Page 74 of Dukes All Night Long

“Well, if not Mr. Fox, I couldn’t say. I always like to think the best of people. I hope you don’t believe I had anything to do with this.” She peered at Falstaff and the magistrate. “I like rubies, but they are red,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, they are,” the magistrate said.

She blinked at him. “Who are you?” A note of imperiousness crept into her voice.

Miss Skye glanced at Falstaff for confirmation.

The man had addressed her without being introduced, and he was a dressed as a servant.

From the disapproving look on her face, Falstaff could tell Miss Skye was not impressed.

“Miss Skye, allow me to introduce Magistrate Hopewell.”

“Oh. Hello.” She nodded and said to Falstaff, “You do invite such curious people to your parties.”

The magistrate cleared his throat and said, “You were saying, Miss Skye. About the rubies.”

“Yes. They’re red, you see. Here’s your proof. I wouldn’t have taken them. I only wear pink, and they are men’s cufflinks. Anyway, what would I do of those? Besides, the red would clash with my dress. That wouldn’t do at all.”

“I see. Thank you, Miss Skye,” the magistrate said as a footman let her out.

Mrs. Godalming came in next in a swath of pearls and slate-gray silk.

She was well acquainted with the duke and ordered a footman to bring her chair immediately.

The moment one was procured, she sat down and raised a hand imperiously.

“I know what you are about, and I can safely tell you I didn’t do it.

I had nothing to do with the rubies’ disappearance.

You are, of course, investigating this matter. ”

“Yes, Mrs. Godalming,” Falstaff said.

“Good. About time.” She turned to the magistrate. “And you, I presume, are some sort of servant?”

“I am Magistrate Hopewell, madam.” The magistrate straightened.

“Fine. You may stay, but may I suggest you dress more appropriate to your station in the future? You look like the hired help.”

The magistrate shot a pained look at Falstaff, who grinned.

Mrs. Godalming removed a fan from her reticule and began to fan herself.

“Now, heed my words. I knew this would happen. Putting a pair of priceless cufflinks on display at a party where people are wearing masks and they’re already worried about a thief, when you could just nip right in and take them?

Such foolishness. I would never have allowed a nephew of mine to take such risks with my belongings, I can tell you that. ”

Falstaff tried to withhold his temper. She was getting on his nerves.

“Did you happen to see anything, Mrs. Godalming?” the magistrate asked.

“No. I became overheated and wanted some air. So often, these dances and balls can be utterly stifling. I was so warm, so I came in here and opened a window. The cufflinks were still here, of course. Then once I felt a breeze, I left.”

She could have been lying, Falstaff supposed, but she had also been a victim of the Ton thief herself, and he had a hard time imagining she would steal from herself. She wouldn’t be able to wear her jewels again if she had.

“Did you happen to see anyone else come in?” he asked.

“No. I left once I saw that young woman, the Skye girl, come in. She wears far too much pink, and that other woman dressed as a goose or bird, she wears far too much rosewater perfume—it practically made me sneeze. Mr. Fox didn’t seem to mind, though. They looked quite friendly as I walked out.”

“And who do you think could have taken them?” the magistrate asked.

“Well, they are men’s cufflinks, aren’t they? So it stands to reason that only a man would want them. Women wouldn’t have no use or interest in them.” She crossed her arms and looked at Falstaff. “See there? I solved your little crime for you.”

Once she’d left, the magistrate turned to Falstaff. “The lady has a point. Women wouldn’t be interested in men’s cufflinks.”

“Maybe, maybe not. She might have wanted to sell the cufflinks for money, if she needed it,” Falstaff said, as his old university friend Mr. Campbell Fox, cleverly dressed in red and wearing a fox mask, entered the room.

“Evenin’, chap. Terrible business, this. Dashed sorry for you.”

“Thanks, Campbell. Do you know anything about this?” Falstaff asked.

Campbell took a seat and lounged in it how only a young rake could. He leaned back at an inordinate angle, dangled one leg off the side, and made himself distinctly comfortable. “Not much. I was talking to Miss Skye and Miss Azalea. Lovely ladies. So pretty and unwed too.”

“At your games of flirtation, I see. You commented to Miss Skye that it was a bit foolish to put the duke’s cufflinks on display.” There, he’d said it.

Campbell avoided Falstaff’s eyes, choosing instead to examine his finely buffed nails.

“Well, it is, rather, when you think about it. It’s like an open invitation to any guest who’s less than honest. Let me guess.

You thought you’d lay a trap to catch the Ton thief.

” Campbell snorted. “Sorry, mate, but we’re not in school anymore.

You leave crime to the authorities. Yeh? ”

He rose to leave but stopped when the magistrate asked, “Did you happen to see anything strange this evening?”

Campbell blinked at the magistrate, as if noticing him for the first time. He glanced at Falstaff, who said, “He’s not a servant. He’s a magistrate.”

“Funny attire for a magistrate. Anyway, no, I didn’t see anything strange, but I did hear a funny rumor.”

“What was that?”

“You know how ladies like to gossip. I heard that one of the masked ladies here tonight isn’t a lady at all, but a maidservant. Isn’t that hilarious?”

Miss Potts’s words and the darkness of the secret passage came unbidden to Falstaff’s mind. “I am a maid,” she’d said.

The reality of it hit him like a cold splash of water in the face.

He had seduced a maid. But she was also a lady.

Real servants had a certain reserve and kept a distance.

Lucy flitted about the rooms like a butterfly he’d like to catch.

She conducted herself like a lady. Perhaps that was why Miss Butters had taken such a dislike to her.

For him to be kissing a servant would be overlooked as a mere indiscretion, but Lucy?

She wasn’t a maid in anyone’s eyes. For Miss Butters, she was competition.

For would a maid really be so articulate or wear the midnight-blue gown like it was a second skin?

For a second, he had a fleeting vision of them dancing together amongst the stars, then his mind careened back down to earth.

What had she been doing in the room in the first place?

Lady or not, servant or not, had he caught her in the act of stealing?

And what’s more, had she gone along with his advances in order to provide herself with an alibi?

And now Campbell’s rumor. It didn’t sit right with him, not at all.

“Funny. I didn’t hear that,” Falstaff said.

“Yes, Miss Azalea was talking about it, apparently her little jest. She gave a dress to her lady’s maid and convinced her to pretend to be one of us this evening. It’s a great joke. So now we’re all trying to guess who the maid is.”

“And what happens if you find her?”

“ When , not if , old boy. I suppose we’d all have a good laugh and tell her to return to her mistress, unless she’d be up for some other games.” Campbell waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Falstaff wanted to smack his friend. Campbell was handsome and always popular with the ladies. He broke hearts wherever he went, but Falstaff definitely did not want his path to cross with Miss Lucy Potts’s. He wanted to protect her at all costs.

“Great fun,” Falstaff repeated.

“But no doubt you’re talking to everyone who came in here.

So, if I had to guess, one of the servants probably did it.

At the risk of sounding like Chaundry, it’s always one of them, isn’t it?

Maybe you should find that masquerading maidservant.

I bet she could reveal a few things.” Campbell grinned.

“When Miss Skye and I came in, Mrs. Godalming was just leaving, and the wind was blowing the candle flames around. A lot wouldn’t surprise me if someone took advantage when the candles went out and helped themselves. Sorry business. Can I go?”

“Yes, of course, thank you,” the magistrate said.

Falstaff tapped a finger to his chin. Something about Miss Azalea made him suspect her, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was or why.

So why did he dislike her? If she’d done Lucy a kindness by loaning her a dress to wear and then put it about as a joke, that was mean, indeed.

At the same time, she was from a good and well-respected family and was invited to lots of Ton parties.

She deserved respect. Similarly with his old school friend Campbell—the man was a rake, but did his japes extend toward theft?

Miss Skye seemed utterly innocent and if he was honest, a trifle oblivious.

But what if it was just an act? And Mrs. Godalming.

So disapproving. Would she steal to prove a point?

The magistrate turned to Falstaff once they were alone.

“That leaves Miss Adeline Azalea and this mysterious woman you pulled into the passage. And what about this servant that Mr. Fox was talking about? The one masquerading as a lady guest. I’m glad he told us about the rumor. She may well have done it.”

Falstaff shook his head. “She didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Falstaff rubbed the side of his face, when Miss Adeline Azalea walked in, shedding white goose feathers in her wake. “I can tell you.” She looked at Magistrate Hopewell, then at Falstaff. “This is serious business, aren’t you going to dismiss your servant? I don’t need anything.”

“He is a magistrate.”