Picture Perfect (20 page)

‘Wasn’t the Cavendish ball tiresome?’ Justine said as soon as they were out of earshot and strolling down one of the gravel paths.

‘What do you mean?’ Annabel asked cautiously, while there were parts of the ball she hadn’t enjoyed at all, she would not have described the evening as tiresome.

‘Oh, another painting being stolen, Jack was like a bear with a sore head after that, anyone would think that he were personally responsible for apprehending the thief, he wouldn’t dance at all, he just sort of sleuthed around and he was so grumpy! In fact even if he had asked me to dance I should have refused, all he could do was glower at everyone, dancing with him wouldn’t have been at all enjoyable.’ Annabel didn’t answer at once; did Jack really see himself as personally responsible for catching the thief? Was he in fact responsible? She realized she had no idea what he did, whether he was a man of means or if he worked for a living, although she had got the impression that he had some connection with the government. Perhaps it
was
up to him to catch the thief, he certainly seemed to be taking the art thefts more seriously than even her own father who viewed them as shocking but otherwise unconnected criminal incidents, whereas Jack, she thought, believed they were all the work of one man. ‘I hope he’s here tonight,’ Justine continued, ‘at least no one can steal any paintings from the gardens, so he will have no excuse for not being charming. He thinks you’re very sweet, by the way,’ she added, throwing what Annabel considered to be a far too knowing look her way, ‘you really mustn’t be shy of him, he thinks of you as a little sister.’

‘I am not in the least shy of Mr Denham,’ Annabel said, aware as soon as she had spoken of both how prim she sounded and how unconvincing.

Justine laughed, ‘Come now, you can call him Jack, he won’t think you too forward.’ Annabel felt herself seethe, she would refer to Jack in any way she chose, it was not up to Justine to dictate the terms of her relationship with him. Then the conversation she had overheard at the ball came back to her, true she had not heard Jack’s part in it, but perhaps Justine was right and he did see her with brotherly eyes, which would be quite appropriate if he and Justine had the understanding she had referred to that first night of her stay with the Beresfords. But somehow she had begun to doubt Justine’s interpretation of their friendship, Jack had never mentioned her with any special affection to Annabel and he had kissed her, not Justine, at Almack’s when he was showing her the trap he had laid for the art thief. She felt a small smile steal over her face at the memory of those perfect lips brushing her own. ‘There now,’ Justine said patronizingly ‘you’ll be much more comfortable with him if you think of him as another big brother.’ Suddenly her sister’s confidence both irked her and amused her in equal measure and Annabel resolved to confront Jack on the subject when next they met. She wouldn’t of course be so brazen as to ask him about his feelings for her, but she could lay to rest this question of whether he saw her as a little sister, then the next time Justine brought it up she could quietly but assuredly correct her on that point.

‘Miss Beresford, Miss Black,’ a familiar voice called to them from a family party who had set themselves up much as the Beresfords had done to the side of the path.

‘Lord Kent,’ Justine said, smiling, rushing over to greet him and allow him to kiss her hand.

‘These must be your sisters,’ Annabel said, smiling at two younger girls who shared Lord Kent’s distinctive dark blonde colouring. Abstractedly Lord Kent introduced them, but Annabel could see he was rather taken with Justine, as a dance partner she had found him to be bluff and friendly and intent on enjoying the dance, which suited her very well, but with Justine he was different, very attentive, listening intently to all she had to say and laughing at her every witticism.

‘Did you see,’ he asked her after they had been chatting for a little while, ‘the absurd parasol the Pattons have brought with them? I don’t know what kind of weather they are expecting, but it is an enormous contraption which doesn’t look like it would be good for anything.’

‘No,’ Justine said, her eyes wide, although Annabel was sure they had passed something matching Lord Kent’s description on their stroll through the gardens. ‘Won’t you show me?’

Lord Kent glanced round at Annabel, ‘We mustn’t be too conspicuous,’ he said, ‘we don’t want the Pattons realizing we’re all laughing at them.’

‘Just you and I will go,’ Justine said at once, ‘I’m sure my sister will enjoy conversing with your sisters while we’re gone.’ It was on the tip of Annabel’s tongue to remind Justine that Lady Beresford had said they must keep together, but she bit it back, she had no desire to make an unwelcome third and equally she felt uncomfortable about spying on the Pattons with the sole object of making fun of them. Nevertheless she felt a little forlorn as she watched as Lord Kent and Justine laughingly disappeared among the other picnickers and then, with impeccable timing, Jack appeared, sauntering along the path, more casually dressed than Annabel had seen him before, clearly prepared to spend an evening out of doors. She felt her heart lift.

‘Hello,’ he said, ‘you seem to have been abandoned.’ There was something odd about his tone which made Annabel look at him sharply, but she could see nothing out of the ordinary in his expression. ‘Shall we?’ Jack continued, offering Annabel his arm. For a moment Annabel debated with herself, it seemed that after barely five minutes she and Justine had broken Lady Beresford’s only stipulation regarding their wander through the pleasure gardens, but would it actually be worse for her to go for a walk with Jack than to stay here alone? At least he was a family friend so accompanying him might actually be better than standing there under the putative chaperonage of Lord Kent’s family, besides, she had wanted a chance to speak with Jack and here was the perfect opportunity.

She took his arm. It immediately felt right to be at his side like this, and as he smiled down at her she thought that he felt the same way too. They walked in silence for a few minutes while she tried to work out how to broach the subject of how he saw her, then Jack spoke.

‘Did you know there is no garden access from the balcony at the back of the Cavendish’s ballroom?’ he asked in a conversational tone.

‘No, I -’ Annabel stopped abruptly and glared up at him, annoyed that he had brought up the subject of her ball dress once more, besides she had intended that she would be the one doing the interrogating, not Jack. ‘What concern is it of yours how I got my dress smudged at the Cavendish’s ball?’ she demanded. ‘I’m not your little sister!’ She glared up at him, quite pleased with how she had worked that point into the conversation.

‘No,’ he said, looking at her through narrowed eyes, ‘you’re not.’ That cleared up that question, but Jack was not finished. ‘Nevertheless I still want to know what you were doing that evening and how you came to be marked with charcoal.’

‘I am not going to tell you!’ she replied heatedly and tried to tug her arm out of his grasp however he would not let her go but instead caught her other hand and swung her around to face him.

‘It’s important, Annabel,’ he said. His blue eyes, so close to hers were mesmerising, compelling and she longed to tell him everything, she wanted to tell him what she had overheard when she was hiding in the fireplace and how annoying she frequently found Justine and most of all she wanted to tell him what he meant to her, but she wouldn’t, Mrs Black’s daughter would never be so foolish as to throw herself at a man.

‘Why is it important?’ she said instead, hearing her voice come out breathlessly as if she were speaking her innermost thoughts instead of asking a simple question.

Dusk was falling, Jack pulled her closer as if to protect her from the chill of the evening and Annabel felt drunk on the warmth of his nearness, sure that if he asked her again what she had been doing at the ball she would not be able to resist telling him the truth. But Jack looked quite miserable. ‘I can’t tell you why I need to know,’ he said and added ‘do you trust me?’

She couldn’t help it, he looked so uncharacteristically uncertain, as if her answer were terribly important to him, as if what she said might change the course of his life, in return for his vulnerability trusting him seemed such a small thing to do. Impulsively, without any thought for propriety or consequences, but purely acting on her need to obey her heart, she kissed him. His lips were as warm and firm as she remembered and although for a moment he seemed stunned by her audacity he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and kissing her thoroughly. It seemed to last for an eternity, Annabel forgot about all the other visitors to the gardens, forgot Jack’s questions about that night at the ball, and completely forgot the existence of Justine. She was where she most wanted to be and nothing else mattered.

‘You were quite right about that parasol, it was ridiculous!’ Justine’s voice floated clearly through the hedge next to them and Annabel and Jack sprang apart. ‘Now I really must return to my sister, I have neglected her for quite long enough,’ Justine added firmly. The path she would take rounded the end of the hedge and came straight past them, Justine would see them together for certain. Annabel’s only thought was that she did not want Justine to find her with Jack, she felt she could not bear any more of her patronizing comments and that what she and Jack had between them was far to tenuous to be held up for scrutiny. A little grove of yew trees stood nearby, Annabel dived among them trusting in the gathering darkness to hide her among their trunks just before Justine appeared.

‘Mr Denham!’ she heard Justine exclaim as she tiptoed further through the grove, and she wondered vaguely why her sister was addressing Jack so formally. She heard Jack reply but could not make out the words, then her shoe crunched on a gravel path along which a few shadowy figures strolled and she found that she had emerged on the far side of the grove. She stared about a little wildly, it wasn’t truly dark, and in the distance she could see strings of lights suspended from the trees, but she had never been out in the twilight like this, alone but in the proximity of strangers.

A sole figure, a man, detached himself from the darkness and walked towards her. For a moment Annabel froze and then as decidedly as she could she turned on her heel and began to march towards the distant lights but the man’s strides were longer than hers and she could feel him gaining on her. She walked more rapidly, but it was no good, her new boots and her long skirts hampered her. The man closed in on her.

‘Miss Beresford,’ he said.

‘Miss Beresford?’ someone else said behind her. ‘Surely it’s Miss Black? I said good evening to Miss Beresford not moments before. I think you are mistaken, sir.’ It was Mr Leahey and Annabel would never have thought she would have been so pleased to see him.

‘My apologies,’ said the other man and seemed to melt back into the shadows.

‘I’ve just seen your sister,’ Mr Leahey continued blithely, seemingly completely unaware of the way Annabel’s heart was pounding and of her inability to speak. ‘She was chatting with Jack and another fellow, Jack didn’t look very pleased, he’s been as grumpy as a bear since his latest scheme to catch that art thief failed, so I beat a hasty retreat.’

‘Wh- what scheme?’ Annabel asked, trying to distract herself from her fright, but as Mr Leahy described it she found herself becoming both enthralled and aghast.

‘It was at the Cavendish’s ball,’ Mr Leahey said as they strolled along the path. ‘There was a little painting, I can’t recall who by, but it was counted as the plum piece of the collection so Jack decided to use it as bait.’

‘The da Vinci,’ Annabel said at once.

‘Yes, that was it. Well Jack coated the frame with soot and chalk, black and white, certain to mark the thief’s clothes but subtle enough that he wouldn’t notice it, then he had men watching all the exits to see whose attire was blemished.’ A crawling tongue of horror seemed to inch its way down Annabel’s back.

‘Soot?’ she echoed weakly.

‘Yes,’ Mr Leahey said. ‘Quite brilliant really, even if the thief had noticed it he would have taken it for dust and thought nothing of it.’ Soot, and she had been covered in it, Jack had noticed and she had refused to tell him what she had been doing, no wonder he was so persistent in wanting to know what she had been up to.

‘The only trouble was, it didn’t work, the thief made off with the painting and none of Jack’s men spotted any one whose clothed were marked, so you can see why Jack’s in such a bad mood, can’t you?’ Mr Leahey concluded cheerfully. But even if he had found no one else Jack had discovered her covered in soot, Annabel thought, too stricken to answer Mr Leahey, so did that make her his prime suspect? Surely he couldn’t believe she was the art thief, could he?

Desperately she turned to Mr Leahey. ‘Didn’t you see anyone, anyone at all with soot or chalk on his clothes?’

‘I wasn’t looking for anyone,’ Mr Leahey said cheerfully, ‘I didn’t know about the trap until later. After the fiasco at Almack’s Jack decided I was hopeless as a watcher, even if I know all about paintings.’ She knew she’d been clutching at a straw but Annabel’s heart sank even further, it was no wonder Jack had been treating her so strangely, she had pointed out the very painting which was to be stolen and a little later her clothes had borne the evidence of his trap, furthermore she had been present when every other theft had taken place, and then it came to her, Jack hadn’t been investigating the Blacks to see if they were respectable enough guardians for the Beresfords’ eldest daughter, he had been digging around in their background to see if they were a family of criminals! ‘I appear to have upset you,’ Mr Leahey said, seeming to notice her silence at last.