The Curse Of The Diogenes Club by Anna Lord Read Free Book Online

Klein’s mouche was
heart-shaped.
    Major Nash took her arm and led
her onto the dance floor, and she was pleasantly surprised to
discover the baronet did not have two left feet.
    “Have you seen Dr Watson?” she
asked as soon as they fell into step. “I haven’t seen him all
evening.”
    “Yes, he took a tumble down the
stairs.” He heard her gasp and felt her pull away; his grip
tightened and he made sure to pull her closer. “No need to feel
alarmed. A doctor has seen him. He is sleeping calmly in the
guardroom. A sedative will keep him there until after the
fireworks.”
    A flicker of genuine concern
was evident in the wide-eyed startlement of the blue-grey eyes.
“You can assure me he is not injured?”
    “I can assure you he is fine.
By the way, thank you for intervening back there.”
    “I presume that you and Mrs
Klein have some history?”
    “We did but it’s over.”
    “I imagine she eats handsome
young men for breakfast.”
    He laughed and they both began
to relax. “She prefers her admirers young and rich. When she
discovered I could not afford to buy her any baubles from Old Bond
Street she decided to make an example of me.”
    “Her loss is my gain – you
dance very well.”
    He glanced up to make sure the
crazy pirate wasn’t on the mezzanine, and spotted Jim instead. The
Irishman was watching them hungrily from behind some red velvet
curtains – let him eat his heart out. He pulled her as close as he
dared and off they went spinning.
    As soon as the dance was over
she convinced him escort her to the guardroom to see Dr Watson for
herself. The guardroom was a separate building at the far end of
the pavilion. It meant they had to go outside through the foyer and
along the full length of the veranda. He knew Jim would follow them
and this was his chance to get the Irishman evicted. Once Jim was
outside it would be impossible for him to come back in again
without an invitation that had his name calligraphied in fancy gold
lettering.
    The doctor was sleeping like a
baby on a makeshift bed set behind a partition wall. Reassured that
her friend had not suffered any serious injury and that he was
quite comfortable, they began making their way back to the foyer,
passing the Musketeer on the way, tucked tightly into a niche.
Major Nash pretended not to notice.
    Once they returned to the
foyer, Prince Sergei claimed her in a dance and it freed Major Nash
to issue some instructions. He spotted Captain Thompson as he was
about to go outside.
    “Did you collar the
pirate?”
    “No, sir, he is proving
elusive. I have six men scouting the pavilion but he appears to
have gone to ground. Should I put more men on it?”
    Nash frowned. “No, we don’t
want to alarm the guests. Keep the six men at it. There’s someone
else who shouldn’t be here. He may be a Fenian sympathiser. He is
currently outside and will try to gain entry. I want you to take
charge personally. Stand guard at this door with four of your most
trustworthy men. This man is dressed as a Musketeer. As soon as he
appears I want you to arrest him and then have your men escort him
to the police wagon by the stable block. Lock him inside. I’ll deal
with him later tonight.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Major Nash glanced at his
watch. It was getting on for half past ten o’clock. The Russian
ambassador was still dancing with the Countess. The photographer
was roaming the mezzanine, snapping pictures of couples on the
dance floor. The mysterious lady in purple and gold was nowhere to
be seen. Supper was being served in the twin banqueting rooms and
quite a few of the dancers were drifting away. If he was quick he
could personally check the gentlemen’s smoking rooms for that
damned elusive pirate.
    No sooner had he dashed up the
stairs than a man in a tartan kilt appeared at the entrance. He had
an invitation in the name of Dr John Watson. Captain Thompson
thought the tartan looked vaguely familiar but he was looking out
for a Musketeer not a Scotsman