A Study in Scandal (Ladies' Amateur Sleuth Society Book 1)

by Robyn DeHart

  That stopped her. She wanted to ask for more clarification about what he meant precisely, but figured it was best left alone. No doubt it had been difficult for him to admit. But it meant so much to her that he believe she was skilled in some area.

  She met his gaze. “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  “I suppose I should be going,” she said. “I will be ready for our visits tomorrow.”

  Amelia climbed into the hackney. Some seductress she was. She wanted desperately for them to have an affair, yet she couldn’t bring herself to suggest it to him. Undoubtedly she was worried he would reject her. Not only say no to the affair, but cut ties with her altogether. Perhaps even remove himself from the case. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  She would ask him. Eventually. But she needed to wait until it was the perfect time.

  Chapter Eleven

  “A woman’s heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male.” ~The Adventure of the Illustrious Client

  Colin stood in Amelia’s parlor waiting for her. He’d been there awhile, but he hadn’t yet glanced at his watch. He’d grown accustomed to the fact that Amelia was always late—it had become an almost endearing quality about her. Promptness was a virtue as far as he was concerned, but so was consistency, and she was very consistent.

  Consistently late. Consistently charming. Consistently tempting.

  She blew into the room wearing a sharp pink confection that molded to her luscious body. The cut of the dress made her waist look as if his hands could encircle her. The modest square neckline only hinted at her cleavage and the flair in the skirt pronounced the sway in her hips as she walked.

  But the most tantalizing bit of the entire ensemble were the satin pink gloves. Only one button, he noticed immediately, as they only went up to her wrist. One button, that was all it would take. His hands clenched at his sides.

  “Good afternoon, Colin. Isn’t it simply beautiful outside?”

  Consistently cheery.

  And he wanted to respond that he hadn’t noticed because he wasn’t accustomed to noting lovely days. But he, in fact, had noticed. Lately, they’d experienced several days of gray, wet weather but today the sky was blue, full of white puffy clouds, and the birds were actually chirping. It made even him want to whistle. He never whistled.

  “It is lovely,” he replied, but kept any enthusiasm out of his voice. What was happening to him? Being near Amelia made him positively good- humored. The men at the Yard would scarcely recognize him. Speaking of which, he really ought to stop by sometime. Say hello. Especially to James.

  “Shall we?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

  Had she always been this pretty? Her skin seemed to glow today and her smile with those blasted even teeth made him want to grin like an idiot.

  “Yes, let us go.” He needed to get focused. Today was an important day for Amelia, so keeping his mind on the investigation and earning his payment was what he ought to do, rather than thinking about Amelia and how pretty she looked today.

  They made their way to the carriage, and he tried to keep his eyes averted from her. He was fortunate, though, as their drive to Lady Has- beck’s town house was quite short. The less time he spent alone with her today, the better, as he was certain he would not be able to resist her much longer.

  Lady Hasbeck’s butler showed them into her drawing room. It was a gaudily ornamented room stuffed with knickknacks, baubles, and other whatnots. Perhaps Penny had been in this very room, as this was surely what the maid had meant by people buying things simply to have in their possession of a lot of things.

  To Colin, the room was stuffy and garish.

  “My dear Miss Watersfield,” Lady Hasbeck said as she billowed into the room, arms open wide. “It has truly been ages. What a delightful pleasure. And who might your friend be?” she asked with a wink.

  Lady Hasbeck was a plump woman with as much jewelry dripping off her as there were ornaments in the room. A taste for the excess, apparently. But she seemed pleasant enough. Perhaps she merely enjoyed too much of a good thing.

  “This is Inspector Brindley, Lady Hasbeck,” Amelia said. “My father hired him, and we’ve come to seek your assistance.”

  “A pleasure,” the lady said, then held her hand out for Colin to kiss.

  He merely bent over it. He supposed he could kiss one of her many rings, but that seemed a bit much.

  “An inspector for hire?” she asked. “Whatever do you need an inspector for?”

  “One of my father’s pieces was stolen,” Amelia explained.

  “How dreadful. Please, let us all sit. I’ve sent for some tea and biscuits.”

  By the time they all got settled on Lady Has- beck’s many-pillowed chairs, the servants were bringing in the tea.

  “I’m certain I would have heard of this by now, but I only returned to London yesterday. I’ve been off on holiday. So tell me,” Lady Hasbeck said, “which of his pieces was stolen?”

  “The Nefertiti bust.”

  Lady Hasbeck gasped. “Truly shocking. Do you have any idea who might have taken it? Oh, listen to me. Of course if you knew who took it, then you wouldn’t have hired Inspector Brindley.” She gave him a once-over. “You’re a tall fellow,” she said.

  He wasn’t certain if that was a compliment or not, but not wanting be rude, he said, “Thank you.”

  Lady Hasbeck returned her glance to Amelia. “Nefertiti.” She shook her head. “How is your poor father faring?”

  Amelia’s face fell. “Not well.” She jutted her chin out ever so slightly and, if Colin wasn’t mistaken, looked as if she were holding back tears. “He won’t come out of his room. He barely eats, barely sleeps. Merely sits there staring out his window. I get so worried,” she admitted quietly.

  Lady Hasbeck patted Amelia’s hand. “Well, of course you do. Such a good daughter. I’m certain Robert will perk up eventually. Don’t you fret, dear.” Lady Hasbeck took a bite of her biscuit, then followed it up with a few sips of tea. “I apologize for my dawdling, so please tell me, how can I be of assistance?”

  “First, we wanted to know if you’d heard anything about all of this,” Amelia said. “Judging by your reaction, I’d say today was the first?”

  “Yes, I had no idea. I should pay poor Robert a visit. He must be in a dreadful state. Everyone knows how much he loves Nefertiti.”

  Colin shifted in his seat. He felt large and clumsy next to the women in their pretty dresses, holding their teacups with their small hands. No doubt he could smash his cup with his bare hands if he were so inclined.

  Amelia had come in and charmingly taken over the situation. She knew how to talk to Lady Has- beck. Surely it wasn’t that difficult. Talking with her shouldn’t be any different for him than it was for Amelia.

  He cleared his throat. “Have you seen the piece, Lady Hasbeck?” Colin asked.

  “Yes, many times.” She took another sip of tea, draining her cup. “I love Robert’s collection.”

  “And you collect the same sorts of antiquities?” Colin asked.

  She nodded. “But we’re quite civil about it,” she said with a tiny laugh. “He’s such a gentleman, always allows me first bid on items we both like. He had Nefertiti, though, before I started collecting. It was his first piece, if I’m not mistaken. And I believe Amelia’s mother gave it to him. Or is my memory failing me?” She looked at Amelia.

  “That’s correct. It was a gift from my mother on their second wedding anniversary. It is the reason he became a collector,” she said wistfully.

  That certainly explained Lord Watersfield’s attachment to the item. “I see,” Colin said. Lady Has- beck seemed to be telling the truth. She showed no signs of anxiety—she looked at them when she spoke and she had not once fidgeted with anything. “Have you ever heard the name Mr. Quincy?”

  “Mr. Quincy,” she repeated. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. “I don’t believe I have. Should the name sound familiar to me?”

 
“We’re not exactly certain,” Amelia said. “We’ve heard he’s a new collector in town. So far he’s remained rather anonymous. No one has met him, but he’s slowly making himself known.”

  “Well, as I mentioned, I’ve been in the country the last three weeks, so I haven’t been available for the latest gossip. I can certainly ask around for you if you like,” Lady Hasbeck said.

  “That would be lovely,” Amelia said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Colin added. “Now then, I don’t suppose we should take up any more of your time. You’ve been helpful, Lady Hasbeck. Thank you for seeing us.”

  She stood and smiled warmly. “It was my pleasure.” She grasped both of Amelia’s hands. “Do give your father my regards.”

  “I shall,” Amelia said.

  The lady’s brow furrowed slightly. “Do you suppose he’d be up for a visitor this week?”

  “For you? Yes,” Amelia said.

  “Splendid. In the meantime, I will do some work at the gossip mill and see what I can find out for you,” she said.

  “She was most helpful, don’t you agree?” Amelia asked once they returned to the carriage.

  “I would say that Lady Hasbeck’s taste in decor borders on gaudy, but she was generous with her time and seemed willing to assist,” Colin said. “I believe she was being truthful. She’s apparently rather fond of your father as well.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “She obviously has tender feelings for him. You can see it when she speaks of him.”

  Amelia tried to recollect all the times she had spoken with Lady Hasbeck about her father. That would certainly be an interesting development. “You notice everything, don’t you, Colin?”

  “It is my job.”

  If he noticed that sort of behavior in a stranger, could he see it in her? Could he tell she was fond of him by the way she looked at him? She ventured a sideways glance, but his eyes were buried in his notebook.

  “What is it, Amelia?” he asked without looking up.

  She nearly jumped. “Your level of observation is quite astute.”

  He chuckled and looked up at her. “It could be that you are not as sly as you might think.”

  The smile on his face was so sensual, she desperately wanted to move to his side of the carriage and kiss him wildly.

  Oh, how she loved it when he jested with her.

  The carriage rolled to a stop. Peering out the window, she saw that they were in a less-than- savory section of town. People lined the sidewalk area, many of their faces streaked with dirt and their hair poorly kempt.

  “Wfhere are we?” she asked.

  “Mr. Quincy’s residence. Doesn’t seem the sort of place for a man of wealth to reside.”

  “Perhaps it’s due to the fact that he’s new in town and has not secured more appropriate lodging.”

  “Perhaps,” Colin said, but she knew he didn’t mean it. He turned to face her. “I want you to stay close to me.”

  His tone was so severe, it concerned her. “Why?”

  “You’ll be safer with me than in the carriage alone.” He leaned for the door. “Stay close.”

  She grabbed onto his coat once they were on the street and followed him up the steps.

  A few of the people around them heckled, but for the most part they kept to themselves.

  A harried-looking housekeeper opened the door.

  “What do you want?” she snarled.

  “We are here to see Mr. Quincy,” Colin said.

  Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled. Amelia could see a thin line of prickly-looking hairs above her upper lip. “Who?” the old woman asked.

  “Mr. Quincy.”

  “ ‘Tain’t no one here by that name.” She tried to close the door, but Colin caught it.

  “Madam, we have this as his address. Are you certain there isn’t a Mr. Quincy at this residence?”

  “Yes, I’m certain,” she said, mocking Colin’s tone. “Now move your hand.”

  She slammed the door, and Amelia heard the bolt lock into place.

  Colin motioned to a boy leaning against the building. He was painfully thin and his face was smudged with dirt. Amelia would wager he was no more than eleven.

  “Young man,” Colin began. He reached into this pocket and retrieved a few coins and his card. “We are looking for a gentleman by the name of Mr. Quincy. Do you know the name?”

  “Nope. Never ‘eard of ‘im,” the boy said.

  Colin gave the boy the coins and card. “If you happen to run across him, please give him my card and tell him I’d like to speak with him.”

  The boy’s face split into a grin; his teeth were yellowed and crooked. “Thank you, sir!” he said brightly, then ran away.

  Amelia turned from the closed door. “She was a tad cranky,” Amelia said.

  “Indeed.” Colin led them back to the carriage and instructed the driver to return them to Amelia’s house.

  “What do you make of that?” Amelia asked.

  “Of what?”

  “Of Mr. Quincy’s address?”

  “Two possibilities,” Colin said. “Either Monsieur Pitre lied about Mr. Quincy’s address, or Mr. Quincy gave Pitre a false location.”

  “Even if this Mr. Quincy doesn’t hold the key to our missing Nefertiti—discovering why he wishes to remain so secretive is a mystery worth solving,” she said.

  Colin smiled. “Yes, but that is not what we are after. You are paying me to find Nefertiti. Now, if you’d like to give me some additional funds, I’d gladly find Mr. Quincy for you. Or prove if he’s actually a man or simply a whispered-about rumor.”

  They had no sooner settled in at her house for some tea and discussion of the upcoming fingerprinting party, when Weston appeared in the doorway. He regarded Colin with visible disdain.

  “Miss Watersfield, a messenger delivered this envelope for the inspector,” he said, still standing in the doorway.

  “Very good, Weston, bring it in.” Evidently Weston found the scenario unsettling for some reason. She offered him a smile. He nodded to her, then held the tray out to Colin.

  “Sir,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Colin said.

  Weston left the room with one more disapproving shake of the head. Amelia had to chuckle.

  “I don’t believe your butler much cares for me,” Colin said.

  “He doesn’t much care for anyone. So who do you suppose would send you a message here?”

  “I’m not certain.” Colin cracked the envelope open and unfolded the letter. “Very interesting,” he said.

  “What? What is interesting?” Amelia asked.

  “This message is from Mr. Quincy.”

  Amelia felt her eyes widen. “Honestly? What does he say?”

  Colin cleared his throat.

  Dear Inspector,

  It has come to my attention that you are trying to locate me for some discussion. I believe you seek information on your client’s missing artifact. Unfortunately, I do not have the information that you want. But I will offer you this piece of information. There is a shop in Brighton. The owner specializes in Egyptian antiquities and if anyone knows about the missing piece in question, it will be him. Mention my name, and he will gladly answer your questions. I strongly urge you to seek him out for assistance.

  “And then it lists the name of the shop and address,” Colin said.

  “That was kind of him,” Amelia said.

  “Yes, but...”

  “But what?”

  “What is wrong with this scenario, Amelia? Think about it.”

  She watched Colin read over the letter again, then rub his throat. They had gone to see Mr. Quincy, but had an incorrect address. Colin had left his card with the boy and perhaps that is how Mr. Quincy knew to write him. That and they had asked several people about him, so if any of them knew him, then he might learn of their questions.

  “But how did he know to send that message here?” Amelia said out loud.

  Colin pointed at h
er. “Precisely. The card I gave the boy had my address on it, not yours. Someone who knows you gave him the word that I would be here.”

  “But no one knew you would be here now. Today,” she argued.

  “Perhaps not, but they might have guessed they would find me here eventually.”

  “Curious,” Amelia said.

  “Quite,” Colin agreed. “Apparently this Mr. Quincy wanted you present when I received the message.”

  “So what shall we do now?” she asked.

  “I suppose I shall take the train down to Brighton and pay that dealer a visit.”

  “We can leave on Friday, after the party on Thursday. I’ll check the train schedule, but I’m certain we can find a departure that is convenient for us.”

  He looked at her blankly, opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it.

  “I shall let you know tomorrow at the party when we can leave,” she said.

  He released a low breath. “Very well,” he said as he stood. “Until tomorrow, then.”

  She stood and placed her hand on his arm. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  He frowned. “I have nothing to be nervous about.”

  And just like that everything changed. Colin went from participating in what he’d believed to be a charade of a mystery to needing to solve the crime before anyone got hurt. Primarily Amelia.

  All this time, he’d assumed that, missing statue or not, this was a fantasy for Amelia. A chance for her to live in what she would perceive as Sherlock’s world. Colin did not doubt that was part of it. But there was more. And he had missed it.

  The missing bust held personal significance to Lord Watersfield and his fragile state worried Amelia. She hid it well: For the most part, she was able to jump into each day with a smile. But just now, Colin had seen it. The concern crease across her face, making her look wearier than he’d imagined she could look.

  He would solve this case, find the missing Nefertiti. For the sake of Amelia’s father. And so that Amelia would never have to worry so, ever again.

  In addition to this newfound information, there was the phantom Mr. Quincy, who now knew where Amelia lived—that left Colin feeling most unsettled. It was time to give this case his full attention. And that meant making a trip to Brighton.