"What do you want?"
"First of all, Margaret Stafford doesn’t quite convert to 'Callie,' and neither does Esmerelda. What is your real name?"
Calliope’s shoulders stiffened. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
He folded his hands. "Do you really think it would take me long to ascertain your true identity? All I need to do is make a trip to the theater."
"I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. My name is Calliope Minton." She gritted her name out.
"Calliope. Yes, that’s more fitting," he said with a relish that confused her.
"Are we finished here, my lord?"
Angelford’s tone softened. "I want to find Stephen, regardless of what you may believe. He is a very close friend and I need your assistance. In return, I promise to protect you and yours."
It was one of the reasons she had visited him. She needed his help. She felt her shoulders droop and she nodded. She’d do anything to save her family.
If it were anyone else, she would have sworn a look of relief fleetingly crossed his features. But this was James Trenton, the great Marquess of Angelford. Did anything not go his way?
A lock of hair fell in front of his eyes. He pushed it back. "Let’s put aside personal questions for now, shall we, Miss Minton?"
The lock of hair looked like it might disobey. Angelford suddenly seemed a bit more human, a bit less like a gorgeous avenging demon.
Calliope felt some of the tension drain from her muscles. "Yes."
"Good. Pardon me for a minute and I will have Finn set up some security at the Adelphi. Who would be targeted in particular?"
The admission was hard. "The Daly family. "
He nodded and walked to the door. Finn must have been standing just outside, because Angelford whispered something around the corner and then shut the door once more.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked.
He was in her study, offering her refreshment?
"Black tea would be wonderful." Calliope crossed her ankles and waited.
Angelford didn’t disappoint. He pulled the cord and waited for her butler to appear. "Grimmond? Black tea, please, and Cook’s lemon squares."
"Very well, my lord." Grimmond turned and quit the room.
"Do you always demand service in other people’s houses?" she asked.
"Ah, but Grimmond has known me since I was in britches."
That would make sense. But even if they hadn’t been acquainted, Calliope didn’t think any self-respecting butler would ignore him.
"Grimmond is Stephen’s personal butler. I’m shocked he moved him here," Angelford said.
"Who did you expect?"
"I expected Johnson. I must assume he was traded to Stephen’s primary residence. Actually, it’s a blessing Grimmond is here. I’ll have a talk with him later today. He will help."
Angelford walked back toward the desk. He was looking intently at the papers scattered in front of her. Her hair stood on end. A sketch was partially visible. All it would take was a mere flick of his wrist and he’d discover her secret.
Her impulse was to snatch the papers aside, but she couldn’t seize the drawing without elevating his already high suspicions. Under the circumstances, he would undoubtedly pounce on her the second she fingered them.
Angelford reached the desk. Calliope’s calves tensed for flight.
The door opened opportunely and Angelford looked to the entrance. Calliope brushed a blank paper over the sketch. She hid the action by standing and walking to the settee.
To her immense relief Angelford followed and tea was served. They munched on the lemon squares in silence. She convinced herself he wouldn’t have taken a seat if he had seen the sketch.
He broke her musings. "I think I know what’s going on."
Her head involuntarily jerked up. "You do?"
He nodded.
Her stomach knotted.
"You have lived here for several weeks, correct? "
She was flustered, but nodded.
"What do you do to occupy your time?"
"I go to the park frequently. And to the parties, of course."
"So you are out of the house regularly?"
"I suppose. Although we dine here and sometimes spend the evening playing chess or backgammon."
He raised his brows, causing her nerves to jitter. Damn. She was supposed to be a courtesan. She needed to be coy. Calliope prepared some lines, but he didn’t give her the chance to utter them.
"When Stephen placed you here, did he bring in many new furnishings?"
Where was he leading her? "No, I believe the staff cleaned only what was here, and of course I brought several items with me."
Angelford frowned. "To your knowledge has Stephen purchased anything recently?"
"No."
"Hmmmm…"
Calliope tried to relax. Her concern over her family’s safety and Stephen’s welfare warred with protecting her true identity. But, Angelford wasn’t asking questions as if he knew she was the caricaturist who had vilified him. She fought to control her breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. She redoubled her efforts to concentrate.
"What we have so far is one missing nobleman, one attempted kidnapping, one threatening note and one unknown object. All of these are connected." He paused. "To you."
A small knot of fear recurled in her stomach.
Angelford reread the threat. "But you aren’t the one missing. Stephen is."
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Stephen is definitely a figure in this mystery, but what part does he play?"
Calliope had no answer, so she remained silent.
He ran a hand through his dark hair. She wondered if it felt as silky as it looked. "The whole matter is disjointed. Why attempt a kidnapping one night and then send you a threatening note the next day? It seems a little backwards."
"Maybe due to your interference last night they revised their plan."
"Perhaps." Angelford didn’t sound convinced. He leaned forward. "I’ve analyzed the situation from several angles, but I always return to the object. Whoever the person or persons are, we need to figure out what they are looking for."
"It makes sense, I agree. But what could they be seeking? What could Stephen or I have that someone wants so badly to go to such lengths?" She barely owned the clothes on her back. No, she didn’t even own those, they were Stephen’s.
He perused her for a long moment before speaking. "Stephen works for the government. As a cousin to both a duke and a powerful earl he has many contacts. He is also an avid collector of art. The object in question could be an artifact from his collection or a certificate in his possession."
"Are you implying that Stephen might have sensitive government documents?" she asked cautiously. "The man last night asked me where 'it' was. He obviously thought I knew what he was talking about."
"Do you?"
"No. I thought we’d already discussed this. If I knew, I definitely wouldn’t be sipping tea and talking to you about it."
He watched her closely for a moment. "It could be a slip of paper. It could be a sculpture. It could be anything. So we’ll have to start with things familiar to you. And that means here."
Calliope looked around the library. Stephen’s gorgeous low library writing table suddenly appeared like a large puzzle, with its undoubtedly vest array of unknown hidden compartments and secret drawers. Large rococo carved mahogany bookcases and trinkets of all sizes and shapes loomed. "Like Psyche starting one of Aphrodite’s labors."
The corners of his mouth creased upward at her muttering. "Since I don’t sense any divine intervention, might I suggest we limit ourselves to documents first? lf we are unsuccessful here, we can search his suite upstairs."