Stolen Love (31 page)

"Yes, so you mustn't be surprised if he is one of the first to call on you."

"Enough about Mr. Johns and this thief nonsense." Havoc stood up. "Something else happened while you were away, Elizabeth."

"What is that, Uncle Havoc?"

"Come with me, and I'll show you."

Nicholas stood up when he heard Mr. Baker walking down the hall to the front door. He went to the sitting room door in time to see Elizabeth hand something to Mr. Baker.

"Will you take this upstairs to our room?" she said. "Put it on the table by the window, would you please?"

"Yes, ma'am." Mr. Baker cleared his throat. "Mr. Villines is in the sitting room, madam. He would like you to join them as soon as you can."

"Oh? Who is he with?"

"A Mr. Percy Johns." Mr. Baker paused. "Of the Metropolitan Police."

"Thank you, Baker," she said slowly.

Nicholas kissed Elizabeth on the cheek when she came in. "Here she is at last," he said to Mr. Johns, who was standing before the window, hands clasped behind his back, staring intently at the view of Regent's Park.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Johns," she said.

He turned abruptly at her greeting. She sat on a chair before the table and indicated he should do the same. Johns inclined his head but did not sit down. "I am very sorry to disturb you and your husband, Mrs. Villines, but I need to take a moment of your time."

"Of course."

Nicholas smiled encouragingly when she gave him a concerned look. "He wants to show you some letters, that's all, Elizabeth."

Johns looked apologetic. "I'm afraid police investigations are tedious for everyone involved." He took two sheets of paper from his pocket and unfolded them carefully. "Your husband has already told me he does not recognize the hand, but—" he shrugged "—I shouldn't like to be accused of not being thorough." When he had given them to her, he took a seat across from her then said, "Have you any comment to make on them, Mrs. Villines?"

She looked at Johns when she had finished reading. "Both of them seem to have been written by a philanthropist."

"Do they suggest anything to you?"

"They suggest there is at least one person in London who helps those less fortunate than himself." She let go of the letter she held, letting it fall to the table, then glanced at Nicholas. "I admire and respect whoever wrote these."

"You do not recognize them as being in your husband's hand?" The question was sharp.

Her eyes widened. "No. I'm sure if Nicholas were responsible for them, he would own up to it. Why don't you ask him for a writing sample, if you are so eager to establish him as the author."

"He already has, Elizabeth," Nicholas replied. "But he seems dissatisfied with the result."

She nudged the letters with one finger. "Is it important to prove to you Nicholas did not write these?"

"Is it possible to do so?" Johns asked.

"I've been corresponding with him since I was a girl, and I know his writing like my own. I'd be happy to show you one of his letters to me if you would care to see one."

"Very much so."

Alone in the sitting room, neither man spoke until Elizabeth returned and handed a letter to Mr. Johns. He placed it on the table next to the two he'd brought. The writing was in no way similar.

"Are you satisfied now, Mr. Johns?" Nicholas asked when the policeman had compared Elizabeth's letter with the ones he had brought.

Johns merely grunted in response. He turned away from the table without picking up the letters, though he remained seated. "No doubt you know about the theft of Lady Lewesfield's emeralds," he said to Elizabeth.

"The papers were full of the story. I understand they have not yet been recovered."

"Unfortunately, that is so." He tapped his knee with a forefinger. "Would you mind if I ask you a few questions about the evening of Lord Lewesfield's ball?"

"No." She sat down again and he swung around on the chair to face her.

"Do you recall our meeting that night?" Johns did not give her a chance to reply. "I cannot seem to forget it. You wore a most spectacular gown, Mrs. Villines." He gave Nicholas a sideways glance. "What struck me was how little jewelry you wore compared to the other ladies."

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "I did not then own much, Mr. Johns."

"You were wearing a necklace with a gold ring on it."

"Mr. Johns," Nicholas said abruptly, made apprehensive by the direction his questions had taken. "I fail to see the relevance—"

"It's all right, Nicholas, I don't mind." She folded her hands in her lap. "I'm flattered that you remember me so well, Mr. Johns. You are correct. The ring is my mother's wedding band."

"When I saw you later in the evening, Mrs. Villines, you were not wearing the necklace." He fell silent, waiting for Elizabeth to respond. "Are you reluctant to tell me how you lost it?" he prompted, with another quick glance at Nicholas.

Elizabeth's cool response was a surprise. "What possible difference could it make, Mr. Johns?"

"It might make all the difference in the world, Mrs. Villines." He leaned forward. "Did you see anything unusual that night?"

"What do you mean by unusual?" She shrugged to indicate she did not think she had.

"Anything at all." He watched her unblinkingly.

"I saw nothing. Or, rather, I saw nothing that struck me as unusual."

"Mrs. Villines, I believe you did see something."

Nicholas did not like the almost predatory expression on Johns's face. He started to interrupt, but Johns silenced him with a sharp gesture.

"I can't imagine what you mean, Mr. Johns."

"I mean, you were seen leaving a hallway which you should not have been able to enter under normal circumstances.
I
call that unusual."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

"It was at…" He paused to take a notebook from his coat pocket. After flipping through it, he stopped, perused the page, and then looked up. "Around midnight, Mrs. Villines. Most of the guests were either dancing or still partaking of the meal provided by His Lordship. You, however, were doing neither." He stabbed at the page with his index finger. "You were just leaving a portion of the house, the north wing, to be precise, that was forbidden to the guests. I am curious about why you were there, Mrs. Villines, and I am curious about what you may have seen."

Nicholas spoke up. "Mr. Johns, she has already told you she saw nothing."

He turned to Nicholas. "Nevertheless, I would like to hear your wife's answer."

"My husband is correct, I saw nothing." She lifted her hands, palm upward. "Nothing worth remarking, at any rate, or I should be able to tell you something more to your satisfaction."

"Forgive me for persisting, Mrs. Villines. But it is important for me to know why you were there."

Her expression hardened. "I was upset, and I wanted to be alone."

"About what were you upset?"

"Something which I consider to be of an exceedingly personal nature." She looked down at her lap.

"Such as?"

"Is it necessary for you to know?"

"The subject fascinates me, Mrs. Villines." His voice was suddenly kind, cajoling even. "There were men posted to keep the guests from that part of the house."

"Very well. I was upset because my cousin, Miss Amelia Willard, had led me to believe that Nicholas, my husband, was in love with her. I believed her lies. I thought he was going to marry her, in spite of—" She bit her lip and looked at Johns from under her eyelashes.

"In spite of what, Mrs. Villines?"

"Mr. Johns, I was, I am, deeply attached to my husband, and that night, I let him kiss me." Johns frowned. "Rather passionately, I'm afraid. Later, Amelia let me think he had also kissed her. He hadn't, not really, but how was I to know? I wanted to be alone after what Amelia told me, and to be honest, I hardly knew where I was going."

"And where did you go?"

She looked directly into John's eyes. "According to you, I went to the north wing of the house. Wherever it was, I stayed in the hallway." Nicholas suppressed a start at the unexpected statement. "It would have been rather forward of me to go into one of the earl's private rooms."

Nicholas took a seat near Elizabeth, leaning one arm along the top rail of the chair and rubbing a finger nervously against the smooth wood. It was not like her to dissemble this way. He studied her, wondering.

"I sat on a small settee at the end of the hall, quite alone and quite undisturbed," she continued, "until I was certain I could face Nicholas and Amelia if I saw them."

"How long were you there?"

"I don't know. It seemed like a long time, more than that I cannot tell you."

"And you saw no one? It is vital that I know, Mrs. Villines."

"No one." She shook her head. "Mr. Johns…" She pressed her hands flat on the table. "The last thing I wanted was to see anyone. If, as you say, that wing was restricted, then I can only respond such was not the case when I was there. Whoever was guarding the hallway was not doing his job."

"Indeed, he was at the moment unable to do so, seeing as how someone had garroted him." Johns smiled at Elizabeth's horrified reaction. "Garroting, when skillfully done, is a quiet and efficient method of rendering a man unconscious. Among certain elements in London, it is considered an art. When performed clumsily, or with the intention of causing death, the result can be an unpleasant thing to see."

Elizabeth became pale. "Do you mean to say someone was killed?"

"Fortunately, no. Whoever it was, was skillful. My man was quickly made insensible. He was also skillfully bound. It took him close to—"he glanced at his notebook"—twenty minutes to free himself. During those twenty-some minutes, almost anyone might have had access to that part of the house. You, Mrs. Villines, are one person known positively to have been there."

"Surely you don't think I stole Lady Lewesfield's necklace?"

"No." He smiled. "You are not tall enough to have conveniently garroted my officer. And, if you will forgive an indelicacy, my man would have noticed being in close contact with a woman while he was being attacked. For that reason, and others not important at the moment, I have concluded it was a man who assaulted my officer." He put away his notebook.

She leaned back, color slowly returning to her cheeks. "Have you finished asking me questions, Mr. Johns?"

"I have just a few more, if you don't mind."

"Of course not."

"What did you do when you left the hall?"

"I returned to the ballroom."

"Do you recall what time this was?"

She thought about it. "Well, on my way back, I recall hearing a clock chiming midnight, which surprised me because I thought it was much later. I knew that Nicholas had asked Amelia for a dance after supper, and I was hoping to avoid seeing them together." She smiled ruefully.

Johns reached for his letters and folded them. "Are you quite sure you saw no one? Think before you answer. Perhaps you saw someone you know?" He replaced them in his pocket.

"I saw no one," she said apologetically.

"You are sure you did not see your husband, for example?"

"I most certainly did see Nicholas. I shall never forget it."

Johns did not take his eyes off Nicholas. "Where was he when you saw him?" A triumphant smile was on his lips.

"He was about to claim his dance with Amelia."

The policeman scowled. "You have no doubt of this?"

"None at all." Elizabeth was indignant. "You seem astonished, Mr. Johns," she said. "I'm sure if you ask my cousin, Amelia, she'll confirm that she and Nicholas danced after supper."

"I have," he said. "She did indeed tell me much the same thing, but according to her it was later than midnight."

She smiled. "Well, of course it was. I told you I saw him about to claim his dance. He was waiting for Amelia to finish dancing with the partner she had."

"You are certain of the time?"

"Yes." She drew her eyebrows together. "Mr. Johns, I don't understand why you keep asking me the same questions. Do you hope to get a different answer if only you ask it often enough?"

"Mrs. Villines, please." He lifted his hands as if to appease her anger. "I am satisfied with your explanation for being in the restricted part of the house." He scowled once more, then slowly let out a breath. "Is it not possible," he suggested in a calmer tone, "that your memory is merely… incomplete? There's no harm in admitting that. Perhaps you did go into one of the rooms, Mrs. Villines. Under the circumstances, I don't see how one could find fault with your wanting to be alone."

"I admit I was distraught."

"Is it not possible you went into one of the rooms and there were relieved of your necklace by the Mayfair Thief?"

Elizabeth burst into laughter. "Do you really think I could forget such a thing? I assure you I would have been frightened out of my mind if something like that had happened, and I would not be likely to forget it." Her smile faded. "I will tell you once more. I did not go into any of the private rooms and I did not see anyone while I was in the hallway."

Johns leapt to his feet. "How did you lose your necklace, Mrs. Villines, can you tell me that?"

Elizabeth's composure was impressive. "I'm afraid not."

"Why is that?" he demanded.

"Because I did not lose it. The chain broke, and I took it off."

"Then you will be able to show it to me, won't you?"

"Yes."

"You needn't do any such thing, Elizabeth," Nicholas interjected. "Mr. Johns, your questions are becoming tiresome and harassing. I won't have you badgering my wife in this fashion."

"Please, both of you." Elizabeth rose and crossed the room to ring for Mr. Baker, telling him, when he arrived, to bring her jewelry box to the sitting room.

There was a moment of silence during which Nicholas stared at her, wondering what in God's name she meant to accomplish. She knew the truth, he realized. His life, their life together, was in her hands.

Johns drew himself up when he saw Nicholas suddenly lean back and smile. "Your wife has not exonerated you by any means, Mr. Villines."