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Then again, neither her father, nor his elegant friends, nor the others of that ilk she had met, had possessed a sense of humor. At least, not the sort of sparring, fencing humor Vane Cynster deployed. It was very hard to resist the challenge of striking back-of joining in the game.
Patience's frown deepened. Then she blinked, stiffened, and swept across the room to return her empty teacup to the trolley.
Vane Cynster was definitely corrupting.
Chapter 3
Vane helped Mi
Mi
I know. Vane suppressed the words. "How so?" He set the door wide.
"There's something strange going on." Leaning heavily on her cane now she was no longer "in public," Mi
Vane propped his shoulder against the mantelpiece. "Tell me."
Mi
Vane inclined his head. "What did you notice?"
"The thefts started first. Little things-small items of jewelry, snuff boxes, trinkets, knickknacks. Anything small and portable-things that could fit in a pocket."
Vane's face hardened. "How many thefts have there been?"
"I don't know. None of us do. Often, things have been gone for days, even weeks, before they're noticed as missing. They're those sort of things."
Things that might fall into a flower bed. Vane frowned. "You said the thefts came first-what followed?"
"Odd happenings." Mi
"A ghost?" Vane blinked. "There are no ghosts here."
"Because you and Devil would have found them if there had been?" Mi
"No new servants-new helpers in the gardens?"
Mi
"Hmm." Vane straightened. The disapproval aimed at Gerrard Debbington started to make sense. "What does this Spectre do?"
"It makes noises, for a start." Mi
"What sort of noises?"
"Moans and clunks-and a grating noise, as if stones are grinding against each other."
Vane nodded. He and Devil had shifted enough stones in the ruins for him to remember the sound vividly.
"And then there's lights darting about the ruins. You know what it's like here-even in summer, we get a ground fog at night, rolling up from the river."
"Has anyone attempted to catch this Spectre?"
Chins setting, Mi
"And have they all held to their promise?"
"As far as I know." Mi
"Which means if he's getting out and in without being detected, others could." Vane folded his arms. "Go through the household-who has any interest in the ruins?"
Mi
Vane could imagine. "None of the other women or Henry Chadwick has any particular interest?"
Mi
"That's quite a cast of characters-five men all told."
"Exactly." Mi
Vane looked down, into Mi
But he couldn't refuse, couldn't walk away-every particle of his Cynster character refused to consider it. Cynsters never accepted defeat, although they often courted danger. Mi
Vane refocused on Mi
A shrill scream split the stillness, rending the night.
Vane hauled open Mi
The source of the screams was Mrs. Chadwick.
When he reached her she was near swooning, propped against a side table, one hand pressed to her ample breast.
"A man!" She clutched Vane's sleeve and pointed down the corridor. "In a long cloak-I saw him standing there, just in front of my door." *
The door in question was shrouded in gloom. Only one sconce holding a single candle lit the corridor, casting a weak glow by the intersection behind them. Footsteps came hurrying, pounding on the polished floors. Vane put Mrs. Chadwick from him. "Wait here."
Boldly, he strode down the corridor.
There was no one lurking in the shadows. He strode to the end, to where stairs led up and down. There was no sound of retreating footsteps. Vane retraced his steps. The household was gathering about Mrs. Chadwick-Patience and Gerrard were there; so, too, was Edgar. Reaching Mrs. Chadwick's door, Vane set it wide, then entered.
There was no one in the room, either.
By the time he returned to Mrs. Chadwick, she was bathed in light cast by a candelabrum Patience held high and sipping water from a glass. Her color had improved.
"I'd just come from Angela's room." She glanced fleetingly at Vane; he could have sworn her color deepened. "We were having a little chat." She took another sip, then continued, her voice strengthening, "I was going to my room when I saw him." She pointed down the corridor. "Right there."
"Standing before your door?"
Mrs. Chadwick nodded. "With his hand on the latch."
Just going in. Considering the time it had taken him to traverse half the house, the thief-if that's who it had been-would have had ample time to disappear. Vane frowned. "You said something about a cloak."
Mrs. Chadwick nodded. "A long cloak."
Or the skirts of a woman's dress. Vane looked back down the corridor. Even with the additional light thrown by the candelabrum, it would be hard to be sure if a figure was male or female. And a thief could be either.