The Hazardous Measure of Love: Time Into Time Book Five

by Louise Allen

  Luc wanted us to marry, but he had accepted that I could not be a countess on a part-time basis, or leave my family and my own time for ever. Nor could I see how his new-found ability to join me made any difference. He couldn’t move times either.

  He raised an eyebrow when he turned and I found a smile. He understood how I felt and we had tacitly agreed not to discuss it. I told myself that many couples were forced apart for long periods by their work and that this was no different.

  ‘I’m tired,’ I confessed. ‘Come to bed.’

  ‘Yours?’

  I nodded, yawning. Luc, far more of an early bird than I am, could be the one to get up at crack of dawn, safely before the scullery maid crept out of her bed to stoke up the kitchen range and the household began to stir. Lady Radcliffe might know perfectly well what our relationship was, but it would have been ill-mannered to flaunt it in front of the staff.

  We fell into the depth of the feather bed, fought our way through its billows and hollows into each other’s arms and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. If I dreamt of dead viscounts, I do not remember.

  * * *

  Luc, Garrick and I gathered in the study after breakfast to study the evidence boards. James and Kit had gone to the City with a long list of tasks for his godfather involving the bank and his legal advisors. Kit was muttering about new boots and Carola, a herbalist, was mixing herself potions against morning sickness.

  We added Madame Vaillant to the suspects, then sat back and stared at the results.

  ‘Things to do?’ Garrick said after five minutes of unproductive silence. He pulled a fresh sheet of paper towards him.

  ‘Interview Madame V,’ I said.

  ‘Search Tillingham’s house before Adrien’s father returns.’ Luc glanced at the clock. ‘I should have thought about it earlier, but there might be any number of threatening letters or other relevant material.’

  ‘Adrien has had every opportunity to find and destroy evidence,’ Garrick grumbled. ‘We should have done it last night.’

  ‘I am certain he is innocent,’ I protested. ‘But the same goes for the staff. Should we go now?’

  ‘Yes.’ Luc got to his feet. ‘We can look for a weapon as well although, until we hear the results of the post mortem examination, we will not know precisely what it is.’

  The words search warrant almost left my lips, then I told myself that this was 1807. If we didn’t search, then who would? If we found anything we would bring it to the attention of the authorities, of course. Possibly… Probably.

  We locked up the study and went the few yards to the Tillingham house without bothering to put on hats or coats. Shocking behaviour for a lady, of course, being out on the street hatless. I felt thoroughly wanton.

  Adrien was eating his breakfast in solitary splendour in the dining room, and seemed surprised to see us so early. He looked even more surprised when Luc told him bluntly that the house should be searched and poured himself a cup of coffee while he thought about it.

  ‘I suppose so,’ he said slowly. ‘I have never been in Cousin Henry’s bedchamber or dressing room and there are locked cupboards and drawers in the study I have never seen inside. You are right, there may be evidence.’

  ‘Do you have the keys?’ That was Garrick, always practical.

  ‘Yes.’ Adrien looked a little uneasy. ‘I removed them from his pocket before they took his body. Perhaps I should have left them, but I thought that would be what he wanted.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ I reassured him. ‘The keys should not leave the house. I think we should begin to search as soon as possible: the Justice might not view it in the same light that we do.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. Actually it is interesting that the keys were still there. It shows that whoever killed Cousin Henry was not searching for something, doesn’t it?’

  I caught Luc’s eyes and could see he was thinking the same thing I was: had Adrien used them?

  Adrien reached a decision and pushed back his chair. ‘We should start in the study before anyone in authority tells us we must not. I did lock the bedchamber last night and told his valet, Picton, to leave everything as it was.’

  Luc took the desk while Adrien opened all the cupboards. He and I searched those, while Garrick rolled back the carpet, tested floorboards, pulled furniture away from the walls and then, when he found nothing, began to tap his way around the panelling.

  After an hour we gave up. Luc, who had been examining the underside of all of the desk drawers, replaced their contents and slid them back, one by one.

  ‘Nothing here, just what you would expect. Highly organised papers. Personal business on one side, Parliamentary on the other.’

  ‘The drawers this side were all estate business. I recognised all of it and I had the keys to those drawers anyway.’ Adrien, on the opposite side of the partners’ desk, had been checking the underside of the drawers too, and slid back the last one with a shake of his head.

  ‘The cupboards held nothing suspicious that I could see.’ I closed all the doors. ‘Rolls of estate plans, ledgers, old bills.’

  We looked around us and I tried to let my mind wander freely, think outside the box. ‘Up the chimney?’

  ‘I looked,’ Garrick said. ‘And I tipped up the vases on the mantle shelf.’

  There was something niggling at the back of my mind. Something I had read a long time ago… Georgette Heyer, of course. Now, what was the book? The Reluctant Widow, where vital papers had been hidden in a clock: that was it.

  ‘Who winds the clocks?’ I asked.

  ‘One of the footmen. But he doesn’t do this one.’ Adrien unlocked a drawer again and took out a gold watch on a chain with one fob and two small keys. ‘I locked this away when they took the body. Cousin Henry always wound the clock in here himself. He would take the time from the clocks in the House of Lords, set his watch by them, then check this one against that. He was a stickler for punctuality and that ensured he was always on time for Parliamentary business.’

  ‘Can you open it?’ I asked.

  He looked puzzled, but unhooked one of the keys and went to turn the clock to expose the back. ‘It does seem strange to lock it,’ he said, fiddling the key into place. ‘I suppose he did not want to risk anyone changing it.’

  The back swung open and he stood on tiptoe to look in. ‘There’s something inside!’

  We clustered around him as he unfolded the single sheet of paper.

  LEAVE HER ALONE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

  ‘That’s all?’ I lifted the clock down, almost staggering under the weight of it. Luc took it and set it on the desk before I dropped it. ‘There’s nothing else.’

  Luc held the paper up to the light. ‘Good quality paper, watermarked – but nothing unusual. The writing could be by anyone who has their letters: footman or duke.’ He frowned at the note. ‘But who is she?’

  ‘Madame Vaillant? Miss Jordan? One of the female staff?’

  ‘Or any one of the thousands of women in London,’ Garrick said. ‘What I find strange is that he should keep it, then hide it like that.’

  ‘I suppose…’ Adrien broke off.

  ‘What?’ I demanded.

  ‘My first thought was that there are any number of places that he could have locked it away securely. Places I do not have the keys for. His side of the desk or his bedchamber, for example. But if someone did search, had got hold of the keys illicitly, or forced locks, then they would not find it, because it was hidden there.’ He nodded towards the clock.

  ‘Did he trust you?’ Garrick asked bluntly.

  ‘I think so.’ Adrien hesitated, but more because he was thinking hard, than because of any guilt, I sensed. ‘I hadn’t been working for him all that long, of course, but although I did not hold all the keys, he made no secret from me of where the rest of them were and this was the only one that never left his person. But he was a very private person – very self-contained and controlled. I understood clearly that there were areas of
his life that were none of my concern: there was no unpleasantness about it. I could have taken those other keys at any time he was away and looked at whatever was locked away, because I had the key to the drawer they were in and he knew it.’

  ‘So this note must belong to a completely separate category of privacy,’ I said. ‘Not simply the personal, or government or business matters that should be kept confidential, even from you. He trusted you not to pry into those.’

  ‘Something tells me that he hid this away to puzzle over,’ Luc said. ‘I do not think he knew who it was from. A more volatile man would have thrown it on the fire. A less precise man would have put it in one of the locked drawers, even though it did not fit any of the categories of their contents. If he had understood it, he would have taken action and would not need to keep it. But he did not have a file labelled “Vaguely Threatening Messages”, so he hid it away in the clock.’

  ‘There’s someone at the door.’ Adrien closed the desk drawers and began locking them.

  Luc moved to the door and opened it a crack. ‘Sir William. Adrien, you and I will speak to him. Cassie, Garrick, you take the opportunity to search the bedchamber.’

  ‘Turn right out of here, through the baize door at the end of the hall and up the servants’ stair,’ Adrien said.

  We slipped out, the opened door shielding us from view. One flight up the uncarpeted wooden stairs we found a door that led onto the first floor. We began trying doors.

  ‘In here,’ Garrick said, and I followed him into an oppressively masculine bedchamber.

  ‘Goodness, what a passion-killer of a room,’ I remarked, making him snort as we stood there looking round at the dark hangings, even darker wood and the earnest, unimaginative, artwork.

  I opened a door in the corner and found the dressing room. ‘I’ll begin in here.’

  We were still searching half an hour later, without having found anything remotely out of place, suspicious or even odd, when Luc and Adrien joined us.

  I scooted out from under the bed where I had been admiring the thorough dusting and discovering nothing more interesting than that the housekeeping here was superb. ‘What did Sir William say?’

  ‘That Tillingham was killed with a single stab to the heart from a narrow, slender, straight blade that had entered horizontally. Either the murderer was lucky or they knew exactly where to aim a killing blow.’

  ‘Sounds like a stiletto,’ Garrick said, sitting back on his heels from where he had been tapping skirting boards.

  ‘Must have been someone he trusted, to let them get so close with a blade,’ I mused and perched on the edge of the bed, feet swinging. ‘Or he didn’t realise they had one. Or he was taken completely by surprise. We aren’t much further forward.’ I stood up, then thought some more. ‘On the other hand, it was a very clean kill. Even if hitting the heart was simply luck, there was no stabbing about, or slashing or mutilation. It doesn’t seem like frenzy, or blind hatred, or someone defending themselves, come to that. This seems almost professional.’

  ‘Or it was committed by someone who was thinking clearly.’ Luc sat next to me. ‘Shooting would attract immediate attention. A bludgeoning or throttling would risk a great deal of noise if Tillingham fought back. Hacking and mutilation would increase the risk of discovery and might cover the killer in blood.’

  I shuddered.

  ‘Sorry.’ He put his arm around me and pulled me into a hug.

  ‘No, it is best to think it through as logically as we can,’ I said. But I made no effort to free myself. ‘This could have been spur of the moment, provided a weapon was to hand. But then we eliminated the paper knife, and what kind of other weapon can you reliably expect to find in a gentleman’s study? Shooting implies at least some degree of planning, but it looks as though bringing a blade did too. Why not use poison?’

  Garrick, his circuit of the room completed, straightened up and leaned one shoulder against a tallboy. ‘Certainly it has the benefit of acting while the murderer is elsewhere. But you have to deliver it and then target it, assuming you don’t want to kill anyone else.’

  ‘Or risk missing your real target,’ Luc said cynically.

  ‘So, either this was an impulsive killing or a planned one where the murderer made the choice of a blade as the weapon. We have someone who can handle a knife effectively, is motivated to kill, but can control any rage or disgust they feel for the victim and whose appearance in his study did not cause the Viscount to shout out in alarm, or to move so suddenly as to disarrange his desk,’ I summed up. ‘He must have seen his attacker, because he was stabbed from the front.’

  ‘It is more likely that it was a man,’ Luc said, and I had to agree with him. Not many females at the time would have the necessary skill with a blade – unless they were used to wielding them in the kitchen, of course. I made a mental note to check out the cook and her assistants.

  ‘How does the threatening note fit into this?’ Garrick frowned at an engraving of some Greek ruin as though it might hold the answer.

  ‘But it wasn’t particularly threatening, was it?’ I mused. ‘No promises of violence if he didn’t leave her alone, whoever she was, just an unspecified warning. It felt almost like someone who was not used to making threats, or was not sure how far to go.’

  We gave up on the bedchamber and went downstairs to find Adrien updating James and Kit on what had happened.

  James stood up when I came in. ‘Mama sent to say that luncheon is almost ready. Prescott says he is eating here.’

  ‘I feel I ought to stay and steady the staff,’ Adrien explained.

  ‘Call this afternoon,’ Luc invited. ‘Spend some time with the boys: that will take your mind off grimmer things.’

  Adrien closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them I saw a glimpse of raw emotion there. Luc was trusting him with the most precious things he possessed – his sons – and the gesture clearly meant a great deal. ‘Thank you. The twins are a reminder of life at its most innocent and I need that.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘What now?’ I asked Luc as we came downstairs after taking our midday meal with the boys. ‘How about tackling the mysterious mistress?’

  ‘I am not certain she is actually mysterious and, by the sound of it, she does not fit our picture of a careful, controlled killer.’

  ‘But she is female – well, I assume she is – and the note did refer to a woman. Perhaps the killer was a rival for her affections.’

  ‘I have to admit, the prospect of getting out of the Square for an hour or so is tempting. If I have to assume a serious expression for one more official who is attempting to look as though they understand what has happened here, I may say something unfortunate.’

  ‘Are they really clueless?’

  Luc snorted at the expression. ‘Not Sir William, obviously. Thank you, Wilkins.’ He took the tall hat the butler handed him. ‘Please send Miss Lawrence’s maid down with her bonnet and pelisse.’ He leant a shoulder against the panelling while we waited. ‘But the doctor appears to have no curiosity about the weapon, the constable is a dolt and the Coroner has delusions of grandeur and clearly resents both Sir William – whom he cannot ignore – and me, whom he can. Coroners have a great deal of power,’ he added when I looked surprised.

  My wardrobe had acquired a very fetching summer pelisse of pale blue silk since I had last visited. I assumed I had Lady Radcliffe to thank for that, but when I said so, Luc shook his head. ‘No, I ordered you some fresh items for the summer.’

  ‘The modistes are going to assume you have a mistress.’

  ‘I have,’ he said with a grin, that turned into a grimace when I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. ‘Ough. You do not want me to lose my reputation as a dashing rake, do you?’

  It was my turn to snort. I thought him exceedingly dashing, but I was not going to stroke his ego by telling him so – I would rather show him later, in private.

  We made our way around the Square, along King Street, pa
st Almack’s and through the narrow section that was Little King Street into St James’s Street. We waited for a gap in the traffic to cross. There were island refuges in the middle of the street, reputedly the first in London, added as an aid for inebriated gentlemen as they staggered from one exclusive club to another, but even so, it was a busy thoroughfare.

  Little St James’s was just a little way downhill and led off towards Green Park and the splendour of Spencer House.

  ‘I went on a tour of Spencer House once,’ I told Luc as we made our way along, looking out for the address Adrien had given us. ‘It was lavish.’

  ‘A tour? How on earth – Ah, here we are.’ He stopped in front of a shiny black front door. ‘Very respectable.’

  Our knock was answered by a maid in a pert cap and a very clean apron who informed us that Madame Vaillant was in, but she did not know whether she was receiving. Would we care to take seats in the hall while she took up Luc’s card?

  We thanked her and sat down. Luc immediately shot to his feet again as a very lovely female came down the stairs. She favoured us with a thorough examination from under long lashes, dismissed me, then let her gaze linger on Luc as she passed. I suspected that she managed to assess his income and inside leg measurement all in one practised glance. Her walking dress was gorgeous, her hat was fabulous and her shoes, parasol and reticule made me want to drool. She gave Luc the very faintest of smiles, then tripped off through the front door.

  ‘A highly finished piece of nature,’ he remarked. ‘This is clearly a house full of them.’

  ‘A brothel?’ I asked in a whisper.

  He shook his head. ‘No, these will be independent ladies, coming together for a little mutual protection, I imagine. It enables them to maintain excellent lodgings in a highly fashionable area and share the costs of housekeeper, maids and cook. I wager there are occasional upsets if one tries to poach another’s cher ami.’