Laura Lee Guhrke (15 page)

All Sophie wanted to do by the time she and Auntie reached home was fall into bed. Throughout the evening with her family, she had felt the powerful emotional undercurrents in the air, and they had exhausted her.

Nothing ever changes, she thought as she stood in the foyer removing her gloves. Her mother came to visit twice a year, and everything was the same each and every time. Mother still thought her an enormous disappointment, Charlotte still hated and feared her, and her brother-in-law was still a criminal whose oily politeness set her teeth on edge because she knew the character beneath. Still, what could she have expected? Did she really think that in the months that elapsed between her mother’s visits some sort of magical transformation would take place within her family?
She handed her gloves to Grimmy with a tired sigh.

Violet gave her a gentle pat on the arm. “I know these evenings can be quite tedious, even horrid,” she said as they walked up the stairs together. “But despite all that, your mother does love you.”

“I know, Auntie, but she’d love me more if I got married. And only to a gentleman she considers suitable. It’s unfortunate for her that men are terrified of me.”

“Not all men,” Violet assured her. “You must not compare all other men to Charles. He was a kind man, as you know, but a weak one as well. He was not brave enough for marriage to you. It would not be easy to live with someone who has your special gifts.”

“I won’t pretend not to have them, Auntie. I tried that with Charles, but it didn’t work.”

“Oh, no, Sophie, I never meant to imply that you should,” Violet assured her. “I am convinced there are men in the world braver than Charles, men who would not be intimidated by living with a woman who sees the future and can sometimes read their thoughts and sense their emotions.”

“I’ve never met one.”

“Don’t be cynical, dear. Someday a truly wonderful man will come along, a man who won’t be afraid of your abilities, a man who will appreciate you and love you just as you are.”

To Sophie, that was impossible to believe. Auntie loved and accepted her just as she was, but most people, including the other members of her own family,
were incapable of doing so. She thought she had come to accept that, but evenings such as this one served to remind her that it still hurt. “And if I don’t meet this wonderful man?”

They paused outside Violet’s bedroom door. “Then you and I will just muddle along until you’re as gray as I am,” her aunt said and wrapped her arms around her niece in a comforting hug. “Besides, despite what your mother says, and as wonderful as marriage can be, there is more to life.” She pulled back and opened her bedroom door. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, Auntie.”

Sophie walked several steps further down the hall and entered her own room. Hannah had evidently been there to light a lamp for her as usual. Sophie closed the door behind her and took two steps toward her wardrobe to undress, when she was overcome by the sense that she was not alone.

“Who’s there?” She glanced toward the open French window and saw movement out on the balcony. She tensed, ready to turn and run, when the tall, powerful silhouette of Mick Dunbar appeared in the doorway.

She was caught between relief that thieves hadn’t broken into the house, outrage that this man was in her room, and fear of what he might have found.

He wore no jacket or waistcoat, and his white shirt was a sharp contrast to the night shadows behind him. His face bore a dark shadow of beard stubble. He looked tired, and thoroughly displeased.

“What are you doing in my room?” she demanded.

Hands in the pockets of his dark gray trousers, he
stepped inside and kicked the French door shut behind him. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, giving her the sort of look a tiger might give its prey just before the attack.

“Waiting for me? Why?”

“To ask you about this.”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and Sophie stared at the glittering string of jewels that hung from the tips of his fingers.

She went cold with fear. Damn the man. Despite all her precautions, he’d found it.

He was looking at her, waiting for an explanation, and Sophie decided her best defense was to go on the offensive. “You searched my room?” she said, turning her fear into wrath. “You went through my things? My private things?”

“Indeed I did.” He smiled. “Pretty falderals they were, too.”

“I can’t believe that you, even you, would go through my clothes, that you would see my—” She stopped. His actions were too appalling to say aloud. He’d seen her most intimate garments. Touched them.

“Don’t worry, Sophie,” he said. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

She made a grab for the necklace, but he was too quick for her, pulling the piece of jewelry out of her reach.

She glared at him. “When Auntie finds out what you’ve done, she’ll throw you out.”

He didn’t seem worried. “Perhaps.”

She narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips,
and took a step closer, trying to look really brave. “You’ve gone through my things without permission. Isn’t that against the law?”

“What’s against the law is stealing.”

“I didn’t steal that necklace.”

“All right, then, where did it come from?” He held up his palm between them. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Spirits brought it to you in the night, while you slept.”

“Sarcasm is a most unattractive quality, Inspector. But then, it’s coming from you, so that’s not surprising, is it?”

“Thank you, Sophie. I’m fond of you, too.” His expression hardened to that ruthless one she knew he reserved for the criminals. “I know this necklace belongs to your cousin.”

She looked into his eyes, and she decided there was only one thing to do. Lie.

“The necklace isn’t stolen. I. . . umm. . . I borrowed it from Katherine.”

“Sophie, I have come across many liars in my life, and you are the lousiest one I’ve ever met.”

He was right. She hated it when he was right, but she took a deep, steadying breath and tried again. “I borrowed it.”

“That won’t do. The viscountess reported it to Scotland Yard as stolen two days ago.”

She was in the suds now. Sophie swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to invent a plausible story. But Mick didn’t give her the time.

He stuffed the necklace back in his pocket, grabbed her by the shoulders, and turned her around. Before
she could even try to get away, he had his hand wrapped around her wrists in a painful grip. “Sophie Marie Haversham, you are under arrest for possession of stolen property.”

“You’re arresting me?” she gasped, turning her head to look at him over one shoulder. “You are really arresting me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You . . . you . . .” She paused, striving to find an adjective to describe him, but she just couldn’t think of one foul enough.

“Swine?” he suggested. “You called me that once before.”

“That was before I really knew you,” she shot back as he steered her toward the door. “Now I know your true nature. Calling you a swine would be an insult to pigs.”

“How long are you going to keep her in there?”

Mick turned to Kyle Merrick, the newly promoted night-watch sergeant at CID. “I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “She’s only been in there for half an hour. I’ll give her a bit more time to think things over, then I’ll go in and start asking questions.”

Kyle nodded, glancing through the tiny peephole into the dimly lit room beyond. “She asked me to send for her butler when you first brought her in. You were off looking for an empty interrogation room.”

“You didn’t do it, did you?”

“Aye, I did.”

Mick muttered an exasperated oath.

The young sergeant looked at him in surprise. “A young lady like that, with a butler—I assumed there wasn’t any harm in it. I’m sorry, sir. You didn’t tell me she couldn’t have visitors.”

Mick waved aside the apologies, reminding himself that it was only Merrick’s second week as a sergeant. “It’s all right. It’s just that I wanted her to sit in that room, with the peeling paint and the dirty floor a bit longer, just long enough for her to start wondering about what Newgate might be like before I start the interrogation.”

“What’s the charge?”

“Stealing a viscountess’s emeralds.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “A society woman from May fair stealing jewels from other society ladies sounds like quite a racket.” He took another peek into the room beyond. “You wouldn’t think it, would you?” he asked as he turned away. “A pretty young lady like that a thief. It’s hard to believe.”

Mick laughed. “No, it’s not, Sergeant. You would be astounded at the number of beautiful women I’ve arrested over the years. When it comes to honesty, a pretty face means nothing.” He pulled out his watch. “I’d better get in there before her champion arrives. When he does, come and tell me.”

“Very good, sir.” The sergeant tipped his cap and turned away. He walked down the hall and disappeared into the main room of CID. Mick returned his attention to his jewel thief.

Through the peephole, he could see her sitting at the table, facing him, her hands folded tightly together and her head bent as if in prayer. The two
braids that had been wrapped in an intricate knot atop her head had come down. Now one fell over each of her shoulders, and she looked like a schoolgirl facing punishment by a harsh tutor—young, penitent, scared, and very vulnerable. But when she looked up and scowled fiercely in the direction of the peephole, Mick couldn’t help a chuckle. Penitent like hell.

“I know you’re out there, Michael Dunbar,” she called. “I can feel your presence, and I know you’re spying on me through that little hole in the wall. Are you planning to interrogate me now or just throw me into a cell? Whichever it is, I wish you’d get on with it.”

He stepped to the door, opened it, and entered the interrogation room, watching as her scowl became even more fierce. There was no sign of a vulnerable schoolgirl about her now.

Mick pulled out a chair opposite her across the table and sat down, ready to be as tough on her as he needed to be in order to find out what he wanted to know. But before he could even open his mouth, she started talking.

“I’m not saying a word to you, not a word. I know you’ve been keeping me in here all this time just to make me more intimidated and afraid, but I’m not letting you bully me. I want a solicitor. Or do I mean a barrister?”

“Solicitor. Barristers arc for when you go to trial in the high court.”

She made a sound of disbelief at the mention of a trial, but Mick knew that despite her bravado, Sophie was nervous. She kept looking toward the door and
twisting her hands together. Still, it was shrewd of her to realize why he’d waited so long to start questioning her. But then, he already knew she was a perceptive woman.

He pulled the notes he’d taken from her room out of his pocket. He unfolded them and shoved them across the table toward her. “Tell me about that.”

“These are my notes. My dream notes.” She looked up at him, and her eyes narrowed. “First you go through my unmentionables, then you read my private papers? Have you no morals at all?”

“None. What do you mean when you say these are your dream notes? Arc we talking about this psychic nonsense again?”

She shoved the notes back at him. “I told you before, it won’t work.”

“What?”

“Blackmail. You arrested me so you’d have something to hold over my head, thinking that will force me to tell you who shot at you. What you can’t seem to understand is that I don’t know anything more than I’ve already told you. How many times do I have to explain?”

“As many times as it takes until I get the truth. Do you want me to walk you next door to Cannon Row Police Station now? If not, tell me who you’re protecting.”

She said nothing, and his voice became softer, more persuasive. “Sophie, think about this. If I bring charges of theft against you, you’ll go before a judge, get your name in the newspapers, be ruined in society, and perhaps go to prison.”

“Things will never get that far. When Cousin Katherine finds out it was I who took the necklace, she will recant any claim of a robbery. She would never allow the scandal.”

That was probably true, but Mick wasn’t finished yet. “We’ll have to see. We’ll call her down to Scotland Yard. In the meantime, you’ll be spending your time in a cell next door.”

She made a sound of exasperation. “This is such a waste of time. She will not prosecute.”

“I think she will.” He shoved back his chair. “Tomorrow, we’ll find out which of us is right.”

“Tomorrow?”

He pulled out his watch. “Sorry. I meant today. It’s after midnight now.” Tucking his watch back in his waistcoat pocket, he smiled at her. “Cheer up. You’ll only be in a cell about fourteen more hours.”

“You are going to keep me here that long? Even though you know the charges will be dropped? You can’t be serious.”

“I am completely serious, I assure you.” He gave her a look of mock consolation. “Don’t worry, Sophie. We don’t have too many rats over at Cannon Row. And the prostitutes in the cell with you won’t bother you much. They smell, of course, but we can’t do much about that.”

“Prostitutes?”

“You’ll lose that cameo you’re wearing, as well as most of the buttons and ribbons on your dress, but they always seem to be coming undone anyway—”

“They’ll take them?” Her voice came out like a squeak, and she clutched at the cameo pinned to the
high collar of her gown. “Really? The buttons and everything?”

He pretended to be surprised by her question. “Of course.”

“All of them?” When he nodded, she shifted her position, wrapping her arms around herself. “But then my dress would come apart. . . I mean, I’d. . . I’d be. . . unclothed.”

The last word came out in a whisper. She looked so appalled that Mick had to fight back a smile.

“I’m sure the day-watch sergeant over there would give you a cloak or something. His name is Anthony Frye. Nice fellow. I’m sure he’ll pretend not to notice when he sees your corset.”

Color flared in her cheeks, and he remembered how shocked she’d been to discover he’d been through her underclothes, that he’d touched her stockings and her knickers. Her body, too.