The Perfect Poison (28 page)

“I don’t like this plan.” In the light of the carriage lamps her face was shadowed with concern. “I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Credit me with some talent, my sweet. I estimate the probability that the meeting with the kidnapper will prove uneventful to be upward of ninety-three percent.”

“That leaves a seven percent margin for error.” She gripped her fan very tightly. “Promise me you will be careful, Caleb.”

“I will do better than that. You have my word that I will show up in time to dance another waltz with you before I take you home from the ball.”

“He’s a demon, I tell you.” Perrett paused long enough to take another swig of gin. He wiped his mouth with the filthy sleeve of his coat. Leaning a little farther across the table, he lowered his voice. “Straight from hell. Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Wings like a giant bat. Claws instead of fingers. Eyes glowed like hot coals, they did.”

Caleb doubted the description was entirely accurate but it was clear that Perrett had been badly frightened. He was also surprisingly desperate to talk about his terrifying experience to a stranger. Caleb got the impression that the kidnapper’s associates had concluded that their comrade had lost his wits and now treated him like a lunatic. When Perrett had discovered someone who was willing to take his tale seriously, the floodgates had opened.

They were seated in a booth at the back of the lightly crowded tavern. Caleb was well aware that the heavy scarf, low-crowned hat, long coat and boots he wore were an imperfect disguise but they would serve. He was certain that no one on the premises would be able to describe him in any detail later. That was all that mattered.

“You say this demon hired you to kidnap Miss Bromley?” Caleb asked.

Perrett scowled. “Here now, who said anything about kidnapping? It was just a simple, straightforward business arrangement. The bastard told us he was a recruiter for a certain establishment that provides respectable women to entertain gentlemen. You know the sort. There’s a demand for genteel ladies amongst a certain clientele.”

“I see.”

“Never understood it, myself. Give me a lusty girl who learned her trade on the streets. A wench like that knows what she’s about when it comes to pleasuring a man. Respectable females are, generally speaking, unskilled labor. Waste of money, if you ask me.”

“The man who employed you didn’t want just any respectable female, though, did he? He paid you to bring him Miss Bromley.”

Perrett shrugged. “That’s generally how it works. The customer selects a particular female, usually one who doesn’t have much in the way of family or money or a husband who might go to the police. Standard contract. We got half up front, the rest payable upon delivery of the merchandise.”

“Why did you meet with your customer a second time when you knew you couldn’t produce Miss Bromley?”

“Figured he’d understand the problem when we told him what had happened and give us a commission for some other female to replace Bromley. It wasn’t our fault we couldn’t snatch her. The witch threw some kind of burning powder in our faces. Sharpy and I thought we were going to go blind and choke to death right there on the street.”

“But the customer wasn’t interested in giving you any more commissions, I take it?”

“No.” Perrett shuddered. “Got all worked up about it. Said something nonsensical about death being the price of failure when you worked for the Circle. Sharpy and me, we figured he was a bit mad, if you want to know the truth. Then he went and used some kind of magic to kill Sharpy.” Perrett’s eyes watered. “Weren’t no call for that. Not like we’d done him any harm. Hell, we were the ones who was injured on the job.”

The sharp thrill of knowing swept through Caleb. Deep within the crystal maze he had constructed an entire passage suddenly glowed. He was headed in the right direction.

“The demon used the word Circle?” he asked carefully.

“Aye.” Perrett’s broad shoulders quivered. He drank some more gin to steady his nerves and then lowered the bottle. “Some kind of gang, I reckon.” His mouth twisted in disgust. “Gentlemen form partnerships for business purposes same as the rest of us. The only difference is that they meet in exclusive clubs instead of taverns and alleys to make their plans, and they use fancy words like consortiums and societies instead of gangs to describe their operations.”

“Yes,” Caleb said. “They do.” Lately the word that came to mind when he contemplated Basil Hulsey and the small group of traitors he was convinced were operating within the Arcane Society was cabal.

“But Sharpy and me, we didn’t know we were employed by any gang of gentlemen called the Circle. Bloody hell, we thought we were working for one man, the demon. Except we didn’t know he was a demon, of course. Never would have done business with him if we’d known that.”

“Did he tell you anything else about the Circle?”

Perrett shook his head. “No. Nothing. Just looked real hard at Sharpy. That’s when poor Sharpy started to scream. I was suddenly more scared than I’ve ever been in my life. I knew for sure that whatever the bastard was doing to Sharpy, he was going to do to me next. I swear, I could feel something in the air. Like little shocks of electricity. I knew I couldn’t help Sharpy, so I ran for my life.”

“Did the demon touch Sharpy? Give him anything to eat or drink? Was there a weapon of any kind?”

“No, that’s what I’m trying to explain.” Perrett peered around the quiet tavern and lowered his voice all the way to a whisper. “Nobody will believe me. They think I’m crazy. But I’m telling you, the monster never even pulled a knife or a gun. He must have been at least ten paces away from us when he used his sorcery on Sharpy.”

“What else can you tell me about the demon?” Caleb asked. “Aside from the glowing eyes and the wings and the claws, that is.”

Perrett shrugged and drank more gin. “Not much else to tell.”

“Did he speak like a well-educated man?”

Perrett’s broad face tightened. “Aye, he sounded a bit like you, come to that. Told you, he was a gentleman. You wouldn’t expect a demon to pretend to be a working-class cove, now would you?”

“No, probably not. Was he dressed like a gentleman?”

“That he was.”

“Did you get a good look at his face?”

“No. Both times we met him it was at night in a dark lane. He wore a hat and a scarf and a coat with a high collar.” Perrett broke off, frowning in confusion. “Like you.”

“Did he arrive in a private carriage?”

Perrett shook his shaggy head. Anxiety was starting to pierce the fog created by the gin.

“Hansom,” he said. He squinted. “See here, why do you care about the kind of carriage he used?”

Caleb ignored the question. “Was he wearing any jewelry?” No matter how drunk he was, a professional criminal would be unlikely to forget any details when it came to valuables.

Perrett’s eyes glittered with a brief flash of excitement. “Had a very nice little snuffbox. Saw it gleam in the lantern light when he took it out of his pocket. Looked like real gold. Some kind of stones on top. Too dark to tell what sort. Not diamonds, though. Maybe emeralds. Could have been sapphires, I suppose. The thing would have fetched a nice price from a fence I know.”

“The demon took snuff?”

“Aye. Took a pinch just before he used his magic to kill Ned.”

“Interesting.”

Perrett sunk back into a haze of drunken despair. “You’re like all the others. You don’t believe me.”

“I believe every word you said, Perrett.” Caleb reached inside his coat and withdrew some notes. He tossed them onto the table.

Perrett was immediately riveted by the sight of the money. “What’s that for?”

“Payment for a most informative tale.” Caleb got to his feet. “I’ll also throw in some free advice. I would avoid any future encounters with the demon, if I were you.”

Perrett flinched. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he never finds me.”

“How will you do that?”

Perrett shrugged. “He may be a demon but like I said, he’s also a gentleman. That sort never comes into this part of town. They don’t know their way around neighborhoods like this one, y’see. I’m safe here.”

“Don’t be too certain of that,” Caleb said softly. “A man might find his way to this street if he wanted something very badly from someone like you.”

Perrett froze. His gin-bleary eyes widened first with shocked comprehension and then with panic. There was a beat or two of silence while Caleb waited for him to digest the fact that one particular gentleman had found his way into the Red Dog tavern that night.

“Who are you?” Perrett whispered.

“You will recall the lady you attempted to abduct in Guppy Lane?”

“What of her?”

“She is mine,” Caleb said. “The only reason you are still alive is because I needed information from you. But I give you my oath that if you go anywhere near her after this moment, I will find you again, just as easily as I did tonight.”

He smiled.

Perrett’s mouth opened and closed several times. No words emerged. He started to shiver uncontrollably.

Satisfied, Caleb walked toward the door. He might not possess the more dramatic predatory talents that were so prevalent on the Jones family tree but he was, nevertheless, a hunter at heart. He could send that message with a smile.

An hour later Lucinda stood with Victoria, Patricia and Edmund in a small alcove off the main ballroom. Together they contemplated the elegant crowd.

“It is just as you said, Lady Milden,” Patricia declared with relish. “It seems that every gentleman in the room wants to dance with Lucinda. I do believe she has been out on the floor more often than I have.”

“I don’t understand it.” Lucinda seized another glass of lemonade from a passing tray. She was parched. The only reason she had accepted so many invitations to dance was because the physical activity served as a temporary distraction from her growing sense of impending disaster. She could not escape the sensation that Caleb had made a grave mistake by meeting with the kidnapper. “What on earth is the attraction of a woman everyone believes was nearly sold into a brothel?”

Victoria smiled a serenely satisfied smile. “Never underestimate the appeal of a notorious lady, especially one who has been claimed by a member of the Jones family.”

Lucinda choked on her lemonade. “Claimed?” she sputtered. “Claimed? What on earth are you saying? Mr. Jones danced one dance with me tonight and then took his leave.”

“You may believe me when I tell you that the rumors about your association with Caleb Jones have been flying for days,” Victoria said cheerfully.

Lucinda felt the heat rush into her face. “I hired him in his professional capacity to look into a private matter for me. Our association is a matter of business.”

Victoria chuckled. “No one who saw him dancing with you the other evening and again tonight could possibly conclude that your relationship is limited to a matter of business.”

“This is getting awkward,” Lucinda said.

“Nonsense.” Victoria waved the entire thing aside with a flick of her fan. “Nothing awkward about it.” She raised a brow at Edmund. “I think it is past time you took Patricia out onto the floor, Mr. Fletcher. We must maintain the impression that you are a friend of the family.”

Lucinda could have sworn that Edmund flushed a dull red. Patricia turned a warm pink and suddenly became very busy adjusting the hooks that pinned up the train of her gown.

Edmund stiffened and inclined his head very formally. “Miss Patricia, if you will do me the honor?”

Patricia stopped fussing with her gown, took a deep breath and gave him her gloved hand. Edmund led her away through the crowd.

Victoria glowed with enthusiasm. “Don’t they make a lovely couple?”

Lucinda watched Edmund and Patricia move onto the dance floor. “When they aren’t bickering. Honestly, I have never heard two young people squabble more than that pair. It’s enough to make you...” She stopped and turned her head to look at Victoria. “Oh, good grief, surely you aren’t going to tell me that they are a match?”

“A perfect match. Knew it the moment I saw them together, of course. Now we shall see what happens. Nothing like the waltz to quicken the pulse of romance.”

Lucinda saw Edmund pull Patricia a little closer and spin her away into a long, whirling turn. Even from this distance it was easy to see that Patricia was practically effervescent.

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, I suppose that explains the squabbling and the giggles. But I foresee problems. Mr. Fletcher seems very nice and he has certainly devoted himself to protecting Patricia but I fear he does not meet her requirements in a husband. He does not appear to have a steady, respectable income of his own, for one thing. As I understand it, his work for Mr. Jones is of a somewhat erratic and unpredictable nature. And he knows nothing of archaeology.”

“Mere trifles, I assure you.”

“I’m not so sure that Patricia or her parents will view those issues as trifles.”

“When the energy is right, love finds a way.”

Lucinda looked at her. “Love might find a way but it could lead to disaster. It is one thing for a woman of a certain age to engage in an illicit relationship, quite another for a young lady like my cousin to do so. You know that as well as I do.”

“I assure you, I am not in the business of promoting illicit affairs.” Victoria was genuinely offended. “I’m a matchmaker and I take my professional responsibilities very seriously. Mark my words, Patricia and Mr. Fletcher will be properly wed.”

“In spite of the obvious obstacles?”

“No,” Victoria said. “Because of them. Growing love is rather like growing good wine grapes.”

“Meaning that the fruit is sweeter when the vines are forced to struggle under somewhat difficult conditions?”

“Precisely.”

No hansoms or hackneys prowled the dark streets in the vicinity of the Red Dog tavern. It was not the heavy fog that kept them away. It was the fact that the drivers were well aware that few of the denizens of the poorly lit neighborhood could afford the luxury of traveling by carriage.