CHAPTER 22
A Birthday Surprice
Nicholas had thought that he might come upon the impostor walking the dog through Hyde Park, but after meeting Terrence Poole at the detective's office, he rode Midnight Star blindly down Rotten Row on the way home. While the detective had been reviewing the evidence that Nicholas had produced from Lily's desk, Terrence had paused at the jotted bit of information from the impostor's note.
Leaning leaned forward in his chair, he had spun the copy around on his desktop for Nicholas to read. "It appears relatively straightforward, milord. It might be a standard formula really. If we assume they're corresponding letters, the two is a BJ and the five is an EJ and so on." He reclaimed it to note on his jotter. "Just give me a minute, and I'll have it for you . . . Yes, it appears to say Beau TrisorJ milord."
"Beautiful Treasure." "Quite."
"But what does it mean?"
"I'd say it's a perfume, considering the combination of the address of Laval Perfumery."
Without knowing why, Nicholas felt it was more important. When he was a child, his father had claimed their family's capacity for second sight was an inherited trait from their ancestry of soothsayers and sorcerers, and Nicholas had learned early not to discuss it, since it was impossible to explain. When he was a lad, it had teased him with a feeling of familiarity in new situations, but later, when battling pirates on the high seas, he had gained a fighting edge. Since then, it had failed him. It had been missing for so long that had forgotten of its existence, until his premonition when Terrence Poole uttered the words Beau Trisor. "Is it a place somewhere?"
"It might be." The detective shrugged. "One of our best men is in Paris; I'll have him inquire."
"Was there anything further on that fellow who supposedly returned from the dead to claim a fortune?"
"The Marquis Saint-Descoteaux? No, his attorneys have declined all interviews, and he left Paris upon his release. Everything about the man and the charge of treason is veiled by innuendo. He might have returned to his home in Limoges, but French newspapers are notoriously indeterminate. Shall I put Stanley on it? It might be nothing but a red herring."
Nicholas reached for his hat, prepared to leave. "No, it makes no difference to me why the devil tucked his tail when he was freed."
HAD HE BEEN ASTRIDE another horse besides Midnight Star, Nicholas might have passed the impostor, but her bonnet had already caught the animal's eye. They were nearly upon her when Nicholas realized that the barking dog charging up from the lakeside was the stray terrier with the peculiar name of Snap. Midnight Star was not typically rattled by dogs, and only curled his neck to snort at the tiny assailant, but the impostor was aghast when she noticed their approach.
"Snap!" She hurried to scoop up the beast and clamp a hand on his muzzle. "Quiet, you!"
"Hello," Nicholas replied, doffing his hat. He hopped to the ground, ready to stave off his horse with a well-placed elbow in the chest to halt Midnight's blithe over-exuberance. "I'm happy to see you're well enough to come out walking."
"Thank you," she replied, clearly unsettled by their unexpected meeting. She stroked the dog's ears with a trembling hand and released him to the ground.
"You know," Nicholas continued, as a way to ease her concern and broach the uncertain subject of Lily's birthday while escorting her toward the gates, "it won't be long, and the season will be over." The idea was unsettling; he could feel her trepidation as they walked, although her gaze was fixed on the jaunty terrier leading the way. "Last year you told me how you love to go out with a bash . . ." His blatant prevarication forced him to keep his eyes on the pair of black swans sailing overhead, lest she see the truth in his expression. "But this year, I thought a party might be a little difficult to manage dancing all night, after the incident in the forest up at Stragglethorpe."
"Oh." Her soft reply sounded like the coo of a dove.
"Since you love sailing," Nicholas ventured, and was happily rewarded by her delightful quickening of interest, "I thought we might take a trip downriver to Southend-on-the- Sea." If he had any doubt about her desire to visit the popular resort, her response quickly reassured him.
"Oh!"
It was ridiculous how she managed to express so much in one simple word. Pleased with her willingness to join him, all he needed now was to decide on a gift. "We could spend the day at the beach, if you'd like, or we might take a drive through Westcliff, toward the island. It depends on what you feel like doing; after all, it's your birthday."
"Oh."
As Nicholas had suspected, she did not have the slightest clue that Lily's birthday was in a few days. Had the circumstances been different, he would have put his arm around her shoulders to offer her consolation, but he loathed the prospect of the chance return to the lost wariness of her prior regard. Behind her, Midnight Star had taken to walking with his eyes half-closed contentedly. At least the horse was not trying to devour her bonnet strings.
"I had hoped you'd like the idea," he vowed truthfully, meeting her cautious glance with a reassuring smile. "Now, please allow me to find a cab to take you home. There's no sense in overtaxing yourself," he insisted, steering her toward the likeliest hansom parked in a line of cabbies at the curb when they passed the gates. "I'll be home later."
"Thank you," she responded, as he secured the door. "It's my pleasure always, sweetheart."
Sweetheart? he thought when the unwarranted endearment slipped out again. A flash of her blue-gray eyes was all he received in response as the cabbie popped his whip overhead, startling the cob into a trot. The terrier's head appeared in the window as the carriage pulled off, lending the impression that Snap watched him expectantly.
Midnight Star was anxious to be under way; Nicholas barely had time to find a seat in the saddle before his horse started out after the taxi. He had a mind to swing down the Piccadilly for a pint but, for some reason, had a devil of a time convincing his horse. Finally, he turned around and rode along Knightsbridge in the other direction.
"I STILL FIND IT SURPRISING," Alix protested, as Jenny shaped her hair into ringlets for the evening. She could not admit that it was contrarily unwarranted, since she and Lily shared the same birthday, November twenty-fifth. Only Lily would fabricate a birthday during the haute season-the London high summer, when Parliament was in session-simply to enjoy a party in her honor.
Jenny glanced at her speculatively in the mirror. "I understand that last year milord footed a huge party down in Haymarket. I wasn't hired on yet; another maid worked in my place, but everyone belowstairs has been wondering what milord had planned this year."
"It would have been nice to know," Alix replied glumly, and then realized her slip. It was kind of Nicholas to commemorate Lily's supposed birthday, but the idea brought the uncomfortable reminder that Alix deeply desired to be home for her own, as well as for Christmas. "When is Nicholas's birthday? I wouldn't like to miss it."
"Milord's birthday is January fifth."
"Oh," Alix replied, toying with the hairpins in the canister on the dressing tray. Certainly she would be gone by Epiphany and the New Year. She wished that she had been astute enough to inquire of Lily how she planned to enact the endgame of her unprecedented ploy.
"That will be Albert," Jenny said knowingly of the gentle rap at the door. "Snap!" she called the terrier from his woolen blanket in the corner. "Time to go out."
"It's kind of Albert Frisk to walk Snap in the evening."
"He likes dogs, doesn't he?" Jenny replied as she opened the door.
Alix could hear Albert's calming baritone