Vanza 03. Wicked Widow by Amanda Quick

Author:Amanda Quick
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780307575715
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2000-09-14T23:00:00+00:00

The high wall that surrounded the gardens at the rear of Eaton Pitney’s big house proved no obstacle to Artemas’s skills. Madeline held the small, unlit lantern he had brought along and watched impatiently as he ascended the stone barrier. When he reached the top of the wall, he lowered a length of rope that had been knotted with a loop for her foot.

She seized hold of the rope, thrust the toe of her half boot into the knotted circle, and held on tight while Artemas hoisted her lightly up to the top of the wall. A moment later they descended into the fogbound garden.

“Do you know, Artemas, this is really quite exhilarating.”

“I was afraid you would think so.” He sounded glumly resigned.

The mist was so heavy that the looming mansion was only a great, hulking shape. No light glowed in any of the windows. Artemas found the kitchen door and tried it.

“Locked,” he said.

“Just as one would expect, given that the owner of the house is in the country.” Madeline studied the shuttered window. “I trust you can pick the lock.”

“What makes you think I can pick locks?”

She shrugged. “You are Vanza. In my experience, men who are trained in the ancient arts are very good at getting through locked doors.”

“Obviously you do not approve of such skills,” he said. He took a set of lock picks out of the pocket of his coat.

Scenes from her nightmares fluttered through her mind. She saw herself crouched in front of the door of the bedchamber, probing the lock with a key that kept slipping from her fingers.

“I will admit that such skills have their uses,” she said bleakly. “And I can hardly object to your abilities with the picks. My father was very good with them, too. Indeed, he taught me … Never mind. It does not signify now.”

Artemas gave her a quick, searching look before he set to work, but he did not comment.

Madeline grew anxious as the seconds ticked past. “Is something wrong?”

“Pitney’s concern with the so-called Strangers he believes are stalking him apparently made him invest in specially designed locks.” Artemas’s face was set in lines of intense concentration. “These are not the ordinary sort one gets from the average locksmith.”

She watched him probe delicately with the picks. “You will be able to manage them, won’t you?”

“Perhaps.” He bent closer to the heavy iron lock. “If you cease distracting me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Ah, there we go. A clever device based on a classic Vanza pattern. I must remember to ask Pitney which locksmith crafted it for him.”

The professional interest in his voice worried her. “Don’t be absurd. You cannot ask Mr. Pitney about his locks without admitting that you broke into his house.”

“Thank you for pointing out that small oversight.” He dropped the picks back into his pocket and opened the door.

Madeline found herself gazing into a narrow, gloom-filled hall. No housekeeper or footman appeared to demand explanations or sound the alarm.

She stepped gingerly over the threshold. “The house does seem to be unoccupied.

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