The Case of the Missing Cross Read online

  The Case of the Missing Cross

  A “Justice” and Miss Quinn Mystery

  Book One

  By

  Felicia Rogers

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2015 by Felicia Rogers

  The Case of the Missing Cross

  A “Justice” and Miss Quinn Mystery, Book One

  Copyright ©2015 by Felicia Rogers

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Contact Information:

  Website: http://feliciarogersauthor.weebly.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Published by Felicia Rogers

  Cover Design by For the Muse Designs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One: The Profession

  February 1815

  Baron of Eure, Fortescue Cunning, hosted the most interesting and entertaining soirees. Miss Magnolia Quinn had attended at least three during the current season.

  She paused near the dais and scanned the room, looking for — well, she knew not what. Beside her, the musicians tuned their instruments, filling the air with discordant sound. Magnolia caressed her ear sockets as she considered the attendees.

  Officers just returned from the war filled the hall with their red coats. Young ladies twittered whalebone fans over their exposed décolletage and batted their lashes, winking invitations. Across the room, well out of earshot, Father huddled with his business partners amongst green, waxy-leaved plants. Other guests chatted amicably while lounging on plush velvet settees arranged squarely in the middle of the room.

  So much for the interesting soiree she’d hoped for. Bored already, Magnolia rolled her eyes and searched for a fern to hide behind. There was little reason to cavort with those in attendance, because she had no intentions of marrying. At nineteen her life spread before her like a blank canvas. The colors waited on a palate to be mixed. The brush–

  “What a scowl you wear. Thinking of your next world to conquer?”

  Delight surged through her at the unexpected voice. “Justin Blakemoor, as I live and breathe.”

  Tall with blond wavy hair and brown eyes, Justin attracted the attention of half the females in the hall as he bowed at the waist before her. “At your service, madam.”

  She cocked a brow as he rose. “What happened to your face?”

  He laid a hand over his chest and dropped his jaw, as if gravely insulted. “My face is as handsome as ever.”

  “No, silly. The purple bruise beneath your eye. Did you flirt with the headmaster’s daughter again?” Magnolia enjoyed the flush that swathed her old friend’s cheeks. It made him even more attractive, and across the room, Hesper looked ready to swoon.

  “Miss Rotherham might wish for such a game, but I assure you, I did nothing of the sort.”

  “Poor Hesper. I fear her father will never be satisfied with her choice of suitor. But do tell me what happened to you? You know how I love a fanciful tale. Especially when it regards you.”

  He crooked his elbow through hers and willingly escorted her into the public eye. “Yes, I’ve been the butt of many of your jokes. And I assure you I enjoyed every one.”

  A smile teased her lips and his innocent touch warmed her heart. “Indeed. I shall remember that when I investigate my next scandal involving you.”

  Justin’s lips twitched upward, but he quickly transformed his expression into one more serious. “I had so hoped no one would notice.”

  Astonished, she leaned closer and whispered, “The bruise?”

  “Yes. I fear Liam Filbee and I had a bit of a row, a tussle really, and he socked me.”

  How could he not have expected everyone in Bath to notice that bruise? “Who looks better?”

  “Why, I couldn’t say. He holed up in his flat after the incident and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Yes, well, his face is probably swollen and so frightful he thought it best to avoid public scrutiny. I can’t say I blame him.” She wouldn’t say it aloud, but Liam Filbee wouldn’t be half so attractive with a bruised face.

  Her twisting of the situation to his favor renewed his smile. Gently, he palmed her elbow and directed her to a settee hugging the east wall. Couples waltzed past and the musicians had definitely found their notes. With Justin’s arrival, the soiree was looking up.

  “How do your sisters fare?”

  He relaxed against the settee and crossed his legs. “Enjoying the West Indies with their husbands. Father is still overjoyed that they married brothers.”

  “Is that because the family relationship keeps them together?” The girls had always been close.

  He laughed under his breath. “More because he managed to pay for one wedding!”

  Magnolia laughed behind her hand. The sisters had wed brothers in a single ceremony then taken off for the West Indies. Much more adventurous than she would ever be.

  Justin and she had been friends since childhood. He was four years her senior and had always believed he could boss her like a small child.

  His father, Randall Blakemoor, although untitled was wealthy and the owner of a vast estate. As a child she had visited the Blakemoor sisters often, but during the school holidays when Justin had returned home, they had developed a lively friendship. It had started when she’d toppled off a tree swing and scraped her knee at the tender age of five. Justin had scooped her into his arms and hauled her inside to his father. Not a gentle man, Mr. Blakemoor had uttered words such as “should have been more careful,” “that’ll teach you,” and her favorite, “scurry back outside.”

  She’d hobbled what seemed a vast distance to an outer veranda. Justin had tracked her down, carrying water and rags, and cleaned her wound and her tears. She’d adored him ever since.

  Across the room, a plate clattered to the floor, awakening her from her memories, and she refocused on Justin. His face seemed pinched, as if deep in thought, and not just about the tussle with Liam or their comparative bruising.

  Justin whispered, “Do you not think all these balls a tad odd?”

  She snatched a ripe cherry from a passing tray and popped it in her mouth. “Actually, no. We are of the ton and it is the season.” Whether she liked it or not.

  “Yes, I know all that, but why so many at Cunning Manor? Fortescue doesn’t have the funds to–”

  She patted his leg. “You and your conspiracy theories.”

  “It is not a theory. Well, maybe it is, but you must agree that it’s odd. Last year his father declared himself bankrupt, let go his servants from their positions, and put his country estate on the market, and now–”

  “I know, now Cunning parades around in a new tailcoat every night and has a ball once a week.”

  Justin nodded, as if he considered her on the right track.

  Magnolia sucked in a deep breath. “Have you stopped to consider that the country estate might have sold for a hefty sum?”

  “Perhaps.” He bounced his bent legs. It was an action she’d come to recognize as a nervous mannerism. More often than not, it got her friend into a measure of trouble. She grinned at the thought. Assisting Justin into trouble was always such fun.

  He bounced his legs again. “And what of the thefts?”

  “Thefts?” She sat straighter.

  “Have you not heard?”

  She shook her head, and he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “During each ball, a robbery has occurred.”

  �
��From where? By whom?”

  “From different households, of course. Which is why I believe the events are a ruse to empty everyone’s town houses so they can be robbed, one by one.”

  “Balderdash,” she exclaimed and fell back against the settee in a less than ladylike fashion.

  “How so? The theory is perfectly sound.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Is this why you left university?”

  “I–I–”

  “So you could search out the thief?”

  His lips lowered and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe.”

  “Then you should return and let the constable handle it.”

  He faced her and clasped her hands. “But this is a job for Justice and Miss Quinn.”

  She rolled her eyes and slid her hands from his. “Justin, that was naught more than a childhood game. There is no such thing as Justice and Miss Quinn.”

  “Oh, but I disagree.” He drew a calling card from his breast pocket.

  Scrolled words read: Receive justice from “Justice” and Miss Quinn.

  Her breath caught. “You must be joking?”

  “I never joke about my profession.”

  She leaned forward, her voice becoming shrill. “Profession? Justin, you’ve never worked a day in your life!”

  “I resent that accusation. Father made me muck stalls as punishment.” He crossed his arms over his chest again.

  She threw up her hands. “I concede. You’re obviously an experienced employee.”

  “Magnolia, don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m sorry, Justin, but the idea is preposterous.”

  “But why? We were great sleuth-hounds.”

  “We were not anything of the sort. You lost your mother’s favorite bonnet and we were trying to locate it before she tanned your bottom.”

  He tapped a finger to his chin. His brown eyes darkened. “True, but it was merry fun looking for clues and piecing the puzzle together.”

  She sighed. “Exactly — it was a spot of fun, but not to be taken seriously.”

  His shoulders slumped.

  Oh, dear. Magnolia felt his disappointment, and she felt guilty for causing it. What would be the harm in going along with his game? Perhaps if she worked with him to solve this one mystery, then he would be satisfied.

  “Very well.”

  “Really?” His eyes widened and he bounced on the settee. “You won’t regret it. Tomorrow we have an appointment with Lady Sybil Peppercorn.”

  He was wrong. She regretted it already.

  Chapter Two: Lady Sybil

  Justin thumped his cane against the marble floor of the Quinn town home. Magnolia was fashionably late. He closed his fob watch, stuffed it into its vest pocket, and paced. If they left in precisely ten minutes, they would just make it to Lady Sybil’s front door before their scheduled appointment. That was if he asked his driver to whip the horses to a frenzied state — not something he really wanted to do.

  A gown rustled and he diverted his attention to the stairs. Magnolia descended slowly, stifling a yawn.

  “I’m sorry, Justin. My maid forgot to wake me and then she was busy helping cook–”

  He fought off irritation. Just because he was excited about tackling their first mystery didn’t mean she had to be. “Save your excuses for the carriage ride. We must be off.”

  He flung her pelisse over her shoulders, shoved a plumed hat upon her head, and ushered her out the door, his hand in the small of her back dragging her more than guiding.

  “Do slow down, otherwise I might trip,” she said, her voice raised an octave.

  He hoisted her into his arms and held her against his chest as he strode to the street. She yelped and held her hat in place. The footman opened the carriage door without a change in expression and Justin deposited her inside.

  She looked miffed, avoiding his gaze and straightening her skirts as he climbed in, and then the carriage lurched forward.

  “What was that for?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

  “What do you mean?” He lifted his chin and gazed at her animated face.

  Her dark green eyes stood out against her porcelain skin. Wisps of brownish-red hair drifted around her face, causing a slight twitter in his stomach. She’d finished growing up while he’d been away at university, and he had to say he liked the results.

  “I mean, what was the meaning of hauling me like a sack of potatoes?”

  “I didn’t haul you like potatoes. That would have been over my shoulder.” He leaned back, fighting a smirk.

  Her head bobbed. “Either way, it was undignified. You can’t keep treating me like your… your…”

  “Well, excuse me for assisting.”

  “Your motives were purely selfish.” She wagged her finger.

  “Perhaps, but we mustn’t keep the lady waiting. I hear her temper is as violent as her timing is punctual and precise.”

  “Humph.” Magnolia drew on her gloves. “Do tell me what Lady Sybil has lost. If it is a portrait of her dog, I shall feel grossly misused.”

  His heartbeat raced and he leaned forward. “Nay, nothing so trivial.”

  “Well, what then?”

  “The item is of great monetary value as well as personal and historical importance.” He stopped talking, picturing the stolen artifact in his imagination. It would be heavy, difficult for a lone man to carry, even more difficult to hide…

  “Justin, if you don’t speak of it soon, I will be forced to throttle you.”

  “Very well. The object is rarely on display. It only leaves its special housing to be burnished, then it is immediately returned.”

  “And it is…”

  “A golden cross.”

  She blinked.

  Exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “The Golden Cross of Mycenae was discovered by the Roman church while digging through Greek ruins. The church sold it to a buyer of ancient goods who supposedly promised to donate it to a museum, but he didn’t follow through with his obligation. He claimed the piece stolen while actually selling it to a private collector. For more money, I’m sure.”

  She gasped. “How do you know this?”

  “It was in a scientific journal.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “At least fifty years ago.”

  “And where is the buyer now?”

  “I’m sure the chap has passed on. He was elderly even then. But the point is, the Baron of Grenville, Lady Sybil’s late husband, purchased the cross at a later date. When he realized its value, he stored it in a safe place and kept it a secret.”

  “Then are you sure it is stolen? Perhaps it was misplaced. Lady Sybil is not young.”

  “Magnolia, you must allow me to finish.”

  “By all means.” She held her hand out, as if sarcastically inviting him to continue.

  Irritating woman. “I don’t appreciate your doubtful nature. So you will just have to wait until Lady Sybil explains.”

  Magnolia scrunched her face and covered her mouth. No doubt she fought rising laughter. Before he could retort, the carriage shuddered to a halt, and he jumped down before Magnolia could question him further.

  The footman assisted Magnolia in her descent as Justin hopped around like a terrier puppy released from his pen.

  “Justin, please, your impatience is showing.”

  He straightened and offered his arm. Magnolia took it and they strolled up the steps to the ornate door. Only when they were closer did they see the faded paint.

  “I believe the Peppercorn family needs a new man of all trades.”

  He nodded his agreement as a gray-liveried butler opened the door. “May I help you?”

  Justin cleared his throat. “We have an appointment with Lady Sybil.”

  “Your name, sir?” The solemn-faced butler appeared less than eager to admit them, pulling the door against his body and narrowing his hawkish eyes.

  Magnolia tensed beside him. Before she could speak and irritate th
e already irritated butler, Justin again cleared his throat to forestall her. “I’m Justin Blakemoor and this is Miss Magnolia Quinn.”

  The door opened wider. “Oh, do come in. My lady has been expecting you.”

  Magnolia shot Justin a glance before stepping through the entrance. Justin followed, squinting in the dim candlelight. Even with the door still open, the entry seemed somber.

  The butler closed the door, turning the atmosphere positively grim. “Forgive the darkness, but my lady is in mourning.”

  “Oh?” Magnolia wrinkled her brow.

  “Yes. Since the loss of the cross, she has refused to even part the draperies.” The butler’s whispered speech was accentuated by his bobbing head.

  Justin flashed an I-told-you-so look and felt immediate regret. Magnolia lifted her chin, tossed her head, and smacked him with her hat’s plumage.

  He brushed feathers from his mouth even as his lips twitched at the corners. Sassy little woman. He had indeed missed her companionship.

  They were escorted to the parlor and greeted by the Lady Sybil Peppercorn, Baroness of Grenville. She held a black handkerchief to her reddened nose. White hair curled around her still comely face and she arched a painted-on brow.

  The butler announced them. “Mr. Blakemoor and Miss Quinn.”

  Her full-length gown swished around her as she sauntered forward. “Welcome.”

  Magnolia dipped in a graceful curtsey. Justin admired her diplomacy, allowing pride to swell in his breast.

  “Lady Sybil, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Magnolia straightened.

  “The pleasure is mine. Mr. Blakemoor tells me you are superb at finding lost objects.”

  “Indeed.” Magnolia narrowed her eyes and Justin tugged at his tightening cravat.

  “Of course, he mentioned that he played a small role in the discoveries, but the most credit was given to you.”

  Magnolia preened beneath Sybil’s praise and Justin thrilled without letting it show. The meeting was progressing in a splendid fashion. Before it ended, Magnolia would be bound to him as a true partner… if not in any other way.