Larcenous Lady Page 13

  “Of course we will. We’re getting married in the morning and going to the masquerade party at night. That’ll leave the afternoon free for—for getting ready. Heh, heh. Got it all worked out. I found a preacher from Bath who’ll do it up brown for two guineas. We’re getting married at the hotel.”

  “Surely not at an hotel,” Deirdre objected. “It seems so tawdry—that is, so unromantic.”

  “As to romance, a hotel is as good a place as any for that. Molto bieno,” Pronto said. A lecherous little smile flitted across his face at remembered indiscretions. “An excellent place for romance actually. You don’t say that anymore, Deirdre. You remember how you used to quiz her about it, Dick?”

  Pronto was becoming maudlin from the wine. He smiled fatuously at his companions. “Shall we drink a bumper to marriage? Why don’t we make it a double wedding?”

  Deirdre stared coolly at Belami. “Finding someone to marry you shouldn’t take more than two days,” she said blandly.

  Pronto lowered his brows. “He’s already found you. Are you cutting up your larks again, Deirdre?”

  “I? Your memory is faulty, Pronto. It was always Belami who behaved badly.”

  “That’s true. And if it wasn’t Dick chasing the light skirts, it was the duchess misunderstanding everything. Pity I can’t be here to keep you two apart—er—together. You should take a leaf from Elvira’s books, Deirdre. She never cuts up stiff.”

  “She seems a trifle managing to me,” Deirdre ventured.

  “That’s true, but then I need a manager. Elvira’s managing everything. The honeymoon, our finances—even our costumes for the masquerade party.”

  “Your finances?” Dick asked sharply. “Just what does that mean? I hope you haven’t given her your money?”

  “No, she’ll manage it after we’re married is all I mean. About this slave thing—ain’t what you think,” he muttered. “I was a bit worried myself when she talked about nude slaves. Told her point-blank I wouldn’t go to a party naked. It’s Nubian slave.”

  “She’ll have you painted black?” Deirdre asked.

  “Only my face and hands. Cut quite a dash. That way, Elvira’ll be able to recognize me if we get separated. The Italian fellows are bound to be all over her. She’ll easily spot a black face, and can come running to her esposo—me.”

  “Elvira strikes me as a lady who can handle herself,” Belami said. “She organized this trip her family is taking, I believe? Deirdre mentioned Elvira was the one who chose hotels and the route, and so on.”

  “A regular sergeant major.” Pronto smiled and poured himself another glass of wine.

  “Why is it she chooses such modest hotels when the family has inherited money from McMaster?” Belami asked.

  “Bit of a nip cheese if you want the truth, Dick. Like old Charney. We’ll never outrun the grocer with Elvira handling our blunt.”

  “Old Brian McMaster was it, the nabob uncle?”

  “That’s the fellow.”

  “I heard somewhere that McMaster was an orphan,” Dick said, and looked to Pronto for his reaction.

  “Can’t be, he was Mrs. Sutton’s uncle.”

  “I also heard he left his money to set up a library at the East India Company School,” Dick continued.

  “Might have bought them a few books. A regular nabob.”

  “You have only Elvira’s word for all this,” Dick suggested.

  Pronto set his glass down, lowered his brow, and glared. “Are you starting on Elvira again? I warned you, Dick.”

  It was time for the gloves to come off. “Pronto, you don’t know a damned thing about the woman. What’s the rush to get married? Wait till you get back to England and we can find out something about her.”

  “I know all I have to know. She loves me, and I love her. I don’t care if she ain’t an heiress. I’ve thought of that, for there’s no saying her mama will give her anything but the diamonds. I ain’t marrying Elvira for her money.”

  “I’m not talking about money,” Belami said. “You don’t know anything about her at all. All we know about any of the Suttons is that they’re three women traveling together, calling themselves rich, but traveling like paupers, with only one female servant. That’s not the way rich people travel.”

  “The way Charney travels,” Pronto replied sagely.

  “She’s different. We know who and what she is,” Dick replied discreetly. “The Suttons don’t behave like nouveau riche people.”

  “Told you, she’s a nip cheese. As to having the money, why look at all the jewelry they’ve bought. What reason do you have to mistrust Elvira?” he demanded hotly. “A rubbishing piece cut out of a paper, and the guinea you lost.”

  “There’s more than that,” Dick said. “There’s this mysterious trip to visit the Blackwells, for instance.”

  “Nothing mysterious about it. Elvira went to break it off with Robert Blackwell.”

  “She didn’t go to see the Blackwells. She went to an inn at Mira and disappeared,” Dick said, and went on to explain his findings. “And furthermore, why didn’t my man see her when she returned to her hotel?”

  “Because he was either drunk or chasing after some serving wench.”

  “But what if you’re wrong?” Dick asked. “What if Elvira is who and what I think she is?”

  “If she was married to Claude Jalbert, she couldn’t very well marry me, could she? And she is marrying me, Dick. That’s what’s sticking in your craw. You’ve been trying to get Deirdre to have you for a dog’s age, and I can get my girl to the altar as quick as blinking. It’s either sour grapes or dog in a manger—either way, it ain’t very flattering, my friend. You’d do better to try to nab Deirdre than scotch my match. Maybe it’s my fault,” Pronto said, becoming sentimental to consider his friend’s ill fortune, while he himself was so blessed.

  “You need me here to oil the wheels and turn the duchess up sweet. I’ve let you down, Dick. Always suspected you couldn’t get along without me. I’ll give you a hand any way I can, but you’ve got to stop picking on my Elvira.”

  Dick caught Deirdre’s eye and indicated that he’d like to be alone with Pronto. She left and Dick drew his chair closer to his friend. If he couldn’t detach Pronto from Elvira, he certainly didn’t plan to let her have sole access to him. “Truer words were never spoken,” he said with a sad, conning smile. “I do need you to help me with Deirdre. Things are going badly for me. Deirdre has taken the notion I’m carrying on with Carlotta.”

  “Keep your bedroom door locked. That’s what I did.”

  “I shall, but meanwhile how can I win Deirdre back? She hardly speaks to me. I need your help badly, my friend.”

  “Thought as much. Sorry I abandoned you, Dick, but you see my position. A man just engaged, the wedding looming up on me. Dozens of things me and Elvira have to do. I can’t just skip off and leave her to order the dinner and pay the parson and all that.”

  “Surely you can spare me an occasional hour.”

  Pronto reached up and patted Dick’s shoulder. “Any time. I didn’t like to admit it, but Deirdre’s got a point. Elvira’s a beautiful girl and I love her, but it’s time I let her know who’s the man. Take this Nubian slave thing, Dick. Can’t say I relish getting myself covered in boot polish on my wedding night. It’s a bit more than the face and hands. It’s the arms and legs, too. And the chest and back. Everything but—but the rest of me. About this Queen of Sheba, I was wondering if I couldn’t be the King of Sheba.”

  Eager to abet any revolt, Belami took up this topic. “Nothing is mentioned of the king. The queen’s important lover is King Solomon—according to legend, he fathered King David on her. You might go as Solomon, covered in grandeur. Solomon was famous for his wealth as well as his wisdom.”

  “It’d be a demmed sight better than boot blacking. That’s it. I’ll go as Solomon. Have to powder my hair, won’t mind that. Any news on how I should behave?”

  “You could look up the queen’s visit to Solomo
n—it’s in Kings in the Bible. In the Koran, there’s a peculiar allusion. It seems Solomon heard the queen had hairy legs and feet. To get a look at them, he led her over a glass floor which she mistook for water. She lifted her skirts— the legs were as reported, I believe.”

  Pronto was much struck with this tale. “Solomon didn’t seem to mind, eh? Mean to say—David.”

  “Her other charms appear to have overcome any little excess of hair.” Belami smiled. “Hardly a nice trick to play on a lady.”

  “I wonder Sheba didn’t slip on that glass and break her neck. Or the floor. Funny thing to be in the Bible.”

  “The Koran, actually. Yes, it’s an unexpected thing to find in such a serious book.”

  “I didn’t mean that. The funny thing is, Elvira’s legs are a trifle hairy. A trim ankle, but pretty hairy withal. Anyhow, I mean to go to the party as King Solomon. How about you?”

  “With a great lack of imagination, I shall wear a domino over my evening clothes.”

  “To hell with King Solomon. Sorry about that—didn’t mean to blaspheme. To hell with the Nubian slave is what I really meant. But, Dick, if you should happen to see Elvira before the ball, don’t mention it. She’s got her heart set on me being her slave.”

  Belami encouraged this rebellion. “Put your foot down early. It’s the only way to maintain ascendancy over the ladies.”

  “I’ll say I didn’t have any boot blacking. And I’ll not let her bring her mama and Lucy on our honeymoon either. I’ll hire them a guide is what I’ll do. An English guido— they’ll feel quite comfortable. Met an Oxford scholar t’other day at the Lido. Out of blunt. Mentioned he had to cut his trip short. He’ll be delighted to continue it without expense.”

  “I drew the line at sharing my honeymoon with Charney.”

  “You ended up with no honeymoon at all. I shan’t go that far. If she insists on having the ladies along, I’ll let her. We’ll have separate carriages though, and I won’t wear boot blacking on my wedding night. Mille grazios for your help, my friend.”

  “Prego. What’s Elvira doing this afternoon?”

  “Seeing the modiste. Getting a dress sewn up. Later we’re seeing the hotel manager about the wedding breakfast. I’ll tackle her about the honeymoon now. When will I see you again, Dick?”

  “I’ll drop around the hotel tomorrow about ten.”

  “Domani it is. If I ain’t up, just pound the door hard.”

  Belami accompanied Pronto down to the landing. “How’d Carlotta go visiting when their boat’s still here?” he asked.

  “Her hostess must have sent a gondola for her. Deirdre and I were using this one.”

  “What the Venetians need is some water horses.”

  Belami’s lips quivered. “I really do miss you, Pronto.”

  “Me, too,” Pronto said, and clamped his arm. “Au-revoirderci.”

  Pronto left, and Belami stayed outside, enjoying the unusual view. As he gazed across the water, he saw a boat making great speed toward him. He recognized the wiry body of Réal poling a small, light craft forward.

  Soon Réal hopped onto the landing. He took Belami’s elbow and turned him aside to foil any invisible eavesdroppers. “News of the most serious,” he said importantly.

  “Did you find out where Miss Sutton went?”

  “Of this lady I hear nothing, but I find the house of the soi-disant Captain Styger.”

  “By God, I knew it! Where is it? Is Styger there?”

  “It is nearby Mira, a mile from town. The house is emptied. The Styger is gone away for two days. I had the great fortune to meet with a girl who speaks French and Italian—a seamstress—very pretty, with black hair. She was at the Taverna Vecchia, but lives neighboring at Styger’s house.”

  “Did Styger have any callers?”

  “But yes, this is what I have to tell you,” Réal said. “He has a call from a very beautiful lady with jet black hairs, only he is not at home.”

  “Elvira!” Belami smiled.

  “But no. The caller came today. It was—” He stopped for dramatic effect. “Milady Ginnasi. A small lady, dressed all in black, the neighbors said, and I saw with my own eyes the contessa in a carriage at the dock later on.”

  “Carlotta?” Belami exclaimed. “Good God, is that where she’s been all day? And she missed Styger then?”

  “She do, but she had her gondolier climb in at the window and went inside her own self by the door.”

  Belami’s head was reeling. This new element needed some serious thinking, but meanwhile he hadn’t learned what he’d sent Réal to find out. “Was Elvira there yesterday?”

  “No ladies were there yesterday. Only one gentleman—young, handsome, according to Marie.”

  “Does a young gentleman—Claude—live with Styger?”

  “He is living alone, even without servants. Nobody is calling till yesterday, when a young gentleman calls. Marie saw him by a window—with no good details of his looks, except young, slender, which she decides is handsome. Then today, the Contessa Ginnasi calls. This is very strange, non?”

  “This is completely baffling,” Belami admitted. “The caller must have been Claude, but where is Claude staying? How do you know Styger’s gone for a couple of days?”

  “I find out from Marie where he is buying milk and butter and eggs. He asks for none to be delivered till two days.”

  “What time did Claude call yesterday?”

  “Around noon-hour time.”

  “Elvira would have had time to visit Claude... and whatever her errand was, it had to be related to Styger—who then went on a short journey. What could it be?”

  “This cannot be learned,” Réal said simply. “What can be done is for you to talk to the contessa. Sweet talking,” he added, lest his mentor not catch his meaning.

  “I doubt if she knows any more than I do. I tipped her the clue the counterfeiters were at Mira—she only went to see if she could gain anything from them. Blackmail, more or less, but I’ll speak to her—sweetly.”

  “I followed her gondola. It is went to the Saint Mark Square landing. I do not follow, as I want to report at once to you this important findings.” Réal peered from the corner of his eye to see that this won approval.

  The master nodded, then narrowed his eyes and deduced. Carlotta had no luck finding the Jalberts at Mira, but he’d told her Elvira was involved. Damme, she’d gone to the hotel. She’d spoil the whole thing! He hopped into the gondola and handed Réal the pole. “Get to Saint Mark’s landing, as fast as you can.”

  The boat Réal had hired was light. He put his wiry strength into the oars and skimmed across the surface like a butterfly. When they were halfway there, they spotted Carlotta returning and Réal turned the boat around.

  “I go back quickly so the contessa doesn’t see us,” he said. With a superhuman effort, he got the gondola landed a few minutes before the contessa arrived.

  Carlotta wore a suspiciously smug smile. “Good afternoon.” She smiled at Dick. “I’m back from my visit. Did you miss me?” They began walking toward the palazzo.

  “More to the point, did your luncheon partner not miss you?” Belami asked, and took her arm.

  She laughed merrily and moved her reticule to her other hand. “You’ve found me out. Well, I confess. I had a tryst with my marchese. Guy hasn’t been asking questions?”

  “No, Carlotta, it is I who have some questions to ask. About your trip to Mira,” he said, and opened the door.

  Her flashing black eyes met his. “How did you know?”

  “I’ll ask the questions. What were you doing at Mira?”

  “It’s where I rendezvous with my marchese,” she teased.

  “Your memory is faulty. You told me you had never made love at Mira. You didn’t choose Captain Styger’s house for your initiation, I think.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and pouted. “I didn’t discover anything. The place was empty—a total mess. The man doesn’t even have a servant.”

/>   “Why did you go?”

  “Why, to help you, caro.”

  “Try again,” he suggested.

  “Don’t be an ass, Dick. If there are counterfeiters hiding nearby, it stands to reason they don’t want anyone to know. Why, I shouldn’t be surprised if they’d pay for it to be kept secret.”

  “That’s what I thought. Did you speak to Elvira when you went to the Saint Mark’s landing?”

  Her frank answer didn’t surprise him, but he felt a little uneasy. The lovely contessa wore an air of excitement—of smugness—as though she were getting away with something. Her hands betrayed nervousness as they clutched at her black kid reticule. Rather a large reticule, and bulging with something.

  “I merely delivered invitations to my masquerade party. That should be quite a party,” she added, with a pensive look.

  Carlotta noticed that Belami’s eyes were trained on her reticule. He saw a square protrusion showing through the soft leather. Her fingers closed over the telling bump. Just as he reached for it, a servant came into the hall. “I must go and relieve the duchessa,” she said. “Where’s your lady today?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Such a lukewarm lover,” she chided, and swept away, her hips swinging insouciantly as she went toward the staircase.

  Deirdre was indeed getting short shrift in the midst of the confusion. He’d enlist her help in discovering what Carlotta was hiding. What could it be? Stolen counterfeit coins wouldn’t make a square bulge—but the dies for making them would. Had the vixen waltzed off with Styger’s counterfeit dies? It should indeed be a lively party if that was the case.

  Could this be turned to his advantage? The Jalberts would want those dies back. And he wanted Pronto back. It would leave him with the jobs of getting the dies from Carlotta, then recovering them again after he’d bought Pronto’s freedom by giving them to Elvira, but at least he’d have Elvira right under his nose. He waited till Carlotta had disappeared, then went prowling the rooms in search of Deirdre.

  Chapter Twelve

  Deirdre, curious to hear what Dick had said to Pronto, went to the saloon in search of him. “Did you manage to talk some sense into him after I left?” she asked.