by Amanda Quick
“Business was business. But Azure would not tolerate the selling of British secrets. He discovered what you had done.”
“Yes.” Neville tightened his grip on the pistol. “Fortunately, I learned in time that he had marked me for death, and I took action. I had no choice but to see him dead, and quickly. It was a matter of survival.”
“Indeed.”
“Had the advantage of surprise, you see. He never knew I had been warned that he was plotting against me. Even so, it probably would not have been possible to dispatch him so easily ten or fifteen years ago. But Azure was getting old, you see. Starting to lose his grip.”
“Did you really think you could handle an organization like the Blue Chamber?”
Neville drew himself up. “I am Azure now. Under my guidance and direction the Blue Chamber will become far more powerful than it was when Dove was in charge. Within a year or two, I will be the most powerful man in Europe.”
“Napoleon had a similar vision. You see where it got him.”
“I will not make the mistake of engaging in politics. I shall stick to business.”
“How many women did you kill?”
Neville tensed. “You know about the whores?”
“I am well aware that you have attempted to tie up a few loose ends and in doing so you have murdered several innocent women.”
“Bah. They were not innocents. They were harlots. They had no families. No one even noticed when they died.”
“You didn’t want them to completely disappear, did you? You wanted trophies of your handiwork. What is the name of the artist you commissioned to make those waxworks in Huggett’s upstairs gallery?”
Neville gave a crack of laughter. “You know about the waxworks? Amusing, are they not? I must say, I’m impressed with your thoroughness, March. I had no notion you were so good at your business.”
“There was no need to kill them, Neville. They were no threat to a man in your position. No one would have listened to them. No one would have taken their word against that of a gentleman.”
“I cannot afford to take any chances. Some of those light-skirts are a bit too clever for their own good. It’s possible they learned too much about me in the course of our association.” Neville’s mouth twisted. “A man sometimes grows talkative after he’s had a few bottles of wine and he finds himself with a lusty young woman who is so very eager to please him.”
“You did not silence all of them. Have you seen or heard of Sally recently?”
“The bitch got away, but she will be found,” Neville vowed. “She cannot hide in the stews forever.”
“She is not the only one who eluded you. Joan Dove also survived the attempt you made against her.”
That statement gave Neville serious pause. He tightened his hold on the pistol. “So you know about her too? You have been digging deeply. So deeply, in fact, that you have succeeded in digging your own grave.”
“You are right to fear her, Neville. Unlike the others, she is clever, powerful, and well guarded. She was careless tonight. You almost got to her. But she will not make the same mistake twice.”
Neville grunted in disgust. “Joan is no better than the others. She was a whore by the time I finished with her, and not a very good one at that. I grew tired of her within a few months. I could scarce believe it when Dove married her. With his wealth and power, he could have had his choice of respectable heiresses.”
“He loved her.”
“She was his only real weakness. It is the reason I must get rid of her, you understand. It is likely that during the twenty years of their marriage she learned he was the head of the Blue Chamber. I must assume she knows a great deal about the workings of the organization.”
“You do not have the time to fret about what Joan Dove knows,” Tobias said. “For you, this matter is ended. Now, if you don’t mind, my associate and I will be on our way.”
“Associate.”
“Up here,” Anthony called softly. “On the box.”
Neville uttered a hoarse cry of alarm. He whirled around so quickly that he staggered and nearly lost his balance. He started to drag the barrel of the pistol toward the new target but froze when he saw the gun in Anthony’s hand.
Tobias took out the pistol he had brought with him in the pocket of his greatcoat.
“It would appear that you have two choices, Neville,” he said quietly. “You can go home and wait for some very highly placed gentlemen who served at the highest levels during the war to call upon you tomorrow, or you can flee London tonight and never return.”
Anthony held the pistol steady. “An interesting choice, is it not?”
Neville wobbled with impotent rage. His attention wavered back and forth between the two pistols trained on him.
“Bastard.” He was nearly incoherent. “You tricked me right from the start of this affair. You set out to destroy me.”
“I had some assistance,” Tobias said.
“You will not get away with this.” Neville’s voice shook. “I am the head of the Blue Chamber. I have more power than you can possibly imagine. I will see you dead for this.”
“I would be a good deal more anxious about that prospect were it not for the fact that I know you will be dead or on your way to France by tomorrow morning.”
Neville cried out in incoherent rage. He turned and pounded off into the night. His boot heels rang hollowly on the stones.
Anthony looked at Tobias. “Want me to go after him?”
“No.” Tobias eased his gun back into his pocket. “He is Crackenburne’s problem now, not ours.”
Anthony looked at the place where Neville had disappeared into the fog. “When you outlined his choices for him, you forgot to mention one. Most gentlemen in his position would put a pistol to their heads to save their families from the scandal of an arrest and trial.”
“I’m quite sure that if Crackenburne’s friends discover Neville at home tomorrow when they call upon him, they will make that suggestion in no uncertain terms.”
Crackenburne lowered his newspaper when Tobias took the chair across from him. “He was not at home when Bains and Evanstone called upon him this morning. They were told Neville had left town to visit his estates in the country.”
Tobias raised his brows at the rare, grim quality he detected in Crackenburne’s voice. He looked into the faded eyes and glimpsed some of the cold steel that very few ever noticed beneath the benign, absentminded veneer.
Tobias stretched his legs out to the fire. “Calm yourself, sir. Something tells me Neville will soon turn up.”
“Damnation. I told you I did not like your plans to confront him last night. Why was it necessary to give the bastard a warning?”
“I told you, the evidence against him is very thin. A single letter, which he could claim was forged. I wanted to hear some confirmation from his own lips.”
“Well, you got your confession, but we have bloody well lost him now. The next thing you know, we will learn he is living well in Paris or Rome or Boston. Exile is not sufficient punishment for his crimes, I tell you. Treason and murder. By God, the man is a devil.”
“It is finished,” Tobias said. “That is all that matters.”
twenty-five
The tiny cottage behind the old warehouse looked as if it had not been used in years. Unpainted, its windows caked with grime, it appeared on the verge of collapse. The only indication that someone came and went regularly from the small structure was the lock on the door. There was no rust on it.
Lavinia wrinkled her nose. The smell of the river was strong and unpleasant here near the docks. The fog clinging to the old warehouses reeked. She studied the dilapidated structure in front of them.
“Are you certain this is the right address?” she asked.
Tobias examined the small map Huggett had sketched for him. “This is the end of the walk. There is no place left to go except into the river. It has to be the correct location.”
“Very well.”
>
She had been startled when Tobias had appeared at her front door a short while ago explaining that he had a message from Huggett. The note had been brief and to the point.
Mr. M:
You said you would pay for information relating to a certain modeler in wax. Please visit this address at your earliest convenience. I believe you will have your answers from the present occupant. You may remit the fee you promised to me at my place of business.
Yrs.
P. Huggett.
Tobias refolded the note and walked to the door. “It’s unlocked.” He removed a small pistol from the pocket of his greatcoat. “Stand aside, Lavinia.”
“I doubt Mr. Huggett would send us into a trap.” Nevertheless, she did as she was told, moving to the left so she would not be a target for anyone who might be waiting inside the cottage. “He is far too anxious to receive the fee you promised him.”
“I’m inclined to agree, but I do not intend to take any more chances. It has been my experience that nothing is quite as it seems in this affair.”
Including you, she thought. You, Tobias March, have been the most astonishing surprise of all.
Tobias flattened himself against the wall, then reached out and opened the door. Silence and the eerily familiar odor of death wafted out of the cottage.
Lavinia clutched the cloak she had borrowed from Emeline more tightly around herself. “Oh, damn. I had so hoped there would be no more corpses in this affair.”
He glanced inside the opening, then lowered the pistol. He dropped the gun into his pocket, came away from the wall, and moved through the doorway. Lavinia followed reluctantly.
“There is no need to come inside.” Tobias did not turn around.
She swallowed against the smell of death. “Is it Lord Neville?”
“Yes.”
She watched him move farther into the cottage. He turned to the left and disappeared into the shadows.
She went as far as the threshold but did not enter. From where she stood she could see enough. Tobias was crouched beside a dark, crumpled shape on the floor. There was a pool of dried blood beneath Neville’s head. A pistol lay on the floor near his right hand. A fly buzzed.
She looked away quickly. Her gaze fell on a tarp that covered a large, lumpy-looking object in the corner.
“Tobias.”
“What is it?” He glanced up, frowning. “I told you there was no need for you to come in here.”
“There is something over there in the corner. I think I know what it is.”
She walked into the cottage and crossed the wooden floor to the shrouded form. Tobias said nothing. He watched intently as she pulled aside the covering.
They both looked at the half-finished waxwork that loomed before them. The roughly molded figure of a woman engaged in a lewd sexual act with a man was unmistakably similar to the sculptures in Huggett’s upstairs gallery. The face of the female had not been completed.
An array of artist’s tools and equipment were carefully arranged on a nearby workbench. The dead coals on the hearth testified to the recent fires that had been lit to soften the wax.
“Very neat and tidy, is it not?” Tobias rose stiffly. “The murderer and traitor is dead by his own hand.”
“So it would seem. What about the mysterious artist?”
Tobias studied the unfinished waxwork. “I believe we are to assume there will be no more commissions taken for sculptures suitable for exhibition to gentlemen only in Huggett’s special gallery.”
Lavinia shuddered. “I wonder what sort of hold Neville had over the artist? Do you think she might have been one of his former mistresses?”
“I think it likely that we will never know the answer to the question. Perhaps it is just as well. I am more than ready for this affair to be finished.”
“So it is finished at last.” Joan Dove looked at Lavinia across the expanse of blue and gold carpet. “I am very relieved to hear the news.”
“Mr. March has spoken with his client, who assured him the scandal will be kept to a minimum. It will be put about in certain circles that Neville suffered some severe financial losses recently and, in a fit of depression, took his own life. It will not be easy on his wife and family, but such gossip is certainly preferable to rumors of treason and murder.”
“Especially when it is discovered that Lord Neville’s financial reverses were not nearly so severe as he had believed them to be when he put the pistol to his head,” Joan murmured. “Something tells me that Lady Neville will be greatly relieved when she realizes she is not facing ruin after all.”
“No doubt. As it happens, Mr. March’s client also made it clear the scandal will be hushed up for reasons other than protecting Neville’s wife and family. It seems that certain very highly placed gentlemen do not want it widely known they were so thoroughly outfoxed by a traitor during the war. They wish to pretend the entire affair never happened.”
“Just what one would expect of highly placed gentlemen, is it not?”
Lavinia smiled in spite of herself. “Indeed.”
Joan cleared her throat delicately. “And the rumors that my husband might have been the master of a criminal empire?”
Lavinia looked at her very steadily. “According to Mr. March, the rumors died with Neville.”
Joan’s expression lightened. “Thank you, Lavinia.”
“Think nothing of it. All part of the service.”
Joan reached for the teapot. “Do you know, I would not have thought Neville the sort to put a pistol to his own head, not even for the sake of protecting the honor of his family name.”
“One never knows,” Lavinia said, “what a man will do under extreme pressure.”
“Quite true.” Joan poured tea with elegant grace. “And I suspect the highly placed gentlemen who learned of Neville’s treason applied a great deal of pressure.”
“Someone certainly seems to have done so.” Lavinia rose, smoothing her gloves. “Well, then, that is that. If you will forgive me, I will be on my way.”
She turned to go toward the door.
“Lavinia.”
She stopped and looked back. “Yes?”
Joan watched her from the sofa. “I am very grateful for all you have done for me.”
“You paid me my full fee and in addition you introduced me to your modiste. I consider myself amply compensated.”
“Nevertheless,” Joan said very deliberately, “I consider myself in your debt. If there is ever anything I can do to repay you, I hope you will feel free to call upon me without hesitation.”
“Good day, Joan.”
She was reading Byron when he came for her the next day.
He asked her to walk with him to the park. She agreed, closing the volume of poetry and setting it aside. She collected her bonnet and pelisse and together they left the house.
They did not speak until they reached the hidden Gothic ruin. He sat down beside her on the stone bench and looked out into the overgrown garden. The fog had dissipated, allowing the sun to warm the day to a comfortable temperature.
He wondered where to begin.
It was Lavinia who spoke first.
“I went to see her this morning,” she said. “She was very cool about the entire affair. Thanked me graciously for having saved her life, of course. Paid me too.”
Tobias rested his forearms on his upper thighs and clasped his hands loosely between his knees. “Crackenburne arranged for my fee to be paid into my bank.”
“Always nice to receive one’s wages in a timely manner.”
Tobias studied the profusion of flowers and bright green leaves that cascaded in the wild garden. “Indeed.”
“Now it truly is finished.”
Tobias said nothing.
She gave him a quick, sidelong look. “Is something wrong?”
“The business with Neville is finished, as you said.” He looked at her. “But it strikes me that some matters between us remain unsettled.”
“What do
you mean?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “See here, if you are unsatisfied with the fee you collected from your client, that is your affair. You were the one who struck the bargain with Crackenburne. You certainly cannot expect me to share my payment from Mrs. Dove with you.”
It was too much. He turned and caught her by the shoulders. “Bloody hell, Lavinia, this is not about the money.”
She blinked a couple of times but made no move to pull away. “You’re quite sure of that?” she asked.
“Positive.”
“Well, then, what is this unfinished business you feel stands between us?”
He flexed his hands on her, savoring the curve of her supple shoulders, and tried to find the right words. “I thought we did rather well working together as partners,” he said.
“We did, did we not? Especially when you consider the extremely difficult problems we were obliged to overcome. We did get off to a rather nasty start, if you will recall.”
“The meeting over Holton Felix’s body?”
“I was thinking of the night you destroyed my little business in Rome.”
“In my opinion, the events in Rome constituted something of a slight misunderstanding. We eventually straightened it out, did we not?”
Her eyes gleamed. “In a manner of speaking. I was obliged to invent a new career for myself because of the slight misunderstanding. But I must admit that my new profession is a good deal more interesting than my former one.”
“It is your new career I wish to discuss today,” Tobias said. “I assume you intend to continue in it in spite of my advice?”
“I definitely intend to stick with this new occupation,” she assured him. “It is very stimulating and exciting, not to mention occasionally quite profitable.”
“Then, as I was about to say, it will very likely transpire that, on occasion, you may be in the way of discovering future collaborations between us eminently useful.”
“Do you think so?”
“I think it highly likely that we could be of some service to each other.”
“As colleagues?”
“Indeed. I suggest we consider working together as partners again when the opportunities arise,” he said, determined to wring some sort of affirmative response from her.