“Ahh, not the jewels that adorned your fair sister last night?”
“No, though they were in the same casket.”
“And now this countess set is gone?”
Deveraux nodded.
Keirsmyth stared up at the ceiling for a moment, his lips pursed. Then he looked squarely at Deveraux as he pushed open the door. “And Miss Leonard, is she gone as well?” A cold shudder ripped through Deveraux, and a red haze swam before his eyes. He grabbed the marquess's shoulder, halting him. “What are you implying?”
“I say, Dev—What’s the to-do?” Fitzhugh said, hearing the last.
He ignored him, his jaw set and his eyes glittering dangerously out of a dark face as he continued to stare at the marquess.
A slight, sneering smile curled up the corners of Keirsmyth’s lips. “I take it you are not a hunter, Deveraux. You leap too quickly,” he drawled.
Nigel’s brow furrowed. He dropped his hand from Keirsmyth’s arm. “You are not implying she is guilty, but that she is a victim?” he asked consideringly.
Keirsmyth inclined his head. “And an unwitting tool.”
“What are you two nattering on about?” demanded Fitzhugh.
Keirsmyth looked across the room at him, seated leaning forward at the table with a loaded plate before him. Next to him, Turcott was actively engaged in shoving spoonfuls of food into his mouth. “There appear to be more contretemps this morning to add to last evening’s entertainment,” he said blandly.
Fitzhugh threw him a disgusted look. He turned to Deveraux. “What’s he saying?”
“The Nevin jewelry suite has been stolen, and I believe he’s suggesting Miss Leonard is being framed.”
The marquess inclined his head in agreement. “There is, of course, the first step. . .
“Which is?” Deveraux asked.
“To ascertain whether or not Miss Leonard is still in residence,” he said languidly before taking a plate from the sideboard to load with food.
“O-o-o-u-u-t r-i-i-d-d-i-n’,” mumbled Captain Turcott around a mouthful of food. He swallowed and dabbed his handkerchief to his mouth. “Not here now. Out riding. Leastwise was at dawn.”
“How do you know that?”
“Saw her. Some fool left my curtains open last night. When dawn started letting light into the room, I got up to close ’em. That’s when I saw her on a beautiful dappled gray. One of yours, Dev?” He picked his fork up and shoved another bite of food in his mouth while he continued to regard Deveraux with interest.
“Yes,” he admitted, distracted. He walked to the door to summon a footman. “Jason, would you ask the young person who does for Miss Leonard to step down here, please?”
“Betsy Snivel? She ain’t here, sir. Said Miss Leonard told her to take the day off to visit her mother. Left a half-hour ago.
“Who is taking her duties?”
“Couldn’t say, sir. Shall I ask Mrs. Henry?”
“Please.”
“I think you’ll find the answer to beno one,” suggested Keirsmyth, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
Deveraux glared at him. “Well, what is it then? You’re acting so damnably smug!”
He waved his hand languidly. “Not at all. It has simply occurred to me—as it should to you—that the kidnappers must have a confederate from within Castle Marin. A trusted one, privy to all manner of discussions in the way only privileged retainers can be.”
“That possibility had occurred to me,” Deveraux admitted, scowling. He angrily grabbed up a cup and poured coffee for himself.
“Ergo said servant takes all opportunities—gleaned from an attentive ear to his or her betters and their peers—to discredit Miss Leonard. Why? First, she spoiled the kidnappers’ game by rescuing Lady Christiana. Second, the family—and in particular yourself—shows signs of a decided partiality toward the gel. What better than a two-stroke revenge? Miss Leonard suffers for her crime against the kidnappers, and you and the family suffer from having your trust betrayed. Maybe henceforth, you shall ever be wary, without peace, uncertain who are your friends or enemies. An uncertain, distasteful life at best.”
