Otherwise Engaged (29 page)

H
umphrey Nash was waiting in his study. He rose and smiled politely when Amity was shown into the room but he made no secret of his impatience.

“My housekeeper said that you wanted to see me immediately and that the matter was quite urgent,” he said. “Please sit down.”

“Thank you for seeing me.” Amity perched on a chair. She gripped the satchel on her lap and looked around the room. “What lovely photographs. You really do possess great skill with a camera.”

“Thank you.” He sat down at his desk.

Amity glanced at the leather-bound volumes of the
Inventors Quarterly
that were neatly lined up on a nearby shelf.

“I see you have an interest in scientific and engineering matters,” she said. “I don’t recall that you mentioned that six years ago.”

“I have always had an interest in mechanical devices.”

“I do remember that you were always obsessed with the very latest in photography equipment.”

Humphrey clasped his hands on top of his desk. “I saw your name in the morning papers. I congratulate you on your second narrow escape from the clutches of the Bridegroom. According to the accounts in the
Flying Intelligencer
,
the police arrived just in the nick of time.”

“Thank heavens.” Amity shuddered. “If not for them my sister and I would both be dead by now.”

“I am relieved to know that you are safe, of course.” Humphrey cleared his throat. “Dare I hope that you are here today because you have changed your mind about collaborating on a travel guide?”

“Not exactly,” Amity said.

Humphrey dropped his smile. “What is it, then? As it happens, I am in the midst of packing for a trip to the Far East to do another series on the monuments and temples.”

“Yes, I saw the trunks in the front hall.” She smiled. “I assume that in addition to the odd monument or temple, you will also photograph various harbors and fortifications while you are abroad?”

Humphrey went quite still. But in the next instant he managed to appear utterly bewildered. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come now, there is no reason to be coy, sir. I am aware that you are in the pay of the Russians.”

Humphrey stared at her. “My dear, Amity, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I am also aware that you are in possession of a certain notebook. It’s missing a few vital pages, by the way.”

“Amity, are you by any chance prone to bouts of female hysteria?”

“No. I am, however, in need of a healthy dose of revenge. I believe you can be of some assistance to me in that regard, sir.”

“You are making less and less sense,” Humphrey said.

“Perhaps you have not heard the most recent gossip about me.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She clenched her fingers around the satchel. “There is no point keeping it a secret. The word will be all over town by nightfall. Mr. Stanbridge has ended our engagement.”

Humphrey looked bewildered.

“I see,” he said.

“After all I did for him.” Amity whipped out a hankie and blotted her eyes. “I saved his life. If not for me he would have died in an alley on St. Clare. And how does he repay me? By compromising me on board the
Northern Star
. Within days after arriving in London my reputation was in tatters.”

“I see,” Humphrey said again. He sounded cautious now.

She choked back a sob. “I was so relieved when he announced our engagement. I believed that he had done the gentlemanly thing and saved me from ruin. But I have discovered that he was only using me for his own ends.”

“Uh, what ends would those be?”

“He and his uncle, who is connected to certain parties in the government, were searching for a spy, if you can imagine. They did, indeed, find her—with my assistance, I might add. And what is my thanks?”

Humphrey ignored the last bit. “What is the name of this spy, Amity?”

“Lady Penhurst.” Amity flicked the hankie, waving the details aside. “I’m sure you heard that she took her own life last night. In the middle of a ballroom, no less. But that is neither here nor there. What matters is that last night Mr. Stanbridge informed me that he no longer requires my assistance in the case. He terminated our engagement and demanded that I return the Stanbridge family necklace. By tomorrow my reputation will have been destroyed beyond repair.”

Humphrey cleared his throat. “About this notebook you mentioned.”

“Yes, of course. I brought the missing pages with me.” She opened the satchel and removed two sheets of paper covered with drawings, symbols and equations. “Mr. Stanbridge doesn’t know that I took them, not yet. But by tomorrow he will have discovered that they have vanished. I cannot wait to see the expression on his face when he realizes they are gone.”

Humphrey eyed the pages. “What makes you think that I have any interest in those pages?”

“Lady Penhurst told me everything last night. She was delighted to chat about her Russian contact. But all she really wanted was the Rose Necklace. I was to bring it to the masked ball. Of course she did not realize that the notebook that one of you stole is missing the crucial pages detailing certain specifications for Foxcroft’s solar engine and battery.” Amity smiled. “I can see by the expression on your face that you were not aware of that fact until now yourself. But, then, you probably haven’t had time to take a close look at the notebook.”

Humphrey was starting to appear alarmed. “Are you certain that those pages are from the Foxcroft notebook?”

“Yes, of course.” Amity waved the hankie again. “Mr. Stanbridge explained the plan to me when he asked me to assist in the capture of the spy. They hoped to catch her at the costume ball. But that effort failed because Lady Penhurst took her own life rather than hang as a traitor. Personally, I suspect you are the one who murdered her, but I don’t care a jot about that. I never did like the woman.”

“The only thing you want is revenge, is that what you are saying?”

“Well, I don’t mind telling you that a small financial gesture of gratitude would also be appreciated. We both know how expensive it is to live the globetrotting life.”

“Indeed.” Humphrey did not take his eyes off the pages in her hand.

“I am rather low on funds and my sister refuses to part with any of the money she inherited from her late husband,” Amity continued. “She does not approve of my globetrotting. I was hoping that my travel guide for ladies would prove successful, but given the disaster to my reputation it is unlikely to ever see the light of print.”

“May I examine those pages, Amity?”

“What? Oh, certainly. Not very interesting, really. Just a lot of drawings and calculations. Oh, and a list of materials for something called a photovoltaic cell.”

She rose and set the pages down on the desk. Humphrey examined them intently for a few minutes. His frown tightened with each passing tick of the clock.

“What makes you think that these pages are from the Foxcroft notebook?” he asked.

“Aside from the fact that Mr. Stanbridge told me, do you mean? Well, there is the rather obvious matter of the signatures.”

“What signatures?”

“At the bottom of each page,” Amity said. “Evidently Elijah Foxcroft was obsessed with the fear that his drawings would be stolen. So he signed and dated every page in the notebook just as an artist signs his work. See for yourself. Lower right-hand corner.”

Humphrey stared at one of the pages. Disbelief warred with uncertainty on his face. Then anger took hold, tightening his handsome face into a dangerous mask.

“That son of a bitch,” he rasped very softly.

“Whom do you refer to?” Amity asked politely. “Elijah Foxcroft?”

“Not Foxcroft. Stanbridge. The bastard tricked me.”

“Very untrustworthy, our Mr. Stanbridge. As I have learned to my great cost.”

“Bloody hell.” Humphrey opened a desk drawer. “I don’t give a damn about the damage to your reputation, Amity.”

“How very open-minded and modern of you.”

“Tell me, does Stanbridge or his uncle know that Leona and I were associated?”

“No. I intended to tell him but what with one thing and another last night, I did not get the opportunity until after the police had rescued me from the clutches of the Bridegroom. By then I was so upset because of my ordeal I completely forgot that Leona had told me she was connected to you. I was going to inform Mr. Stanbridge first thing this morning, but he arrived on my sister’s doorstep early today to announce that he was ending our engagement. I was so upset I decided not to give him any more information.” She wiped her eyes with the hankie. “He was just using me.”

“My sympathies and my apologies, Amity. I’m afraid I am going to use you, as well.”

She lowered the hankie and saw that he had a gun in his hand.

“I don’t understand, sir,” she whispered.

“I can see that. Really, how did you survive all those journeys to dangerous lands? One would have thought that you would have picked up a modicum of cleverness along the way.”

She rose slowly. “You can’t shoot me here. Your housekeeper is moving about upstairs. She will hear the shot.”

“I have no intention of shooting you, not unless you leave me no other choice.”

He was lying, Amity thought. She could see it in his eyes.

“What, exactly, are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“I am going to gag you and lock you up in the darkroom in my basement, where you will not be able to cause me any trouble until I am well away from London. On your feet. Open the door and turn to your left. Hurry.”

Amity rose and crossed the room. She opened the door and went briskly out into the hall.

Humphrey followed, moving swiftly. His attention was focused on her. He did not notice Benedict until it was too late.

Benedict seized Humphrey’s gun arm and twisted savagely. The pistol roared. The bullet thudded into the wood. All movement ceased overhead. A muffled scream sounded.

The housekeeper, Amity thought.

Benedict snapped the pistol out of Humphrey’s hand.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Benedict said. “But I understand that seasoned travelers are accustomed to that sort of thing. There are a couple of men from Scotland Yard waiting outside on the front steps.”

Humphrey looked toward the front hall. Panic and resolve flashed across his face. Then he turned, preparing to flee past Amity in an attempt to exit the kitchen door.

He stopped short when he saw that she had whipped open her fan, revealing the honed steel leaves and the sharp spokes.

But it was Benedict who spoke.

“Let him go, Amity, he’s no longer our problem.”

Amity stepped aside and folded the fan. Humphrey shot past her. He flung open the door and fled out into the garden—straight into the arms of Inspector Logan and a constable.

“I forgot to mention that there are also a couple of men from the Yard, waiting at the back door,” Benedict said.

“You are under arrest, Mr. Nash,” Logan said. He took out a pair of handcuffs.

“You don’t understand,” Humphrey said quickly. “Amity Doncaster is a spy. She is guilty of treason. She brought some valuable papers here today. She stole them and tried to sell them to me, if you can believe it. I was going to lock her up and summon the police.”

Cornelius Stanbridge ambled into view out in the garden. “I do agree that Miss Doncaster has what it takes to make an excellent spy, including an ideal cover for traveling abroad. She is really quite talented. Nerves of steel. I am considering employing her as an agent for the Crown.”

Amity blushed. “Why, thank you, Mr. Stanbridge. That is very flattering.”

Benedict narrowed his eyes. “You can forget any notion of taking up a career as a spy, Amity. My nerves could never stand the strain.”

She sighed. “Really, sir, must you take all the fun out of foreign travel?”

I
nspector Logan will disappear from my life soon,” Penny said. She went to stand at the window of the study. “The case has been closed. He has no more reason to call on me.”

Amity crossed the room and stopped beside Penny. Together they contemplated the garden. It was raining again. The day was gray and dreary. There was a fire on the hearth to ward off the damp chill.

“We need a plan, as Benedict is fond of saying,” Amity said.

Penny gave her a watery smile. “What sort of plan do you suggest?”

“Inspector Logan may not have any reason to call on us but you could certainly give him a reason to call on you.”

Penny glanced at her. “How do you suggest that I do that without being obvious?”

“What’s wrong with being obvious?”

Penny sighed. “It’s not the possibility I might embarrass myself that worries me. I’m afraid that being too forward would put him in
a very difficult position in the event that he does not wish to continue with our acquaintance.”

“Trust me, the man wishes to continue the acquaintance. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

“I fear he is overly concerned about the differences in our social and financial stations.”

“Then it is up to you to convince him that you do not care a jot about those differences.” Amity paused. “Unless I am mistaken and they do matter to you?”

“No.” Penny turned around, her eyes wet with tears. “I don’t give a bloody damn about that sort of thing.”

Amity smiled and patted Penny’s arm. “I didn’t think so.”

“But how on earth can I explain that to John?”

Amity raised her brows. “John?”

Penny flushed. “That is his given name. It is how I think of him in my private thoughts.”

“Of course.” Amity reflected briefly. “I have a plan.”

Hope mingled with wariness in Penny’s eyes. She hesitated and then curiosity got the better of her. “Well? What is it?”

“I think it would be a very good idea to invite some of the people involved in this case to tea this afternoon. It seems to me that we all have a great deal to discuss and there are some questions I would like to ask the inspector in particular.”

Penny looked doubtful. “I’m not sure Inspector Logan is free to come to tea anymore. The demands of his job, you know.”

“Something tells me that the inspector is quite capable of coming up with an excuse to interview the witnesses in such an important case one more time. At the moment he is something of a hero at the Yard.”

“But what can I say to him that will let him know I wish to continue our association?”

“Why don’t you tell him that you were happy to be of service to Scotland Yard and that you stand ready to assist in future cases that involve suspects who move in Society?”

Mrs. Houston appeared in the doorway. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but you’re welcome to tell him that I’d also be pleased to assist in future cases. Between the two of us it seems to me that we can cover everything from the kitchens to the bedrooms in Society.”

Penny was nonplussed for a moment. Then, slowly, she smiled. “What an excellent notion, Mrs. Houston.”

“But I’d suggest breakfast tomorrow morning rather than tea today,” Mrs. Houston said.

“Why is that?” Amity asked.

“Healthy gentlemen of the sort we’ve been entertaining of late prefer a hearty meal,” Mrs. Houston said. “Something about eggs and sausage and toast along with strong coffee puts them in a good mood.”