Deception at Sable Hill (17 page)

Her mother stepped forward, a mixture of kindness and new resolve in her features. “Eloisa, even though you’re wearing black lace and ivory, you do look beautiful. You are on the arm of one of the most sought-after men in your circle of friends. Plus, he has the added benefit of being someone who can take care of you no matter what happens. Will you go?”

She could sit in her room and imagine all the worst things that could have happened to her friend.

Or she could move forward, smile, and know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t going to be either unsafe or bored on Owen Howard’s arm.

Perhaps if she gave him half a chance, their familiar friendship would change into something deeper. Perhaps they could even fall in love.

If her mother had arranged his escort, it was a sure sign that Owen’s suit would be accepted.

Though she was answering her mother, her attention lay on him. “Thank you, Owen. It would be my honor to go to the dinner by your side.”

Lifting her hand, he pressed his lips to her knuckles. She could feel the heat from his touch all the way through her satin kid gloves. “You honor me, Eloisa. Thank you.”

And so, shortly after Worthy appeared with her black fox stole, Owen took care placing it around her shoulders. His bare fingers brushed against her bare skin, leaving chill bumps up her spine.

When she lifted her head, she wondered if perhaps he was the one for her. Had everything with Sean merely been a dream, a chance for her to experience something more?

A way to enable her to realize she wanted a life that encompassed more than going to balls and parties? Dare she dream that one day she could teach her daughter the very same thing?

And now, on Owen’s arm, she realized he would be perfect for her. He knew her social class because he was of it. He knew the perimeters of her experiences because he’d experienced those very same things.

But she also was about more than all of that.

And, by the look in his eyes, he was also very amenable to not only continuing their friendship but taking things to another level.

In short, if he could bear knowing what Douglass Sloane had done, she had a future with Owen.

And that, she realized, fully encompassed the Carstairs family’s last and most important rule of life: no matter what, never forget that everything generations of their family had accomplished could vanish in an instant.

What had been always taken for granted could vanish.

And though being Eloisa Carstairs was something of a burden, it was also all she knew.

And was she really ready to abandon everything to experience freedom?

She thought not.

CHAPTER 14

H
ave you ever seen the like?” Barnaby, one of the precinct’s greenest constables, asked Sean as they walked toward the illuminated entrance of the Lawrence home. “It looks like something out of a fairy tale, it does.”

“Hardly that, Constable,” Sean muttered. “It’s simply a very big house.”

Barnaby stopped walking. “No, it’s more.”

Sean had to give Barnaby that. The Lawrences’ home was a beautiful structure—ornate and elegant and large enough to be referred to as a mansion. It was also a place he would never be allowed to enter under normal circumstances.

The realization added a bit of contempt to his voice. “The family members who live here are citizens of the city, just like you and me. No better, no worse.”

Barnaby pivoted on his heel and met Sean’s eyes. Only this time
he was the one who looked far more world-weary. “Hardly that, sir. I’ve lived in these parts all my life, as did my parents. And I promise, there’s been hardly a time that anyone even wanted us north of the river, let alone out of Bridgeport. So, yes, they might be citizens of Chicago, but they’ve never been just like you and me.”

Perhaps Barnaby wasn’t the naïve one of their pair. “Point taken.”

And Barnaby definitely did have a point. Over the years, the gap between the haves and the have-nots in Chicago grew wider exponentially. Most men and women of the working classes didn’t look at the mansions with anything approaching awe. Instead it was with a jaundiced eye, influenced by too many years of sickness and hunger. Too many moments of being made to feel less than worthy.

But his burgeoning friendship with Eloisa had changed that for Sean. Now when he looked at a lady dressed in fine silk and jewels, he thought of her. And now when he gazed at a large house, he couldn’t help but be glad there was a place like that for a woman like Eloisa Carstairs.

She was too fine to live like he did.

“It’s time we stopped our staring and got to work. Look smart, now,” he added as they started walking again, toward steps that led to the magnificently carved door lit with gas lights on each side. Clear, shiny windows lined both sides of the entrance as well, and they could see servants inside, all dressed in severe black-and-white, starched uniforms, aprons, and caps.

And just beyond them was a kaleidoscope of colors—gorgeous women dressed in beautiful clothes, each gown likely costing more than a month’s rent for a new recruit like Barnaby.

And perhaps even for a lieutenant detective like himself.

They climbed the half-dozen limestone steps, the front door looming even bigger and looking more impressive. The constable
raised his hand to knock but stopped himself. “You feel sure Detective Howard is inside, sir?”

“I am sure of it.” Even if they had not agreed earlier that Owen should accompany Eloisa tonight, he and Owen had had a longstanding tradition of informing each other of their off-duty schedules. Sean smiled to himself, remembering the first time Owen had handed him a sheet of thick paper, listing his “engagements,” as he’d called them. They were the stuff of society papers and his sister Maeve’s secret dreams.

And those engagements were far away from Sean’s list with church, parks, cheap amusements, and his mother’s address. Sean had never been the type of man to feel ashamed of his roots or his family. In fact, the complete opposite was true. He came from good stock. His father had been a decent man, his mother warm and giving.

They’d never had much. And while he’d be lying if he pretended he had never wished for more, he’d been raised to always be thankful for God’s blessings.

But the first time he’d held that substantial piece of stationery and read about Owen’s life, he’d been ashamed of his own rather meager existence.

Owen, of course, had never mentioned his feelings about Sean’s activities. Not that he would. Perhaps he would never be as much the decorated, well-respected detective Sean was in the police department, but he was certainly every inch the gentleman. And therefore, he drew respect and acclaim all over the rest of the city.

He’d been a good partner, however—one Sean felt blessed to have.

Which is why he’d felt little to no compunction about arriving on the doorstep of the Lawrence mansion to pull Owen away from a society dinner party. They were partners, always.

Murder always took precedence over their personal lives, and Owen would be the first to agree about that.

“Go ahead and knock, Barnaby. Time’s a-wasting.”

“Yes, sir.” But still he stood motionless. Barnaby, all twenty-one years of age and hailing from some farm out of the city, was indeed as green as the fields he talked so fondly about. Sean knew Barnaby would give just about anything to switch places with him.

Sean felt for him. It was a difficult thing to confront the rich and famous in the city, especially when one didn’t even feel especially confident in the first place.

However, he must remember that they had an important job to do. He also wanted the boy to remember that their job and duties were far more meaningful than the pursuits of most men in the upper levels of society.

“Go on, Constable,” he fairly barked.

“Yes, sir.” At last Barnaby rapped smartly on the door.

Instantly it was opened by a distinguished-looking butler dressed in a well-cut black suit. If he was shocked to be opening the door to two men like them, he didn’t betray a hint of it.

Instead, his dark-blue eyes flickered from Barnaby’s uniform to Sean’s best tweed suit before bowing slightly. “Yes?”

“I am Constable Barnaby and this here is Lieutenant Detective Sean Ryan,” Barnaby more or less squeaked out. “We are here on police business.”

The butler blinked. “And why are you on the premises? No one has called for you. At least not that I’m aware of.”

Before Sean could smooth things over, Barnaby raised his voice and infused a new, stronger note of confidence in it. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb things, but we need to see Detective Owen Howard immediately.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot—”

Out of patience, Sean interrupted. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to. It’s a matter of some urgency.”

The servant looked askance. “You’ll have to come back at a more convenient time. This is a private party.”

To Barnaby’s credit, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Like I said, we’re here on police business. Detective Owen is needed. Immediately.”

The butler glared at Barnaby, then let his gaze drift to Sean. Sean met the servant’s eyes with a cold look. It was one he’d mastered at a young age when he’d learned that being seen as weak was a recipe for disaster in the schoolyard.

Whatever the butler saw must have given him pause, because he muttered, “Come inside, then.”

Sean was pleased to have been let in at last. After they crossed the threshold, he stared at the butler to make it clear he expected him to find Owen.

“I will go see if Mr. Howard is available,” he snapped before turning on his heel and walking smartly into a drawing room.

As soon as they were completely alone, Barnaby scowled. “Man’s got a bug up his frame, wouldn’t you say? He was looking at me as if I was ready to nick his silver.”

“At least he let us inside. It was looking doubtful for a moment there,” Sean said dryly.

“Yes, sir.”

Almost immediately, the butler followed a gray-haired gentleman into the foyer. The man looked harried, like their appearance was the last thing he needed during an already-too-busy day. “Good evening. I’m Mr. Lawrence’s secretary. How might I be of assistance?”

“You can’t,” Barnaby said.

“Our business is not with the Lawrence household,” Sean interjected smoothly. “We’re only here to ask Detective Howard to join us. I’m sorry for the disruption, but it cannot be helped. As we already told the butler, this is a matter of some urgency.”

“Would you care to wait in another room? Perhaps you might like some refreshments?”

Barnaby’s eyebrows rose, though Sean wasn’t sure if he was shocked by the idea of being served while they waited or curious as to what the food would be.

“Refreshments are unnecessary.” Sean finally lost patience. He stepped forward and glared at the butler. “We need to see Detective Howard. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, but he did immediately open the door to a room just to the side of the entryway. “Please wait in here. I’ll go see if Mr. Howard is available.”

Sean stepped forward, invading the personal space even accorded a servant. “You will tell Detective Howard that Detective Lieutenant Ryan has requested that he come immediately.”

The butler blanched. “Yes, sir.”

Keeping his face impassive, Sean stared at the man until he turned and walked out. The secretary went with him. Less than five minutes later, Owen strode in.

“Sean. Can’t say I’m glad to see you tonight.”

“Can’t say I’m glad to be cooling my heels at one of your engagements,” Sean teased.

“What happened? I thought we had everything handled with Miss Bond.”

“Turns out there has been more than one victim tonight.”

When the butler inhaled sharply, Sean said, “We had best be going. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Was it the Slasher?” Owen’s expression was intense, and he already looked prepared to hear the worst.

“Looks like that.”

Turning to the butler, he raised his chin. “I’ll need my topcoat and hat, if you please.”

To Sean’s amusement, the butler bowed deferentially. “Right away, sir. And please, let me know how I might be of any further service.”

“I will, Jamison. Thank you.”

Yet again, Sean was struck at how easily Owen Howard could meld his society demeanor with the qualities in him that made such a good policeman. Sean couldn’t think of another man in his acquaintance who could connect the two so seamlessly.

But, of course, they’d worked together for a year now. That was to be expected.

What wasn’t to be expected was the appearance of the lady who never seemed to be far from his thoughts—the beautiful Eloisa Carstairs. He had assumed she would remain with her friends and not be aware he had come for Owen. Her hair was swept up in a mass of curls. She was clad in a form-fitting, black lace gown and sinfully smooth, black satin gloves covered her delicate skin all the way to her elbows.

The stark color against her blonde hair, blue eyes, and exquisite skin was a breathtaking sight.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” she blurted as soon as she was within speaking distance. “I couldn’t simply sit in the dining room and listen to Carlotta talk about the latest dress displays at Field & Leiter.”

“Miss Carstairs.” He stepped forward. Then, before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand.

To his delight, she clutched it with her gloved hand. Holding his palm firmly, almost as if she were afraid he would vanish if she let him go. “Lieutenant Ryan, what has happened?”

“We’ll speak about this later.” Aware that Barnaby was staring at Eloisa like she was one of the seven wonders of the world, Sean decided it would be best for them to keep some distance.

Privately, however, he couldn’t blame his constable’s awestruck expression. Eloisa looked especially fine this evening, dressed as she was with jewels threaded through her golden tresses.

“Please?” she asked.

“You know I cannot speak about a case,” he said carefully.

“Please. I have to know. Does it have to do with Millicent?”