by Amanda Quick
The rain that had been falling all evening had transformed the narrow lane into a shallow stream. The weak glow of a lantern emanated from a window across the narrow lane. The light did little to relieve the dense darkness.
He observed the shadows down in the lane, waiting to see if any of them shifted or moved. After a while he concluded that if anyone was watching the entrance he had used earlier, that person was not in his line of sight now.
He removed his greatcoat. After knotting the sack’s ties, he slung it on one shoulder. Satisfied the burden would stay dry, he pulled on the coat again and left the small chamber. There was no one about on the stairs. He descended to the cramped hall and let himself out onto the stone step.
He waited a moment longer in the minimal shelter of the doorway. None of the shadows across the way moved.
Setting his teeth, he waded into the shallow, filthy stream that was the lane. The paving stones proved surprisingly slippery. His left leg could not be trusted in such circumstances. He flattened a gloved hand against the wet stone wall to his left to steady himself.
Oily water splashed across the toes of the boots Whitby had labored so valiantly to bring to a high gloss. It would not be the first time he had been obliged to rescue badly treated footwear, Tobias thought.
He worked his way cautiously toward the end of the lane. He hoped the hackney that had brought him here still waited in the next street. There was little hope of finding another on a night like this.
Halfway to his goal, he sensed the other presence in the lane. He took another step, sought purchase with his left hand, and swung about very suddenly.
The outline of a man in a heavy greatcoat and hat was silhouetted against the weak lantern light that illuminated the window. The sight was vaguely familiar. Tobias was almost certain he had seen this particular greatcoat and hat earlier in the evening outside his club.
The man in the heavy coat froze when he saw that Tobias had halted. The figure whirled and fled in the opposite direction. Water splashed at his heels. The sound echoed down the lane.
“Bloody hell.”
Tobias shoved away from the wall, throwing himself into pursuit. Pain shot through his leg. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it.
He was wasting his time, he thought as he struggled to maintain his balance. With his treacherous leg, he did not stand a ghost of a chance of catching the fleeing man. He would be lucky not to fall facedown into the murky stream.
His boots slipped and slid on the wet stones, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. Twice he put out a hand in time to save himself.
But the running man was having troubles of his own. He lurched abruptly and flailed his arms. His greatcoat flapped as he tried to regain his footing. An object he had been carrying clanged when it struck the pavement. Glass shattered. An unlit lantern, Tobias thought.
The fleeing figure went down hard. Tobias was nearly upon him now. He threw himself forward and managed to grab one of the man’s legs. He used the grip to raise himself and slam a fist into solid flesh. It had no immediate effect. The man struggled furiously.
“Be still or I’ll use my knife,” Tobias said roughly. He had no blade on him, but the man had no way of knowing that.
There was a groan and then the man slumped into the cold rainwater. “I was only doin’ what I was told, sir. I swear it on my mother’s honor. I was only following orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“My employer’s.”
“Who is your employer?”
“Mrs. Dove.”
“I received a message.” Joan Dove picked up the delicate porcelain teapot. “I sent Herbert to see what it was about. Obviously he arrived shortly after you did, Mr. March, and saw you leave the building. In the shadows, he could not make out your identity. He tried to follow you. You spotted him and brought him down.”
Lavinia was so angry she could barely speak. She watched Joan pour the tea into china cups. The act had all the practiced grace one expected from a wealthy, polished lady serving afternoon guests. But it was not three o’clock in the afternoon. It was three in the morning. She and Tobias had not come here tonight to exchange gossip about the latest scandals of the ton. They had come to confront Mrs. Dove.
Thus far she had done all the talking. Tobias lounged in a chair, a stony expression on his face, and said little. Lavinia was worried about him. He had taken time to stop by his house to change into dry clothing before he had arrived on her doorstep with the remains of the diary. She was certain his outer air of calm was deceptive. He had been through a great deal tonight. She could tell that his leg was causing him some discomfort.
“What did the message say?” Tobias asked, making one of his rare contributions to the conversation.
Joan displayed only the slightest hesitation as she set down the pot. “It was not a written note. A young street urchin appeared at my door and said that what I wanted could be obtained at Number Eighteen, Tartle Lane. I dispatched Herbert.”
“Enough, Mrs. Dove.” Lavinia’s fury boiled over. “If you cannot bring yourself to tell us the truth, be good enough to say so.”
Joan’s mouth tightened. “Why do you doubt me, Mrs. Lake?”
“You received no message. You sent Herbert to follow Mr. March, did you not?”
Joan’s eyes were cold. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you hoped Mr. March would recover the diary, and when he did, you intended for Herbert to steal it from him. Is that not the truth?”
“Really, Mrs. Lake. I am not accustomed to having my word doubted.”
“Indeed?” Lavinia smiled coldly. “How very odd. Mr. March believes you have lied to us from the start. But I was prepared to credit your tale, or at least most of it. However, it would appear you have attempted to use us for your own ends, and that is intolerable.”
“I do not comprehend why you are so angry.” Joan’s words were edged with reproof. “There was no harm done to Mr. March tonight.”
“We are not pawns for you to move about on the board, Mrs. Dove. We are professionals.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Mr. March risked his neck to go down that lane and into that building. He was working on your behalf. But I am convinced your man, Herbert, would have tried to take the diary by force if he believed Mr. March had discovered it.”
“I assure you, I had no desire for Mr. March or anyone else to be hurt.” Joan’s voice held a distinct edge now. “I instructed Herbert to keep watch on him. That is all.”
“I knew it. You did assign him to spy on Mr. March.”
Joan hesitated. “It seemed a prudent move.”
“Bah.” Lavinia squared her shoulders. “Mr. March is correct. You have lied to us from the start, and I, for one, have lost all patience. We have fulfilled our commission, madam. The diary has been recovered. It is quite unreadable, as you can see, but at least it can cause no further harm.”
Joan frowned at the charred remains of the valet’s diary. They filled a large silver platter.
“But you cannot halt your inquiries now,” she said. “Whoever burned that diary no doubt read it first.”
“Perhaps,” Lavinia said, “but it is clear to Mr. March and to me that destroying the diary was someone’s way of telling us the affair is ended. We suspect that the culprit was another one of Holton Felix’s victims, very likely the person who murdered him.”
Tobias glanced at the platter. “I believe the message was intended to convey more than mere reassurance that there will be no more blackmail threats.”
“What do you mean?” Joan asked swiftly.
Tobias did not take his thoughtful gaze off the charred book. “I have a hunch we are being told in no uncertain terms to cease our inquiries into this affair.”
“But what of the death threat I received?” Joan demanded.
“That is your problem now,” Lavinia said. “Perhaps you will be able to find someone else to look into the matter for you.”
She ignored him. “Under the circumstances, I cannot allow Mr. March to continue to take risks on your behalf, Mrs. Dove. I’m sure you understand.”
Joan stiffened. “All you cared about was the diary, because it contained your secrets too. Now that it has been found, you are content to take my money and quit the affair.”
Lavinia leaped to her feet, incensed. “You may keep your bloody money!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tobias wince. She went behind the sofa and gripped the elegantly curved wooden frame with both hands.
“Mr. March took great chances on your behalf tonight,” she said. “For all he knew, he was walking into a trap. The killer could have been waiting for him in that chamber where he found the book. I will not allow him to continue such dangerous work for a client who lies to us.”
“How dare you? I have not lied to you.”
“Well, you certainly have not told us the whole truth, have you?”
Anger flashed across Joan’s face. It was under control in an instant. “I have told you everything I thought you needed to know.”
“And then you employed a man to spy on us. You used Mr. March. I will not tolerate that.” She whirled and pinned Tobias with a glance. “It is time to leave, sir.”
Tobias obligingly pushed himself up out of the chair. “It is getting late, is it not?” he said mildly.
“Yes, it is.”
Lavinia swept out of the drawing room and led the way down the hall to the front door. The bull-size butler ushered them out into the wet night.
She stopped short when she saw that the hackney that had brought them to the mansion was gone. In its place was a gleaming maroon carriage.
“Madam gave instructions earlier when you arrived that the hackney was to be dismissed, as she wished you to be conveyed home in her coach,” the butler said without inflection.
Lavinia thought of the unpleasant conversation that had just taken place in the drawing room. She doubted that Joan Dove was still feeling quite so generous.
“Oh, we couldn’t possibly accept such a—”
“Indeed we can.” Tobias’s fingers closed firmly on her arm. “I think you’ve said quite enough tonight, Mrs. Lake. You might wish to stand out in the rain and attempt to summon a hackney, but I trust you will humor me. I would much prefer to travel in Mrs. Dove’s very comfortable carriage, if you don’t mind. It has been a long evening.”
She thought of what he had been through and was immediately stricken with remorse.
“Yes, of course.” She went smartly down the steps. If they hurried, she thought, they would get to the vehicle before Joan thought to rescind her offer.
A burly footman handed Lavinia up into the plush cab. The interior lights revealed soft, maroon velvet cushions and cozy blankets to keep out the chill. She reached for one of the latter as soon as she took her seat, and discovered that it had been heated with a warming pan.
Tobias sat down next to her. There was a stiffness about his movements that concerned her. She paused in the act of arranging the blanket around her knees and draped it over Tobias’s legs instead.
“Thank you.” There was rough gratitude in the words.
She frowned. “Have you noticed that Mrs. Dove has a number of very large men on her staff?”
“I’ve noticed,” Tobias said. “Something of a small army.”
“Yes. I wonder why she feels it necessary—” She broke off when she saw his hand slip under the blanket and begin to rub his leg. “You were not injured when you subdued Herbert, were you?”
“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Lake.”
“You cannot blame me for being concerned, under the circumstances.”
“You have your own concerns, madam.” He paused meaningfully. “Under the circumstances.”
She huddled beneath the warm blanket and settled into the depths of the velvet cushions. The full implications of what had just happened struck her quite forcibly.
“I take your point,” she said morosely.
Tobias did not respond.
“I do believe I just dismissed the most important client I have had to date.”
“I believe so, yes. Not only that, but you also turned down her offer to pay you for the services rendered thus far.”
“There is something to be said for the sort of client who can afford to send us home in nice, comfortable equipages.”
“Indeed.” Tobias rubbed his leg.
The silence hung heavily inside the cab.
“Well,” Lavinia said eventually, “it is not as if there was any other course of action open to us. We certainly cannot continue to make inquiries on behalf of a client who withholds vital information and sets spies to follow us about.”
“I fail to see why not,” Tobias said.
“What?” She straightened in the seat. “Are you mad? You could have been hurt or badly injured tonight. I am convinced Herbert intended to take that diary from you by force.”
“I have no doubt but that she instructed Herbert to take the diary from me if I managed to recover it. After all, her primary objective is to conceal her secrets.”
She pondered that. “There is obviously something in the diary she does not want anyone to know, including us. Something potentially more damaging than the details of an affair that is more than twenty years old.”
“I warned you, all clients lie.”
She snuggled back under the blanket and thought about matters for a while.
“It occurs to me that Mrs. Dove is not the only one who failed to be completely forthcoming this evening,” she muttered finally.
“I beg your pardon?”
She glowered. “Why didn’t you send word to me the instant you received that message at your club? I should have accompanied you to find that diary tonight. You had no business going alone.”
“There was very little time. You must not feel slighted, Lavinia. I was in such a hurry that I did not even attempt to get word to Anthony.”
“Anthony?”
“In general, he is the one who assists me in such matters. But he was at the theater tonight, and I knew it would be extremely difficult to get a message to him in time.”
“So you went alone.”
“In my professional opinion, the situation required immediate action.”
“Rubbish.”
“I had a hunch you would hold that view,” Tobias said.
“You went alone because you are not in the habit of working with a partner.”
“Damnation, Lavinia, I went alone because there was no time to waste. I did what I thought best and that is the end of the matter.”
She did not dignify that with a response.
Silence settled heavily on the cab once more.
After a while she realized he was still massaging his thigh.
“I expect you strained your leg when you ran after Mrs. Dove’s footman.”
“I expect so.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I most certainly do not intend to allow you to put me into a mesmeric trance, if that is what you mean.”
“Very well, sir, if you insist upon being churlish about the matter.”
“I do. I am very skilled when it comes to behaving churlishly.”
She gave up and lapsed back into silence. It was going to be a long drive home, she thought. The carriage was making slow progress, not only because the rain had become heavier but also because the streets were crowded at this hour. The glittering balls and sparkling soirees of the ton were ending. People were returning to their town houses and mansions. Drunken young rakes were drifting out of the hells and brothels and clubs and climbing into whatever vehicles they could find to convey them back to their lodgings.
A number of gentlemen were no doubt demanding to be driven to Covent Garden. There they would find prostitutes who, for a few coins, would get into their carriages to provide a few minutes of desultory pleasure.
The hired coaches that accepted their custom would smell sour in the morning.
Lavinia wrinkled her nose at the thought. There was, indeed, a great deal to be said for a client who could afford to send one home in a fine carriage.
Beside her, Tobias shifted slightly in the seat, settling more deeply into the cushions. His uninjured leg pressed briefly against her thigh. She had no doubt but that the slight contact had been entirely accidental, but it set afire her already agitated nerves. Memories of the heated embrace in her study shivered through her senses.
This was madness.
She wondered if Tobias was in the habit of stopping off in Covent Garden late at night on his way home. Somehow she doubted it. He would be more selective, she decided. More particular.
That consideration led to another, even more disturbing question. What sort of female did Tobias prefer?
In spite of the kiss in the study, she was quite certain that she was not the type he generally found attractive. They had been thrown together by circumstances. It was not as if he had been attracted by her ravishing looks or entranced by her clever conversation. He had not glimpsed her across a crowded ballroom and been overwhelmed by her stunning beauty.
In point of fact, given her rather short stature, it was unlikely he would even be able to see her across a crowded room.
“You let your client go because of me, didn’t you?” Tobias asked.
The remark, falling as it did into the deep pool of silence, startled her out of her reverie. It took her a moment to collect herself.
“It was the principle of the thing,” she muttered.
“I don’t think so. You let your client go because of me.”
“I do wish you would stop repeating yourself, sir. It is a most annoying habit.”
“I’m sure I have any number of habits you find annoying. That is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
He slid one hand behind her neck and put his lips very close to hers. “I cannot help wondering how you will feel in the morning when you realize that because of me, you refused the handsome fee that Mrs. Dove would have paid you.”