“I am not likely to marry for the sole purpose of providing my brother with a commission. There are better reasons.”
Rose decided that, if she could not be honest about everything to everyone, she could at least tell the unvarnished truth to her favorite female relation. “I love you dearly, Aunt Paige. I could wish my mother entered into my affairs with even half your sympathy and affection. But I must tell you without roundaboutation that if you don’t marry Sir Augustus O’Banyon and embrace the happiness he can give you, I will think of you as nothing more than a fool.”
“Rose!” Paige shrank away in shock. “This to me?”
“Have you any reason to doubt his affections, except the speed with which he declared them? No, you have not. Do you know of anything against his character? Surely someone among your gossiping friends would have informed you had he a wife secreted somewhere, or if he’d given any cause for disquiet to the army.”
“No, I’ve heard nothing.”
“Then what else holds you back but fear of the unknown?”
‘The same thing, in short, that holds you back from Sir Niles,” Paige shot back.
Rose held up her hands, acknowledging a hit. “With one difference, Aunt. Sir Augustus has given you every evidence of affection including, as I believe you told me, a formal proposal of marriage. Sir Niles has not demonstrated a single such sign.” Yet even as she spoke, her ankle tingled as she remembered his firm, warm touch encircling her skin.
She ignored it. A tingling ankle, much like a stolen kiss at a ball, was nothing to base one’s future life upon. Rational and unbiased thinking would give her a firmer foundation for wedded happiness.
“Are you certain he has not made any such advance? His partiality for your company has been noticed even by less interested parties than your aunt.”
“He has never said or done anything even the strictest moralist could take exception to.”
Again, Paige laughed. “Shall I commiserate with you?”
Rose smiled shyly. She had sounded rather forlorn. “I have always been too diffident to encourage him. Not to mention, what would I do if he laughed at me?”
* * * *
In her room, Rose picked up the leather satchel which Hurst had carried up for her. Though prey to the gnawing tooth of curiosity, Rose knew it would be against: her honor to peek at whatever it was Colonel Wapton went to such lengths to conceal. He’d not given her permission to look inside.
Somewhat cavalierly, she tossed the satchel into the wardrobe and shut the door upon it.
Having had no sleep the night before, Rose had told Paige she was intending to rest for the remainder of the day and meant to take her noon meal in bed. As she undressed, she had cause to open the wardrobe several times to remove her nightdress and robe, to choose the clothes she would wear later, and to retrieve a chemise that had fallen down inside. Every time she opened the door, she fought with herself again over whether she should undo the clasp and look inside the leather case.
Her better self prevailed, but her baser nature wouldn’t let the matter go.
When her maid came up, Rose hailed her with relief. “I’ve made rather a mess,” she said, watching Lucy pick up her habit and underclothing.
“Never you mind, miss. I’ll have the horse hairs off this in a brace o’ shakes. Coo, you did look a picture riding off with Sir Niles. He’s ever so handsome.”
“Did you see us?” Rose asked.
“Oh, yes, miss. Me ‘n’ Cook was watching from the area window. If you stand on a chair and kind of peer to the left, you can see the street plain as plain. Ever so useful when you want to know how many to serve during morning calls.” Lucy cast a glance around the bedroom. “I’ll come for your boots when I bring up your nuncheon, miss. Her ladyship said how you’d want to take a bit of a rest this morning.”
“Yes, I’m very sleepy. It’s not too much trouble to bring me a tray?”
“No trouble, miss. But you’ll be wanting to get up later, no doubt. You’re going to the Duchess of Kent’s cotillion ball tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yes, after the opera,” Rose said and sighed. She felt all the more tired just thinking about another night on her feet.
“That’s what I told Baxter. Coo, he’s a one, he is. Looks like a piece of string dipped in tallow. No more flesh on him than on a stick. But he’s a jolly one—always laughin’ and crackin’ jokes. Wonder how he keeps a straight face when he’s talking to his master.”
“Baxter? Who’s he?”
“That Sir Niles’s valet. Valet? To hear him tell it, he runs the whole house.”
Rose sat up slowly, plumping the pillows behind her. “Sir Niles’s man wanted to know if I’d be at the cotillion tonight?”
“Yes, miss. I didn’t do wrong to tell him? He said you’d mentioned it to his master, but Sir Niles is that absentminded he forgot what you’d said. It’s all right?”
‘Yes, Lucy. Quite all right. Wake me at one, please.”
“A pleasure, miss.” She went out, her arms full of broadcloth and linen.
Why did Sir Niles want to know where she’d be tonight? Fresh from her conversation with Paige, Rose worried that maybe she was right. What if Sir Niles were planning some kind of proposal? At first, she dismissed the idea. Nothing prevented him from coming here and making his intentions known in the proper style. Sir Niles would never do anything so gauche as propose marriage at a ball.
A little while later, sleepily, she wondered if Paige could be right. If so, might not overwhelming passion drive Sir Niles into making a public declaration of his feelings? In that unlikely event, how would she respond?
Rose’s eyes closed as she sketched out a delightful scene in which Sir Niles halted in the very steps of a waltz to ask her to be his forever. As is the case in dreams, she could waltz perfectly, revolving in Sir Niles’s arms as the music played faster and faster. She fell asleep while still trying to determine whether it would be more enjoyable to accept him then and there or to turn him down and show the world how little she thought of him.
Sadly, neither scenario could come true without Sir Niles. He was nowhere to be found. Rose spent so much time scanning the opera house that she hardly watched the opera, barely noticing when the taller soprano pushed the smaller one into the orchestra pit. During the interval, only Rose’s social training kept her from being rude to several of Aunt Paige’s oldest friends.
“Sir Augustus can’t abide the opera,” Paige said as they resumed their seats. “A pity, when I love it so.”
“Is he meeting you later?” Rose asked.
“I haven’t the least notion. He never sent me so much as a line scribbled on the back of a card.”
“Men,” Rose said with a tiny sniff.
“Indeed.” Paige plied her fan a bit too rapidly. “Speaking of whom, wasn’t Rupert supposed to accompany us this evening?”
“He probably had another engagement,” Rose said, not thinking of her brother. “Or some good chap named Blank or Dash gave him a tip about a sure bet and he hurried off to waste his money.”
Three hours later at the cotillion, Rose stopped by her aunt’s chair and waited, smiling stiffly, until Paige looked up inquiringly. “This is the dullest party I’ve ever been to,” Rose said, hardly moving her lips. “Shall we go?”
“Considering that your dance card has been filled since the moment we arrived, I wouldn’t think you could be bored.”
“I am, though. Everyone’s talking, but no one’s saying anything I wish to hear.”
“You are too severe.” Paige lifted one shoulder in defeat. “It’s just as well. I’ve had a headache for the last hour from smelling the candles.”
“Sir Augustus never arrived?” Rose asked as they waited for their cloaks.
“No,” Paige said, pouting like a schoolgirl. “Sir Niles?”
“No, and I don’t care either.”
When they reached the house, Hurst met them at the door as usual. “If I may have a word,
my lady?”
Though his carefully cultivated expression of bland efficiency was unimpaired, his voice was less perfectly controlled. Furthermore, when he turned toward the light to follow Paige into the drawing room, they saw a large rapidly purpling bruise on his forehead.
“Hurst!” Paige exclaimed. “Are you hurt? Sit down, man.”
“Thank you, my lady. I confess I feel somewhat shaken.”
“Shall I pour you some brandy?” Rose asked. The butler had been very kind to both her and her brother during their visit.
“No, miss. I took the liberty earlier.” He straightened his posture despite being seated and looked his mistress directly in the eye. “I regret to tell you we discovered a burglary, my lady.”
“A burglary?” Paige exchanged an astonished glance with Rose. “Good heavens, my jewels!”
Excitement began to bubble in Rose’s blood. “What was stolen, Hurst?”
“Nothing, miss.”
Aunt Paige sat down with a thump. “Nothing?”
“We apprehended something was amiss before the culprit breached the house, my lady. The tweeny, while taking far too long to finish the dishes, glimpsed a mysterious personage slinking through the garden. By the time it occurred to her to inform the cook, the miscreant had opened one of the windows. We believe he was alarmed by the cook’s screams and beat a retreat. We found a small crust of mud on the runner in the hall.”
“So he did enter the house! How can you be certain nothing was stolen?”
“I took the liberty of instructing your maid to take an inventory of all your jewels.”
Rose gasped and turned it deftly into a cough. Aunt Paige was too distracted to notice, but Rose thought Hurst gave her a calculating glance.
“I myself counted the silver. Not a single piece is missing. It is my belief the thief did not penetrate any farther into the house than the lower hall.”
“But the bruise on your forehead,” Aunt Paige said.
He felt the mark gingerly. “The cook suffered an attack of hysteria, my lady, and seemed to suspect me of being a housebreaker in disguise.”
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Paige said. “I hope you were able to reassure her.”
“Regrettably, my lady, I was not. She has intimated her intention to quit your service this very night.”
This was a greater calamity than an army of looters. “I had better have a word with her.”
“Indeed, my lady.” He hefted himself to his feet as she hurried out.
“I’m surprised my brother didn’t help you. Or wasn’t he at home, Hurst?”
“Yes, miss. But he heard nothing. I didn’t wish to disturb him in order to receive his instructions, and believe it would not have availed anyway.” A glint in the otherwise impassive man’s eye told Rose volumes.
“Is he very much the worse for drink?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Very well. I’ll not trouble him, either, though he’ll be miserable that he missed all the excitement.”
Hurst cleared his throat as she went to the door. “If I may ... another word, miss.”
‘Yes, Hurst? You should lie down; I feel certain you have a headache.”
“Indeed I have, miss.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a somewhat crumpled piece of paper.
Rose colored as the butler smoothed the paper between his hands. “Lucy found this in your jewel box.”
Taking the paper from him, Rose saw that the monogrammed wafer on the back was still stuck down fast, quite undisturbed. “I can explain ...” she began.
The mark on his brow in no way detracted from the butler’s tremendous natural dignity. He held up one hand. “Explanations are unnecessary. However, should you wish to contact the Black Mask again, please do so outside the house. Thank you.”
“Thank you. I doubt I will have cause.”
The butler defrosted. “Lucy won’t say anything about your message, miss. Neither will I.”
“Girlish folly, Mr. Hurst, that’s all.”
In her room, she undressed for bed in a bitter mood. It seemed as though her one chance to achieve contact with the Black Mask had f ailed due to a tweeny’s procrastination. She’d built her hopes too high that the Black Mask would attempt to steal the Malikzadi. She knew, however, her disappointment stemmed more from his trying to steal it while she was not at home. She’d hoped to see him again to discover not only if he’d steal back Rupert’s vowels from Sir Niles but also to learn if he’d stolen a kiss from her.
Setting her mind firmly, even grimly, on sleep, Rose tucked her hands under her cheek. She heard the clock strike the quarter hour, but not the half.
What woke her, however, was not the clock. When she’d first come to town, every time she entered her bedroom, she would step on a single loose board. Soon she avoided it without thought. Now, in the midst of a dream, she heard the strange creaky rattle of that loose board. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she blinked into the darkness. “Lucy? Aunt Paige?”
She reached out to uncover the shaded candle on her bedside table.
Chapter Thirteen
Suddenly sleep fled. “Oh, it’s you,” she said.
The black-clad man in her room froze. Perhaps he’d never heard such a soft, welcoming tone from any of his other victims.
“I wish you hadn’t woken up,” he said. “I swear I’m thinking this crib is cursed. I never had such trouble in my life.” His hoarse voice definitely had a tinge of the lower orders, though an occasional flourish of language showed he had ambition above his station.
“There’s a loose board in the floor near the door,” Rose told him. “I couldn’t help waking up.”
“Well, that’s your bad luck.”
“Bad luck? No, I’m pleased. I want to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? You should be screaming the place down ‘round my ears.”
He dressed all in black, just as all the masqueraders had surmised. Like her mysterious masked man, he wore riding breeches and unpolished boots. For the rest, his black shirt hung loose, open at the throat. Over his mouth and jaw, he’d wound a black muffler. His eyes gleamed like burning onyx between the muffler and the brim of his hat, pulled low over his brow.
As she lay there on her side, even though the coverlet was pulled up under her arms, Rose saw a greater fire come into his eyes. “T-turn around,” she said. “If you please.”
“Why should I?”
“So I may put on my dressing gown. It’s ridiculous trying to carry on a conversation like this.”
“I like it,” he said. How could she tell he wore a grin when his lower face was hidden? Nevertheless, a grin had come into his tone.
“I said, If you please.”
He twitched his shoulders in what might have been a shrug, but he turned his face away.
“Not there,” Rose hastened to add. “There’s a mirror in that corner.”
“I’ll cover my eyes then, eh? While you sneak up behind me and hit me over the head with the vase? No, thanks; I’ve had some o’ that before now.”
“I promise I’m only going to put on something decent.”
Hastily, she threw on the regrettably plain wrapper. It was all wrong for a girl doing a dashing and daring thing like entertaining a notorious criminal in her bedroom. She wished she had one like Aunt Paige’s, all but transparent lawn covered with lavish amounts of lace. But all she had was cashmere in a sad color with brown net trimming she’d made herself last winter. Made to fasten up to her throat, one could praise it for being warm, practical, and hard-wearing, but it was far from alluring.
“Where’s your jewel case?” he asked, facing the wall.
“It’s not here,” Rose lied. “After your earlier attempt to break in, the butler moved everything. I don’t know where he’s hidden it.” She only wished she’d thought of it, but never suspected he might try twice on the same night.
“A pity. Is it safe?”
“Safe?”
“To turn around.”
<
br /> “Oh, yes, I’m sorry.”
He turned and looked her over in a way that made the cashmere feel as sheer as lawn. He even looked at her bare feet, which shrank back behind the folds of fabric like snails retreating into their shells. “Charming,” he said, starting to cough again.
“Are you quite well?” she asked, coming around the foot of the bed. “You shouldn’t be out in the night air if you have a cough.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice roughening again. ‘You said you wanted to talk to me. Make it quick. I can’t stay; it’s too dangerous.”
“How did you break in a second time?” Rose asked. “I felt sure Hurst would lock up with special care.”
“He did. But on my first visit tonight I fixed the window so it looked to lock but wouldn’t.”
“Clever-clocks,” Rose said in admiration. “Is that how you managed to rob all those other people?”
“Now what do you take me for? Doing ‘em all the same way’d get me in trouble quick as winking. All them gentry’d be having fits if they ever figured how I done ‘em. These fancy houses is easier’n nuts to crack.”
“I can think of one house you couldn’t possibly ... er ... crack.”
“T’ain’t no such place in all the world,” the Black Mask said, his King’s English eroding from moment to moment.
“You mean you’ve found a way to rob Sir Niles Alardyce?”
“Sir Niles ...” He coughed again, more lengthily, and Rose came closer yet.
“When you go home, make yourself a nice cup of tea. Put honey in it, if you have any.”
“I can always steal some from the kitchen on m’way out. Now, look here, miss.”
“I’m Rose Spenser. How d’you do?”
“How d’ ... now look here.” He backed away. “M’cough and my business is me own concern. I don’t know nothing’ about some bloody Sir Dandy.”
The Black Mask Page 14