What on earth could they be talking about?

Chapter 23

After ascertaining that Julianne was safely ensconced in the small sitting room chatting with her friends-away from the windows and where he could see her through the open door-Gideon pulled Charles Rayburn aside and told him about the kidnappers' plan to kill him.

"Appears you've stepped on someone's toes," Rayburn said when he finished.

"Yes," Gideon agreed. "The question remains, whose?" Just then he spotted a familiar face across the room and he nudged Rayburn. "That woman, with the dark hair wearing the rose gown. Who is she?"

Rayburn craned his neck. "The one standing with Walston and Penniwick?"

"Yes."

"That's Lady Celia. She's Walston's sister, visiting from Dorset."

Gideon froze. For several seconds it seemed as if he couldn't even breathe. Snippets of conversation and facts of the investigation flashed through his mind: pieces of a puzzle that he hadn't yet been able to put in the proper formation. And then, like gears turning in perfect unison, those snippets and facts clicked into place. He took a moment to carefully review, to make certain he wasn't mistaken. Then his gaze settled upon the person he sought. The last clue to the puzzle. Standing across the room, looking elegant, chatting with friends. And Gideon knew he was right.

"Is something amiss, Mayne?" Rayburn asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Gideon turned toward him. "I have," he said, his voice grim. "Now I all have to do is catch it." And now was the perfect time. But he had to act quickly. His mind racing, he swiftly formulated a strategy. "I have a plan. But we'll need help." Once again he scanned the room, halting when he saw who he was searching for. "Follow me."

He walked to the far end of the room, Rayburn on his heels, halting when he reached the trio standing there. "I know who the murdering ghost robber is," Gideon said in an undertone to Matthew, Daniel, Logan, and Rayburn. "We have the opportunity to catch the person here. Now. I have a plan. Do you want to help?"

"Yes," Logan said without hesitation.

"Count me in," said Matthew.

"Me, too," added Daniel.

"Good," said Gideon. "Here's what I want you to do."


* * *

Gideon approached Lord Haverly. "A moment of your time, Haverly, if you don't mind," he said, nodding toward the corner to afford them some privacy.

"What do you want?" Haverly asked, looking none too pleased at being pulled away from his conversation.

Gideon held out his hand. "I believe this belongs to you."

Haverly's eyes widened, and he reached for the gold pocket watch resting in Gideon's palm. "Where did you find it?"

"In the pocket of one of the men who kidnapped Lady Julianne."

"Indeed?" Haverly's eyes shifted. "Then what makes you think it's mine?"

"The fact that your name is engraved on the inside was a rather telling clue," Gideon said dryly.

Haverly's skin turned a mottled red. "Bastards. Not only are they kidnappers but thieves as well."

"They claim they didn't steal it. They say it was given to them. As partial payment for kidnapping Lady Julianne."

Now all the color drained from Haverly's face. "Surely you don't believe it was I who commissioned them."

"Wasn't it?"

"Certainly not! Why would I want to kidnap Lady Julianne? I want to marry her."

"Perhaps because she's going to marry someone else?"

"That is a reason to be disappointed. Not to kidnap her."

"Then how do you explain how the kidnapper had your watch?"

"Obviously, he stole it from me."

"When did you see it last?"

Haverly frowned. "Earlier this evening. When I first arrived. I consulted it just before entering the party."

Haverly's answer only served to confirm to Gideon that his theory was correct. He nodded toward the man approaching them. "The magistrate is interested in speaking with you."

Without another word, Gideon walked away. Scanning the crowd, his gaze fell on his next quarry, who, he noted, was watching Haverly and Rayburn. Gideon crossed the room, halting in front of the duke.

"I've some news," Gideon said. "Is there somewhere private we can talk? Your study perhaps?"

The duke's sharp gaze assessed him, then flicked back to Haverly and Rayburn. He nodded in their direction. "What's going on there?"

"That's partly what I want to discuss with you. It seems Haverly's in a bit of a… bad situation. But I don't wish to discuss it here."

"My study then," he agreed and led the way into the corridor. A moment later they entered a darkly paneled room that smelled of fine leather, beeswax, and tobacco. A fire burned in the grate, casting the room in flickering shadows. The duke settled himself in the leather chair behind a massive mahogany desk, then indicated Gideon take the chair opposite him.

"I prefer to stand," Gideon said.

"Very well. What did you want to discuss with me?"

"A new development. Haverly's watch was given to the kidnappers as partial payment for abducting Lady Julianne."

Something flickered in the duke's eyes, something Gideon recognized but that was gone so quickly he might have missed it if he hadn't been watching for it. Then the duke's gaze turned glacial. "You're saying he's responsible? That bastard." His fist slammed onto the mahogany desk. "All those murders, all those robberies. Thank God you've stopped him. I trust Rayburn is taking him into custody?"

"Actually, no."

The duke frowned. "Why not?"

"Because although the watch belonged to Haverly, he isn't the person who hired the kidnappers."

"Then who did?"

"You did."

The duke stared at him for several seconds then laughed. "You think I hired those men to kidnap Lady Julianne? Really, Mayne. I suspected you were incompetent, but this is-"

"I don't think you did. I know it. Absolutely. Will and Perdy, the men you hired, are very observant fellows. Fellows who spend a great deal of time studying the wealthy people they target. They recognized your voice, Your Grace," he lied without batting an eye and without the slightest twinge of remorse. "And in spite of the hood you wore, they recognized you."

The duke cocked a single brow. "No one will take the word of two criminals over mine. They couldn't possibly have seen anything in the dark."

Gideon slowly smiled. "I never said it was dark."

For several seconds the duke didn't react, then pure hatred flared in his eyes. He shrugged, a casual gesture, but Gideon saw the tension in his shoulders. "I merely assumed it would be dark."

"No, you knew it was. Because you were there. Tonight. Paying them with Haverly's watch. Which you stole. Just like you stole his snuffbox the night of Daltry's party."

The duke leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "This is quite a story you've concocted, Mayne." He waved his hand in a rolling motion. "Please continue to entertain me."

"With pleasure. You stole Haverly's snuffbox and watch to implicate him. You purposely left the snuffbox near the window you left open during Daltry's party. Your plan was to return later that night to steal Lady Daltry's jewels."

The hatred in the duke's eyes had gone from a mere flare to a steady burn. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. When you returned later that night, you found the window locked. How do I know? Because I locked it. Your plan was thwarted, but you didn't worry. After all, you'd already killed Lady Ratherstone and Mrs. Greeley and gotten away with it. Who would suspect you?

"The day after the party, you waited until Daltry went to his club, then you returned to the house and robbed and killed Lady Daltry. She would have let you in through some little-used servants' entrance to avoid detection. Just as you robbed and killed Lady Hart earlier today. You knew she'd be alone in the house as you'd been having secret trysts there regularly for the past month."

Gideon set his hands on the desk and leaned forward until he was eye level with the duke. "Walston's sister, Lady Celia, was to be your next victim."

"Celia? Now I know you're mad. I barely know her."

"You know her well enough to have had sex with her earlier this evening."

The duke narrowed his eyes. "There's no way you could prove that."

"Are you calling the lady a liar?"Gideon asked softly.

Gideon could read the cold calculation in the duke's eyes, could almost see his mind racing at the implication that Lady Celia had admitted their tryst, an implication he had no way of knowing was false. Discovering that the woman he'd seen enter the room after the duke earlier tonight was Walston's sister had made everything finally click in Gideon's mind. Except for Gatesbourne, whose daughter was being threatened, and the three men from Cornwall no one but the duke knew anything about, Walston was the only man on the list who hadn't yet had a woman important to him robbed and murdered.

The duke steepled his fingers and touched them to his chin. "I am calling you mistaken, Mayne. Not only are you incompetent, you're insane. What possible reason would I have for robbing anyone? For killing those women?"

Gideon straightened, then said, "The oldest motives in the world: money and revenge. All revolving around the failed business deal between you and nine other men."

Gideon could see by the duke's expression that he'd hit his mark. Pressing his advantage, he continued. "At first there were only seven of you. You, Gatesbourne, Walston, Penniwick, Daltry, Jasper, and Ratherstone. You each put up ten thousand pounds in a venture guaranteed to quadruple your money. But you saw a chance to gain even more. You brought in three more investors-your friends from Cornwall, Count Chalon, Mr. Standish, and Mr. Tate-who each put up ten thousand pounds."

Gideon paused for several seconds, then said, "But there was no Count Chalon, Mr. Standish, or Mr. Tate. You made them up. Your greed led you to lie to your friends. To put up the monies for the fictitious Chalon, Standish, and Tate, money your heiress wife had brought to your marriage, so that you would reap the rewards four times over.

"But the investment went bad. You wanted to stay in, wait for things to turn around, as that forty thousand pounds was all you had. Yet one by one, the others pulled out. They felt the pinch of their ten-thousand-pound loss, but you, you lost four times as much. An amount that left you on the brink of financial ruin. And it was all their fault. If only the others had stayed the course, you would have been one of the richest men in England.

"Instead, your wife found out what happened. What you'd done. Found out you'd tried to cheat your friends and lost all the money she'd brought to the marriage. Between the disillusionment of discovering her husband's true character, the reality of social and financial ruin, and the heartbreak of losing your child, she killed herself."

Unmistakable anguish twisted the duke's face. "She was so young. So lovely."

"You loved her."

"I adored her. And she was mine. And they stole her from me. No one steals from the Duke of Eastling." Where his eyes had always seemed cold, they now burned with a combination of fervor and hatred. "If it wasn't for them pulling out of the deal too soon, none of it would have happened. I wouldn't have lost everything. I wouldn't have lost Amelia."