The Thief of Hearts Read online

  Caro glanced back to make sure they were all together. She gave Margaret a squeeze of her hand, while Edward tucked Gwen’s arm in his and whistled low. “I thought the young sprat was exaggerating when he said they were doing something inspired by Blackpool’s Winter Gardens but, by George, he’s done it!”

  “Dancing first?” Bertie enquired.

  “Look!” Margaret pointed up to the portrait gallery on the second floor. “There are jugglers up there.”

  “I think I can see a coconut shie,” Caro added with enthusiasm.

  Bertie shrugged his shoulders.

  “Upstairs first it is, ladies.”

  Tonight the portraits were hidden away, made safe for the gallery to be transformed into a carnivalesque side show. Edward showed his prowess, managing to ring the bell in the strong man game and won Gwen a toy monkey. Bertie was a much better shot at the coconut shie than Caro, but she proved to have a good eye for the hoopla ring toss.

  They stopped to watch the tumblers, two men dressed in fitted white and black costumes. First, they expertly wielded clubs, tossing one, then two spinning high into the upper void of the gallery and deftly catching them before they fell to the polished timber floors. Then they performed a series of acrobatic tumbles and tosses, back flips and leaps – all to the delight of the watching guests.

  After exhausting all the amusements upstairs, Caro and her friends returned to the ground floor. At a distance Caro saw her parents talking to their hosts in the ballroom. Lady Constance was wearing a magnificent suite of heirloom diamonds and her gown in gold brocade was designed to show them off. The necklace was more like a collar around her throat and the bracelet at her wrist was nearly as wide. The earrings themselves featured individual brilliant diamonds as big as thumbnails.

  Bertie leaned in between Caro and Margaret. He threw his arm around Gwen to include her in the conversation. “What do you think, ladies?” he asked sotto voce. “Do you think The Phantom will show tonight to collect his haul?”

  “With everyone who is here tonight – including the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard?” said Caro. “He’d be foolish if he tried.”

  “I wonder if they’re real,” said Margaret. “I mean, they could very well be paste. I think I’d be too frightened to wear anything that expensive.”

  “They only come out for special occasions like this one,” offered Gwen. “They are said to have belonged to Catherine The Great and were Sir Hubert’s wedding gift to his second wife.”

  Bertie tapped Caro on the shoulder and drew her away so as not to be overheard.

  “Speaking of which... Caro, I need to have a word with you. Would it convenient for me to call on you tomorrow?”

  Caro found herself frozen in place. A proposal! She was sure of it! Oh, Bertie... How on earth was she going to let her poor friend down gently? She could think of no good excuse at the present.

  “Um, yes, ah, I’m sure that will be fine.”

  At Bertie’s delighted look, Caro felt even worse.

  Dancing was always the best way to revive battered spirits and Caro threw herself into it with gusto.

  She danced with her brother – when she could tear him away from Gwen. What a lovely couple Edward and Gwen made, she thought with great affection. Gwen seemed already part of the family although the wedding wasn’t until early spring.

  The thought made her soften towards Bertie and she accepted an invitation to dance with him. He really was a sweet fellow who made her laugh with his witty observations about the other guests as they glided about the room.

  That was just the awful thing – she loved him nearly as much as her brother and in much the same way. The thought of being anything more to him just didn’t feel right. She dreaded what her mother would say if she refused his proposal. Ah, maman... she didn’t always see eye to eye with her, but she knew her mother meant well – to see her daughter happily married... what mother didn’t want that for her daughter?

  Well, there was no point thinking about it tonight – tomorrow brings its own troubles.

  “Those icicles thawed quickly,” said Bertie, tilting his head over to Caro’s right.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Her diamond jewellery, she’s no longer wearing it.”

  Bertie pivoted on his front foot. Caro spun with him, seeing for herself that the elaborate suite of gems no longer hung around Lady Constance’s neck.

  “That was quick,” she agreed. “I wonder why?”

  The music came to an end. The dancers stopped and applauded each other and the band. Bertie escorted Caro from the floor towards two vacant chairs. He attracted the attention of a passing footman and retrieved two glasses of punch, handing the first to Caro.

  “I overheard Sir Hubert on my way back to the ballroom after a cigar.” Bertie paused to slake his thirst. “He was worried about her losing it, the necklace, I think... something about the clasp being loose.”

  “Well, at least it will be safe and secure. Uncle Walter won’t have to have his men trail the Gilfroys all evening.”

  Bertie drained his drink.

  “Another dance?” he asked.

  Caro shook her head. “I think I might join Gwen and Edward in the drawing room. The Dark Duke is supposed to be making an appearance tonight.”

  “I see.”

  Caro sharpened her glare at Bertie’s teasing tone.

  “Oh, don’t give me give me that look,” he continued with a grin. “All the way home from that performance, you and Margaret talked about how handsome he was – and the estimable Gwen too. It was all enough to make a chap feel quite inadequate.”

  She took the banter in the spirit in which it was meant – she knew Bertie too well to take it any other way. She rose and tapped him on the arm with her fan and directed his attention to where Margaret had just returned from the dance floor on the arm of the eligible Viscount Scottsdale.

  “Well, practice your wooing skills on Margaret over there and not me,” she said, slightly surprised to see his smile dim a little at her words. She had no idea she had wounded him that much. She attempted to take the sting out of them by patting his arm.

  “Friends?”

  He placed a hand over her hand and gave it a light squeeze, and an even tighter smile.

  “Go on, enjoy the magician and I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon.”

  ***

  The conservatory, which ran the southern length of Gilfroy Hall, had been turned into a tea room and decorated in calming white, soft blue and green for the ball. It was well-heated for the benefit of the tropical plants, as much as the comfort for the guests, and it proved to be a peaceful respite from the noise and activity in the ballroom and the picture gallery. A harpist sat in the corner and played softly – just enough to be heard over the hubbub of voices.

  Moving among the guests was a tall man. At first Caro thought he might be a footman as he approached one table and bowed, but he carried himself too assuredly. Here was The Dark Duke.

  When he turned, Caro noted the waistcoat he wore over a crisp white shirt was finely tailored. The front was an exquisite wine red silk, embroidered in gold thread; at his throat was a black cravat folded over just the once and held in place with a single diamond stud. It took a confident man to wear such an ensemble.

  Caro found Gwen and Edward seated at a small round table near a topiary bush where soft white flowers studded the dark green foliage. As she approached, she detected the sweet creamy scent of the gardenia flowers.

  Behind her was the sound of laughter and enthusiastic applause.

  “Enjoying yourself, Caro?” Gwen asked. She moved the toy monkey and patted the empty seat beside her.

  “Sir Hubert has certainly outdone himself this year,” Caro agreed. “This must have cost a small fortune.

  Edward set down his coffee cup.

  “I’m glad that’s finally put the rumours to rest. According to gossips in the City—”

  Gwen grinned and picked up her tea cup. “And here I
thought only women gossiped...”

  Caro grinned. Edward gave them both a meaningful look before he continued, leaning in conspiratorially.

  “Over the past few months Sir Hubert has divested himself of a large number of shares on the exchange. Now that could mean nothing – he may want to increase his cash liquidity for any number of reasons – a new business acquisition for instance, but people are talking...”

  “And I think it’s rude to be talking about our host while we’re guests in his home,” Gwen chided.

  Edward tilted his head in acknowledgement.

  Gwen nudged her. “We’ve been waiting for The Dark Duke to come to our table. We’ve been watching him perform tricks for guests at the other tables. Eddie thinks he’ll be able to figure them out if he sees them up close. I just want to look at him up close – just to see if he is as handsome as Margaret claims. Oh, here he comes now.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Caro drew breath as the man approached. He was even better looking up close. His dark hair was smartly cut. His eyes, a grey so pale as to be colourless, were mesmerising enough without any conjuring he might do.

  He bowed.

  “Ladies and gentleman, my name is Tobias Black. I am The Dark Duke.”

  He performed a flourish with his hands. When they stilled, there was a calling card between his index and middle fingers. Black placed it on the table and pulled a deck of playing cards from his trouser pocket.

  “I’m here this evening to tell you that everything is an illusion,” he said, shuffling the cards. “The mind sees what it wants to see. The facts are a matter of interpretation.”

  He turned the deck so the short side faced them and used his thumb to flick through the cards. He did this several times before turning to Gwen.

  “Did you see a card of interest, miss?”

  Black flicked through the deck once again.

  “No, don’t tell me,” he warned, raising a finger. Black put the deck back in his pocket and pulled out a card.

  “I know it’s not this one,” he said, showing the Seven of Clubs. “Is it... this one?”

  Black flicked the top corner of the Seven of Clubs and it transformed into the Queen of Diamonds. Caro could tell by the look on Gwen’s face that indeed it was the card she had chosen. In fact, that had been the card she had silently picked herself.

  The magician turned to Edward. “I see you’re looking perplexed.”

  “I’m trying to work out how you did that.”

  Black grinned.

  “Perhaps the magic isn’t with me, perhaps...” he turned swiftly to Caro, “it’s with you.”

  “Me?”

  “Uh-hmm. I can tell there is something very special about you.”

  Caro fought a blush and Black produced the deck of cards once more. He fanned them so only the backs and not the suits were on view.

  “Take one.”

  Caro found a card at her fingertips. She glanced at it. The Jack of Hearts. She showed the card to Gwen and Edward and handed it face up into Black’s outstretched hand.

  “Ah...” he said as he examined the card. “I think this could be love! The Knave of Hearts wishes to bend his knee to the lovely lady. All you have to do is wave your fingers and he will go weak at the knees. Go on.”

  Caro felt foolish, wiggling her fingers at a simple playing card. But it moved!

  She watched it, fascinated, as it undulated like a belly dancer. She felt her eyes widen and, when she looked up to Black, he smiled at her – not a polite upturn of the lips but a full smile that caused little butterflies in her stomach to take wing.

  Gwen and Edward applauded.

  “And before I take my leave of you; one more trick for your amusement.” Black pulled another card from his pocket – the Nine of Spades. He flicked it one way and then another presumably to show it was just an ordinary card. He rested it in the palm of his hand.

  “Things which are seemingly impossible, are possible,” he said, placing his other hand six inches above the one holding the card. He waved the upper hand and the card in the lower one started to move.

  The card moved again and then appeared to be levitating in Black’s hand, before it lowered to rest in his palm once more. The magician leaned forward to pick up the teaspoon resting by Gwen’s tea cup. He waved the spoon over the top of the card. A moment later it moved again, rising to sit above his hand.

  “You see, no strings.”

  Now he inserted the spoon sideways between the card and his palm. The card seemed to hover over the spoon. The friends gasped in disbelief.

  “Illusion is the first of all pleasures,” said The Dark Duke.

  Caro recognised the quote. “Voltaire,” she said and was rewarded with another of his full smiles and a tilt of his head in acknowledgement. He put the spoon back on the table and returned the playing card to his pocket.

  “Remind me never to play bridge against you,” Edward quipped, joining in Gwen and Caro’s applause.

  Black bowed once more and turned away to approach another table. Caro reached for The Dark Duke’s card and saw three theatre tickets, which most certainly had not been there when he placed the business card on the table.

  For the next half an hour, she pretended involvement in Gwen and Edward’s conversation while she watched the magician perform sleight of hand for other guests. As far as she could tell, Tobias Black didn’t use the same set of tricks at each table. At one she saw the flash of a silver coin, at another he used a red silk kerchief and at a third the deck of cards made another appearance.

  She observed as he stopped to speak to the harpist and they left together through the servant’s door.

  “Well?” Caro asked.

  “Well what?” answered Edward, frowning with confusion.

  “Did you work out how he did those tricks?”

  Edward shook his head slowly. “Not a clue, but one thing’s for certain – between him and The Phantom, they could make the Crown Jewels disappear!”

  “You’re not saying—” Caro started.

  Gwen shook her head. “I’m sure Edward was only joking.”

  Caro wished she could be so certain.

  A man would have to be a ruddy magician...

  ***

  Caro closed her eyes against a slight headache and rolled her silk stockings down her legs. It was late and she was glad her family had accepted Sir Hubert’s invitation to stay in the guest wing. In the hall the grandfather clock struck two and even at this hour, she could hear the sound of people leaving the house. Lingering guests? Perhaps they were staff hired for the evening or maybe the entertainers.

  Regardless, the permanent household servants would have their work cut out for them to bring the residence back to order before the master and mistress of the house rose for brunch.

  Gwen was preparing for bed on the other side of the room, softly humming to herself as she brushed her hair.

  “How did you know my brother was the one?” Caro asked.

  “The one what?”

  Caro laid the stockings over the chair beside the bed and climbed between the sheets. “You know, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”

  There was a long pause. Gwen watched her through the reflection in the dressing table mirror.

  “There were lots of different reasons,” Gwen said and took up brushing her hair once more. “And, thinking about it, none of them would make sense to anyone else. I think you know when you know. But I take it that’s not the answer you’re looking for?”

  Caro shrugged and settled her head back into the pillow.

  Gwen left the dressing table and turned back the covers of her bed. She extinguished the gas lamp on the wall near her bed, throwing the room into darkness.

  As Caro heard her getting into bed, Gwen also spoke. “Is there anyone in particular you’re thinking of?”

  “No, not really...” Caro answered, knowing it wasn’t really the truth. She closed her eyes, but she was almost too t
ired to sleep. She didn’t like to think of Bertie being a problem, but his misplaced affections had to be dealt with soon.

  A scream pierced the silence. A moment later, footsteps ran down the hall.

  By the time Gwen had lit the candle, the noises had stopped, but Caro was already up, putting on a dressing gown.

  She opened the door to look down the passageway. The end of it was as well-lit as though it was already past dawn. A fearful looking maid scurried past.

  “What’s happened?”

  The young woman stopped.

  “Oh Miss, it’s the Mistress’s jewellery. The Phantom ’as made off with it!”

  Caro’s heart plummeted. She drew a deep breath.

  “Go and fetch Inspector Addison. His room is on the floor above this one,” she told the visibly upset girl.

  Glancing back at Gwen standing in the doorway, Caro hurried along the passageway and girded her courage to knock at the master bedroom door. Inside, she was greeted by the sight of an ashen faced Sir Hubert holding his distraught wife.

  “Sir Hubert, Lady Constance,” she said. “I’ve sent the maid for my Uncle. Is it...?”

  After an awkward pause in which the couple merely gaped at her, Caro crossed the threshold into the dressing chamber. On the floor at the foot of a wall lay a painting, its gilt frame broken. The open mouth of the safe above, with the two side-by-side picture hooks that had supported the heavy frame, gave every appearance the wall itself was in shock.

  Arriving beside her, Gwen gasped and Caro, following her gaze, suddenly saw what she saw – jewellery trays strewn across the floor and a hole where one of the windowpanes had been smashed.

  Sir Hubert seemed to gather himself together at the sound of hurrying footsteps, then Uncle Walter entered.

  The Inspector calmly put his empty pipe in his mouth and surveyed the room. Caro stood stock still, feeling all of ten years old, hoping he wouldn’t see her, hoping he wouldn’t send her away.

  She watched him take in the safe and step around the broken painting before heading for the second storey window. He looked at the floor before it, then opened the window and looked down.