by Amanda Quick
“There you are, March. Wondered when you’d show up. I want to have a word with you.”
Reluctantly, Tobias changed course and crossed the room to take the chair opposite the one in which Neville reclined.
“Bit early to see you here, sir,” he said. “Come in to get out of the rain?”
Neville’s mouth twisted. “Came in to fortify myself.” He flicked a meaningful glance at the glass he held. “I’ve got an unpleasant task ahead of me this evening.”
“What would that be?”
“Decided to end the affair with Sally.” Neville gulped claret. “She’s become too demanding. They all do sooner or later, don’t they?”
Tobias had to think for a moment before the name rang a bell. Then he recalled Neville’s occasional references to his current mistress.
“Ah, yes, Sally.” He watched the rain come down in the street outside the window. “From what you have told me about her, I would think a couple of nice trinkets should smooth any ruffled feathers.”
Neville snorted in disgust. “It will take some very nice, very expensive trinkets to convince her to end the matter without a nasty scene. She’s a greedy little thing.”
Curiosity made Tobias glance away from the rain to study Neville’s expression. “Why end the connection? I thought you enjoyed Sally’s company.”
“Oh, she’s a charming enough creature.” Neville winked broadly. “Energetic and extremely creative, if you know what I mean.”
“I believe you’ve mentioned those qualities on occasion.”
“Unfortunately all that energy and creativity take a toll on a man.” Neville sighed heavily. “Hate to admit it, but I’m not as young as I once was. In addition, her demands for jewelry lately have become excessive. Gave her some earrings last month and she had the gall to inform me the stones in them were too small.”
Sally was a professional, Tobias thought. She had no doubt guessed that Neville was getting restless. Aware the affair was nearing its conclusion, she was working quickly to wring whatever she could out of her admirer before he cast her aside.
Tobias smiled humorlessly. “A woman in Sally’s line of work must plan ahead for retirement. There are no pensions available to the ladies of the demimonde.”
“She can go back to the brothel where I found her.” Neville hesitated and then his gaze narrowed. “Perhaps you would care to take my place? Sally will be in the market for a new benefactor after tonight, and I can personally testify to her skills in the bedchamber.”
He had no interest in inheriting another man’s mistress, even if she was energetic and creative, Tobias thought. In any event, he doubted that Sally would be alone for long. Judging from the remarks Neville had made about her in the course of the past few weeks, she was a clever girl.
“From the sound of it, I cannot afford her,” Tobias said dryly.
“She’s a prime article, but not as expensive as the high-flyers.” Neville gulped his claret and put down the glass. “Forgive me, March. Didn’t mean to bore you. I am far more interested to discover what progress you’ve made. Any news of that damned diary?”
Tobias chose his words carefully. In his experience, clients often responded well to hunting and fishing metaphors.
“I can tell you this much,” he said. “I have picked up the trail and the scent grows stronger.”
A feverish excitement lit Neville’s eyes. “What do you mean? What have you learned?”
“I would prefer not to be too specific at this juncture. But I can say that I have several lures in the water and there have been some nibbles. Give me another few days and I should be able to reel in our catch.”
“Hell’s teeth, man, what is taking so long? We must find that damned diary and we must do so soon.”
Time to take a calculated risk, Tobias thought.
“If you are not satisfied with my efforts, sir, you are free to employ someone else to make inquiries for you.”
Neville’s mouth thinned in frustration. “There is no one else I can trust to handle this thing with absolute discretion. You know that as well as I do.”
Tobias released the breath he had not realized he had been holding. “Calm yourself, sir. I will have news for you soon.”
“I trust that will be the case.” Neville set aside his empty glass and levered himself up out of the chair. “Regretfully, I must be off. Got to pay a visit to a jeweler this afternoon.”
“Sally’s farewell gift?”
“Indeed. A pretty necklace, if I do say so myself. Cost me a pretty penny, but I suppose one must pay for one’s pleasures, eh? Told the jeweler I’d be around to pick it up and pay for it today. Don’t want to take the risk of being late.”
“Where’s the risk in that?”
Neville snorted again. “Barton told me he ordered a sapphire brooch from the same shop for his ladybird last month. He neglected to pay for it in a timely manner. The jeweler arranged to have the piece sent around to his town house, where it was delivered to Lady Barton instead of the sweet cyprian.”
Tobias nearly smiled. “Quite by accident, I’m sure.”
“So the jeweler claimed.” Neville shuddered. “Nevertheless, I am not about to take any chances. Good day to you, March. Send word immediately when you have information concerning the diary. I do not care what time of day or night I hear from you.”
“I understand.”
Neville nodded once and walked off toward the front door of the club.
Tobias sat for a while, watching the carriages in the wet street. The gloom outside seemed to pass through the panes of the window, enveloping him in a gray mist.
It would be pleasant to think a mistress was the solution to this gnawing restlessness that gripped him whenever he contemplated the subject of Lavinia Lake. But he knew the truth. The kiss this afternoon had confirmed his deepest fear. A convenient bed and a willing female whose passion had been purchased would not suffice to ease the pangs of this deep hunger.
After a while he rose and went into the coffee room. En route, he picked up a copy of a newspaper that had been left atop a side table.
Crackenburne was in his customary position near the hearth. He did not look up from his copy of The Times. “Saw Neville lying in wait in the other room. Did he manage to corner you?”
“Yes.” Tobias lowered himself into a chair. “If you would be so kind, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from employing the language of the hunt. It reminds me of the conversation I just had with Neville.”
“Well? What news did you give him?”
“Let’s just say I implied that things are going well.”
“Are they?”
“No. But I saw no reason to inform him of that.”
“Humph.” The newspaper rustled in Crackenburne’s hands. “Neville was satisfied with your implied progress?”
“I don’t think so. But fortunately for me, he had other things on his mind. Tonight he plans to inform his current mistress that he is no longer in the market for her services. He’s on his way to pick up an item from a jeweler that he hopes will ease the anguish of parting.”
“Indeed.” Crackenburne slowly lowered the newspaper. There was a speculative expression in his eyes. “Let us hope that his latest light-o’-love does not meet the same fate as the last one.”
Tobias paused, the newspaper partially open. “What do you mean by that?”
“Several months ago Neville turned off another little demirep. I believe he kept her in a house on Curzon Street for nearly a year before he grew tired of her favors.”
“What of it? It is hardly uncommon for a man of Neville’s position and social status to maintain a mistress. It would be more unusual if he did not do so.”
“True, but it is a bit odd when one of them throws herself into the river a few days after she has been cast aside.”
“Suicide?”
“So they say. Evidently the woman’s heart was broken.”
Tobias slowly refolded the unread
paper and set it on the arm of the chair. “That is a bit difficult to credit. Neville has told me on several occasions that he selects his mistresses from among the denizens of the brothels. Professionals, as it were.”
“Indeed.”
“Such women are not generally given to sentimentality. I doubt they would make the mistake of falling hopelessly in love with the men who pay their bills.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Crackenburne went back to his paper. “Nevertheless, the on dit several months ago was that his last mistress took her own life.”
nine
The following afternoon Tobias arrived in Claremont Lane shortly before two o’clock. He made to alight the moment the hackney rattled to a stop. His fingers tightened briefly around the edge of the door when pain jolted sharply through his left thigh. He drew a deep breath and the ache eased.
He steadied himself and finished his descent to the pavement.
“We’re in luck.” Anthony vaulted gracefully down from the cab behind Tobias. “It has stopped raining.”
Tobias eyed the leaden sky. “Not for long.”
“Have I ever mentioned that one of the traits I most admire in you is your optimistic nature? I vow, you possess the sort of temperament that brings sunshine wherever you go.”
Tobias did not dignify that with a response. The truth was, he was in a foul mood and he knew it. The cause was not the dull ache in his leg. It was the sense of anticipation that hummed through him.
He had awakened to the odd sensation this morning, and he found it deeply disquieting. A man of his years and experience ought to have more control over his feelings, he told himself. His eagerness to see Lavinia again was more suited to a young blood of Anthony’s age who was about to pay a call upon his sweetheart.
His unease turned to surprise and then flashed into outright irritation when he noticed the other hired carriage standing in the street outside the little house.
He came to a halt. “What the devil is she about now?”
Anthony grinned. “It would appear that your new business associate has plans of her own for the day.”
“Devil take it, I sent word round to her this morning advising her that I would be here at two.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Lake does not care to be commanded to wait upon your whims,” Anthony offered a little too helpfully.
“It was her notion to visit some more waxwork museums.” Tobias started toward the steps. “If she thinks I will allow her to set out on her own to interview the proprietors, she can bloody damn well think again.”
The door of Number Seven opened wide just as Tobias and Anthony reached the bottom step.
Lavinia, garbed in a familiar brown woolen cloak and half boots, appeared in the opening. She had her back to the street as she spoke to someone inside.
“Have a care, Emeline. This is the best one of the lot.”
Without turning her head, Lavinia backed cautiously out of the doorway. Tobias saw that she cradled one end of a bulky package swathed in cloth.
A few seconds later Emeline emerged from the hall. Her lustrous dark hair was partially covered by a pale blue bonnet framing her pretty face. She struggled with the other end of the long, shrouded object.
“It is very heavy,” she said, peering down to watch her footing. “Perhaps we should sell one of the others instead.”
Anthony sucked in his breath. Tobias felt him go very still.
Oblivious to the two men at the foot of the steps, Lavinia continued to maneuver the package backward.
“None of the others will fetch as much as this one,” she said. “Tredlow hinted that he knew a collector who would pay a nice sum for an Apollo in excellent condition.”
“I still say we should not sell this statue just to purchase some gowns.”
“You must think of the new clothes as an investment, Emeline. I have explained that to you several times today. No suitable young man will take notice of you if you attend the theater in an old, unfashionable gown.”
“I have told you that any man who cannot see the person beneath the clothing is not a man I would care to have notice me.”
“Rubbish. You know very well that you will be ruined if you allow any man to view the person beneath your clothing before you are properly wed.”
Emeline laughed.
“She is a sparkling brook dancing beneath a sunlit sky,” Anthony whispered.
Tobias groaned. He was fairly certain that Anthony was not referring to Lavinia.
He watched the two women make their way down the steps. The physical contrast between the aunt and the niece could not have been more pronounced. Emeline was tall, graceful, and elegantly formed. Lavinia was considerably shorter and smaller in all dimensions. It had, he reflected, been remarkably easy to hold her suspended off the floor.
“Where are you going?” Tobias said.
Lavinia gave a tiny, startled shriek and whipped about to face him. The mummylike package in her arms tilted precariously. Anthony made a heroic dash forward and caught her end of the statue before it crashed to the steps.
Lavinia glared at Tobias. “Just see what you nearly made me do! If I had dropped this statue, it would have been entirely your fault.”
“It usually is,” he said politely.
“Mr. March.” Emeline gave him a warm smile. “How nice to see you today.”
“A pleasure, Miss Emeline. Allow me to introduce my brother-in-law, Anthony Sinclair. Anthony, this is Miss Emeline and her aunt, Mrs. Lake. I believe I may have mentioned them to you.”
“Delighted.” Anthony managed a small bow without losing his grip on the statue. “Allow me, Miss Emeline.” He took the full weight of the burden, freeing it from her grasp.
“You are very quick on your feet, sir.” Emeline glowed at him. “I vow, there would be a dreadful crack in Apollo by now if you had not moved to rescue him.”
“Always happy to be of assistance to a lady,” Anthony assured her.
He regarded Emeline as if she were propped atop a pedestal and adorned with wings.
Lavinia rounded on Tobias. “You came very close to causing a disaster here, sir,” she declared. “How dare you sneak up on a person in such a manner?”
“I was not sneaking. I am here at precisely the time I mentioned in my note this morning. You did receive it, I presume?”
“Yes, yes, I got your royal command, Mr. March. But as you did not trouble to inquire about whether the time of your visit was convenient to me, I did not bother to send word back that it was not at all convenient.”
He deliberately loomed over her. “As I recall, madam, you were the one who insisted that we interview more wax museum proprietors together.”
“Yes, well, as it happens, something more important has come up.”
He leaned closer. “What is more important than getting on with this inquiry?”
She did not retreat. “Nothing less than my niece’s entire future is at stake, Mr. March.”
Emeline made a face. “That is something of an overstatement, in my opinion.”
Anthony gave her a look of deep concern. “What has happened, Miss Emeline? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I doubt it, Mr. Sinclair.” She wrinkled her nose at him. Her eyes gleamed with wry amusement. “Apollo is to be sacrificed.”
“Why?”
“For the money, of course.” She chuckled. “The difficulty is that I have been invited to attend the theater tomorrow night in the company of Lady Wortham and her daughter. Aunt Lavinia sees this as an opportunity to parade me in front of some eligible gentlemen who, poor fools, have no clue that she has set her sights on them.”
“I see.” Anthony’s expression darkened.
“Lavinia is convinced that an expensive, fashionable gown is necessary to display my wares to the best advantage. She has concluded that Apollo must be sacrificed to obtain the necessary funds.”
“Forgive me, Miss Emeline,” Anthony said with grave gallantry, “but any man wh
o could not perceive that your unique charms are best displayed without a gown would have to be a benighted idiot.”
There was a short pause. Everyone looked at Anthony. He turned a violent shade of red.
“I meant that your charms would be, uh, charming regardless of whether or not you were dressed,” he stammered.
No one said a word.
Anthony looked truly stricken now. “That is to say, you would be spectacular in only an apron, Miss Emeline.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. Her eyes danced.
Anthony looked as if he would very much like to sink into the pavement.
Tobias took pity on him. “Well, then, if we have quite finished with the topic of Miss Emeline’s charms, I suggest that we return to the matter of how we are to accomplish a variety of tasks this afternoon. I propose that Miss Emeline and Lavinia carry on with their plans to sacrifice Apollo. Anthony, you and I shall deal with the proprietors of the waxwork museums.”
“Certainly,” Anthony said.
“Hold on a moment.” Lavinia stationed herself in Tobias’s path. Deep suspicion glittered in her gaze. “I never said I did not wish to participate in the interviews.”
Tobias smiled. “Forgive me, Mrs. Lake, but I was under the impression you had more important things to do today.”
“There is no reason we cannot deal with both the statue and the interviews,” she said smoothly. “Emeline plans to attend a lecture on Egyptian antiquities together with her friend Priscilla Wortham this afternoon. I intend to set her down at the Institute and then continue on to Mr. Tredlow’s shop to deal with the Apollo. When that is done, you and I can proceed with the interviews. When we are finished, we shall go back to the Institute to fetch Emeline.”
Enthusiasm kindled in Anthony’s eyes. “It would be my great pleasure to escort you and your friend to the lecture, Miss Emeline. I have a great interest in Egyptian antiquities.”
“Do you indeed, sir?” Emeline floated down the steps and moved toward the hackney. “Have you read Mr. Mayhew’s most recent article by any chance?”
“Yes, of course.” Anthony fell into step beside her. “In my opinion, Mayhew made several excellent points, but I do not believe he is correct about the meaning of the scenes inscribed on the walls of the temples he examined.”