“Funny thing, Miss Sumner. Absolutely beautiful debutante but was treated awfully by her mother. Did you know that the woman turned out to not be her mother after all, and forced her into pursuing James just so that she and her new husband could get their hands on the Stanton money?”
No. Hades had not known that. He’d believed Melissa was the daughter of the infamous woman. It had helped him keep perspective. He shuffled his feet and sat back down slowly.
“That was after they had turned down all offers for Miss Sumner’s hand without her knowledge whilst waiting to settle the dowry offer from Earl Babbington. He died before that could happen, obviously, which sent them off in James’ direction. Of course it helped that Edgar was a Stanton too, and they told Miss Sumner that she was the person that James was seeking to fulfil the terms of his father, old Lord Stanton’s will.”
“I—”
But Freddie was not finished. “Even when the poor gel was told to make a play for James, she still stood up to that woman and helped Stanton’s love match to go ahead. Stunning woman too. Just a shame she has disappeared off the scene. Tried to follow her home myself from your house but she stopped in at Lady Colchester’s.”
Hades lifted his head and gulped. Melissa and Victoria together? In his stupidity he had thought that Melissa wouldn’t socialize with people that high up in the ton, and that since the well-known debacle with Lord Stanton and the rest of her suitors, she would refrain from re-entering society. In fact, it was what had kept him going—he hadn’t been able to deny his attraction to Melissa and he had promised himself that a dalliance with her would wash this episode away. No one would have known about it. Now even that chance was gone—
“So how are you getting on with the Viper?” Freddie shifted his leg slightly on the ottoman and smirked.
“What?”
“I was in Whites last night and several bets had been entered into the book regarding your mission.”
Hades sat forward, a customary anger that he had once been so used to filling him for the first time in weeks. “How on earth did people in Whites hear about it? How can I do anything to stop the man if everyone knows that I am hunting for him?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure who was the first to enter a bet. I’d have a look in the betting book if I were you. I only know about it because of my involvement with Lord Granwich. I was surprised to see that he had allowed the information to become public.” Freddie grimaced. “If you don’t mind, Harding, I think I need to be alone now. My leg is becoming rather troublesome.”
Hades stood quickly as the other man winced. “Of course, old man.”
He returned straight back home. A row of servants gathered in the hall and looked on expectantly as Carter opened the door to him. They sighed audibly when they saw he was alone, and with looks of disgust, disappeared upstairs and downstairs back to their duties.
“What is it Carter?” Hades said irritably. Really, was anyone pleased to see him?
Carter gave him a doleful stare, his rounded cheeks sagging gently. “I think they expected to see Miss Sumner, my lord.”
“Why is everyone so intent on having that woman in my household?” Hades roared. Carter gave him a surprised look and, with a blink, turned and marched away to the kitchens.
Hades shook his head. He needed to concentrate. There were now three potential leads to the Viper, the unexplained death in his own home, the link between Melissa and the Viper, and the bets laid in Whites. He had not managed to get any further with the first, the second he had to just wait and hope something would happen and then he would put his plan into effect, and the third, it was likely he could do something about that.
Hades had to put in an appearance at Lady Ancaster’s ball, but then he would be able to pay a covert trip to Whites. He didn’t go very often, but he was after all, still a member there.
Lady Ancaster’s ball was the hell that he had imagined. His absence for three weeks from any kind of society activity seemed to have whipped the debutantes into a frenzy. And as he had also feared, his mother was there.
“Dance with me, Hades,” Dowager Lady Harding commanded imperiously, flicking a stray feather from her turban away from her face.
“But of course, Mother.” He led her to the dance floor and, with some slow steps, pulled her into the dance.
“Now, darling. Tell me what is going on. I haven’t seen you for at least three weeks. Every time I call at your residence Carter tells me you are not in, and will not even offer me tea.”
Hades frowned. Carter had not told him that his mother had called. Who had he been trying to protect?
“I have been busy.”
“Don’t tell me you have been entertaining mistresses again? Are they the ones that you needed all those dresses for? You had better start paying attention now, Hades. You are not getting any younger, and it is time that you got yourself a bride.”
Gods! Carter had gone to his mother to get those dresses. Hades ground his teeth inaudibly, but kept dancing. “I have not got a mistress.” Noticing the interested glances of a young fair-haired lady dancing next to them, he swung his mother away. “I am working on a new project.”
Dowager Lady Harding pursed her lips, but with a creasing of her eyes, her expression softened slightly. “Dear boy. You have always taken life too seriously. You need to leave that harlot Elsa in the past and start to rediscover some joy.”
Hades swallowed. His mother always knew how to disconcert him. He wished he hadn’t come to the ball. “I believe our dance has ended,” he said hoarsely.
As the couples stopped and bowed to each other, his mother straightened and looked him in the eye. With a tender hand she stroked his cheek. “Hades, I would like to see you happy. Please consider my wishes.” As if an afterthought, she glanced towards the south end of the ballroom and smiled. “Oh, and Lady Colchester was searching for you.”
Hades glanced in the same direction. Victoria advanced on them at an unseemly trot. Hades looked desperately around the room for the exit, but the only path to the main door lay across Victoria’s path. With a quick kiss to his mother’s hand, Hades stalked away in the opposite direction towards the gambling rooms where Freddie sat playing canasta with a group of young men.
Hades debated disturbing him; the young lord seemed bored and on edge, and had not seemed that predisposed towards him earlier in the day. Hades glanced behind the gambling table, only to see that Victoria was gaining. She seemed to have acquired a large smile and a glint to her eye.
“Freddie. Do you fancy a trip to Whites?” he said hurriedly, tapping Freddie on the shoulder.
Freddie looked up at Hades and then to the door behind him. He laughed uproariously and set his cards on the table. “I believe that is my hand I’m afraid, gentlemen.” The young men groaned. Freddie was a notorious opponent. “I’ll collect my winnings at Whites,” Freddie continued.
With barely a limp, Freddie stood and nodded to a small door at the back of the room. “I’ll head off Lady Colchester. What on earth did you say to her? That door leads to the servant’s quarters. They’ll show you outside. I’ll meet you at Whites in twenty minutes.”
Hades nodded gratefully. Thank god for Freddie.
CHAPTER 12
The wind rattled through the casements on the garden window, passing around the large board of wood that covered the glass. Melissa shivered, and continued to salvage as best she could some of the ragwort that lay strewn across the floor.
Groaning, she fell to her hands and knees and crawled under the heavy, oak kitchen table. More precious ragwort lay on the tiles.
Victoria had taken one look at Melissa’s desperate state and lent her a carriage to get home without asking any questions, although she had insisted that Melissa took a maid with her. Melissa had returned to Bayswater only to find the house in disarray.
The rear windows of the small house had been smashed and the new press that Mr. Hobbs had made just before Melissa had left to meet the Viper had been
taken to with an axe. Her fledgling garden had once again been trampled and the ground floor of the house turned upside down.
Melissa had sent Victoria’s carriage back immediately, afraid that the maid might carry tales back to her lady. Or see Melissa’s tears.
The impact of the destruction hit her keenly again and again as she pulled more and more ragwort from under the table legs. There was no one to help her. Mrs. Hobbs lay prostrate in the front room on the only chair that had not been touched. Mr. Hobbs flittered around her helplessly. They were too stunned by the break-in to even welcome her back and ask where she had been.
Melissa looked up as a shadow fell from the garden door to her crouched spot under the table. “Oh Mr. Hobbs, at last. I do hope Mrs. Hobbs is better. Please could you put another log on the fire? It is freezing in here.”
But only a harsh boyish laugh greeted her request.
“Mr. Hobbs? Mr. Hobbs?” Melissa’s voice rose to a shout. Pounding steps echoed from the front of the house.
“This was just a warning from my master.” The hurried young voice was hauntingly familiar. The shadow began to move again out into the garden. “Stay away from Earl Harding and find us the book. Things will go even worse for you if you don’t. The Viper is waiting for you. He’s always been watching you.”
“But, but,” Melissa stammered, “what about the money?”
Silence greeted her tremulous question. She scrabbled against the tiles, trying to gain purchase, and only succeeded in bumping her head hard as she exited from under the table. Mr. Hobbs stood at the kitchen door, red-faced and panting.
“What is it Miss Sumner? Are you alright?”
Melissa swallowed, and pushed her glasses straight on her head again. A headache began to pound behind her eyes. “There was someone in the house. He, he, left by the garden door.”
Mr. Hobbs pushed open the door that swung gently in the wind. “There’s no one there now, miss. Are you sure that you saw someone?”
“I didn’t see him,” Melissa admitted. “I was under the table, he just spoke and before I could catch him he was gone.”
Mr. Hobbs pulled a kettle from the floor and took it outside to the garden pump. He slammed the full pot back onto the stove with vigor. “We need some tea,” he said gruffly. “Something for shock. Ginger, I think your book said.”
Melissa nodded in surprise. Mr. Hobbs didn’t seem like a great reader.
“The missus and I tried to keep the business going whilst you were away on your holiday.”
“Holiday!”
“That’s what that high and mighty gentleman said when he delivered your note. I nearly punched him, I did.”
Silently Melissa cheered Mr. Hobbs. It was a brave man that took on Hades. “I’m very sorry for not giving you any notice. Events overtook me.”
Mr. Hobbs grunted and lifted the boiling kettle off the stove and onto the kitchen top. He disappeared briefly and returned with a small piece of root ginger. Melissa found three cups that were still intact under the kitchen sink. The rest were in small pieces, scattered at the foot of the stove. With painstaking care, Mr. Hobbs shaved some ginger into each cup and poured in some boiling water. He handed the first cup to Melissa, and then took the second out of the kitchen.
Melissa jumped when he re-entered.
“What did the person say to you?” Mr. Hobbs asked flatly.
She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t told the Hobbs about her previous attempt to meet with the Viper, but now it seemed as if her home was as much their home too. They had attempted to keep her business running without her, and had been sadly rewarded for their efforts.
“I should tell both of you. Is Mrs. Hobbs any better?”
“She’s sipping her tea now, and more color has come back to her cheeks. She caught the bastards in the act and was afraid for her life.”
Melissa nodded. It would have been terrifying to have come downstairs in the middle of the night to find intruders in your home. She wished again that she had been there. “Let’s go through to the front room. I’ll bring the kitchen stool.”
Mr. Hobbs nodded briefly and took his tea into the hall. With the warming cup in her right hand, Melissa picked up the kitchen stool and dragged it through the hall and into the front room. Her breath caught yet again. It was a shambles. There hadn’t been much furniture after she had attempted to refurnish the house after deciding not to sell it. However, what was left had been systematically splintered, the legs torn off, or the contents thrown to the floor and smashed.
Putting down her stool next to Mrs. Hobbs’ chair, she laid her teacup on top. Grabbing a random table leg, she thrust it into the glowing fire, and poked at it limply.
“At least we will have lots of firewood,” she said in an effort to cheer up the wan Mrs. Hobbs. But it seemed to have the opposite effect. Mrs. Hobbs burst into a fresh set of tears. Picking up her cup, Melissa sat back down on her stool with a thump. Mr. Hobbs crouched by the fireplace and poked the fire.
“Oh, I am so sorry, lass,” Mrs. Hobbs sobbed. “We tried so hard to continue your work for you whilst you were on holiday.”
Melissa blinked. The normally battle-hardened Mrs. Hobbs was as soft as a pussy cat.
“It was my fault. I must have left the garden door open. They had already finished in the kitchen and were starting in the front room by the time I arrived. They were quite surprised to see me.” Mrs. Hobbs shook her head, and set off in tears again. “They kept demanding ‘the book, the book’ and so I gave them that beautiful book that you made. They must have seen it when we were dispensing medicines at the back gate. They were desperate for it.”
“What did they do next?” Melissa asked gently.
“They took the book and left. The young one spat in my face.” Mrs. Hobbs hiccupped. “No one has spat in my face before. I’m so sorry about your house and your book.”
“Do not worry about either. I’ve always hated this house and the book I can write again.”
Mrs. Hobbs sniffed. “I would agree that the house has a rather unwholesome air to it. For the last two weeks it’s been as if there were ghosts here in the night when we’ve been asleep.”
Melissa shivered. She had thought that too.
“Perhaps there have been?” Mr. Hobbs suggested. “If they were combing the house for your book, Miss Sumner, then they wouldn’t have found it. We kept it with us in our room along with your takings. It was too precious.”
“I’m afraid to say that I don’t think that that book was quite what they were seeking.” Melissa inhaled some of the ginger steam from her tea. Momentarily it misted her glasses. Taking them off, she wiped them against her skirts. “Mrs. Hobbs, I’ve just had another visitor in the kitchen. They demanded the book again.”
“Perhaps it is a different person?” Mrs. Hobbs said hopefully, sitting up slightly.
“I’m afraid not. They referred to the mess. And this isn’t the first time they have demanded the book. Including your encounter, they’ve now asked four times.”
“Four?” Mr. Hobbs said. “But…”
“Once after I was going to sell the house, a second time when they demanded I meet them in St. Giles.”
“When you went on holiday,” Mr. Hobbs murmured. Melissa nodded.
“The third time was when you met them, Mrs. Hobbs, and a fourth time just now in the kitchen.”
“Were you really on holiday?” Mrs. Hobbs asked, her eyes rounded.
Melissa chewed her lip. The luxurious bedroom, the attentive staff, her discovery of a man that made her want more, and yet who wanted to use her as bait in order to achieve victory against the Viper—
“It sometimes felt like a holiday,” she whispered truthfully. Gaining strength in her voice, she continued, “It was unexpected, and I was with a friend.” If Hades wasn’t, then Carter had been. She stopped and reflected. “Did you say, Mrs. Hobbs, that one of the intruders was young?”
“Yes he was. And he didn’t walk out of the h
ouse, he somersaulted!”
Melissa replaced her glasses on her nose. She put down her teacup on the floor carefully. “Was there anything else unusual about him?”
Mrs. Hobbs stared at Melissa and slumped in the chair. “I can’t remember. Just like the other man. I saw him, but I can’t remember anything about him, he just seemed to blend into the surrounding room.”
Before Mrs. Hobbs could collapse into hysterics once more, Mr. Hobbs said quietly, “He walked on his tiptoes. I was coming down the stairs and he passed in the hall at the bottom. It made him look like a ballerina.”
Melissa gasped. The footman who had left her some cake! He too had walked on tiptoes.
“He must have come in through the garden door because I could follow where he had tracked these funny half-moon shaped mud stains through the house. It was probably caused by him walking on the balls of his feet.” Mr. Hobbs scratched his chin. “The other gentleman left normal footprints.”
Melissa had seen the half-moon prints before as well. “It’s the same young man every time. I found the same prints whilst I was trying to sell the house. They were everywhere—he was obviously rummaging for the book.” She paused. “I think he tried to kill me as well.”
Mrs. Hobbs gasped and swooned. With a grunt, Mr. Hobbs grabbed her and pushed her back in the chair.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he said, glancing quickly at Melissa. “Never mind Mrs. Hobbs being an old battle-axe, she’s a softie at heart really. You’ve been so good to us, and we would hate anything to happen to you.”
Melissa blinked, a tightness gathering in her chest at Mr. Hobbs’ words. Quickly, she wiped away a rogue tear that threatened to fall down her cheek.
“You know,” Mr. Hobbs said as he supported his wife’s lolling head, “what my missus described sounded very much like an acrobat. We saw one once in Vauxhall Gardens. We were there to see the famed Grande Salvatore knife thrower and the acrobats opened the act. They cartwheeled and flipped everywhere, hanging from branches.”
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