Part 33 (2/2)
”I came down the stairs, madam. And you?”
”The stairs?” She quirked her brow. Pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling.
”How did you get past the guard?” h.e.l.l, he'd just seen the man upstairs. The two other entrances were manned by multiple sentries.
”The guard? Oh.”
He didn't like the sound of that. ”What do you mean, 'Oh'? How did you get in here?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but pulled back her words and moved away from him as Drew came bowling through the door with a lighted candlestick.
He raised a brow when he caught sight of Elizabeth. ”Well, good evening, Lady Blakestone. ”
”Wexford?” She canted her head as though she was looking at a ghost.
”I thought you left your wife at Grousemeade Cottage, Ross.” Drew set the burning candle on the table next to the evidence box.
”So did I.” He pointed at the candle but kept his eyes on his nervous wife. ”Where did you find that?”
”In the tailor shop. And I doubt Mr. Puckett left it burning.”
Ross took hold of his wife's arms and turned her around to face him full on, better to catch the nuances so alive in her eyes. ”Well, madam, explain yourself. How did you get in here?”
But her mouth took on an even more stubborn slant as she glared back at him. ”Here's a better question, Ross: where are we? What kind of place is this? And what have you and Drew to do with it?”
b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, did she really not know that she was in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Huntsman? ”Let's just say that Drew and I have a right to belong here. We work here. You don't. Now what are you doing in our cellar?”
She glanced at Drew, then back at Ross. ”All right, then, my lords, since I am obviously the one who found my way into this so-called cellar by way of the... unofficial rout e -”
”Which is from where?” Drew asked in an overly diabolical voice, his arms crossed over his chest.
”In... uh in , through the paneled wall of the tailor shop.”
”The what?” Ross asked, with a glance at Drew. ”How? From where?”
She wrinkled her brow and rubbed the end of her nose with a crooked finger, as though wis.h.i.+ng to m.u.f.fle the truth. ”From... from the Abigail Adams.”
Impossible! The place was three blocks away. ”You must be joking.”
Drew snorted. ”I'll go check it out. If she's righ 't - and I'm a.s.suming your lovely bride wouldn't be spinning a tale for u 's - 't hen I should end up at the Adams.”
”You might as well go home from there, Drew. I'll see you back here this afternoon.”
Drew sent a gracious, encouraging wink toward Elizabeth, and then arched a brow at Ross. ”Welcome to the husbands' club, old man.”
Drew stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, turned on his heel and left the lab, trailing that d.a.m.ned contented tune behind him.
”Now, listen, Elizabet h -” Ross whirled back on his wife, ready to get to the bottom of all her dodging and deceptions, then realized that she was three sizes larger than she'd been when he left her. Her bosom matronly, her waist larger around, her dress oddly old-fas.h.i.+oned...
He opened his mouth to ask what the devil she was up to, but the woman reached out to him, caught her fingertips in his coat sleeve as though to soothe him.
”Look, Ross, I promise to show you everything later. But just now we don't have much time.”
”No time for what?” It never ended, this riddle of his wife. One puzzle after another. One surprise before the next one, an even larger one.
She was flicking an impatient frown at him. ”I thought you were trying to find Princess Lenka. Isn't that why you left me to pine away in our wedding cottage in Hampstead, while you came flying back here to London?”
”Yes, but the case of the abducted princess isn't your affair.”
She took a stout breath and set her brow. ”Actually, Ross, I think can help.”
”Thank you, but I've got plenty of help. My own operatives, the Home Guard, the Metropolitan Police, the Foot Guard, the b.l.o.o.d.y cavalr y -”
”Isn't that going to be a little crowded for a quiet investigation?”
G.o.d, it was late. And she was more beautiful than ever with her adventurous spirit. But he was tired enough to sleep a week, had hoped for just a few hours.
”Please, Elizabeth, I appreciate your concern for the princess. It's not your problem.”
But it's completely my problem! Elizabeth had never dreaded anything quite so much as she was dreading this. Telling Ross that she'd been responsible for the three previous abductions. That they weren't abductions at all.
But that the princess's kidnapping was terrifyingly real.
She had to tell him everything, if only to make him believe her.
Even this new little bit of treachery. That not only had she and her operatives already been at work on the case, but that they might have broken the first clue.
A very large clue.
Best to ju st say it right out.
”Look, Ross, I know you're not going to like anything I'm about to tell you, bu 't...” He took his time pinching out the candle flame then casting her a weary glance.
”But what?”
”I know where the princess is being held.”
He rubbed at his temples, sighed. ”Please, Elizabet h -”
”You have to listen to me, Ross. When I got back to London, I didn't know where you were, but I had to do something.”
”You had to do something about the kidnapped princess? Why?”
The full truth would surely mean a battle between them, and would slow them down, so she didn't answer completely. ”So when I couldn't find you, my a.s.sistants and I... well, we went over to the Russian Emba.s.sy to see if we could do anything.”
He came fully alert and plunked her down in the chair behind her. ”b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! You did what?”
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