CHAPTER 18
A steady pounding on the stairs jarred Sebastian from the page he’d been rereading for the last twenty minutes. As authoritative voices joined the din, along with brisk knocks on doors, Sebastian strode to his office door, barely checking on the sleeping Lydia before grasping the handle. He intended to chew out the employees responsible for letting the revelers make their way into the club’s private spaces.
But before he could throw open the door and take care of the problem, three sharp, staccato raps pounded against the wood.
The jarring noise woke Lydia, who sat upright with a cry of alarm. “Sebastian?”
He had no time to calm her.
He opened the door to two men in suits and one very agitated Vincent Hunt. Luckily, he’d had a lifetime of concealing his emotions. “Hunt, what is going on?”
“The police are here, sir. They have discovered a body.” He looked the complete opposite of his normal, unflappable self.
With effort, he tamped down his shock. “I see,” he said. Though, of course, he really didn’t see anything at all.
One of the men, his brown eyes perceptive and his blond hair expertly groomed, spoke. “Sir, I’m Lieutenant Detective Owen Howard. I regret to inform you that a man has just been discovered murdered outside your club.”
Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “That is sad news, indeed, though not exactly a surprise. This area is a rather violent one.”
“Yes, it is. We were investigating another report only two blocks over when we heard screams coming from the direction of the Grotto. The dead man looks to be a gentleman, sir. And his murder looks to have been a particularly violent one as well. In addition, he seems to have received a recent beating.”
Behind him, Lydia gasped.
Inwardly, Sebastian winced. Never would he have wanted her to be in the midst of this. Gripping the door’s handle, he said, “Thank you for letting me know, Detective. I’ll be downstairs shortly.”
Howard reached out and gripped the side of the door. “Not so fast, sir. I have some questions for you.”
“Which I will answer presently.”
The second man, who until that moment had been simply standing and observing, pushed his way to face Sebastian. “Our business would be best taken care of now. And out of the hall. If we may come in, sir?”
The man’s hazel eyes were piercing, his dark hair far more clumsily cut than Lieutenant Howard’s. His voice held the faint suggestion of an Irish accent. Sebastian was fairly sure who he was looking at: Sean Ryan, the luckiest cop on the face of the earth. The new husband of the elusive, beautiful Eloisa Carstairs.
“I’d rather you did not. I have company.”
“I’m afraid I must insist that we enter, sir. Immediately.”
Sebastian glanced Vincent’s way. His assistant had a bit of color back in his cheeks but otherwise appeared flummoxed. It was now becoming evident that they weren’t here to go through the motions of investigating another poor sod who’d faced his end in Camp Creek Alley. No, this death seemed to matter.
Howard stepped forward. “Mr. Marks, if we may?”
Sebastian ignored him but stared at the other officer and took care to speak in his most bored tone. “With whom am I speaking?”
“Captain Sean Ryan. Please forgive my sorry manners.”
Knowing it was inevitable, Sebastian stepped backward and allowed the three men inside. Immediately, the two policemen directed their attention to Lydia, who was standing nervously next to the sofa, one hand curved around the plush velvet, the other clenching a fold in the skirt of her gown.
“Miss Bancroft.” Howard nodded.
Lydia paled.
Worried that she was on the verge of fainting, Sebastian walked to her side. “Sit down, Lydia,” he murmured. “Everything will be sorted out in no time.”
“All right.” She smiled hesitantly. “Forgive me, but my glasses? Have you seen them?”
Remembering he had slipped them into his coat pocket, he fished them out and pressed them into her palm. “Here you are. You fell asleep with them on. I took them off so they wouldn’t get broken.”
Howard and Ryan said nothing through the exchange. Actually, Sebastian was rather surprised to see that they seemed content to merely listen to them. Both men’s expressions had softened.
Hunt, on the other hand, eyed her with an ill-concealed disdain.
Hunt’s blatant disrespect made his hackles rise and his voice turn sharp. “Hunt, is there a reason you accompanied Lieutenant Howard and Captain Ryan to my offices?”
Vincent flinched. “Yes, sir. They asked me to take them to you. I . . . I thought you may need my assistance as well.”
The last thing he wanted or Lydia needed was his assistant glaring at her as if she was less than worthy. “Do you wish him to remain?” he asked the officers.
Ryan glanced from Hunt to Marks. “Not at this time. But don’t leave the premises.”
“I won’t. It would be fairly hard to leave, anyhow, what with the swarm of officers you have milling around downstairs,” Hunt reported.
Sebastian’s stomach sank. “There are more officers here?”
Howard answered. “We have a lot of folks to interview and even more to deal with the evidence. We would appreciate your staff’s assistance in this. However, we will make sure we get our answers one way or another.”
Sebastian heard the not-so-subtle warning in the lieutenant’s voice. They were in charge; he was not. Furthermore, they could make this shift in power painfully evident if he gave them any trouble. “My staff will do everything in their power to assist you.” He meant every word too. They were nothing if not loyal and trustworthy. Hardening his voice, he added, “See to it, Hunt.”
“Of course, Mr. Marks.” Hunt’s expression was respectful, the light in his eyes indicating he was pleased with both Sebastian’s authority and the job he was given to do.
At last, he and Vincent seemed back on familiar ground. His assistant smartly nodded and exited the room, both opening and shutting the door behind him in such a way that it could hardly be heard.
Only then did Sebastian turn to Lydia and perform introductions. “Miss Bancroft and Lieutenant Howard, I surmise that you already know each other?”
“That is correct,” Lieutenant Howard replied.
“In that case, Lydia, may I present Captain Sean Ryan? As you heard, there seems to have been a disturbance downstairs that they are investigating.”
She stood up. “Lieutenant Howard, Captain Ryan.”
“Miss Bancroft, I believe our paths crossed at some of the parties surrounding the fair,” Lieutenant Howard said.
“I am sure you are right.” She smiled softly, and Sebastian noticed that some of the unease in her shoulders dissipated. Sebastian had never thought much of the gentleman detective’s chosen profession, but at the moment he was thankful for Howard’s social status.
“Miss Bancroft.” Ryan inclined his head. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour.”
“I fear it is the early morning now.” She bit her bottom lip as her face turned bright red. “I, uh, fell asleep on the couch. This is, um, not my usual place.” Looking even more flustered, she added, “I really don’t know what happened. I shouldn’t have come here at all.”
Howard’s expression was carefully blank. “Oh? Where do you usually meet Mr. Marks?”
Her blush deepened. Looking as if she was intent to avoid Sebastian’s eye at all costs, she murmured, “I don’t. I mean, he and I are friends. I mean . . .” She pressed both hands to her face. “Oh, but this is awful.”
Sebastian stepped to her side, effectively blocking the other men’s view of Lydia. Though it did nothing to shield her from their insinuations or her embarrassment, he was willing to do whatever he could to attempt to salvage her reputation, though it was surely a moot point now.
“Easy, Lydia. You have done nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I beg to differ.
I am currently sitting in a private room in a gentlemen’s club.”
“You have done nothing wrong.”
“Oh, Sebastian,” she whispered. Her eyes, so luminescent under the hint of tears, looked back at him.
He saw a trust there that knocked him deep in his soul. How he had earned such a gift from her, he would never know. He wished they were alone. He wished he could wrap his arms around her and hold her protectively against his side twenty-four hours a day. He would like nothing better than to be the person who shielded her from harm.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Mr. Marks, care to tell us why Miss Bancroft is here this evening?”
He did not. “Would you care to tell me why my private life is a concern of yours?” he shot back.
Ryan exchanged a look with Howard, then said, “Jason Avondale was just found stabbed to death outside the silver doors of your club.”
Behind him, Lydia gasped once more. “Jason?”
Sebastian forced himself to ignore her cries, knowing he needed to keep his emotions firmly in check. “Avondale, you say?”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan said, keeping his expression blank. And firmly fixated on Sebastian’s face. His look was so intent, Sebastian felt that his every thought was being perceived. “From what we can surmise, he was attacked just outside the Silver Grotto. He was either left on the front steps or that is as far as he was able to get before collapsing. By the time he was discovered by a man and woman about to leave your establishment, he was already dead.”
Lieutenant Howard leaned forward slightly. “Am I to understand that Avondale’s murder comes as a surprise?”
“It is a shock,” Sebastian corrected. Lydia sniffed and swiped at her cheek with the side of her hand.
Before Sebastian could reach for a handkerchief, Howard stepped forward and handed his to Lydia. “Please, take mine, Miss Bancroft,” he offered before eyeing Sebastian again. “Yes, sir. I imagine this news about Avondale is coming as quite a shock.”
Sebastian turned to Lydia, who was looking on the verge of collapsing into a dead faint. “Give us a moment,” he barked to the two officers before rushing to her side and pressing one palm on the middle of her back. “Please, do sit back down, dear.”
“I-I can’t.” Her face was white, her body completely stiff.
He realized then that she was so distraught she was holding her breath. “Breathe,” he ordered, giving her a good pat on the back to encourage the motion.
When she gasped, he felt the tension he didn’t even know he carried release.
“Now, breathe in. Out,” he whispered, wishing with all his might that she would regain her composure so she wouldn’t have to suffer the further injustice of his reaching for her corset stays.
Both of her hands gripped his arms. “Sebastian, this is so terrible!”
“I know.” Impatiently, he turned to the two policemen. “Surely your questions could wait for another time? It is obvious that Miss Bancroft is in severe emotional distress.”
Captain Ryan looked compassionate but unaffected. “Take your time.”
Sebastian’s temper flared. “I don’t need to take my time. I need to see her home.”
“I’m afraid that will not be possible,” Ryan returned.
“What will not?”
“You and Miss Bancroft need to stay and answer some questions.”
“Whatever questions you have for Miss Bancroft can wait until tomorrow.”
“Definitely not.”
“At least until later this morning.” Sebastian honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been treated like he was nothing. No better than the lowliest street sweeper.
“I think not,” Ryan said. “You see, we need to know where each of you was this evening.” He pulled out a worn-looking notebook and the stub of a pencil. “If you could recount things to the best of your memory, it would be most helpful.”
“Are you seeking our alibis?” He didn’t even attempt to hide his incredulousness.
“We have no choice, Mr. Marks. Of all the people in the building, the two of you might have had the most reason to wish Mr. Avondale harm,” Lieutenant Howard replied. “You see, Avondale’s friend Jeffrey Galvin arrived just as the couple discovered Avondale. He says he and Avondale planned to meet here and discuss a few things with you, Marks, despite an earlier warning from you to Galvin to stay away. They believed you are the one who had Avondale beaten a few nights ago, perhaps because of the money he owed you.”
“Many people owe me money,” Sebastian said. “That doesn’t mean I beat them. And how do you know Galvin did not murder Avondale?”
Looking unfazed, Howard continued. “We already have evidence to the contrary, but that is none of your concern. And Avondale had just jilted you, Miss Bancroft. As far as we are concerned, there is a very good chance we are staring at Mr. Avondale’s murderer right at this moment.”
As the shock of the words penetrated, Sebastian suddenly felt dizzy. Only his pure irritation caused him to remain impassive.
It wasn’t so easy for Miss Bancroft, though. She collapsed in a dead faint.
Obviously she had forgotten to breathe again, and he had forgotten to make sure she did.
He had failed her yet again.
CHAPTER 19
Lydia. Come now, Lydia, it’s time. Lydia, come back to me.”
Lydia slowly opened her eyes to see Sebastian Marks’ face hovering over her own. His expression was tender, filled with worry. His mouth set in a grim line.
“Sebastian?”
He reached out and ran one callused finger along her cheek. “Easy now, sweetheart. You fainted.”
His voice was rough and his consonants were softened, giving a hint of what he must have sounded like when he was young and growing up on the city streets. Staring into his dark eyes, she wished she knew everything about him.
And hoped he’d call her sweetheart again very soon.
Then, like a splash of cold water, the reality of their situation hit her hard. She attempted to push away from him. They were sitting far too intimately together.
But instead of budging, he simply held her in place with one hand. “Easy, now,” he repeated. “Catch your bearings first.”
“What happened?” Of course, the minute she asked the inane question, she knew.
She was in Sebastian’s private office at his club. It was the middle of the night. Her ex-fiancé had been found murdered downstairs!
And the police had been there. Questioning them both.
Tensing, she scanned the room. It was empty except for the two of them. “Where are the policemen?”
“I sent them away.”
“How did you manage that? They didn’t want to leave.”
“I managed to convince them.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” he soothed. “Lydia, answer me, now. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” She sat up farther, then gasped when she noticed that the bodice of her dress gaped open. “Did . . . did you undress me?”
He seemed amused by her outrage. “I unbuttoned your shirtwaist and loosened your corset. That is all.”
“That was certainly too much!”
“Forgive me for being crass, but surely you didn’t expect me to let your modesty take precedence over your ability to breathe?”
“I suppose not.” She moaned. “I suppose the detectives saw you undress me?” Her reputation was now completely ruined.
He scowled. “Of course not. I told them to leave before seeing to you.”
She felt flustered, both by his actions and the police officers’ accusations. Needing more time, she said, “I need to put myself back together.”
“Of course. Turn around and let me fasten your stays.”
“I couldn’t let you.”
“I can’t summon a maid right now, Lydia. Things are a little busy downstairs.” When she groaned, he continued with a thinly veiled, exaggerated impati
ence. “Either let me help you or remain in your current state of dishabille. It’s all the same to me.”
Thinking back to some of the heroines she’d read about, most specifically Joan of Arc, Lydia stood up, gathered her courage, and with her back to him, lowered the top of her dress.
The moment she did, she felt him reach for the ends of her corset. “Inhale.”
When she did, she felt him expertly pull at her stays and fasten the hooks he’d earlier detached. “Finished.”
She pulled the bodice back up, fastened the six buttons in the front, and smoothed her gown. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” When she turned, she noticed that a hint of a smile played on his lips. “I’ve never thought much about it, but as it is now well past the time you would normally retire for the night, I would surmise that being in that contraption for so long can be painful.”
“You would be correct. But I will survive. It’s nothing, comparatively speaking. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, you know.”
He looked at her appreciatively. “She was a saint and a martyr, indeed.”
“Sebastian, what happens next?”
“I think we had better go downstairs. As much as I’d love to let you remain here where you would be able to have a modicum of privacy, I’m afraid I am more concerned about you being alone. I don’t want to alarm you, but until we know exactly what happened to Avondale, I don’t like the idea of you being anywhere alone.”
She shivered. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Looking as if it pained him, he reached out and clasped her hand. “Please know I will look after you.”
She didn’t know why he would make such a promise. Beyond the fact that he’d come to her reading room for almost a year, they had little connecting them. Only their burgeoning friendship.
It wasn’t like she’d had a lot of close friends anyway. Not close friends she could trust.
Of course, that made her think about Jason and how she’d pinned so many hopes and dreams on a future with him. And how he hadn’t hesitated to show her his true colors the first time she’d angered him.
Whispers in the Reading Room Page 16