Otherwise Engaged (6 page)

She smiled the first real smile she had bestowed upon him since he had arrived. It was the kind of smile that warmed her eyes and the atmosphere around her; the kind of smile that made him feel very, very good deep inside.

“It is kind of you to offer to intimidate Mr. Galbraith in order to help me get my guidebook published, but I fear that under the circumstances that might be somewhat awkward,” she said.

“Well, in that case I will save the option of inducing fear in your publisher as a last resort,” Benedict said. “In any event I don’t think it will be necessary to take such drastic measures if we apply the simpler, more straightforward solution that I have in mind.”

Penny still appeared somewhat bewildered, but a faint gleam of comprehension lit her eyes. “What is that, sir?”

“From what you have told me it is obvious that the easiest way to deal with the question of Amity’s reputation is to announce that she and I are engaged to be married,” he said.

Pleased with the obvious perfection of his answer to the problem, he drank some more coffee and waited for Amity and Penny to display the appropriate delight and appreciation of the scheme.

Amity stared at him as if he had just declared that the end of the world was near.

But Penny seized upon the solution with profound relief.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “It is the ideal answer. I confess that it had actually occurred to me. But I must admit I did not expect you to suggest the notion, Mr. Stanbridge.”

“What?” Amity switched her attention to Penny. “Are you mad? How on earth will such an announcement solve anything?”

Penny assumed a knowing air. “I’m sure Mr. Stanbridge has all the answers. Something tells me he concocted the plan before he arrived on our doorstep a short time ago. Is that correct, sir?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said, trying to appear modest.

Amity clutched her napkin very tightly. “Mr. Stanbridge, I would remind you that you were unaware of the gossip about us until you sat down to breakfast at this very table a short time ago. How on earth can you declare that you conceived this harebrained notion on the way from the ship to this house?”

The harebrained notion comment hurt but he reminded himself that Amity had been under considerable stress lately.

“It was the news of the attack on you that convinced me that an engagement is the only alternative,” he said.

Penny nodded, satisfied. “Yes, of course.”

Amity glared at both of them in turn. “Why is a fake engagement a sound notion?”

“Because it will do two important things,” Benedict said. He was trying to be patient but underneath he had to admit he found her lack of enthusiasm for the plan decidedly depressing. “First and foremost it will allow me to be seen regularly in your company. That will make it easier to protect you.”

Amity frowned. “Protect me? Do you mean to say that you believe the killer might try to kidnap me a second time?”

“We cannot know the mind of a monster like this creature they call the Bridegroom,” he said gently. “Until we are certain that he is dead or in prison I do not think it wise for you to go about by yourself. If he is out there in the shadows, he will have had time for his wounds to heal. You should not leave this house alone under any circumstances. As your fiancé I will be able to escort you wherever you wish to go.”

Amity started to speak, stopped and then took a breath and tried again.

“And the second reason you believe this fraudulent arrangement is a good idea?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “It will put a stop to the gossip. You will no longer need to be concerned that Galbraith will refuse to publish your book because of the damage to your reputation.”

Penny looked at Amity. “You must see that an engagement really is a perfect solution to both problems.”

“Excuse me,” Amity said evenly, “but I’m not at all sure of that.”

“Why?” Penny asked.

“Why?” Amity got out in a half-strangled voice. “You have to ask me that? It’s a terrible idea. Such an engagement would be a complete fiction. How on earth could we possibly maintain the illusion? Even if Mr. Stanbridge is content to play the part of my fiancé, what of his parents? I’m sure they will raise some objections.”

“No, they won’t,” Benedict said. “You may leave my parents to me. I will deal with them if it becomes necessary.”

“How could it not become necessary?” Amity shot back.

“As it happens, they are in Australia at the moment.” He brushed
the problem of his parents aside. “They will have no notion of what is going on here in London. And while we’re on the subject, rest assured that I will deal with my brother and his wife, as well.”

Amity’s mouth tightened. “I do appreciate your offer, Mr. Stanbridge, however—”

“Kindly stop saying that you appreciate my offers,” he said.

He realized how sternly he had spoken only after she fell abruptly silent. She stared at him with an air of astonishment that made him aware that he had never before shown her the edge of his temper.

He suppressed a groan and tried to explain.

“It’s the least I can do after what you did for me,” he said quietly. “You saved my life on St. Clare. I wouldn’t have made it without you. It was that incident that led to the compromising situation which in turn inspired the gossip about our supposed liaison. Now you have been attacked because of that gossip. I am in your debt and I would very much
appreciate
it if you would allow me to try to repay it.”

“By pretending to be my fiancé?” she asked in disbelief.

“Until the police find the killer,” Benedict said.

“What if they fail?” she asked.

“Then we shall have to do their work for them.”

It had been a stab in the dark but he had made it based on what he knew of her personality. She was, above all else, extremely curious and intrigued by the prospect of adventure. It was that spirit that had compelled her to travel the world.

He knew at once his strategy was working. Amity suddenly glowed with excitement.

“Hmm,”
she said.

Penny eyed him dubiously. “Have you had any experience with criminal investigations, Mr. Stanbridge?”

“No, but I imagine it is like any problem in engineering or mathematics,” he said. “One assembles all of the relevant facts in a logical manner and then one solves for the unknown.”

“If it were that simple, the police would catch every criminal on the streets,” Amity said crisply. She got to her feet. “If you will excuse us, Penny, I would like to show Mr. Stanbridge the garden.”

“I was about to ask Mrs. Houston to bring me some more coffee,” Benedict said.

Amity looked at him. “A tour of the garden, sir. Now.”

T
he summer rain had stopped and the sun had emerged, but the garden was still damp. Amity whisked her skirts above her ankles to avoid the wet flowers and shrubs. She made for the little gazebo at the far end, very aware of Benedict following close behind her. The gravel of the path crunched beneath his boots.

She stepped up onto the floor of the gazebo and rounded on him.

“You appear to have recovered quite nicely from your wound,” she said.

He touched his right side in the vicinity of his rib cage somewhat gingerly and immediately lowered his hand. “Thanks to your medical skills.”

“As I told you at the time, it was my father who taught me some elementary field medicine.”

“I will be forever grateful to his memory.” Benedict looked at her. “And to you.”

She knew she was flushing again. A wistful longing swept through
her. It took a firm act of will to suppress the emotion. She did not want his gratitude, she thought.

“Well, sir?” she said. “What of the outcome of your journey to California. Was your mission successful?”

“My mission?”

“You need not be coy. Did you think that I was not aware that you are a spy for the Crown?”

“Damn it, Amity, I’m an engineer, not a spy.”

She glanced meaningfully at the black case he was holding. “Very well, I understand that you are not allowed to tell people that you are involved in the Great Game. But can you at least assure me that your venture, whatever it was, ended successfully?”

He braced one hand against a nearby pillar and loomed over her. “The answer is, yes, I was successful.”

She smiled, pleased in spite of her irritation. “Excellent. I am delighted to know that I was able to contribute in some small measure to that success—even if I will never know exactly what happened.”

He tapped one finger against the pillar while he contemplated that comment. Then he appeared to come to a decision.

“I don’t see any reason not to tell you a few facts now that the affair has been concluded. But first, let me be clear, I am not a professional spy. I did a favor for my uncle who happens to have connections in the government. Those connections asked him for his assistance in a certain project and he, in turn, asked me to help because of my knowledge of engineering. The mission, as you call it, was my first and very likely my last experience in that sort of thing. I don’t appear to be particularly adept at the business. It nearly got me killed, if you will recall.”

“I’m hardly likely to forget.” She hesitated. “Do you have any notion of who tried to murder you on St. Clare?”

“No. Presumably the same person who killed the inventor I went to see while I was on the island.”

“Good heavens, someone else was murdered on St. Clare? You never mentioned that.”

“I found his body in his laboratory,” Benedict said. “He had been killed shortly before I arrived.”

“Who was he?”

“Alden Cork. He was an eccentric but quite brilliant engineer who was working on a new weapon that certain parties in the government believed would revolutionize battleship armament. According to their sources, the Russians are also very keen to get their hands on the device.”

“What is so revolutionary about it?”

“Cork called it a solar cannon. It is designed to be powered by the energy of the sun.”

“Fascinating. Mr. Cork set up a laboratory on a Caribbean island?”

“He had a number of reasons for going to the Caribbean,” Benedict said. “The first was that he was trying to conceal his activities from the various interested governments until he could perfect his solar cannon. He had intended to sell it to the highest bidder when it was completed. In addition, for obvious reasons, he needed a sunny climate to carry out his experiments. He also required a destination that was on regular steamship routes so that he could obtain the supplies and equipment that he required.”

“Yes, of course, a Caribbean island would be an ideal location.”

“As I said, someone, presumably an agent in the pay of the Russians, got to Cork before I arrived. The laboratory had been ransacked. There was no sign of the plans relating to the development of the weapon. One of the servants who had assisted Cork from time to time told me that an important notebook containing Cork’s
drawings and specifications was missing. I think that it was stolen by whoever killed him.”

“And that same person then tried to murder you?”

“I assume so.” Benedict paused. “I must have been one step behind him. But before I left Cork’s laboratory I found a letter.”

“The one you entrusted to me in the event you did not survive.”

“Yes,” Benedict said. “As soon as I read it I knew that it was far more valuable than Cork’s design for the weapon.”

“Why?”

“It was written to Cork by another inventor working in California, Elijah Foxcroft. When I read it, I immediately realized that the two men had been carrying on a correspondence for some time. It was clear that what made Cork’s weapon a potentially devastating battleship gun wasn’t the design of the solar cannon itself—that was fairly conventional—but rather the engine by which it was to be powered.”

“A solar engine?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “Well, I suppose that does explain why we had so many interesting conversations about the potential of solar energy on board the
Northern Star
.”

“The subject was on my mind,” he admitted.

Alarm spiked through her. “Wait a minute. You said Cork’s plans for the weapon were gone when you arrived. Does that mean that the Russians now possess them?”

“Presumably, for all the good it will do them.”

She beetled her brows at him. “Explain, sir.”

“The letter made it clear that Cork had been unsuccessful in creating a suitable engine for his cannon. Without a practical system capable of converting sunlight into energy in an efficient manner and a
means of storing it for use when needed, his weapon was just another engineering fantasy.” Benedict looked out over the sunny garden. “Rather like da Vinci’s flying machines and his fantastical weapons.”

“But Elijah Foxcroft has designed such a solar engine and storage device?”

“Right. The letter made it plain that Cork believed that it was capable of powering his weapon. He and Foxcroft planned to work together on the project.”

She glanced at the leather case again. “You found Foxcroft, I take it?”

“I did.” Benedict exhaled deeply. “Sadly, he was near death.”

“Good heavens, someone murdered him, too?”

“No. He was ill with cancer. He knew he was dying. He was most anxious that his design for the solar engine and battery not be lost to history. He gave me his notebook.”

“You have it in that case that you are carrying?”

“Right. I will deliver it to my uncle today and then my small role in the Great Game will be concluded—not a moment too soon, as far as I am concerned.”

“I see.” She studied him for a beat. “This is all quite interesting, sir. I understand your need for secrecy on the
Northern Star
.”

“At the time I assumed the less you knew, the safer you would be. It was possible that the Russian agent was also on the ship.”

“How did you know that I wasn’t the agent?”

He looked amused. “You saved my life, if you will recall. It would have been easy enough to let me die there in that alley after I gave you the letter. That was all the proof I required to know that I could trust you.”

Well, what had she expected him to say? she wondered. That he
had looked into her eyes and somehow known that she would never betray him? The man was an engineer, for heaven’s sake. Engineers liked to have proof.

“Well, it is not as if you had a great deal of choice in the matter.”

“No,” Benedict agreed. “There was some risk involved in giving you the letter, but it soon became apparent that you were not an agent for the Russians. Nevertheless, I did not tell you anything more about my objectives because—”

“Because you did not want to take the risk that I might accidentally let something slip out in casual conversation with the other passengers,” she concluded crisply. “I do understand that, sir. You need not belabor the point.”

“I was afraid that if there was an agent on board and if you did say something about the solar cannon or the letter you might be in danger.”

She drummed her fingers on the railing. “Is that why you never bothered to contact me after we parted in New York?”

“I thought it best to keep my intention to visit Foxcroft a secret, as well.” Benedict frowned. “Damn it, Amity, I was attempting to protect you as much as possible.”

She gave him a thin smile. “I can assure you that ignorance is not necessarily bliss. As it happens, I was attacked because of my connection to you and I doubt very much that the Bridegroom is a Russian agent.”

“I am sorry.” Benedict’s jaw hardened. “I seem to be apologizing a lot this morning. In attempting to protect you from a Russian spy I put you squarely in the sights of a monster.”

She relented. “It’s not your fault.”

“On the contrary. It is obvious that if we had not been seen together on board the
Star
, the killer would not have singled you out as prey.”

Amity realized that she was becoming more irritated by the minute. “Mr. Stanbridge, I refuse to let you take responsibility for what happened to me here in London. You were not even in town at the time.”

He ignored her to look toward the kitchen door. “Your housekeeper is trying to gain your attention.”

She turned and saw Mrs. Houston waving from the doorway.

“Mrs. Marsden sent me to tell you that the man from Scotland Yard has arrived,” Mrs. Houston announced.