Slightly Shady

by Amanda Quick

  “But I wanted her to suffer as she had made me suffer,” Constance whispered, her eyes following the locket. “So I sent her the waxwork scene of her own death. I wanted her to contemplate it for a while. I wanted her to know fear.”

  She dragged the poker out of the wax skull and hoisted it into striking position again. But it seemed to Lavinia that the movement was slower this time.

  “Why did you kill your husband?” Lavinia backed away slowly, one hand thrust out to feel for objects in her path.

  “I had no choice. He had ruined everything.” Constance gripped the poker with both hands. “Stupid man. Stupid, stupid, stupid, lying man.” Her bosom rose and fell with the force of her agitated breathing. Her eyes snapped to the locket and back to Lavinia’s face. “Tobias March set a trap for him and Wesley walked straight into it. I was home when he came back to the house that night after March confronted him. Wesley was stricken with an attack of nerves. He ordered his valet to pack his things, said he had to flee the country.”

  Lavinia’s fingers brushed the piano. She stopped. “You knew then that all of your work had come to naught.”

  “I pretended to help him make good his escape. I went with him to the docks where a man he knew had promised to meet him and take him aboard a ship. I suggested to Wesley that we wait in the cottage.”

  “And you shot him dead.”

  “It was the only thing I could do. He had ruined everything.” Constance’s face worked. “I wanted to hit him hard, just as I had hit those whores, but I knew it had to look as if he had taken his own life. Nothing else would satisfy March and the others.”

  “Do you plan to become the mistress of the Blue Chamber now?”

  “Yes. Now I will be Azure.” Constance stared at the swinging locket.

  “Of course you will. Bright, bright, Azure.”

  Lavinia suddenly tossed the locket toward the nearest waxwork. Constance followed the glittering silver with her eyes.

  Lavinia seized the candelabra from the piano and hurled it at Constance. It caught her on the side of her head. She screamed, dropped the poker, and fell to her knees. She put her hands to her head and howled.

  Lavinia bounded over Mrs. Vaughn’s unconscious body, jumped up onto the sofa, and leaped over the back. She gained the floor and ran toward the door.

  It slammed open just as she reached for the knob. Tobias filled the doorway. He looked very dangerous.

  “What the devil?” He caught her, held her, and looked past her.

  Lavinia turned quickly in his arms.

  Constance was still on her knees, sobbing now.

  “It was her all along?” Tobias asked quietly.

  “Yes. She thought that she and Neville had a partnership, you see. In the end, she killed him because she believed he was getting ready to violate the terms of their agreement.”

  twenty-seven

  “She knew he did not love her, but she thought they had a more important, more enduring bond,” Lavinia said.

  “A metaphysical connection?” Joan raised her brows in elegant disdain. “With a man of Neville’s nature? The poor woman really was quite deluded.”

  “I do not know if she thought of their arrangement in terms of metaphysics.” Lavinia put down her teacup. “I rather doubt it. She spoke of a partnership.”

  “Bloody hell.” Tobias, sunk deep into the large wing-back chair, shot her a dark look. “She would have to use that word.”

  “She believed she had made herself indispensable to him and that he understood he needed her.” Lavinia rested her hands on the curved arms of her chair and met Joan’s eyes. “She saw herself as the guiding intelligence in the partnership. She crafted the strategy. She took care of all the loose ends.”

  “She poisoned Fielding.” Joan studied her tea.

  “As you said, she was quite mad,” Lavinia murmured.

  “Indeed.” Tobias put his fingertips together. “Which is why her family has committed her to a private asylum for the insane. She will spend the rest of her life locked away. No one will pay any attention to her rants and ravings.”

  Joan looked up from her tea. “She was the one who murdered some of Neville’s discarded mistresses and attempted to kill me the night of the Colchester ball?”

  “For years she had been obliged to accept Neville’s affairs,” Lavinia said. “She pretended to herself they were meaningless to him.”

  Joan grimaced. “Which, in fact, they were.”

  “Yes,” Lavinia said. “I think she convinced herself that her connection with Neville transcended the lust he felt for the other women. Lust is such a fleeting thing, after all. And, I think, for her it meant only pain. She did not want his passion.”

  Tobias muttered something unintelligible. She glanced at him inquiringly but he did not bother to repeat himself. He gazed into the fire with a dark, enigmatic expression. She turned back to Joan.

  “Underneath it all,” Lavinia said, “I believe Constance hated the other women, though. When she conceived her strategy to install Neville as the new master of the Blue Chamber, she suddenly had the perfect excuse to get rid of some of them. She simply explained to Neville that they were potential threats to his advancement.”

  “Neville knew what she was doing,” Tobias said. “But it was fine by him. He no doubt accepted her rationale for the deaths. He even thought the sculptures quite amusing. Looking back on our meeting the night I tried to provoke a confession from him, I see now that he did not actually admit to being the killer, only to knowing the women had been killed.”

  “He left that sort of thing to Constance.” Lavinia fixed her gaze on the fire. “She was more than happy to handle the pesky details for him. But when she read the diary and discovered Joan had once had an affair with him, she could not control her fear and rage.”

  Joan shook her head in sad regret. “As I said, the woman is clearly a lunatic.”

  “Lunatics weave their own logic,” Lavinia reminded her. “The long and the short of it is that she decided you were a serious threat to her own relationship with Neville. She was afraid the pair of you would resume your intimate connection once Neville took control of the Blue Chamber.”

  Joan shuddered delicately. “As if I would have wanted to resume any sort of relationship with that dreadful man.”

  “She loved him in her way,” Lavinia said. “She could not imagine you would not want him too.”

  Tobias stirred, stretching his left leg out to the fire. “In her disordered brain, you were the only one of his former lovers who could lure him away from her, because you could offer him everything and more than she could offer.”

  Joan shook her head. “So very sad.”

  Lavinia cleared her throat. “Indeed. When she read the message I sent to Tobias this afternoon, she realized I was still making inquiries. She got to Mrs. Vaughn’s establishment a few minutes before me because she had her own carriage. I was obliged to walk because of the rain. She succeeded in rendering Mrs. Vaughn senseless.”

  “It is fortunate she did not murder the artist,” Joan said.

  “Mrs. Vaughn told me her thick hair and cap cushioned the blow to some extent. She fell to the floor, dazed, but she had enough wit left to pretend to be dead. I arrived soon after, forestalling a second blow.”

  Joan looked at Tobias. “How did you come to arrive at Mrs. Vaughn’s in such a timely manner if Lavinia’s message never reached you?”

  Tobias smiled. “But I did receive it. The lad sold the information first to Lady Neville’s spy but, being an astute young man of business, the boy sought me out after striking his first bargain. Unfortunately, that meant I got the message belatedly, but I did get it.”

  “I see.” Joan rose and adjusted her gloves. “That is the end of it then. I am very glad you are unhurt, Lavinia. And I am exceedingly grateful for all that you and Mr. March have done for me.”

  “You are quite welcome,” Lavinia said, getting to her feet.

  Joan smiled. “Wha
t I told you yesterday stands. I consider myself to be in your debt. If there is ever anything I can do for either of you, I hope you will feel free to come to me.”

  “Thank you,” Lavinia said. “But I cannot imagine there will be any need to call upon your assistance.”

  “Nor can I.” Tobias was on his feet. He went to open the door for Joan. “But we both very much appreciate your gracious offer.”

  Joan’s eyes gleamed with secret amusement. She went through the doorway and paused briefly in the hall. “I should be very disappointed if you do not include me in some of your future inquiries, you know. I think I would find them most entertaining.”

  Lavinia stared, speechless. Tobias did not say a word.

  Joan inclined her head in an elegant farewell, then turned and went down the hall to the front door, where Mrs. Chilton waited to see her out.

  Tobias closed the door of the study and walked to the sherry cabinet, where he poured two glasses. He handed one to Lavinia without comment and lowered himself back into the big chair.

  For a long time they sat in silence, watching the flames dance on the hearth.

  “The night I found the letter from Carlisle that damned Neville, I considered myself exceedingly fortunate,” Tobias said after a while. “But at the time it occurred to me that it could be a forgery placed in a location where anyone who searched seriously for it might discover it.”

  “Only someone who wanted Neville destroyed would have done such a thing.”

  “It’s possible Lady Neville put the letter in a place where it might be discovered,” Tobias said.

  “At the start of this affair, Lady Neville wanted only Mrs. Dove to die. She didn’t want her husband dead until it was obvious he had ruined all of her plans.”

  “There is someone else who knew I intended to search Neville’s house that night. Someone who might conceivably have the sort of criminal connections it would take to arrange for a forged letter to be smuggled into the mansion and hidden in Neville’s bedchamber.”

  Lavinia shivered. “Indeed.”

  Silence fell.

  “Do you recall my mentioning the other rumors relayed to me by Smiling Jack in The Gryphon?” Tobias asked eventually. “The ones concerning an underworld battle for control of the Blue Chamber?”

  “I remember.” Lavinia sipped sherry and lowered the glass. “But I suspect the fanciful tale Jack told you was nothing more than wild, unsubstantiated gossip from the streets and the stews.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Tobias closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the cushions, and absently massaged his thigh. “But let us say, for the sake of amusing ourselves, that there was some truth to those rumors of a criminal war. One could draw a very interesting conclusion about the outcome of such a conflict.”

  “Indeed.” Lavinia paused a heartbeat. “Of all those who had some connection to the Blue Chamber, Joan Dove is the only one left standing.”

  “Yes.”

  There was another long silence.

  “She considers herself to be in our debt,” Tobias said evenly.

  “She wants us to feel free to call upon her if there is ever anything she can do for us.”

  “She thinks it might be entertaining to participate in another one of our inquiries.”

  The flames crackled on the hearth with malevolent good cheer.

  “I think I need another glass of sherry,” Tobias said after a while.

  “So do I.”

  twenty-eight

  Tobias walked into Lavinia’s study the following afternoon, a large trunk in his arms.

  Lavinia frowned at the trunk. “What have you got in there?”

  “A little souvenir of our time together in Italy.” He lowered the trunk to the carpet and set about opening it. “I have been meaning to give these to you, but we have been rather busy of late. Slipped my mind.”

  She got to her feet and came around the desk, curious now. “Some of the statues I had to leave behind, I hope.”

  “Not statuary.” Tobias raised the lid of the trunk and stood back. “Something else.”

  Lavinia hurried forward to peer into the trunk. She saw the stacks of neatly packed leather-bound volumes. A great rush of delight swept through her. She went to her knees beside the trunk and reached inside.

  “My books of poetry.” She drew a fingertip across the embossed lettering on one of the covers.

  “I sent my man Whitby to your rooms the next day. Couldn’t go myself because of the damn leg. He packed up your books.”

  Lavinia got to her feet, clutching a volume of Byron. “I do not know how to thank you, Tobias.”

  “Least I could do, under the circumstances. As you have so pointedly observed on several occasions, what happened that night was all my fault.”

  She chuckled. “Quite true. Nevertheless, I am grateful to you.”

  He cupped her face between his hands. “I do not want your gratitude. I am far more interested in discussing a continuation of our partnership. Have you given any thought to the suggestion I made to you a few days ago?”

  “That we should work together on certain inquiries? Yes, as a matter of fact, I have given the issue a great deal of contemplation.”

  “What is your considered opinion?” he asked.

  She held the book of poetry very tightly in both hands. “It is my opinion that any further association between us would be marked by heated disagreements and loud quarrels, to say nothing of a great deal of frustration.”

  He nodded, eyes somber. “I’m inclined to agree. But I must admit I find our heated disagreements and loud quarrels oddly stimulating.”

  She smiled and put the book down on the desk. Her eyes never left his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “So do I,” she whispered. “But what of the frustration I mentioned?”

  “Ah, yes, the frustration. Fortunately, there is a remedy for it.” He touched the edge of her mouth with his thumb. “The cure is temporary, I admit, but it can be applied repeatedly as often as needed.”

  She started to laugh.

  He kissed her until she stopped. Then he continued to kiss her for a very long time.

  Lavinia and Tobias are in for more mysterious and

  romantic adventures in Amanda Quick’s next

  tantalizing novel

  Don’t Look Back

  Available in hardcover

  in June 2002

  Read on for a preview . . .

  prologue

  The Keeper set aside the candle and opened the old, leather-bound volume. He turned the aged pages carefully until he found the passage he sought.

  ... It is said they meet in secret in the dead of night to conduct their strange ceremonies. There are rumors that the initiates worship the snake-haired Gorgon. Others claim that they gather in obedience to their master, who commands Medusa’s power to turn men to stone.

  The master’s talent is said to be a strange and terrible sort of magic. After inducing a deep trance in his victims, he issues orders to them. When he releases them from their thrall, they execute those commands without question.

  The great mystery is that those upon whom the art is practiced have no memory of the instructions they were given while they were entranced.

  It is believed that the master’s power is greatly enhanced by the forces of the strange gem he wears.

  The stone is carved with the fearsome image of Medusa. A wand is cut into the gem below the creature’s severed neck. This device is said to be a representation of the magical rod used by the cult’s master to effect a trance.

  The carved gem is similar to an onyx, save that its alternating bands of color are rare and exceedingly strange shades of blue, instead of black and white. The dark outer layer is so deep in hue as to be almost black. It frames the image of Medusa, which is cut into the light-colored layer of the stone. This second layer is a shade of blue reminiscent of fine, pale sapphires.

  The gold bracelet in which the stone i
s set is worked with many small piercings to create a pattern of entwined snakes.

  The master is greatly dreaded in these parts. His identity is always concealed by a hooded cloak during the cult’s ceremonies. None knows his name, but the gem carved with the Gorgon’s head and the wand is his emblem and seal. It is also believed to be the source of his power.

  I am told that the stone is known as the Blue Medusa.

  One

  Tobias watched Lavinia walk up the steps of Number 7 Claremont Lane and knew at once that something was very wrong. Beneath the deep brim of her stylish bonnet, her face, always a source of intense fascination for him, showed signs of an odd, brooding tension.

  In his admittedly limited experience, Lavinia rarely brooded over a problem or a setback. She was more inclined to take immediate action. Much too inclined to do so, in his considered opinion. Reckless and rash were words that came to mind.

  He watched her from the window of the cozy little parlor, every muscle in his body tightening with a battle-ready tension. He had no patience with premonitions and other such metaphysical nonsense, but he trusted his own hunches, especially when it came to matters concerning his new partner and lover. Lavinia looked nothing short of shaken. He knew better than most that it took a great deal to rattle her composure.

  “Mrs. Lake is home,” he said, glancing at the housekeeper over his shoulder.

  “About time.” Mrs. Chilton set down the tea tray with an air of enormous relief and bustled toward the door. “Thought she’d never get here. I’ll just go and help her with her coat and gloves. She’ll be wanting to pour the tea for her guests, I’m sure. Likely be looking forward to a cup herself.”

  From what he could see of her face in the shadow of the bonnet, Tobias had a feeling that Lavinia was more in need of a healthy dose of some of the sherry she kept in her study. But the medicinal dose of spirits would have to wait.