Chapter 12
Alarge house on the edge of Hampstead Heath had to be Stoneleigh, where Archibald Mathers was staying. But why did Mr. Bradbury want Mr. Watson to burgle it?
The simple answer was the one Mr. Watson himself proposed.
Mr. Bradbury needed money, and he needed it quickly.
He’d told several people about the pirate treasure, including his fortune-hunting fiancée, Mrs. Corrin, and sooner or later he’d have to show proof of his claim.
Perhaps he’d contacted Archie Mathers in the hope he could borrow it off him, or have him steal it from his mother’s cousin the earl, but changed his mind when Mr. Mathers begged him for a loan.
He’d then enlisted the services of a man he could manipulate into doing the burglary instead.
I didn’t realize I’d leaned forward until my hair went taut with Harmony pulling me back. I resumed my position. “Mr. Watson, do you have a criminal background?”
His gaze flicked to Floyd who was still managing to do a very good impersonation of an intimidating fellow. “Just a petty theft once, nothing more. I did my time and ain’t been in trouble since.”
“And did Chester Bradbury know?”
Mr. Mathers shrugged. “He must have. I reckon Arkwright told him, or Arkwright’s publisher. I’ve been to their office a lot, asking politely if they could put me in touch with Arkwright, seeing as I was Blackheart’s legitimate heir and the treasure should be mine by rights of inheritance.”
“Politely?” Floyd prompted.
“All right, I confess—I got told to leave the publisher’s office by the local pigs once. I reckon it was them who told the publisher that I did time.”
“Do you know a man by the name of Mathers?”
Mr. Watson shook his head.
That didn’t mean Mr. Mathers wasn’t a party to the crime Mr. Bradbury had asked Bill Watson to commit, but I leaned more toward him being an innocent victim who was about to be asked by his old university friend to get Mr. Watson a job at Stoneleigh House.
“Thank you, Mr. Watson,” I said. “I have one more question before you go. Where were you on Tuesday prior to a quarter to one?”
Mr. Watson suddenly seemed more sober than he had been up until that point as he regarded me levelly. “At work at the docks.”
“Can anyone verify that?”
“Aye. A lot of people saw me. Just ask around.”
Asking hundreds of dockworkers if they’d seen Mr. Watson throughout the entire morning would take a lot of time.
If Scotland Yard were interested in looking for suspects beyond Goliath, they could assign men to the task, but they weren’t.
From the challenging look Mr. Watson gave me, he knew that.
He wasn’t as drunk or as foolish as he made out.
There was a knock at the door, which Floyd went to open. When Mr. Watson saw Victor, he seemed to finally accept his mission was doomed to failure.
“I’ll go quietly,” he said. “But I want you to tell Arkwright that I have a right to know about my grandfather’s treasure. He can’t keep it a secret from me forever.”
If Mr. Watson could prove he was Blackheart’s grandson then he was absolutely right. “I’ll speak to Mr. Arkwright tomorrow,” I said.
“Thank you, Miss Fox. A very good evening to you. And to you, pretty Miss Maid,” he added with a wink for Harmony.
Victor grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and shoved him toward the exit.
“Oi!” Mr. Watson cried. “What’s your problem?”
“Show some respect.”
“I did! I just said she was pretty. What’s wrong with that?”
Victor didn’t respond, most likely because he couldn’t, or he’d have to admit he was simply being rough because he didn’t like another man showing interest in his girl. That was the sort of brute behavior Harmony wouldn’t like.
Once they were gone, Floyd dusted off his hands as if he’d personally thrown out the rubbish. “I think I handled that rather well.”
Harmony was in the final stages of pinning my hair in place, so I remained still so as not to get stabbed in the scalp. “Were you coming to see me for any particular reason, Floyd, or were you simply roaming the corridor for something to do?”
“I wanted to tell you to dance with Mathers tonight, Cleo.”
“Why him in particular?”
“Because he’s from a good family. He’s a little older than you, but not so much that the difference makes people cringe. He’s also intelligent and good company, if you enjoy discussing things like books and museums.”
“Which I do.”
“There. I knew you’d like him.”
I regarded him levelly. “Floyd, he’s a suspect in my investigation.”
He sighed. “I suppose you’re right. In that case, I change my mind. No dancing with the man who might be the killer.”
“No, I meant he’s a suspect therefore I will dance with him as much as possible. I’m glad you approve, Floyd. Indeed, not only do you approve, but you’re pushing me deeper into this investigation.”
He frowned and walked off, only to stop. The frown deepened. “What if Mathers turns out to be guilty?”
“Then you’ll have played a hand in his capture. Well done, Floyd. Your father will be pleased.”
His gaze narrowed. “You think I’ll swallow your false flattery, Cleo?
I’m not a fool.” He walked off again. “You may dance with Mathers only as many times as necessary, and no more. And do not, under any circumstances, consider him as a genuine marriage prospect. I don’t want you fluttering your eyelashes at a murderer. ” He left, closing the door behind him.
Harmony gave me a hand mirror to study my hair arrangement. Instead, I studied her. Her dark eyes danced merrily and her lips curved into a smile. “What do you think?”
I smiled back at her reflection. “Perfect.”
* * *
Stoneleigh House materialized from the evening mist with all the brilliance of a soprano taking center stage for her solo.
The swinging lamps of carriages, the flaming torches lining the drive and the large Oriental lanterns marking the entrance lit up the manor with dazzling effect.
I’d been to some magnificent settings for balls this year, but Stoneleigh House was the only one that stole my breath upon first sight.
My more jaded cousins led the way inside without so much as a gasp of wonder at the abundance of white roses in full bloom.
They cascaded over the sides of overfull vases, clung to the staircase balustrade, and dripped from the ceiling like floral stalactites.
An ensemble played a gentle tune as staff took our coats.
I caught a whiff of orange blossom, but I wasn’t sure if it came from an invisible source or the elegantly dressed lady ahead of us.
The ballroom was even more spectacular. Floral arrangements had no respect for the season, as blooms of roses, orchids, and peonies filled yet more vases.
Prisms of light from the crystal chandeliers reflected back into the room from gilt-framed mirrors and made the jewels worn by the ladies sparkle.
The earl’s family crest appeared on the coffered ceiling panels, the stone mantelpiece, and on the dance cards handed out upon arrival.
Mr. Mathers introduced us to his mother’s cousin the earl and his wife the countess.
The elderly couple welcomed us, and seemed delighted to have some younger guests at their ball, albeit ones who’d been added belatedly to the list. Looking around, I could see that it might not be as much fun as my cousins had hoped.
Most of the guests were older. If Flossy could find enough eligible bachelors to fill her dance card, I’d wager several would be widowers.
Harry always stood out wherever he went.
His dashing good looks and height made sure of that.
He was a more impressive sight tonight amongst the older men.
Or perhaps I was biased toward him. His formal evening wear sat well on his athletic frame, although I preferred his hair to look a little less perfect.
Ruffled up by my fingers after a kiss was how I liked it.
I dared not tell him that with so many people close by, and my cousin breathing down my neck.
“What’s he doing here?” Floyd grumbled in my ear when he spotted Harry.
“The same as me,” I said. “Investigating.”
“How did he get an invitation at such short notice?”
“Archibald Mathers is a friend of his.”
“He is? From where?”
“The hotel.”
“No,” he said with a humorless laugh. “Armitage was staff and Mathers a guest.”
“And yet they became friends. It does happen, Floyd.”
He didn’t seem to notice my sarcasm. Something had occurred to him, and it wasn’t the fact that Harry was friends with a man who could be a murderer.
“Get him to ask Mathers why he stopped staying at the Mayfair when he’s in London.
Can’t imagine he’d enjoy being stuck all the way out here when he can be in the thick of it at the hotel. ”
I rounded on him. “Why don’t you ask Harry yourself. He won’t bite. Or better yet, ask Mr. Mathers directly. He’s just there, on his own.” I gave him a little shove in Mr. Mathers’s direction.
“All right, I will.”
When he walked off, I left Flossy to chat with people she knew, and made my way toward Harry, standing on his own.
“You look lonely,” I said. “So I thought I should keep you company.”
“Actually, I was about to ask the most beautiful lady in the room if she could spare a dance for me later.”
I looked around. “Oh? Which one?”
“The one dressed in pale green, who takes my breath away every time she draws near.”
I stared up into his fathomless dark eyes. He stared back. Neither of us moved, not even blinking. The music, other guests and dancers all faded for a few delicious, heady moments, and it was just Harry and me.
I knew we couldn’t exclude the world for long. People would notice. Floyd would notice. But Harry’s gaze was too compelling, and I didn’t have the willpower to look away.
It was he who broke the spell by clearing his throat. “So can you spare a dance for me later, Cleo?”
“Oh. Yes.” I studied my dance card. “Which one?”