Late for the Wedding (2 page)

“Yes, of course.” The room was warm, but she rubbed her arms as though she felt a chill. “He craved thrills and drama the way some are addicted to opium.” She hesitated. “He no doubt enjoyed re-creating the legend of the Memento-Mori Man. Now it would appear that someone else has the same taste for melodrama.”

“Perhaps.”

“Tobias, I do not mind telling you that I am quite frightened.”

“Obviously someone else knows about Zachary Elland and his connection to you.” He contemplated the miniature skull in the gold coffin. “Are you sure there was no note?”

“I am positive.” She stared bleakly at the ring. “He left that death's-head on my step to terrify me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I do not know.”
A visible shiver went through her. “I’ve been thinking about that question all day. Indeed, I’ve thought of little else.” She paused. “What if . . . what if whoever left that ring blames me for Zachary’s death and seeks some sort of crazed revenge?”

“Zachary took his own life when he realized that I was about to have him brought up on charges of murder. You had nothing to do with his death.”

“Maybe whoever left that ring doesn’t know that.”

“Indeed.” But that conclusion did not feel right, he thought. He raised the little skull to the light again. The death's-head stared back at him with its empty eye sockets, taunting him with its macabre grin. “We must also consider the possibility that this was intended as an announcement of some sort.”

“What do you mean?”

He weighed the ring in the palm of his hand. “You are one of the very small number of people who would comprehend the significance of this ring, because you are one of the few who knew that Zachary Elland styled himself the Memento-Mori Man and used such rings as his signature. I wonder if this is some new villain’s way of telling us that he plans to take up Zachary’s professional mantle.”

“You mean there might be another murderer out there who seeks to emulate the Memento-Mori Man? What a terrible thought.” She paused. “But if that were true, it would have been far more logical for him to leave his calling card with you, not me. You were the one who hunted Zachary down.”

“For all I know there will be a ring waiting for me when I return to Town,” he said quietly. “I set off very early this morning. Perhaps he delivered this ring to you first, and by the time he got to my house I was gone.”

She swung around and took a step toward him, anxiety clear in her eyes. “Tobias, whoever left that ring has something dreadful in mind. If you are right and this is a calling card, we are dealing with a new Memento-Mori Man. You must find him before someone is murdered.”

Chapter 2

Lavinia heard a door open just as she reached the bottom of the shadowed staircase. Midway along the stone corridor, a wedge of candlelight appeared. A gentleman moved stealthily out of the bedchamber and started toward her.

Yet more traffic. This was not the first time she had been obliged to pop into a closet or hurry around a corner in the past few minutes. The passageways of Beaumont Castle were as busy as a London street tonight. All the comings and goings between bedchambers would have been amusing if not for the fact that she herself was attempting to make her way to a clandestine rendezvous.

It was her own fault, she reminded herself. Tobias had suggested that he visit her in her bedchamber after the house quieted down for the night. It would have been an excellent plan, if she had been allowed to remain in the spacious, comfortable room that she had been given when she and Tobias arrived this afternoon. But earlier this evening, for reasons that remained quite unclear, she had been moved to a very small bedchamber.

She had taken one look at the cot in her new room and realized that it would be extremely uncomfortable for two people, especially when one of them was a man endowed with very fine shoulders. She had informed Tobias that she would come to his room instead, never imagining for a moment that the task would be so difficult to carry out without drawing attention to herself.

She was well aware that most of the guests were not unduly concerned with the prospect of being spotted navigating between bedchambers. It was understood that these sorts of goings-on were to be ignored by passersby. Such was the way of the world when one moved in elevated social circles, she reminded herself.

But she had a feeling that it would not be good for business for a lady who made her living conducting discreet, private inquiries to be seen behaving in a very indiscreet manner. One had to consider the possibility that some of the elegant people who had been invited to the Beaumont estate this week might prove to be future clients.

She was suddenly very glad that she’d had the foresight to bring along the silver half-mask, sword, and shield that she’d worn to the costume ball in her guise as Minerva.

Raising the mask to conceal her features, she stepped into the deep pool of darkness behind the stairs.

The gentleman with the candle never noticed her. He was too intent on reaching his destination. When he started up the stairs, she heard a solid thump followed by a muffled groan.

“Od’s blood.”

The gentleman paused and bent down to feel gingerly about in the vicinity of his toes. Then, with a few more muttered oaths, he limped up the stairs.

She waited until she was certain he had disappeared, and then she made to move cautiously out from her hiding place.

At that moment another door opened a short distance down the hall.

“Damnation,” she whispered under her breath. At this rate she would never get to Tobias’s bedchamber.

In the dim glow cast by a wall sconce, she saw two figures emerge from the chamber. The woman gave a deep, throaty chuckle.

“Come along with me, sir; ye won’t be sorry, that I promise.”

One of the maids, Lavinia realized. Obviously the guests were not the only ones who took part in the late-night revelries of a country-house party. Suppressing her irritation with an effort, she raised the mask again and slipped back into the shadows behind the stairs.

“Don’t see why we cannot have our sport in my bedchamber,” the man said. His words were slurred with drink. “I’ve got a nicely warmed bed.”

“I’ll soon have ye warmed good and proper, sir. No need to fret yerself about that.”

The man chuckled hoarsely. “Let’s get to it, then. Where’s your bedchamber?”

“Oh, we cannot use my bedchamber, sir. There’s three other maids sharing it with me tonight on account of the house is so full. We’ll go out on the roof. It’s a little cool, but I’ve got some cozy quilts up there waiting for us.”

“Hell’s teeth, you mean to tell me I’ve got to climb all the way to the top of this bloody castle just to enjoy a romp?”

“It’ll be worth it, sir. I’ve got some very special apparatus that is sure to amuse a man of the world such as yerself.”

“Apparatus, eh?” The gentleman’s anticipation and excitement were clear even through the fog of drunkenness. “What sort of equipment do you use, my girl? I’m partial to the whip, myself.”

The maid whispered something that Lavinia could not hear.

“Well, now.” The man’s voice thickened even more with lust. “That sounds interesting, indeed. I’ll look forward to a demonstration.”

“Soon, sir.” The maid hurried him toward the staircase. “Just as soon as we get to the roof.”

The pair continued toward the foot of the stairs. Lavinia caught a glimpse of a portly gentleman who appeared to be in his early sixties. He was garbed in a plum-colored velvet coat and old-fashioned breeches. He wore an elaborately tied cravat. His balding head gleamed in the light of the wall sconce.

The maid was dressed in the manner of the rest of the staff at Beaumont Castle. She wore a plain, dark gown and an apron. Her face was almost entirely hidden beneath the shadows of a large, floppy cap.

The gentleman put one foot on the bottom stair and stumbled awkwardly. The misstep made him chortle. “A tribute to Beaumont’s excellent brandy, eh? Let me try that again.”

“No, not this staircase, m'lord.” The maid tugged on his arm. “We’ll use the back stairs. It would cost me my post if the butler or the housekeeper saw me with you.”

“Oh, very well.” The bald man obligingly allowed himself to be led on down the hall.

The maid picked up her skirts, revealing sturdy, sensible shoes and stockings. She hurried her companion past the small pool of light cast by another wall sconce. Several thick golden-blond corkscrew curls bobbed beneath the edge of the large cap.

The inebriated gentleman allowed himself to be steered around a corner into another darkened hall.

Relieved to find herself alone again in the corridor, Lavinia moved briskly out from behind the staircase and hurried toward Tobias’s bedchamber. At this rate she was going to need a glass of sherry to settle her nerves when she arrived at her destination.

There was a thin edge of light showing beneath Tobias’s door. She raised her hand and then hesitated. The occupant of the neighboring bedchamber might hear the knock and grow curious.

Grasping her sword, shield, and mask in one hand, she tried the doorknob. It turned easily in her fingers. Casting one last glance down the passageway to make certain that she was not being observed, she opened the door.

The sight of the couple locked in a close embrace in front of the fire brought her up short. The man had his back to her. He had removed his jacket and cravat and unfastened his collar. There was something very familiar about the strong line of his shoulders. She could not see his face, because his head was bent intimately toward a woman with long black hair, who had her arms around his neck.

“I beg your pardon.” Mortified, Lavinia quickly averted her gaze and retreated back into the hallway. “Wrong room. Dreadfully sorry to disturb you.”

“Lavinia?” Tobias’s voice crackled across the short distance.

No wonder the set of those shoulders had looked familiar. She spun back around, aware that her mouth had fallen open in stunned shock.

“Tobias?”

“Bloody hell.” He disengaged himself from the woman’s arms in a single swift motion. “Come in and close the door behind you. I want you to meet someone.”

“Oh, dear.” The woman stepped away from Tobias and surveyed Lavinia with cool amusement. “I do believe that we have shocked poor Minerva.”

Feeling as though she had just been caught in some dark magician’s spell, Lavinia moved a short distance back into the room and shut the door very carefully.

Tobias, looking very grim and dangerous, crossed to a small, round table and picked up a cut-glass decanter. “Lavinia, allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Gray.” He poured himself some brandy. “She came here tonight to see me in regard to a professional matter. Aspasia, this is my, uh, associate, Mrs. Lake.”

Lavinia recognized the cold, uninflected tones. Something was very wrong in this room. She turned back to Aspasia. “I assume that you are one of Tobias’s clients, Mrs. Gray?”

“I believe I have recently become one.” She gave Tobias an unreadable glance. “But, please, you must call me Aspasia.”

Lavinia could see that she was very sure of herself and of her place in Tobias’s life. These two had formed a connection long ago, she thought. There was a bond between them that excluded her.

“I see.” A chill went through her. She turned back to Tobias, fighting to keep her voice even. “Will you be needing my assistance on this case?”

“No,” Tobias said. He took a swallow of the brandy. “I will handle this matter by myself.”

That flattened her spirits as nothing else could have done. Perhaps she had presumed too much, she thought. After the successful completion of the affair of the mad mesmerist a few weeks ago, she had found herself slipping more and more often into the habit of thinking of herself as Tobias’s full-time business partner. But that was not how things stood and she would do well not to forget that fact, she thought.

In truth, their business arrangements more or less mirrored their personal relationship. They sometimes worked together, just as they sometimes made love together. But they each maintained separate careers, just as they maintained separate households.

Nevertheless, Tobias had not hesitated to involve himself in her last two cases, and it came as a decidedly painful surprise to discover that he did not welcome her assistance in this one.

“Very well.” She pulled herself together, summoned up what she hoped was a polished, businesslike smile, and opened the door. “In that case, I will bid you both good evening and allow the two of you to return to your private affairs.”

Tobias’s jaw hardened in a telltale warning sign that she had come to recognize. He was not in a good mood. Fair enough, she thought. Her own mood at the moment was not what anyone would describe as sunny.

His powerful hand tightened around the neck of the brandy decanter. For an instant she thought he might change his mind and ask her to stay. But in the end he made no move to keep her from leaving. Anger replaced the hurt his words had caused. What was the matter with him? It was obvious to her that he needed her assistance.

“I will come to see you later,” Tobias said deliberately, “after Aspasia and I have concluded our business.”

He had practically ordered her back to her bedchamber and told her to wait upon his convenience. Outrage leaped within her. Did he really believe that she would open her door to him tonight after he had ejected her from this room in such a summary fashion?

“Do not trouble yourself, sir.” She was pleased that her smile did not waver so much as a fraction of an inch. “It is late, and as we had to endure that very tedious carriage ride as well as the various entertainments here at the castle earlier this evening, I’m sure you’ll be quite exhausted after you and Mrs. Gray finish your discussion. I would not dream of allowing you to go to the effort of climbing that extremely long flight of stairs. I will see you at breakfast.”

Anger burned in Tobias’s ice-and-fog eyes.

Satisfied that she had made an impression, Lavinia stepped smoothly out into the hall and closed the door with a good deal more force than was necessary.

Halfway up the stairs she decided that she did not like Aspasia Gray.