"That's what Liz says. Men must be different from women. Her husband is perfectly happy living with a pea-goose."

It was an unusual outing. I had felt uncomfortable at the idea of spending a morning alone with Mr. Maitland, but he was so very easy to get along with that I felt I had known him for years. It was a valuable quality he possessed, getting along equally well with clerks and criminals and ladies of all ages.

We descended from the carriage at the park and went for a walk. There was a cold wind blowing through the trees, but it felt good to get out and stretch our legs. Mr. Maitland said he had to feed Lady Gray, which caused a little confusion. "She gets quite angry with me if I don't bring her a treat every morning," he explained.

"Is she a beggar?" I asked in confusion.

"The most shameless beggar in the city. I'll introduce you to her."

I wasn't at all sure I wished to add a beggar to my list of acquaintances. Already Mr. Maitland had introduced me to a thief.

He had a bag of nuts in his pocket, and he began looking around the trees. Before long, a large gray squirrel came and took the nuts from his fingers. I was formally presented to Lady Gray. Other squirrels were content to retrieve the nuts as he tossed them about on the gra.s.s. He looked younger, less sophisticated, at this occupation. In fact, he looked like a boy.

A bold blue jay was making a wicked racket in the tree-top overhead. It was furious at being left out of the treat. When one nut landed a few yards beyond the others the blue jay swooped down and grabbed it up. "Oh, Des, look!" I laughed. "Now Lady Jay has joined your party."

"Too bad for her. I have no sympathy with backward ladies," he said, and crumpled up the empty bag. When he re-joined me he wore a triumphant smile. "But I am happy she came, even if she wasn't invited. She surprised another backward lady into calling me Des," he said, and put my hand on his arm to return to the carriage.

When we reached Elm Street I was astonished to learn it was twelve-thirty. Mr. Maitland did not come in with me but carried my parcels to the door and arranged an hour to return that evening. Mama and Esther had already made sandwiches and were fast casting themselves into a pelter at my late return.

"We were afraid Mr. Maitland had done something with you," Mama chided.

"Oh, he did, Mama. He took me to meet a beggar in the park." I laughed and told her the story.

"Next time I shall go with you and Mr. Maitland," Esther said. "Mr. Duke is a dead bore. All he talked about were sermons and churches."

"He seems a well-behaved lad," Mama said approvingly.

"What did you buy?" Esther asked.

We examined each other's goods. Mr. Duke had taken the ladies to the Pantheon Bazaar. Mama thought the merchandise there not quite so fine as mine. I didn't tell her the ghastly sum I had paid for my superior stuff, but I didn't regret it.

In the afternoon our other callers came to take us out. It was so strange to see Mama walk out the door on the arm of any gentleman except Papa. The feeling of change, of oddness, was mitigated by Eliot. There I felt dangerously at home, it was so much like being with Graham. We did the sorts of things Graham would have done, too. We went to see St. Paul's Cathedral and Whitehall and St. James's Palace and Park. Mr. Duke kept us merry with his foolish chatter.

Inside St. Paul's he stood at the back of the nave, holding Esther's arm. "Now that is what I call a church," he exclaimed. Earlier he had proclaimed St. James's Palace what he would call a palace, and St. James's Park what he would call a park. "Shall we go down the aisle together?" he asked her.

Eliot smiled at me. "Perhaps more is meant than meets the ear, as Milton said."

Duke scowled fiercely. "Eh? Let him say it to my face!"

We had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon, and when we reached Elm Street, Mama and Mr. Stone were just driving up, so we stood chatting a moment.

"How did you find your sister, Mr. Stone?" I asked politely.

"We didn't go to her," Mama confessed. "We went instead to an art gallery-my, such pictures! Enough to make a lady blush."

I gave Mr. Stone my gimlet eye and he tried to dismiss me. "Just letting down our hair a little."

"What hair?" Duke mumbled. For once, I didn't rebuke him.

"When would you like me to come and clear out Graham's things for you?" Eliot asked before leaving. "Or shall I do it now, while I'm here?"

We kept country hours, and I knew Mama would be wanting her dinner almost immediately. "Can you come tomorrow morning?" I suggested.

"As you don't plan to go out, why don't I come this evening?" he parried.

"We've been pounding the streets all day. I think Mama is tired." There was no particular reason for keeping Mr. Maitland's visit a secret, but I didn't tell him. He'd poker up and act offended. No, that was Graham! How odd. During the afternoon my mind had been busy turning Eliot into his cousin. Graham would have been stiff, but then Graham would have had a reason, as I had been his fiancee.

"I'll be here tomorrow at ten, then, if that suits you," he said very agreeably.

"That will be fine."

After he and Mr. Duke left, I told Mama that Mr. Maitland was coming that evening. "Whatever for?" she asked, astonished.

I explained that he wanted to look for clues to his money, and she accepted it. Esther, the sly minx, cast a wise look at me from the corner of her eye but didn't say anything. All the same, she wore her new ribbons at dinner and borrowed the pearls again.

Chapter Seven.

When Mr. Maitland arrived at the door that evening we received two surprises. The first was that he was dressed in evening clothes, for of course he would be going on to his sister's rout party. He looked almost like a stranger in his elegant black jacket and sparkling linen cravat. The second surprise was that he came loaded down like a footman, carrying flowers for Mama, a box of bonbons for Esther, and a tin of salted nuts for me.

"My goodness, Mr. Maitland, you didn't have to do that!" Mama exclaimed, but she was pleased with his thoughtfulness. She rushed off immediately to put her flowers in water.

Esther took her sweets and said, "This is an unexpected compliment, sir. Are you implying I am not sweet enough?"

"Certainly not. I make reference to the cliche 'sweets for the sweet.' "

When I saw the label on my tin I added my thanks. "I am honored, Mr. Maitland. Now that I understand your reasoning, I don't have to inquire whether I am salty enough. This puts me in the elevated company of Lady Gray, does it not?"

"You must know you've replaced the ladies Gray and Jay in my esteem, Belle." I gave him a heavy frown for using my name, but as only Esther was present, he ignored it. We sat in the saloon for a few moments before beginning our work. Mama came back with the flowers in a vase and offered tea.

"Mr. Maitland is on his way to a party, Mama," I explained. "I'm sure he would like to get away early, so he will want to get to work.''

He turned a mocking eye on me. "You don't get rid of a barnacle that easily, milady. We require stiffer hacking. I'll accept your kind invitation to tea, ma'am," he said, glancing at Mama, "but your daughter wants to work first, I believe. Where would you suggest we begin?"

"Graham used his bedroom as an office, so that is the likeliest place," I suggested.

Esther, eager for a little attention, asked Desmond, "What do you hope to find?"

"Probably nothing, but I would like to look, on the off chance that I will learn something."

Esther came up with us and sat on the bed, eating her bonbons and playing propriety while Mr. Maitland rooted through desk drawers and I searched jacket pockets. I noticed him lift my packet of letters to Graham. He looked at the blue satin ribbon, looked at me, and put them back in the drawer. I went to the bedside table and opened the little drawer. There was a tin of headache powders, a book of essays, and a small ledger of Graham's personal finances.

I flipped the book open and glanced at the last page of entries, mostly pertaining to the purchase and furnishing of the house. Graham was a precise accountant. Several items were listed-the sofas and tables, the draperies and silver--but this would be of no help to Desmond. I turned back to the earlier pages, perusing the accounts and looking for any oddity. In January of the year he died there was a withdrawal of two hundred pounds, listed as K.N. As I looked down the months I saw regular withdrawals of smaller sums. Ten pounds, five pounds, twenty pounds. And in August, another two hundred pounds, all entered as K.N.

I cast my mind back, trying to remember what Graham had been doing at that time. January was the time I had first gone out with Graham to the a.s.sembly Rooms in Bath. In August we had become engaged, but there had been no great expense in that. My ring had belonged to his mother, so even that hadn't been a purchase.

I closed the book and peered over my shoulder at Desmond. He looked up and noticed my secretive air. "Did you find something?" he asked, and paced forward.

"Nothing interesting. It's personal."

His hand reached for the book. Esther was watching, and rather than make a show in front of her, I let him take the book. He studied it, flipping back through a few pages. I knew when he discovered the K.N. entries. The pages stopped flipping, and a puzzled frown settled on his brow. He didn't ask to keep the book but returned it to the drawer and said, "This is dry work. Do you think we could have a gla.s.s of wine?"

Esther was bored and hopped up to fetch it. Desmond waited till she was beyond hearing, then asked, "Do you recognize the initials K.N.?"

"No, I don't. Do you think it refers to a person?"

"I a.s.sume it does. The initials aren't any recognized abbreviation."

"Maybe Graham was supporting a needy relative. I'll ask Mrs. Mailer and Eliot Sutton. It has nothing to do with your money, in any case. The last K.N. entry occurred in August, months before he was killed."

"I noticed." He looked around the room and saw the bundle of Graham's clothes on the bed. "What's that?"

I told him quietly while I stared at the unhappy bundle. His hands came out and grasped mine in a warm grip. His voice was low-pitched, sympathetic. "What a sorry business for you, poor Belle. Not at all the way you envisaged your first trip to London. Have you looked through that parcel?"

"Not yet. I couldn't..." My voice broke, but I blinked away the hot tears that wanted to ooze out. His fingers squeezed mine so hard it was painful. I pulled myself together and looked at the parcel. "It must be done sooner or later. If there is anything of use to you, that's where it would be, isn't it? That's what he wore that night."

Desmond lifted the jacket and shook it out before looking through the pockets. "His watch and so on were in a separate packet with his keys," I explained. "Bow Street must have emptied them."

"They would. Perhaps the waistcoat ..."

He began a rapid search of it. There was only one item, a small address book in the pocket. I had often seen it, for Graham always carried it with him. Desmond flipped through it, one finger tracing the columns. His pointing finger stopped, and he gave me a quick, worried glance.

"What is it?" I demanded, and went to peer over his shoulder. I read, K. Norman, 7 Fleury Lane, 2B. "That must be K.N.! Where's Fleury Lane?"

"It's a short street, near Long Acre, just west of St. Martin's Lane," he replied. "Not a choice district."

"Long Acre?"

"Near there, yes," he said, and gazed at me thoughtfully.

"That's where the necklace was given over-where Graham hit the man and took the money. Desmond, do you think Graham might have dropped the bag of money off there? I mean, it's very close, and if he knew someone was following him ... Oh, we must go and see K. Norman."

"I'll go. It's not an area to take a lady."

"Fiddlesticks! What do I care for that? I'm going with you."

"I admire your enthusiasm, but stop and think a minute. If K. Norman has had that money for two years and not seen fit to return it, well, that gives you some idea of his character. I couldn't possibly take you there. It would be unconscionable."

"If K. Norman was a friend or pensioner of Graham's, then he was no criminal. I have a right to go. This involves me, too. You've already brought a common thief into my house, so never mind pretending you care a fig for propriety."

He smiled his submission. "You aren't going to forgive me for introducing Grant to you, are you, Belle? Very well, I'll take you, but under protest. Whoever and whatever K. Norman turns out to be, the acquaintance is on your own head."

We heard Esther's footsteps on the stairs. Then, when she had made the trip, we both decided there was nothing further to be done upstairs and went down to join Mama.

We discussed our small find with her. "K. Norman," she said, and her spectacles glinted in the lamplight. "Graham's mama was named Leader before marriage, so it cannot be kin on that side. He had a cousin Kenneth, but the last name was Sutton. K. Norman. It means nothing to me."

It was frustrating to think I knew so little of Graham's life. "It's probably some client," I decided.

"In that case, K. Norman would have been paying Mr. Sutton, and not the reverse," Desmond pointed out.

We had soon exhausted that topic and chatted about other things. "Are you ladies settling in comfortably?" he asked.

"If you look very closely, you won't see any crumbs on the carpet tonight," I a.s.sured him. "Mama has learned how to get the stove going. She pours grease on top of the papers and logs."

"Grease? That's dangerous, ma'am! You'll start a conflagration in the chimney. How much longer will you be without servants? I ask because I could spare you a fellow till yours arrive. I don't like to think of you here unprotected."

"It's good for us," I a.s.sured him. "It teaches us independence. Why, I am thinking quite seriously of putting the door knocker on myself. I discovered a toolbox in the kitchen."

"Let me do it for you," Desmond offered.

Mama was quite shocked and protested, but before you could say one, two, three, he had gotten the screwdriver and attached our bra.s.s acorn to the door, only a little crooked.

"Are there any other odd jobs I can do while I'm here?"

"Oh, dear, no, so very kind," Mama said. She was beginning to be quite relaxed with him.

I reminded him that he was going to be late for his sister's rout. "Good," he said. "This is really a business party to entertain her husband's a.s.sociates and their families. These a.s.sociates have mostly daughters-antidotes, every one of them. Why should I spend my whole evening with antidotes when I could be with the three prettiest newcomers in town? Newcomers have a special cachet, you must know. I've had not fewer than three gentlemen asking for your name, Belle, after seeing us on the strut on Bond Street this morning. I told them I didn't know," he added facetiously. "I didn't want to subject you to calls from dukes and barons."

"Desmond!" Esther squealed. "I should adore to meet a duke!"

"You've already met one, my child. Mr. Duke speaks of nothing else but your blue eyes and golden hair. And something else-what was it? A nasty temper, I think it was.''' But he said it so charmingly that she appeared to take it for a compliment.

"I mean a real duke." Esther pouted. Mama clucked, but forgivingly.

Desmond tossed his shoulders and said, "Duke's as real as they come. You can't wish him away. You've attached him, my girl, and don't think you won't be the envy of a round dozen older ladies who have him in their eyes. Mr. Duke may not be the prettiest blade in London, but he's well connected and a good bloke, too."

"Good gracious, what should you want with a duke, Esther?" Mama asked. "You wouldn't even know how to address him."

"I hadn't planned to write him a letter!" she said.

"Nor to speak to him either, apparently," I added.

It was well after ten when Desmond finally rose and took his leave. "Even a barnacle must go eventually. I'll send my groom around in the morning for your orders,'' he said.

"Not that again! I told you we don't want your carriage."

"And I told you that you shall have it, want it or not. You aren't the only one blessed with stubbornness, Belle. Devon breeds a famous mule. Or do I mean an egregious a.s.s?"

Whatever it was that was bred in Devon, the carriage was at the door at nine on the dot the next morning. I sent the groom off and determined that I would have Eliot hire us a team and get Graham's carriage from the stable very soon.

Eliot arrived at ten, as arranged. Mama came to the bedroom with us when I took Eliot up to pack Graham's belongings. Eliot had brought a trunk, which he and his groom hauled up the staircase. We soon had the packing down to a system. Mama and I folded the garments, and Eliot arranged them in the trunk.