Lady Killer

by Michele Jaffe

She was not far off. Miles cleared his throat. “Would you mind explaining what sort of evidence we are looking for? And why the hell you think Lord Mosley might possess it?”

  “Not at all, but perhaps we could do this back in your apartments? When we have finished? As I mentioned before, we do not have unlimited time and I should like to be thorough.”

  “My apologies if my questions inconvenience you, Lady Thornton—”

  “That is quite all right. I promise I will answer all of them later.”

  “—But I refuse to be a party to this illegal entry unless you give me some explanations.”

  Clio sighed. “It is quite simple,” she explained, but paused as Miles made a strangled noise. “Really, it is. You need not sound like a—a baby bear cub dying.”

  “I told you not to mention baby animals to me.”

  “Then do not interrupt with needless whining. I thought you would be pleased. This entire investigation is based on two principles you suggested. First, the assumption that I am not the vampire. And second, the idea that the true vampire is like a hunter, hunting for me. I decided I would make him the prey.”

  “Marvelous,” Miles commented at the information that he had been the instrument of his own torment. Leave it to Clio Thornton to concoct that.

  “Fewer interruptions would make this go faster,” she suggested helpfully. “Anyway, we know the vampire is from Devonshire. And, if we accept your assumption that I am not the vampire, we know it is probably a man. I also happen to know that he was in attendance at your betrothal ball two nights ago.”

  Miles sat forward. “How the devil could you know that?”

  “The reasons are mine. You would not find them compelling.”

  “Try me.”

  Clio sighed again. If she had known he was going to be this difficult, she would definitely have borrowed the footman’s sword. “It was my monkey, Toast. He smelled something at the house of the first victim. And then he smelled it again at your ball. He told me it was the same smell—the same man.”

  “He told you?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Can you communicate with all animals, or only monkeys?”

  “I cannot say. I don’t seem to be having much success communicating with you,” Clio shot back. “I trust Toast’s sense of smell. He—” she paused. “Do you remember, two days ago, at the Painted Lady, when I woke you?”

  Something that might have been a smile passed over Miles’s lips. “Yes.”

  “Whose cloak were you sleeping under? I have not seen you wear it since then.”

  “I haven’t the vaguest idea. It was on me when I awoke. I must have left it there. Why?”

  “Because Toast led me there as well. But he says you are not the man he smelled. At any rate, whomever it was attended your ball. So I merely looked over the guest list, found the names of the three men who were from Devonshire, and decided to search their houses.”

  “Amazing. And just what are we looking for?”

  “The Compendium says that the vampire has a ‘soft place’ for those he has killed and therefore always takes away a memento or souvenir. I thought first we could look for those souvenirs.”

  “You think the vampire just leaves these lying around?”

  “Perhaps. But even if we did not find anything, I was planning to take some small object, like a handkerchief, to have Toast smell it.”

  “Why didn’t you just bring him with you and let him roam around the place? Really make yourself at home?”

  “I considered it,” Clio replied seriously, “but his behavior can be a bit unpredictable. Particularly in houses with well-stocked kitchens.”

  “Of course,” Miles said in a dangerously tight voice. Then he cleared his throat. “Let me see if I understand. You propose to break into three gentlemen’s houses looking for souvenirs and kerchiefs?”

  Clio looked indignant at the suggestion. “No. Only two. One of them is not a gentleman. One of them is a vampire.”

  “Oh,” Miles said hollowly. “That makes it different.”

  “Exactly. Now let go of my arm so I can climb up.”

  Miles stared at her. “Absolutely not. This is the most absurd plan I have ever heard. It will not work.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I am a sentient creature. My God, Lady Thornton, think about it.”

  “I have thought about it, Lord Dearbourn, and I think it has a strong chance of success.”

  “You are wrong.”

  “Oh really?” Clio retorted. “Prove it.”

  “How do you propose I do that?”

  “By going through with it. If my plan does not work, if we do not find evidence in any of the houses of the three men from Devonshire, then I will be forced to concede that you are right. We are here, now. There is no reason not to at least try it. Unless, of course, your objection comes from some other source.”

  “Such as?”

  “That you are afraid to be outdone by a woman.”

  Miles clenched and unclenched his jaw five times. “There is nothing I can say that would dissuade you from doing this, is there?”

  There was one thing, Clio realized with shock, but the chances of him saying it were so small as to be nonexistent. “No.”

  He rolled his eyes, then moved them from her to the wall to think. When he looked at her, he found himself thinking that it was not such a bad idea, and grudgingly admiring her ingenuity in getting him out of his house. No one besides Corin had dared to flout his authority so directly in years, and he should have been angry with her. But he wasn’t, not really, and he found that distracting. The wall offered no such distractions.

  Spreading the word that Clio Thornton had been arrested as the vampire was only part of the trap he had prepared, and he was fairly certain he would have his man by the next day. All he needed to do, he realized, was to stall her until then. After that, she could go back to Which House and he could go back to his—

  His whatever he did before he met her. Drinking.

  Ordering her to stop her investigation was not going to work. He needed to divert her but without letting her know what he was doing. It was an interesting challenge. “Very well,” he agreed, sounding deliberately displeased. “If we search your suspects’ rooms and find nothing linking them to the vampire, then you must promise to admit that I am right. And to remain in my apartments without trying to escape.”

  “I will. I do.”

  “Then I will go along with your scheme. But only if we search all the houses tonight.”

  Clio paused and studied him. That was how she had originally planned to do it, but his insistence made her suspicious. “Why?”

  Miles raised one eyebrow. “Why not? We had better get started if we are to finish before they all come home.”

  It hit Clio then. He was hoping that they would rush and miss something. “No. We will not have time to do an adequate search if we do them all tonight. We will do one a night for three nights.” She looked at him challengingly.

  Miles rubbed his chin, ostensibly in thought, but his hand worked to cover his smile. “Fine,” he said with stoical resignation. “One a night for the—Wait.” He interrupted himself, his expression changing. “I think I hear someone coming.”

  Clio’s eyes got large, until she understood what he was doing. “That is a cheap trick, my lord,” she scolded, trying to twist out of his grasp. “It might have worked last—”

  Miles put a hand over her mouth to quiet her. In the silence that descended on the alley then, she made out the faint sound of hoofs at the far end. “Get your horse behind me,” he whispered to her, and was relieved when she complied. The moonlight was very faint in the narrow passage, but there was enough of it to flash off the drawn sword of the man who was riding toward them.

  “You’re surrounded,” the man shouted. “Hand over the girl at once or prepare to die. The choice is yours.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I am afraid I will have to disoblige you,” Miles repli
ed, not apologetically. “I don’t really like either of those options.”

  “Do as I say and no one will be hurt,” the man warned again.

  “What will you give me for her?” Miles asked.

  “Your life, you fool. Now hand her over.”

  “My life,” Miles mused. “Not much of a bargain. I think I’ll fight instead.”

  “You are making a mistake,” the unknown man cautioned. “There are four of us.”

  “Actually it is you who have made a mistake,” Clio told the man from behind Miles. “His Lordship is an excellent fighter, probably the best in England. Now that he is aware there are four of you, he knows he shall have to throw the two knives he keeps in his boots toward the outer walls of the alley to get the two men stationed there, and then unsheathe his sword to run the third through the middle. As to you, I am sure he would give you his choice of a pistol to the heart or beheading.”

  Before Miles could suppress his surprised laughter enough to silence her, or the man could respond, a sound like the sound made by three horses rapidly backing out of an alley was heard. “Cowards,” the unknown man shouted after his fleeing accomplices. Then he turned his horse and moved slightly forward. “Do not worry, Clio, I am not afraid. I know he made you say that. I will save you from this beast without them.”

  “Friend of yours?” Miles asked Clio over his shoulder.

  Clio had thought the voice was familiar, but it was not until the man stepped into a patch of moonlight that she was sure. Even still, it took her a moment to recognize him, because his hair was different and he had grown a mustache. “Justin,” she said with an undertone that Miles would not have wanted to hear connected to his name. “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving your life, and I’m just in time by the looks of it,” Justin Greeley replied. “I always said you’d get yourself in trouble without me around to look after you, my silly foolish girl.”

  Miles did not at all like the man’s condescending tone and was going to say so, but Clio got in first.

  “I thought you were in France,” she said. “With Plucky.”

  “Plootie,” Justin corrected. “And you know that was just a passing affair. I had to have some solace after you broke my heart.”

  “I?” Clio was aghast. “I broke your heart?”

  Miles could not figure out why Clio sounded so surprised. It made perfect sense to him.

  “Of course. You said you could never love me, that you loved someone else and always would. You could have given me no greater blow. I went off with Plootie to try to block out the memory of you, erase everything that we were together from my mind. But try as I might, I haven’t been able to stop loving you. I know I can make you happy. Just as soon as I kill this man who is abducting you. Unhand her, sir.”

  “How did you find me?” Clio demanded.

  Miles had been wondering the same thing, between bouts of wondering who the man was that Clio was in love with, and what kind of a fool Justin was to think that anyone—especially someone named Plootie—could erase Clio from his mind.

  Justin turned over a palm to show how easy it was. “I followed you from your house this afternoon.”

  “Why didn’t you just call on me there?”

  “Don’t forget, Clio, I know you better than you know yourself.” There was that condescending tone again. “You would have had some silly little fit of pique because I hurt your feelings. You never would have agreed to see me.”

  “Of course I would have. Why shouldn’t I?” Miles was about to open his mouth to suggest a number of reasons, including the fact that this Justin person was, to use a phrase of hers, a moldy mongrel, when Clio went on. “Just because you abandoned me, ran off with another woman, and left me enormously in debt to that scoundrel Captain Black? What makes you think you would have been unwelcome?”

  If Miles had been harboring any doubts about the sordidness of Justin’s soul, they were put to rest now. Abandon Clio for another woman? The man was not only evil, he was an idiot.

  “Ah, Clio, you always were wretched at concealing your feelings,” Justin opined. “You see, you are mad at me. But I will make it all up to you. As soon as I rescue you.”

  “For your information, I do not need you to rescue me. Lord Dearbourn was not abducting me, he was assisting me. He is my partner in an investigation. And we will be far more productive if you leave and let us attend to it.”

  Justin shook his head sadly. “Clio, angel, I know I hurt your feelings, but you have to understand. Come with me. Let me talk to you. It can be how it was before. We can be close,” he licked his lips and winked at her, “like we used to be. Remember how you enjoyed that?”

  “I have no interest in being any closer to you than I am right now,” she told him. “As a matter of fact, a bit more distance would suit me quite well.”

  This was the stuff to give him, Miles thought, and a grim smile crossed his lips. He was thinking that maybe three thousand miles would be a good distance.

  “Come on, Clio,” Justin urged in a voice that sounded greasy to Miles. “You know you have missed me and our—” he winked again, “—long conversations.”

  Ten thousand miles, Miles revised. Or the moon. The moon might be a good distance. A good place for that man Clio was in love with, too.

  Clio was glad it was too dark for him to see her blushing furiously, but Miles felt the heat of her embarrassment. “The only thing I am missing from our relationship, Justin, is five hundred pounds. Now go, before you are missing something. Something vital.”

  Justin opened his mouth to speak, but Miles judged that the time had come for him to intercede. The removal of vital organs from the man was just his kind of job. “You heard the lady. Leave.”

  Justin jabbed his heels into his horse and sprinted forward toward them, his drawn sword aimed right at Miles’s heart.

  “You are mine, Dearbourn,” Justin shouted and his sword made contact with Miles’s sleeve. Then, to Justin’s utter amazement, it clanged against the wall and fell from his hand. As far as he could tell, Miles had barely even flicked his wrist.

  Miles slid out of his saddle, picked up the sword, and held it out to his stunned opponent. “If you are really interested in fighting, dismount. There is no need to endanger our horses.”

  Justin stared at him. “You will regret this, Dearbourn. I am an expert swordsman.”

  Miles smiled and his beautiful teeth shone in the moonlight. “Excellent. It has been a long time since I had a worthy opponent.”

  Justin snatched his sword from Miles’s hand, but did not dismount. “It’s going to have to be a bit longer. I do not engage in unofficial duels like a ruffian,” he said disdainfully. Then he looked over Miles’s shoulder and nodded. “Now boys. Get her.”

  Miles turned around just in time to see a man grab Clio, drag her from her horse, and sling her over his shoulder. He sensed rather than saw another man to his left, and a third, to his right, both on foot. They must have sneaked up the alley from the back while Clio and Justin were talking. Miles cursed himself for having been so distracted. He could not remember another time anything like this had happened to him. Without taking his eyes off the form of Clio and her assailant as they receded down the alley, Miles’s hands dipped toward his boots. Something glinted and made a whistling noise, and suddenly the two men on foot each let out a howl. Justin, whose horse had been pounding up the alley toward Miles, abruptly reigned in when he saw the two knife points glinting out of the thighs of his accomplices.

  “Hurry, Reynolds, he is gaining on you,” Justin shouted after the man who was making off with Clio.

  “Yes, Reynolds,” Miles whispered, practically in the man’s ear, “hurry.” Before the man could take this very good advice, Miles brought the side of his hand down against the back of Reynolds’s head at a precise angle he had learned from his cousin Sebastian, sending him careening unconscious to the ground. Miles caught Clio’s body before she fell with him, and cradled her in hi
s arms.

  “Clio, are you all right?” he asked, but her head simply lulled from side to side. There was a slight bump on her forehead and it looked as though Reynolds had struck her to keep her from fighting. “Clio,” he said, more urgently, shaking her slightly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Justin, still mounted on horseback, approaching. There was nowhere to put Clio down and no time. Holding her close to his body, Miles spun around and gave a flying kick, sending Justin’s sword hurtling toward the wall. It hit with such force that the hilt broke off and the blade bent.

  “You are next,” Miles told Justin through clenched teeth, Clio’s unconscious form cradled against his chest. “If you are lucky, you will just be able to hear the sound your head makes as it hits the wall before your brains explode. It is a very satisfying noise.”

  Before Miles had even finished speaking, Justin had turned on his horse and fled. It would have been a pleasure to go after him and make good on his threat, but he had more important things to think about. He looked down at Clio and gently brushed his lips across her forehead. “Clio,” he whispered. “Clio can you hear me?”

  This time she stirred slightly. Her eyes came open, and focused on his face. She smiled up at him, the most brilliant smile he had ever seen, and said, “I read once that you kept knives in your boots, but I did not know it was true.” Then her lids fluttered closed and she went limp in his arms.

  “May I come in?” Clio asked from the doorway of Miles’s workroom. Two hours had passed since their return to Dearbourn Hall. Two hours during which Miles had plenty of time to think. And fume at her. And berate himself.

  How had he let her get hurt? He had been distracted listening to her, applauding her in his mind, and he had made a grave error. It would not happen again. And what had she meant when she said that she had read he kept knives in his boots anyway? Had she been following his exploits? Did she read what the news sheets wrote about him? Did that mean—

  From now on he would keep himself aloof from her. He would not allow her to be a distraction. Nor would he allow her to bend him to her will, to go dragging him around the city, to disobey him blatantly, willfully and with the assistance, he now suspected, of his staff. No one disobeyed him. What had happened was at least as much her fault as his. If she had not disobeyed him, she never would have been in danger. What if he had not gone after her? What if Justin’s attempts to take her away had succeeded? The two men writhing in the alley had been kind enough to admit that Justin had paid them each a hefty sum for their assistance in getting the girl. What had he wanted with her?