7 Pay the Piper (18 page)

She’d brought matches with her, and it took a moment or two of fumbling before she finally got the wick alight. Holding up the lamp, she spilled light down the steps that lay directly in front of her.

“Where in God’s name are you taking me?” Ross whispered behind her.

“I told you, the card rooms. They’re in the cellar, remember?”

“People actually come down here to play cards?” Ross’s voice echoed eerily as he followed her down the stairs.

“You can’t get to them no other way.” She looked back at him. “I hope you don’t say nothing, or I’ll really be in hot water. This is all supposed to be a big secret. The toffs don’t want no one to know they’re gambling.”

“Don’t worry, lass, I’m the last person to say anything. No one will know where we have been tonight. I can promise you that.”

Something in the way he said it gave her goose bumps. She reached the floor of the cellar and held the lamp up above her head. Shadows danced up and down the shelves, glinting off the dark bottles of wine nesting there.

“The rooms are through there,” Gertie said, nudging her head in that direction. “I brought the keys with me. There’s no one down here tonight, thank goodness. So we have the place to ourselves.”

She couldn’t seem to stop shivering. It was freezing in the cellar, and the card rooms wouldn’t be much better. That was the reason few people wanted to go down there in the winter. It was too bleeding cold.

Not for the first time that evening, Gertie was beginning to wish she had never agreed to this rendezvous. It had seemed so romantic and daring, but now that she was actually down here, her recklessness seemed bloody stupid. After all, what did she know about the piper?

She almost fainted as a vision popped into her mind of Peter Stewart, swinging from a rack in the butcher’s shop with his throat cut. Daisy’s warning rang loud and clear in her head now. She had to be crazy, she thought. She stopped and spun around to face Ross McBride. She couldn’t go through with it. She’d have to tell him.

The light swung across his face. His eyes looked dark and mysterious in the shadows, and his mouth curved in a smile as he said softly, “What’s the matter, lass? Not getting cold feet, are ye?”

Just looking at him gave her a warm feeling inside. “Course not,” she said, turning back again. “Come on, let’s get inside one of these bloody rooms before I freeze to death.”

Cecily stood in front of her dresser and gave her reflection a critical examination. It had been a very long time since she had worn a ball gown. Such a long time, in fact, that the gown was obviously dated. Women wore their skirts straighter now, fitted snugly to the hips before falling in smooth folds.

The pale lilac gown she wore had been made when full, billowy skirts were still in fashion, and the train was a little long for the current mode.

She was pleased, however, that the gown still fitted her. Although she had never been blessed with a waist as small as Phoebe’s, neither had she tortured her body with the tight lacing so popular when she was young.

In fact, she thought with a wry smile, she was only too happy to be rid of her corset the minute she was in the privacy of her own suite. She looked forward to the day when it would no longer be considered improper to go without such a restrictive garment, as she had heard some women were doing in France.

Leaning forward, she tucked a stray hair back into the chignon she wore. She had forgotten how it felt to be so concerned about her appearance. After all, she reminded herself, it was only Baxter. He had seen her many times at her worst, so anything she achieved this evening would be an improvement.

Even so, she couldn’t stop the slight trembling of her hand as she applied a dab of perfume along the line of her low-cut bodice. In fact, she almost spilled the precious liquid when she heard the light tap on her door.

Frowning, she crossed the room, hoping that it would not be bad news. She wanted nothing to interrupt this rare opportunity to share a few special moments with her manager. Whatever the messenger brought, it would have to wait until after her dance with Baxter.

CHAPTER
18

“I’m sorry to disturb you, mum,” the housemaid muttered when Cecily opened the door, “but it’s Miss Brown. I’m worried about her.”

Cecily peered closer. She still couldn’t believe how closely the sisters resembled each other. When seen together, one could detect slight differences; but when they were apart, it was almost impossible to tell who was which.

Unless one knew their temperament, that was. The somewhat disagreeable tone suggested that this might be Daisy. Given that the girl usually sat with Gertie’s babies, Cecily decided she had it right. “You had better come in, Daisy, and tell me about it.”

“Yes, mum.” The young girl edged into the room and stood by the door, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know
what to do, mum. Miss Brown didn’t want me to tell no one, but she said half an hour, and it’s a while past that, and I can’t help thinking …”

Her voice trailed off as she stared down at her foot, which was carefully tracing the pattern on the carpet.

Worried herself now, Cecily said quietly, “If Gertie is in trouble, you had better tell me about it. No matter what she told you.”

“Yes, mum.” Daisy hesitated for another moment, while Cecily grew more uneasy by the second.

Finally the housemaid blurted out, “Miss Brown is meeting with one of the pipers down in the card rooms. I told her it was stupid to go by herself like that, but she wanted to go, and I couldn’t tell her what to do now, could I?”

Relief made Cecily’s voice weak. “Is that all? I thought—” She broke off, unwilling to put into words what she had thought.

“She said half an hour, mum. I know she really likes this bloke, but it’s over an hour since she’s been gone. I have to get back to the babies, I left them alone—”

“Please try not to worry.” Feeling somewhat surprised that Gertie had taken an interest in someone, Cecily silently rebuked the young mother for her thoughtlessness.

She couldn’t blame Gertie for seeking consolation for her loneliness. It was, however, most inconsiderate to leave her two babies in the charge of a young girl for longer than promised.

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Cecily said in an effort to reassure the child. “Perhaps she’ll be there when you get back. She’s just forgotten the time, that’s all.”

“And her babies,” Daisy muttered darkly.

“Yes, well, I must say I’m a little surprised at her.” Cecily smiled. “But I remember well how time flies when you are with someone special. Half an hour isn’t very long under those circumstances.”

Daisy’s head came up. “She’s only just met him, begging your pardon, mum.”

“I know. But sometimes it doesn’t take very long to know that someone is special.” Cecily patted the girl’s shoulder. “You’ll understand when it happens to you.”

“Yes, mum.” Daisy turned back to the door. “I just hope that something hasn’t happened to her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be just fine,” Cecily said firmly. “If she isn’t back within the next half hour, however, you must tell Mrs. Chubb. We can’t have Gertie behaving irresponsibly when she has two young babies to take care of.”

Daisy looked over her shoulder. “Miss Brown will kill me if I tell Mrs. Chubb. That’s why I came to you.” She let out a sigh. “Course, she’ll probably kill me anyway when she finds out I told you.”

“Don’t worry, Daisy. I won’t mention it to her. As long as she’s back within the half hour. If she’s not, then she’ll only have herself to blame for being in trouble.”

Daisy nodded. “Yes, mum. Thank you, mum. I wouldn’t want her to be cross with me. I was worried about her, that’s all.”

She slipped through the door, and Cecily was about to close it when she added, a little diffidently, “If I might say so, mum, you look very nice.”

Her face turned pink when Cecily gave her a warm smile. “Why, thank you, Daisy. That was very nice of you to tell me.”

Daisy bobbed a hasty curtsey and fled down the hallway. Cecily watched her go, aware of a faint twinge of uneasiness. Then she shook her head and closed the door. Gertie knew how to take care of herself. She had proved that on more than one occasion.

Even so, Cecily couldn’t help worrying just a little bit as she pulled on her long evening gloves. She made a mental note to look in on Daisy in half an hour, just in case.

Taking one more look in the mirror, she did her best to reassure herself that she looked presentable, then let herself
out of the room. She had taken more than the allotted hour. She hoped she hadn’t kept Baxter waiting too long at the foot of the stairs.

Now that the moment was at hand, she felt uncommonly nervous. Which was ridiculous, of course. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know Baxter. He was so much more than just her manager. He was a loyal and trusted friend, one she depended on a great deal.

Yet, somehow, something had happened that evening. For the first time since she had known him, Baxter was defying convention. In asking her to dance with him in public, he was offering far more than a simple whirl around the ballroom floor. He was taking a step beyond the business relationship they had enjoyed since James’s death.

It was a small step, it was true, but nevertheless, it was against his rigid principles. Perhaps it was a sign that he might be starting to care for her in a more personal way.

Cecily sighed as she reached the head of the stairs. She valued Baxter’s friendship and his loyal support above everything. But for months now she had longed for more. Knowing her manager, it could be many months, perhaps years, before he overcame his strict sense of propriety and offered her the kind of relationship she longed for.

But this event was a precious step in the right direction, and she would grasp it with both hands and enjoy it. For he had given her hope, and with hope she could wait. After all, she had nothing better to do.

She rounded the curve of the staircase and saw him waiting at the bottom, looking very distinguished in his black morning coat and striped gray trousers. He had tucked a white handkerchief in his breast pocket, and the light from the gas lamps played across his hair, glinting on the silver streaks that she found so becoming.

When would he realize how she felt about him? she wondered. For she could never tell him. It would embarrass him greatly, and perhaps ruin the fragile thread that so tenuously bound them together.

She could only hide her feelings behind the friendly banter that he seemed to enjoy so much, even if he did usually receive the worst of it. Dear Baxter. How would she ever manage without him?

He looked up as she descended the last flight of stairs, her silk skirt billowing out in front of her with each step. Her matching lilac shoes had a higher heel than she’d been used to for some time, and she had to concentrate to tread gracefully down the stairs. Even so, she almost lost her step when she saw the warm admiration in his eyes.

In that moment she forgot she was middle-aged with two grown sons. She forgot that the gray hairs were multiplying at a depressing rate and that every time she looked into a mirror she discovered a new wrinkle. She forgot that her ball gown was outdated and just a tiny bit too tight in the waistline.

Looking into Baxter’s appreciative gray eyes, the years fell away, and once again she was young and more beautiful than she ever remembered.

As she reached the floor, he held out his hand, and, laughing, she gladly put hers into his warm grasp.

“You look … enchanting, madam.”

“Baxter?”

“Yes, madam?”

She smiled up at him. “Do you think you could call me Cecily? Just for tonight?”

“I’ll try, madam.”

She raised her eyebrows, and to her utter delight, he laughed.

“Forgive me, Cecily. I’ll do my best to honor your request.” He inclined his head in the direction of the ballroom, from whence he could hear the beautiful strains of a popular melody. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

With her hand still clasped in his, he led her to the ballroom.

Several couples waltzed gracefully around the room
when they entered. No one seemed to care, or indeed even notice the owner of the hotel taking the floor with her manager.

Pausing at the fringe of the dancers, Baxter turned to her and executed a slight bow. “May I have the pleasure, madam?”

Cecily pursed her lips, and he added hastily, “I beg your pardon. May I have the pleasure, Cecily?”

“I should be delighted, Baxter.”

She fitted into his arm as if she belonged there. The music seemed to swell, inside her head as well as her heart. Her feet floated across the floor with no effort, her hand resting on his strong shoulder, the other clasped in his fingers.

Round and round they twirled, until she felt dizzy with the exhilaration of it all. She felt like thistledown, spinning in a late summer wind, and immediately felt foolish for her fanciful notions.

Looking up at him, she said lightly, “Why, Baxter, you surprise me. I had no idea you could dance so well.”

“I would not be nearly as proficient had I not such a graceful and skillful partner.”

“You are also a flatterer.”

“No, Cecily, I speak the truth. I always admired the way you and Major Sinclair seemed to float across the floor when you danced.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You watched us?”

“Often.” He looked sheepish. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” She sighed. “James loved to dance.”

“He did indeed. Almost as much as you do.”

“And I’m enjoying it now, Bax. Very much.”

“And so am I.”

She tried to give herself up to the sheer enjoyment of the dance. He was a good dancer, almost as good as James had been. There was a difference, however. She had been completely relaxed when dancing with her late husband.

With nothing to distract her from the touch of Baxter’s hand in the small of her back, and his fingers firmly clasping
hers, she found it difficult to keep her steps as smooth and effortless as they once had been.

She knew that Baxter felt the same tension. His shoulders were braced as if he were facing a deadly foe, and he held his chin so high she found it difficult to look into his eyes.

After a while, when the silence between them threatened to become awkward, she made an attempt at conversation. “I wonder how the entertainment went tonight. I should find Phoebe and ask her.”

“I don’t think she is particularly happy. From what I hear, the dancers caused a bit of a stir.”

“Oh, dear.” Cecily smiled at one of the guests as they glided by. “Do you know what happened?”

“According to Doris, one of Mrs. Carter-Holmes’s dancers did her best to stab Lady Dappleby through the heart with one of the swords used in the Sword Dance.”

“What?” Cecily stared up at him, only partly reassured by the bland expression on his face. “Whatever did she do?”

“From what I understand, the girl’s foot caught the sword, which spun off the stage and buried itself in the chair upon which Lady Dappleby was seated. It gave the poor lady a nasty fright, I’m afraid, but she is otherwise unharmed.”

“Oh, good heavens.” Cecily raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Whatever will those girls do next? Poor Phoebe, she simply will not give up. I’m quite sure that one day those girls will be the death of her.”

“They were almost the death of Lady Dappleby,” Baxter said dryly. “I’m afraid those young ladies are becoming quite a menace.”

“It certainly sounds like it. I had better have a word with Phoebe later. Though it’s not entirely her fault, of course.”

“Might I suggest that if Mrs. Carter-Holmes were to hire professional dancers, instead of those inept, bumbling fools, the entertainment at these events would be more successful.”

“I know, Baxter. You are right, of course. I’m afraid it’s mostly my fault. Phoebe is so proud of her dance troupe, I
really hate to turn her down when she offers their services.”

“If we accept much more of their services, we might very well lose some of our guests.”

She paused to get her breath as Baxter spun her around. “Most of the time,” she said when she could breathe again, “the girls manage to get through a performance without causing any damage. To tell you the truth, I think the guests rather enjoy their antics. It must be quite refreshing after the precise performances they are used to seeing onstage.”

Baxter gave her a sardonic look. “I hardly think refreshing is the word. From what I understand, even the pipers had trouble keeping in tune while watching the antics of Mrs. Carter-Holmes’s protégées.”

“Poor Phoebe.” Cecily shook her head. “She really has had a dreadful night. When I saw her earlier, she was quite flustered, though I’m not sure if her concern was more for the girls or the pipers.”

Baxter said something, but she barely heard him. She was hearing Phoebe’s breathless voice as she talked about the pipers. Suddenly she jerked to a stop, almost tripping up Baxter, who stared at her in surprise.

“Is something wrong? I didn’t step on your foot, did I?”

“No, no, I’m perfectly all right.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

“I beg your pardon?” With a concerned frown, Baxter led her off the floor. He paused at the door, looking down at her with worried eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Cecily, what is the matter?”

“I’m sorry, Baxter. I have just realized who murdered Peter Stewart.” She looked up at him in dismay. “Oh, my goodness. I should have asked Daisy which one.”

He looked at her, his face a mask of confusion. “Which one?”

“Yes.” She pulled her hand from his grasp. “Quickly, Baxter. Gertie is with one of the pipers right now. I must know which one. She could very well be in grave danger.”

* * *

“I told you it would be bleeding cold down here,” Gertie said, doing her best to keep her teeth from chattering.

Ross McBride grinned. “I can think of warmer places to meet. I dinna suppose you’d reconsider and come up to my room?”

“If it gets much bloody colder, I might be tempted. We could catch bloody pneumonia down here.”

“I’m sorry, Gertie. I just wanted to take you out for a quiet drink and a chat somewhere. I didna want to be responsible for making you ill.”