayland hid. He held still a moment more, making certain no one else pursued them. She took shallow breaths, trying not to breathe too loudly.

  When he pulled back slightly, she knew the danger had passed. He gazed down at her, his eyes dark as he hunched beneath the awning. Suddenly aware of her hands, she laid one on his chest, feeling the shift of his muscles beneath his clothes and the firm beat of his heart beneath the tips of her fingers. At that moment, she realized that she must have dropped his jacket in the scuffle, for she didn’t have it.

  “Tarnation,” she muttered under her breath, snatching back her hand. “I lost your jacket on the way. I’ll retrace our steps and search for it. It must be safe again by now.”

  When she tried to squeeze past him, he didn’t move a muscle. “To the contrary, I think it’s very dangerous, indeed.”

  Was he referring to the patrol? She frowned.

  Wayland seemed to be holding his breath as he reached out to trace a lock of her hair that had fallen free. His thumb brushed her cheek, heralding a convalescence of tingling resonating from that spot. Her mouth started to tingle as well. She licked her lips to ease the sensation. Something akin to determination entered his expression as he lifted his gaze from her mouth to her eyes once more. He bowed his head, bringing them closer…

  The door opened behind her, and she nearly toppled into what smelled like a bakery. Wayland caught her and pulled her back beneath the awning before he slid his body between her and the person who had opened the door.

  “Och! What are ye two canoodlers doing on my doorstep? Off wit’ye!”

  Her cheeks burning hotter than her mouth, Katherine did just that. What had just happened? Had Wayland been about to kiss her?

  No. Impossible. She was doing far too much matchmaking lately if she started seeing romance in her own life. Besides, he was not to be trusted, and yet she found herself trusting him more and more the longer he offered his support. He had an ulterior motive. She had to remember that.

&nbs
p; Wayland caught up to her near the mouth of the alley. “Katherine, wait! It might not be safe.”

  She turned to face him but found that she couldn’t look him in the eye. She didn’t know what she hoped or dreaded to find in his gaze, but she wasn’t ready to confirm her suspicions. Or realize that she’d let her imagination run wild with her. It was far too confusing.

  Staring at the button of his waistcoat, she mumbled, “The patrol will be searching for a man and a woman. We’ll be safer apart. I can see myself safely to the hotel.”

  Reluctantly, he nodded. They chose separate paths. Wayland turned right, retracing their steps. Katherine turned left, spotting the towering Bath Abbey ahead and using it as a landmark to find her way back to the hotel on her own.

  Ensconced at a table near the wall of the common room at the Sydney Hotel, Katherine tried her best not to revisit the moment between her and Wayland in the alley. It helped that the object of her thoughts was not present at the table. Lyle, however, was — and he hadn’t seemed particularly inclined to accept her explanation for how she and Wayland had parted ways, even if it was partially the truth. She’d left out a few details, and unfortunately Lyle knew her well enough to be able to tell when she wasn’t divulging everything.

  Fortunately, while at the table, sipping tea and enjoying a sweet bun with Pru and Harriet, Lyle chose to keep his suspicions to himself. For that, Katherine was grateful. Keeping her voice soft, she said to the others, “The only thing we’ve managed to uncover about the theft at Mrs. Quicke’s townhouse is that the thief could have entered and exited through the window. However, as we proved earlier, it’s especially difficult to do so without being seen. In truth, I don’t know that we’ve narrowed down our list of suspects at all.”

  “What do we know?” Lyle asked. “We have the bit of silver, which might have been from someone’s clothing.”

  “Such as Sir Hugh,” Katherine suggested. He seemed reasonably fit, although she hadn’t witnessed him perform any feats of athleticism aside from riding a horse. “He has had that recent influx of quid to fund his gambling, and I’m certain I’ve seen him wear silver before.”