by Anne Mallory
She kept herself from grabbing the list. "What’s on the other paper?"
Angelford held it up for her to view. It was an imprint of a large bird of prey. "It appears to be an image from a seal or ring."
Calliope took the safer, imprinted page, but she was more interested in the list. Years of smoothing her features came in handy. "So we need to determine who the traitor is from the list. Stephen obviously thought you and this Seagrove fellow were in the clear. Castlereagh committed suicide last year. I don’t know why this Merriweather fellow also has two marks. Maybe he is dead as well? We need to find the seal or ring that made this print."
He looked at her as if she had grown three eyes. "You have helped a great deal by showing me this book, but this is where we part ways. As soon as Finn gets back, I will leave him with you."
Outrage flowed through her. And determination. Anything to do with Salisbury was her concern. "Absolutely not. No one wrote you a threatening note, as I recall. You need me."
He shook his head. "I have enough information to proceed. You need not put yourself in further danger. You could have been seriously injured last night."
"I beg your pardon. If you plan to go off on your own, then I will be forced to conduct my own investigation. I was planning to do so from the beginning."
"And if you do so, I will have you removed from London." His voice was uncompromising.
She was appalled but resolute. "Since the note does not specify what I am to do with the item in question, another message must be forthcoming. Who do you propose will receive it, if I’m not around?"
That made him pause. Shrewd obsidian eyes studied her.
"In addition, my lord, you don’t know for certain that what they are looking for has anything to do with this list or the imprint. You still need me."
Ideas began to take shape in her fractured mind and she seized the moment. "We can say Stephen is on leave. I will circulate and make some discreet inquiries. At the very least it will appear like nothing is amiss. It may cause some confusion and perhaps someone will slip. Perhaps even send another note."
Angelford rose and walked to her dressing table. He picked up the ornate bottle that contained her favorite perfume and ran it beneath his nose. He gazed at it for an eternity. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said no. Somehow she would conjure a way to conduct her own investigation without Angelford knowing. She had to discover the truth.
He turned and strode stiffly to the door, his usually languid grace absent.
"We will go to Covent Garden this evening."
He disappeared around the frame and she collapsed on the bed, thoughts racing as she heard him murmur a few indiscernible words to Grimmond in the hall. They were to work together after all.
Things were getting more complicated.
Where was Stephen? What the hell had he been doing investigating Salisbury? A traitor killed Salisbury? Who was threatening her? How was she going to handle Angelford? And how long could she keep her secrets?
"Did she get the note?"
Curdle nodded.
His employer tapped his fingers together. They were as elegant as the rest of him. "Then why is she preparing to go out? One of the maids said she is attending the opera tonight."
Curdle felt his eyes narrow as he looked up at his employer. "It’s that swell in the black coach. He’s the one who left his man here the other night."
"Angelford?" His employer showed no sur- prise. "I expected him to poke around after Chalmers’s disappearance. He is loyal to a fault, but I didn’t think he would get involved with the girl. Strange."
"Do you want me to get rid of him?" Curdle was eager.
"Not yet. " His employer continued tapping his fingers. "I know where they are going. I will keep an eye on them tonight."
He continued, "The men could find nothing in either house after countless times searching, so I am positive the girl has the ring. It is the only way Chalmers could possibly know after all these years. Right now she is our best bet. After she produces it . . ." He shrugged. "Then I will let you have her."
A feral expression stole across Curdle’s face.
* * *
Shortly after James’s departure, Calliope penned a note to Deirdre informing her that the troublesome issue from the night before had been resolved. She didn’t want to upset Deirdre or the family yet. She would tell them tomorrow when she had more information. Otherwise their close surveillance would be inhibiting.
Calliope was dressed as Esmerelda when the town coach arrived. She had taken special care with her coiffure and donned a sky-blue diaphanous gown designed to attract male attention. The décolletage was daring and the fabric clung provocatively to her figure. She turned in front of the mirror, satisfied with her appearance. There would be no doubt in the minds of those present that she was looking for new protection.
Calliope descended the staircase. Angelford regarded her closely and then offered his arm. She placed her hand on top.
Grimmond eyed them with interest but merely wished them a good night. Angelford escorted her to the magnificent carriage. The expert workmanship, from the gleaming heraldic arms to the squabs, was apparent.
It was a smart reminder of his position, the difference in their social status, and reason for their tentative relationship.
Calliope arranged her skirts and met his eyes across the carriage. Angelford was an impossibly handsome man, more so in his eveningwear. Dark, almost jet-black hair caressed his patrician face. It wasn’t quite fair some people were so blessed in looks and circumstances while others were so poor in everything. The bitter feelings resurfaced, and she struggled to regain control.
"The Opera Company is performing Don Giovanni tonight."
"How appropriate under the circumstances," she murmured.
His lips curved slightly. "Are you implying I’m Don Juan and you’re Donna Anna?"
She gave him a dark look and changed the subject. "What should I say if people question me about Stephen?"
"Sidestep the questions and let them imagine what they wish. I have every faith in your talent for manipulation."
She ignored the barb for once, too intent on planning. It would be stretching her acting abilities to pretend nothing was amiss when her head was screaming everything was. She could hear Deirdre’s voice scoffing at her to quit whining and assume character.
He continued speaking before she could respond, "Don’t allow anyone to know our real plan. It needs to remain a secret."
She frowned. She hadn’t said anything yet, but she certainly was planning on it when she learned more. "My family and friends will eventually need to be told, especially if more threats are made. If I don’t explain the circumstances soon, they will detect I’m being disingenuous."
"I told you they would be protected. If you tip our hand, I will have to remove you, and be damned with the consequences." He inclined his head faintly. "I have a driver ready to take you from the city immediately."
Anger and something close to relief stirred in her. "You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t." .
His brows lifted in the semidarkness. "Go ahead, my dear, and test me. You’ll find yourself in Yorkshire in a heartbeat."
His voice was hard and unyielding again.
She sank back into the velvet seat. "Very well. I shall endeavor to keep all those who care about me in the dark."
"You demonstrate very good sense, Miss Minton."
She bristled. "Do remember not to call me that. My blasted name is Esmerelda."
"It’s a dreadful name, you know. "
"Blame Stephen if you must. He insisted on using it."
His dark eyes flashed and his face sobered. He looked out the window for the remainder of the trip. They reached the opera house in tense silence.
Calliope emerged from the carriage with his hand wrapped protectively about her arm. She could feel the speculative glances thrown their way.
"Damn vultures," she muttered.
She caught
a half smile on his face. "You’re not the only focus of this endeavor. " He gave her a little squeeze, surprising her. "You will be wonderful."
She was shocked speechless and allowed him to pull her into the theater.
As they ascended the stairs, she automatically moved toward Stephen’s box. James guided her farther along. "That is Stephen’s box. We are going to mine."
Angelford’s box was in the front of the first balcony. The premier seats. She resisted the urge to pinch him as he removed the wrap from her shoulders and settled into a seat across from her. The lorgnettes in the room focused on them and she managed a beatific smile and turned to Angelford. He raised his eyebrows in faint surprise.
"What a wonderful box you have, my lord."
Only Angelford would know she was not being genuine.
He smiled. "Only the best, my dear. "
She looked around the box. "How did you come by it?"
"The usual way. I inherited it."
"Ah, generations of Angelfords have graced these seats?"
"No, my father bought it while wooing my mother. He was trying to make a good impression."
The tone of his voice had changed slightly but she was too busy examining the new scenery to pay it heed. "Oh, I do love it when men try to buy a woman’s affection."
She expected a witty response in return but he didn’t answer. She turned to see why. Immediately she wished she could bring to mind his earlier remarks. She replayed what had been said, but could find nothing that would produce his shuttered expression.
Something about his look tugged at her.
"Oh, look, the musicians are arriving. I always love to hear them tune their instruments. The party scene in Act One is very difficult for them." She bent over the rail to motion to the orchestra. "Mozart was very ambitious when he composed this opera. It requires considerable skill for the conductor to coordinate the ensembles of three orchestras onstage and the opera orchestra in the pit."
Calliope caught a glimpse of Robert on the mezzanine level and pulled back inside the box. It was too late to hide. " And soon we will be treated to another performance. Of course, at times one performance vastly surpasses another. And certain composers obviously hold one’s attention better. But then, that is to be expected, yes?"
She knew she was babbling, but she continued talking until an amused smile lifted his lips. She gave a small sigh of relief.
"Do you like the opera, my lord?"
He waited a beat and she held her breath.
"Yes, it is quite odd, I know, but I enjoy the performance." He scanned her lazily from head to toe. "Unless something else is occupying my attention."
Heat rushed over her body. He seemed to have recovered from whatever malady had plagued him. His words caused her imagination to run rampant wondering what the box had been used for in the past.
"Do you need a fan? You appear flushed."
She sent him a saucy look. His current attitude made it easier. "Mmmm, why, yes, my lord. It is rather warm, don’t you think?" She ran her tongue lightly over her lips and gently massaged her neck, letting her head fall back slightly.
His face showed no outward effect, but the muscles in his legs tensed.
Angelford was in excellent physical condition. She remembered how he had easily caught the maid and her tray at the Killroys’ party and how he had lifted her after the attack in the garden.
She savored her victory until he switched chairs, putting himself next to her. He leaned toward her and stroked her neck. "Maybe we should ease the tension."
Her breath caught in her chest and warmth suffused her lower body. She allowed him to continue the gentle massage and met his eyes. She felt herself being sucked into a vortex as he bent his head. He had the most sensual lips of any man she had ever seen.
Lord Holt slipped into the box, breaking the spell. "Esmerelda, my dear, I didn’t know you were going to be at the opera tonight."
Calliope tried to lean back, but James continued stroking her neck, and held her in place.
"Lord Holt, how nice to see you this evening."
She tossed a saccharine smile his way as the door opened again. "Lord Roth, what a pleasant surprise." And it was. He was the perfect buffer for Holt, who she always felt was interrogating her, especially when he started stroking his blasted chin. Both men moved forward.
"Angelford," Lord Roth said.
"Angelford," Lord Holt echoed.
Angelford acknowledged the men tersely. Calliope sent a pointed look in his direction.
He looked irritated, but stood. " Excuse me, my dear, I do believe I will leave you to your admirers while I find refreshments."
She began to hold court as he slipped out the door.
James stepped through the crowd. The orchestra was still tuning, and the performance would soon begin. He wanted to be seated before the curtain rose. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. He had wanted to sock both men in the nose before leaving, but sense had prevailed.
James raked his fingers through his hair. This was merely a role he was playing, albeit a dangerous one. Calliope was an imposter and an unknown quantity. She was the mistress of his best friend.
She was also a woman he wanted badly.
His feelings were always in flux around her. She goaded him when she flirted with Stephen. She amused him with her quick wit while reducing society misses to stammering ninnies. She tantalized him with her perfume. She intrigued him with her various guises and mystified him with her subterfuge. And a protective streak had manifested itself when he glimpsed her face as she exited the carriage.
He didn’t like his lack of control one bit.
Stephen. They needed to work together for him. James needed to keep his emotions in check.
But how far to trust her? She was hiding something, he could feel it. Although he couldn’t totally dismiss her as a suspect, she was at the bottom of the list. The threatening note, her actions and her responses held together too well at present.
He grabbed two glasses of wine and scooted back to his box. The atmosphere inside was jovial.
"Good evening to you, Esmerelda. Angelford."
Roth rose, and both he and Holt took their leave.
Calliope accepted the proffered glass and smiled. "Thank you."
She was in a congenial mood and, for once, he had no wish to spoil it.
Act One was exceptional, but he was uninterested. He watched Calliope’s face as she immersed herself in the unfolding drama. Five minutes into the act she relaxed and he observed the byplay of emotions streaming across her face. Generally she was a closed book, but tonight she seemed to experience the drama onstage wholeheartedly.
At intermission they talked about the elaborate set pieces at Giovanni’s castle and the soprano’s wonderful performance.
"Truly a talented lady, " Calliope said.
He looked at her speculatively. "With a name like Calliope I am surprised you don’t sing."
She looked at him with considerable interest.
"Do you like the classics, my lord?"
"Not at first. My tutor said I was quite an unruly student in my early days. One day, probably at his wits’ end, he handed me Homer’s Odyssey. I was hooked."
She nodded in understanding. "I love the ancient myths. My mother was an avid reader. She taught me to read and supplied me with books. She always wanted to build a grand library."
He heard the wistful tone in her voice. "What happened?"
A shadow crossed her face. "She never had the opportunity."
It was the first personal remark she had shared and he didn’t know how to proceed. "What other things did she like?"
The shadow cleared and a sad expression appeared. "She loved to sing."
Reality interfered with the conversation. People streamed in and out of boxes and the gamesmanship began.
"I believe it is time for Esmerelda to cast some lures," Calliope said, and gave her fake locks a slight toss.
James nodded
and escorted her to the lobby.
They separated so he could presumably smoke his cheroot on the balcony and she could hold court freely.
Chaos reigned supreme. It seemed the entire opera house had emptied into the lobby. James realized it was always this crowded during intermission, but he was tense thinking about who could be in their midst. He was having difficulty tracking Calliope, and decided to move to the short steps near the pillars flanking the main stairway.