Death Wears a Mask (19 page)

“Fairly well,” I said. “She was quite fond of her nephew, so all this has been very hard on her. I think perhaps that is why she has come up with a rather strange idea.”

He was wary now. I could sense it. Though his features maintained a perfectly pleasant expression, something in his posture had changed ever so slightly. Whatever else he might be, Lord Dunmore was not a stupid man. I was going to have to be careful.

“What kind of idea?” he asked, a watchful expression on his face.

Though I didn't know him well, I had rather suspected that he was the sort of man who could best be guided by subtle suggestion rather than direct requests, but I had decided to be straightforward. I wasn't sure it had paid off. I thought it unlikely I would succeed in convincing him, but I supposed I might as well go ahead with our slipshod plan while I was here.

“Mrs. Barrington thinks we may be able to convince the thief to strike again if you put the Dunmore Diamond on display.”

It seemed that whatever he had been expecting me to say, this was not it. My answer appeared to actually relieve his mind in some way. “Does she, indeed? I think that sounds a bit far-fetched.”

“I thought the same,” I told him. “But she's a bit eccentric, isn't she? She seems to think that the thief might be willing to try again. Of course, if she happens to be right, I would hate to put either you or the Dunmore Diamond in danger.”

The word “danger” seemed to have the opposite effect than I had intended.

“It is an interesting idea,” he said. “I'll think it over. After all, there may be nothing to it, and there would be no harm to satisfy her whim.”

I was a bit surprised. “Thank you. I'll tell her you're considering it.”

“And is that the only reason you've come, Mrs. Ames?” he asked. He had relaxed into his chair, but there was an intensity in his gaze that I might have found unnerving were I not hoping to play on his apparent interest in me as a means to an end. If I could form a friendship with him, I might be able to learn something.

I hesitated, allowing uncertainty to pass across my face. “Not the only reason, I suppose.”

He waited, a vaguely expectant look on his handsome features.

“I felt perhaps that I was a bit rude to you when you called at my flat,” I admitted at last. In truth, I thought I had spoken to him just as he deserved, but he was more likely to prove helpful if I was a bit more polite.

“I'm afraid I expressed myself badly,” he said. “It wasn't my intention to offend you. It's just that I somehow find it difficult to mind my manners when in your company, Mrs. Ames.”

He really was very good. Somehow he had wrapped an apology for his forward behavior in another advance. If I hadn't lived with Milo for nearly six years, I might have been taken in by his false repentance. As it was, I was well versed on the use of charm in lieu of sincerity.

“Well, now that we have cleared that up, perhaps we can be friends.” I hoped I wasn't giving him the wrong impression, but I felt it was important to keep him on my side if I was to catch a killer.

“If we're to be friends, I wish you'd call me Alexander,” he said. “It rolls off the tongue a bit more easily than Lord Dunmore.”

I supposed there was no harm in it, so I nodded my assent. “If you'll call me Amory.”

“I should love to.”

“Well,” I said, rising to my feet. “I suppose I've taken up enough of your time.”

“Nonsense. I would gladly spend a good deal more time with you.”

I was sure he was perfectly aware of how outrageously flirtatious he was being, but I chose to behave as though he were only being polite. “You're too kind.”

He accompanied me out of the sitting room and back into the marble-floored foyer. Our footsteps echoed in the empty house. It seemed so much different, colder, without the people flowing in and out and the murmur of voices. I was very aware of Lord Dunmore's presence beside me. Something about the way he walked close by my side, yet just far enough away to avoid crowding me, bespoke more than friendly interest.

It seemed, however, that the house was not quite empty after all, for just as we reached the middle of the foyer, I saw someone come around the corner of the landing on the staircase. I was surprised to see that it was Mr. Douglas-Hughes.

I thought that he hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then, when he realized he had been seen, made his way down the rest of the stairs.

“Hello, Mrs. Ames.” He greeted me warmly enough, though I had the impression he was not especially happy to see me. Or, more accurately, that I had seen him. I did wonder what he was doing here.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Douglas-Hughes.” I realized suddenly that my own presence here might be construed as questionable, so I added, “I just dropped by for a few moments to speak with Lord Dunmore.”

My excuse for being here did not induce him to offer his own. It was possible he was merely paying a social call on Lord Dunmore, though somehow I doubted it.

“Mamie tells me you'll be dining with us tonight,” he said.

“Yes, I plan to be there.”

“Good, good. I'll look forward to seeing you then.” He glanced at Lord Dunmore. “No luck upstairs. Is it all right if I check the ballroom once more?”

“Certainly. I'll join you there in a moment.”

Mr. Douglas-Hughes turned to me and smiled. “Until this evening, Mrs. Ames.”

I watched him go and turned back to Lord Dunmore a bit expectantly.

“It seems his wife dropped an earring at the ball. He told her that he'd come and look for it. She was afraid the servants wouldn't find it.”

This explanation gave me pause, and I tried to determine why.

We reached the door, and I turned and extended my hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Lord Dunmore.”

He took my hand and held it.

“Alexander,” he corrected. “And it was my pleasure, I assure you. I'll certainly consider Mrs. Barrington's suggestion … In fact, I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” I asked warily.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night, and I'll give you my answer.”

I hesitated. On one hand, it would be an excellent opportunity to find out more about his whereabouts on the night of the murder. On the other, I suspected that too much time in his company could only lead to trouble. Though I thought I had made my disinterest in anything more than friendship quite clear, I was fairly certain that my scruples would not deter him much.

“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” I said at last, sliding my hand from his grasp.

“Why not?”

“For one thing, there's bound to be talk if we're seen together.”

“What if there is? After all, sometimes it's best to fight fire with fire.”

I knew that he was referring to Milo and Helene Renault, but I didn't wish to discuss that, not now and not with him. Besides, just because Milo had been behaving badly didn't mean I felt any inclination to do the same.

“One fire is quite enough at present,” I replied.

“Well, we needn't go out in public, if you'd rather not. I have an excellent cook. We could have a quiet dinner here.”

Everything he said was perfectly proper and polite, but there was an undertone to his words, something in his body language, that let me know the invitation was for more than dinner.

“I don't think that would be a good idea either,” I replied. There was something thoroughly unwholesome about Lord Dunmore, and I thought it would be best not to give him any undue encouragement.

He smiled again, a knowing smile. “Perhaps a compromise then? I know a nice, quiet place where we're not likely to be seen.”

Some part of me was signaling that I needed to tread carefully, but I felt that I could scarcely refuse if I wanted him to agree to the scheme Mrs. Barrington and I had concocted.

“That might be all right,” I said at last.

“Excellent. Shall I pick you up?”

I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before I nodded. “That would be lovely.”

“Until tomorrow then,” he said with a smile. “I shall look forward to it immensely.”

I left the house and walked toward where Markham was waiting with the car. A frown furrowed my brow as I considered all that had just happened. There was something troubling me, and it wasn't only that I had just made a dinner engagement with a notorious rogue.

What really bothered me was that Mr. Douglas-Hughes had claimed that Mamie had lost an earring and that he had come to search for it. I had cast my mind back to the ball, and I was certain.

Mamie Douglas-Hughes hadn't been wearing earrings.

*   *   *

I WAS HOPING
for a few quiet moments when I got home to try to settle my thoughts. Alas, it was not to be.

“Mr. Ames is here, madam,” said Winnelda, rushing at me with a somewhat wide-eyed, panicked expression on her face as I came in the door. The poor girl obviously thought I was going to fly into hysterics at the presence of my husband.

“Is he?” I replied calmly, removing my coat, hat, and gloves. I had not expected him, and I was not certain I was ready to see him. Nevertheless, there was nothing to be done about that now.

“Yes, madam. He's been waiting in the parlor for thirty minutes.”

“Then I suppose I better not keep him.”

I turned resolutely toward the parlor, irritated that he had arrived without warning. I was only glad that I had been out and he had been forced to wait. Milo hated waiting.

He was thumbing through a book, but he put it aside and stood as I came into the room. He was dressed in a light gray suit and, for some absurd reason, looked even more handsome than usual. Perhaps it was a side effect of his newfound amour. I felt vaguely ill as the image of Helene Renault in his embrace flashed through my mind.

“Hello, darling,” he said, completely at ease.

“Hello.”

“How are you?”

“I'm fine. You needn't stand on ceremony, Milo. Sit down.”

He sat, his eyes on my face, as I chose a chair on the opposite side of the room. As usual, I could determine nothing of what he was thinking from his posture or expression.

It seemed the same could not be said of me. “You're looking a bit peaked, Amory.”

“Thank you,” I replied wryly. “You always say the loveliest things.”

“Are you feeling well?”

“I'm feeling fine, thank you.” I did not bother to hide my annoyance. “Have you come to inquire after my health, or is there some other reason you're here?”

“I've come to ask you to have dinner with me,” he answered, unfazed by my terseness.

I studied him, a bit surprised by this request. “Why?”

“For the pleasure of your company.”

“I should have thought you had more pleasant company with which to occupy your time.”

“Helene's gone back to Paris, if that's what you're wondering.”

“I wasn't wondering,” I snapped. His saying her name in that casual way upset me more than I liked to admit.

“She went back the night that photograph was taken. I haven't seen her since, nor do I care if I ever set eyes on her again.”

It was too little too late. The damage had been done; one couldn't undo an affair by breaking it off.

“I don't want to talk about her, Milo. Her whereabouts are of no interest to me.”

“They're of no interest to me either,” he replied, a hint of impatience in his voice. “You'll agree, however, that we need to talk.”

“Yes, but I told you I would let you know when I was ready. You said you would telephone me.”

There was something in his expression that made me wary, and I soon found out that my instinct had been correct. The conversation had not gone well thus far, and so he decided to change tactics. “I've found out something rather interesting that may have a connection to James Harker's murder.”

He had my attention immediately, and I hated him for it. “What is it?” I asked, with barely a hint of curiosity in my tone.

His mouth tipped up at the corner, and I knew I had been had. “Come now, darling. You aren't going to feign disinterest? Not with me.”

“Well, what did you learn?” I demanded, irritated that he had seen through my ruse of indifference.

“I'll tell you,” he said, rising from his seat. “At dinner.”

“Milo…”

“I'll pick you up at eight?” One dark brow was raised in what felt distinctly like a challenge.

I wavered. I was sorely tempted to tell Milo and his information to go to the devil. Then again, I was terribly curious. There was no telling what he might have learned or how important it might be to the investigation.

“Very well. If you insist,” I agreed ungraciously.

He smiled, and my irritation deepened at the flutter it caused in my stomach. “Your enthusiasm flatters me,” he said dryly. “I'll see you tonight.”

And he left without further ado.

 

18

I WAS FEELING
restless, but I took a cup of tea in the parlor and tried to settle my nerves.

It was very like Milo to try to catch me off guard, and I was determined that it would not happen this time. Whatever he had to say at dinner, I was not going to allow myself to be wooed by pretty speeches … or even by excellent clues.

I was determined to remain unimpressed by whatever it was that he was going to tell me. After all, what could he possibly have learned? I tried to think of whom he might have encountered who would know something that might relate to Mr. Harker's murder.

The thought came to me suddenly. Frederick Garmond. Milo had recently purchased his horse, so it would be easy enough to contact him and lead the conversation along to the shocking murder of James Harker at Lord Dunmore's ball. If Mr. Garmond was distantly related to Vivian Garmond's deceased husband, perhaps Milo had learned something about her past.