The Redemption of a Rogue (Dark Regency Book 2) (15 page)

Spencer nodded, then surmised, “So they were killing two birds with one stone. They compelled Allerton to lose Blagdon Hall to you to get you within their clutches. Given your reputation, they had to assume that you would be eager to partake of whatever entertainments they were offering.”

“Yes,” Michael agreed, “Lavinia attempted to seduce me the first evening that they invited me to Whitby House. That was also the evening Allerton was murdered in the garden, in much the same way our shopkeeper was just murdered.”

“And the evening that you took Abbi back to Blagdon Hall rather than leave her under the Whitby’s roof for another night,” Rhys added. “The real question is what are they after? What in your father’s collection are they after?”

Michael indicated the documents spread before them, “The ledgers at Whitby Hall gave only the amount of the purchase, but did not identify the items. If I can discover what they acquired, then perhaps I can narrow down what they want from me.”

Spencer began to peruse one of the ledgers while Michael rifled through the bills of sale. There was nothing that directly identified them, but one receipt had been inscribed in a corner with the initials “L.W.”.

“There is nothing in the ledger but prices and item numbers,” Spencer said.

“Match the item number from this receipt to the ledger, and we might have something,” Michael said, passing the document over.

Rhys rose, “I have to go. I need to check on Emme and the preparations for our return tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Rhys.”

He waved away the gratitude, “I haven’t done anything…Besides, I owe you for your skills as a matchmaker, don’t I?”

Michael chuckled as Rhys exited the room. When he was gone, however, the only buffer between himself and Spencer was gone as well. He truly didn’t understand how their friendship had become so strained over the years, or even when it had begun.

“So how did you meet your new Viscountess? Something quite improper on your part and perfectly innocent on hers, I imagine,” Spencer stated.

“It was improper but was no nefarious in the least... Allerton had not informed me that Blagdon Hall would be inhabited when I arrived. Hence, Abbigail's hasty removal to the den of iniquity that is her sister's home.”

“That's a first... you being improper by accident. She's lovely, by the way.”

“Abbigail is lovely,” Michael agreed. “Stop noticing it. Now. And if you could stop harping on my licentious past, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Spencer held up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear to be on my best behavior, and to reveal as little as possible of your worst behavior.”

It wasn’t much of a promise, but it would have to do. “You should stay for dinner, then. It’s only a few hours away.”

It was hardly a gracious invitation, but Spencer accepted it willingly. He wouldn’t admit it, but the harsh words he’d received from the Duchess of Briarleigh regarding his treatment of Michael had stayed with him. They had burrowed into his mind and he’d grudgingly accepted that he’d been a judgmental prig. It wasn’t an easy thing for him to admit it, but there it was.

He and Michael had grown up much the same way, with fathers that would not be pleased with them regardless of what they did. Michael had taken the route of not trying to please at all, and had, in fact, gone out of his way to be provoking.  He had taken the opposite road of being everything that was proper. It hadn’t worked. He had still never gained his father’s approval, but over the course of the last two years, he had learned why.

It all made much more sense to him, but it still grated that he had been doing to Michael the very thing their respective fathers had done to them. He'd been placing unrealistic expectations on him and demanding a kind of perfection that was humanly impossible to achieve.

Amends would be made. Helping Michael identify whatever threat the Whitby’s posed would go towards settling that debt, he would do whatever was necessary. But first, he had to do the thing he had dreaded for some time.

“I owe you an apology, you know.”

The papers Michael had been shuffling through stilled in his hands, and he looked up at Spencer, the shock written clearly on his face. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do, actually. I’ve been a bastard and well you know it. I took every bit of gossip and innuendo about you to heart, when as your friend, I should have known better…I should have trusted that you were not the blackguard they painted you.”

“I’m not exactly virginal, Spencer.”

“Are any of us?”

Recalling Abbi's assertion regarding Larissa's feelings for Spencer, Michael seized the opportunity. “Hardly virginal, but much closer to sainthood than I'll ever be. So, Saint Spencer, have a care with young Larissa... My lovely wife seems to think the girl harbors very tender feelings for you, and that perhaps Larissa's feelings aren't the only ones engaged.””

Spencer's jaw firmed and for just a moment, Michael saw something in the other man's eyes that made him wonder if perhaps Abbigail wasn't correct. But he said nothing more because the door opened.

Abbi entered wearing one of her new day dresses. The dark, emerald green gown set off her porcelain complexion, and her hair was pulled back and tied with a simple ribbon. She looked young and incredibly beautiful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had a guest,” she said.

“Not at all. Spencer hardly counts as a guest. He'll be joining us for dinner tonight.”

Spencer had the distinct feeling that the new Viscountess did not care for him very much. Nonetheless, her nodded acceptance was gracious. She was quite lovely, in a very calm sort of way. Michael, who'd spent his entire adult life chasing whores had snared a Madonna to wife. Of course, the mane of wild gypsy hair that she sported was enough to make any man look twice.

Remembering his manners, Spencer sketched a bow and said, “Thank you for your graciousness, Lady Ellersleigh.”

“You must call me, Abbigail. I am not yet accustomed to my new names. Ms. Fillings just gave me the litany and I fear my eyes glazed over midway through.”

Michael knew how she felt. As a young lad, memorizing the long list of titles he would one day inherit had made his head ache. “Bloody hell! It takes half the day just to recite them!”

Abbi sighed, “I'm afraid I have unpleasant news, Michael. Mrs. Wolcot wrote me that a girl from the village has gone missing, and a body was discovered in the woods that they believe to be William, the youngest son of Lord Harding.”

Michael cursed. “We’ll go home soon,” he said. “I should have concluded everything I need to in town in just a few days.”

“And I’ll be joining you,” Spencer said. “It sounds as if you'll need someone at your back.”

As Abbi left, Spencer looked back at Michael, “The carriage today... Larissa warned me. She said she couldn't be sure it was Whitby. What do you think?”

“I have many enemies.” Michael's admission was reluctant but resolute. “At this time, he's the most likely suspect...Why would they be doing this, and what does it have to do with these bloody antiques?”

Michael, who had been flipping through the ledger looking for the item number from the receipt, paused, having identified the object. “The item they purchased from him was a gold mask, allegedly recovered from a temple of Bacchus and worn by a priestess during rites… That fits Sarah’s description perfectly.”

“So is it Lady Lavinia then who is the true culprit and not her husband?”

“I can’t quite believe that, Spencer. Rupert and Lavinia have a strange relationship. They explore their perversions together, so I can’t imagine that Rupert isn’t involved in some way. He was apparently financing the purchases.”

“What item in your father’s collection would fit with whatever it is they are doing?”

Michael considered it for a moment, and then retrieved a ledger from the desk. It contained a detailed list of his father’s collection of erotic artifacts. The artifacts themselves were stored in a vault, as they were hardly the sort of thing one would display. He scanned the pages quickly until he found the item that had come foremost to mind. “Dionysus’ Chalice… A golden cup, requiring two hands to hold, intricately carved with various depictions of explicit acts. It was rumored to have been used to catch the blood of sacrifices which was then consumed by his followers,” Michael read.

“There are any number of other chalices with a similar purpose, why this one?”

Michael sighed, “I researched this particular chalice as it was my father’s last acquisition before his death. The carvings on the cup depict Dionysus ejaculating into the cup. I don’t think it was used just to drink the blood of sacrifices, but to collect other fluids, as well.”

Spencer grimaced, “Good God, the previous Viscount had a strange hobby.”

“You have no idea,” Michael said. “Every item he collected was related to something grotesque or barbaric.”

“So the mask was linked to the cult of Bacchus, and the chalice was used in by a cult of Dionysus, who are simply the respective Roman and Greek equivalents of the same entity… So are there other artifacts?”

“Without a doubt… They’ll need something to do the bloodletting with, and I imagine that is why Lord Harding’s young son met his untimely demise. Harding possessed a dagger that my father had one tried to acquire from him.”

Spencer sat down on the edge of the desk. “The real question is why. What purpose do these items serve for them, other than to play their twisted sexual games? I can’t imagine there isn’t some greater purpose involved, at least in their minds.”

“There are legends that abound about each of these artifacts…that they have mystical properties. But as to their ultimate goal, I couldn't say. Only Rupert and Lavinia can answer that question.”

Dubiously, Spencer commented, “You speak as if you think there might be some truth to this... that these items have some sort of power!”

Michael shrugged. “After what we both witnessed at Briarwood Hall, I no longer hold to the rule that I must see it to believe it. Regardless of whether it can actually happen or not, it seems they believe it, and that makes them dangerous.”

~*~*~

After Spencer had left for the evening, Abbi and Michael retired for the night. She was less than pleased with him but had decided to wait until they were alone before making her displeasure known. She plucked the pins from her hair, dismissing Sarah, who left without a word, she began dragging a brush angrily through her hair.

Across the room, Michael couldn’t miss the tension that rolled off her in waves. Her shoulders were squared, and he could see that her jaw was clenched. Deciding to beard the lion in its den, he said, “What have I done?”

Abbi whirled on him and said angrily, “I will not be excluded from this investigation… I have just as much at stake as you, if not more! The people of Blagdon are my acquaintances, my responsibility! Not yours! And Lavinia and Rupert are, for lack of a better word, my family and, therefore, my responsibility, as well.”

Michael attempted to placate her, knowing even as he did, it was doomed to fail. “The nature of the information we are looking for is indelicate, to say the least, Abbi. It isn’t a matter of excluding you so much as protecting you from things that would shock you.”

She gaped at him, “Rupert and Lavinia have been married for five years, and for five years I have been fending off my brother in law’s advances. I have been forced to listen to Lavinia wax on about her amorous adventures, the more perverse, the better! I don’t think you have to worry about my delicate sensibilities! Considering that I have heard all of this and can tell you whom she was involved with and when, you are overlooking the fact that I am a valuable source of information!”

He had no argument for that. She was absolutely correct and he’d allowed himself to be blinded to those facts by his desire to protect her. She’d been doing an adequate job of protecting herself before he ever came along. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a short-sighted ass.”

Abbi, prepared to embark on another diatribe, stopped short, “Excuse me, but did you just agree with me?”

Michael shrugged as if it was of no consequence, “I did. I allowed my desire to protect you to blind me to the fact that you are quite capable, in most circumstances... I am finding it increasingly difficult to be reasonable when it comes to the matter of your safety. If I could, I would leave this entire matter be. We'd reside in London or at Southwood and they could have bloody Blagdon.”

“If you could?”

He looked away from her, fearing that his emotions would be too potent. “I cannot stand idly by why they harm innocent girls... and at the same time, I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm's way. But, I will agree to keep you informed of all things that we discover and allow you to be party to our discussions of these events. You have much to offer and I'd be a fool to ignore it.””

Out of steam, Abbi stopped and said, “Oh. I hadn’t expected you to see reason so quickly.”

Michael tugged her into his arms, “In spite of the fact that you routinely rob me of the ability to think, I am accounted to be a reasonably intelligent man.”

A grudging smile tugged at her lips, “I can see that you would be considered so.”

“Thank you. That is high praise, indeed,” he said and kissed her lingeringly.