by Amanda Quick
“I would be very grateful if you would do that. There is no time to waste and we must pursue every avenue. This entire affair is so extremely muddled. We do not even know if Fullerton is the killer’s first victim.”
Joan’s cup paused halfway to her lips. Her eyes narrowed faintly. “Do you have reason to suspect that there may have been others?”
“It’s possible. We simply do not know.” Restless and frustrated, Lavinia rose and went to examine the large golden chrysanthemums in the nearest vase. “Can you think of any other recent unexpected or unexplained deaths in Society?”
Joan pursed her lips. “Apsley’s heart failed him in May, but given his ill health, no one was surprised. Lady Thornby was taken off by a fever last month, but she had been bedridden for nearly a year.”
She fell silent, thinking. Lavinia listened to the ticking of the tall clock.
“I confess that I did wonder a bit at the news of Lady Rowland’s death last month,” Joan said eventually. “The gossip is that she accidentally consumed too much of her bedtime tonic and died in her sleep. But those who were close to her said that she brewed the concoction herself and had taken it regularly for years without incident.”
Lavinia turned quickly. “Suicide?”
“I am strongly inclined to doubt it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The woman was a tyrant,” Joan said flatly. “She controlled the purse strings in the family, and she did not hesitate to use them to force the others to bend to her will. At the time of her death, she had an excellent reason to live.”
Lavinia felt her curiosity stir. “Why do you say that?”
“From all accounts, Lady Rowland was looking forward to the announcement of her eldest granddaughter’s engagement next month. She had agreed to settle a vast sum on the girl, provided her papa accepted an offer from Ferring’s oldest son. It was no secret that Lady Rowland was obsessed with seeing the marriage take place.”
“Why was that?”
“The on-dit is that in her youth, Lady Rowland conceived a great passion for Ferring’s father. Her parents forced her to marry Rowland instead, but the gossip is that she never got over her feelings for Ferring. Indeed, they are rumored to have had a long-standing affair after Ferring himself was married. He died a few years ago.”
“Do you believe that Lady Rowland was determined to live out her dreams through her eldest granddaughter?”
“That is what I was told. It is certainly no secret that after her own husband died, she used the Rowland fortune to buy the Ferring heir for her granddaughter.” Joan sipped tea and slowly lowered her cup, eyes faintly narrowed. “But I believe that has all changed now.”
“Why is that?”
“Maryanne mentioned just last week that she had heard there would be no engagement announcement after all. Something about the young lady’s papa having refused Ferring’s offer.”
Lavinia felt excitement leap. “What happened to change his mind?”
“I cannot say. At the time the subject was not of particular interest.” Joan paused. “But I could probably find out for you.”
“Yes, I think I would very much like to know the particulars.” Lavinia tapped the toe of her half boot on the thick carpet. “Who controls Lady Rowland’s fortune now?”
“Her son, the granddaughter’s papa.”
“Well, now,” Lavinia said to herself.
Joan gave her an inquiring look. “What are you thinking?”
“It occurs to me that in the wake of both Lord Fullerton’s and Lady Rowland’s deaths, wedding plans were drastically altered.”
Joan tilted her head slightly to the side, considering that conclusion. “Do you know, now that I study the question in that light, there may be a third death that fits the formula, that of a gentleman of some forty years named Newbold. He was found dead at the foot of his own staircase one morning a few weeks ago. Everyone assumed that he had had too much to drink and lost his balance on the top step.”
“What marriage plans were altered by his death?”
“His own.” Joan gave a tiny shudder. “He was quite a dreadful man who was known to seek out the brothels that would supply him with very young children.”
“Vile creature,” Lavinia whispered.
“Yes. But a very rich vile creature. As was the case with Fullerton, he had recently got engaged to a young lady. I wonder if the chit knows how very fortunate she is to have had her wedding date canceled.”
“Well,” Lavinia said again.
Joan frowned. “The thing is, Lavinia, as with the other two instances, no one involved appeared to be opposed to Newbold’s marriage plans. Indeed, all three of these proposed alliances were excellent matches in terms of money and social connections. In Society, those are the only things that matter. You know that as well as I do.”
“In most cases, perhaps, but not always. For example, I know that you were very concerned for Maryanne’s happiness when the plans were made for her marriage.”
“Yes, that is true.” Joan looked at the portrait of Fielding Dove that hung above the mantel, her expression unreadable. “Fielding was equally concerned. Our own marriage had been such a warm and happy alliance, you see.”
Lavinia realized that Joan was working hard to conceal some strong emotion. She did not know whether to ignore her friend’s mood or try to offer comfort. She and Joan were still in the process of forging a friendship. There were some boundaries she did not want to cross unless she was invited to do so.
She walked back to the chair she had occupied earlier and stopped beside it.
“I know you loved Fielding Dove very much,” she said carefully.
That seemed sufficiently noncommittal, she thought. If Joan wanted to maintain her privacy, she could let the remark pass with a simple acknowledgment.
Joan nodded, never taking her eyes off the portrait.
For a moment Lavinia thought that would be the end of the conversation.
Joan got to her feet and went back to stand at the window. “Shortly before you arrived, my daughter took great pains to remind me of that very fact.”
“I do not wish to pry,” Lavinia said. “But I sense that you are unhappy. Is there anything I can do?”
Joan’s elegant jaw tightened. She blinked several times, as though she had something in her eye. “Maryanne called today to lecture me about the impropriety of my new friendship with Lord Vale.”
“Oh, dear.”
“She seems to feel that I am somehow being unfaithful to Fielding’s memory.”
“I see.”
“It is rather unsettling to be lectured on such matters by one’s daughter.”
Lavinia winced. “If it is any consolation, I recently endured a similar talk from my niece. Emeline made it clear that in her opinion my connection with Mr. March has gone on long enough without the formality of a marriage license.”
Joan cast her a quick, wryly sympathetic glance. “Then you can perhaps understand some of my feelings in this matter. Tell me truthfully, do you think that my connection with Vale is evidence that I no longer treasure and respect Fielding’s memory?”
“Joan, the nature of your friendship with Lord Vale is none of my concern. However, since you have asked for my opinion, I will give it to you. From what you have said of your marriage, I believe that Fielding Dove loved you very much. Therefore, I cannot imagine that he would have wanted you to deny yourself the opportunity to experience happiness and affection after he was gone.”
“That is what I have told myself.”
“If you doubt it, try reversing the situation in your mind. If you were the one who had been taken off first, would you have wanted Fielding to be alone for the rest of his life?”
“No,” Joan said quietly. “Above all else, I would have wanted him to be happy.”
“I suspect that is precisely what he would have said about you if someone had asked him the question.”
“Thank you.” Joan sounded
somewhat relieved. She turned around and smiled. “It is very kind of you to reassure me. I confess, Maryanne’s tears and accusations today rattled me. I began to wonder if I was, indeed, failing to honor Fielding in my heart.”
“I assure you, Emeline’s little homily on the proprieties sent a few tremors through me also.”
“I must say, under any other circumstance, our predicament would almost be amusing. You and I have both spent many years and a great deal of effort instructing two young ladies in the rules of decorum and proper behavior, and now they see fit to turn the tables on us.”
“It does give one pause, does it not?” Lavinia frowned. “I wonder if it is an indication that the younger generation may be developing a taste for prudery.”
Joan shuddered. “What a ghastly thought. Discretion and decorum are all very well, but it would be a great pity, indeed, if this current crop of young ladies and gentlemen were to become a nation of narrow-minded, straitlaced prigs.”
Chapter 12
Tobias went up the steps of Number 7 with a sense of anticipation that he had been savoring since breakfast. The prospect of an afternoon tryst with Lavinia was the only bright spot in what had proven to be an extremely frustrating and unproductive day. He wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the bed in the bedchamber upstairs and lose himself in his lover’s arms for a stolen hour or two.
His hopes crumbled when Mrs. Chilton opened the door.
“Mrs. Chilton, this is a surprise. I could have sworn that at breakfast this morning you mentioned that you would be going out to shop for currants this afternoon and that Mrs. Lake would be here alone for a time.”
“There’s no need to look at me like that, sir.” Mrs. Chilton drew herself up, glowering. “Plans changed. Not my fault. First, out of the blue, Mrs. Lake announces she’s off to pay a visit to Mrs. Dove. Says she’ll return by three.”
“It is just now three, Mrs. Chilton.”
“Well, she isn’t back yet and that’s all there is to it. Wouldn’t make much difference to your plans if she were here, and that’s a fact.”
“And why is that?”
Mrs. Chilton glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the closed parlor door and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because not ten minutes past a lady called. When I informed her that Mrs. Lake was out, she demanded to know when she was expected. I told her around three o’clock, and the next thing I know the lady declares that she’ll wait.”
“Damnation. She’s still here?”
“Aye. I put her in the parlor and gave her some tea. Wasn’t anything else I could do.” Mrs. Chilton wiped her large, rough hands on her apron. “Claims she’s a client. Thought perhaps she’d come in response to the notice Mrs. Lake put into the newspaper a while back. You know how enthusiastic Mrs. Lake is about advertising her services in the papers. Says it’s the modern way to go about running a successful business enterprise.”
“Kindly do not remind me of that bloody advertisement.” Tobias stalked into the hall and sent his hat sailing toward the small end table. “You know my feelings on that subject.”
“Aye, sir. You’ve made ‘em clear.” Mrs. Chilton closed the door. “But as there haven’t been any serious clients until now, it didn’t seem to be doing any harm. To tell you the truth, I think Mrs. Lake was getting a bit depressed about the entire project.”
“Unfortunately, she was not sufficiently cast down to call off the scheme.”
Thus far his fears that Lavinia’s attempt to advertise her private-inquiry services in the newspapers would draw an unsavory crowd of potential clients to her door had gone unrealized. To date, only three people had responded to the notice concerning an expert available for the purpose of conducting inquiries of a personal and private nature. To his secret relief, all three potential clients had immediately changed their minds when they discovered that the expert in question was a female.
“It’s not my fault the lady in the parlor chose to call upon Mrs. Lake this afternoon,” Mrs. Chilton muttered.
“I do not suppose there is anything you could have done.” Tobias started toward the parlor door. “But I believe I shall just have a word with this new client before Mrs. Lake returns.”
“Hold on there, sir.” Mrs. Chilton hurried after him, alarmed. “I’m not sure Mrs. Lake would want you to be speaking to her client without her being present.”
“What objection can she possibly make?” Tobias smiled his most innocent smile. “We are partners, after all.”
“Only on some cases. And you know very well that if she finds out you’ve cost her a paying client, she’ll be furious.”
“I just want to assure myself that this client is respectable and can afford Mrs. Lake’s fees.”
He opened the door before Mrs. Chilton could do it for him and walked into the parlor.
The lady seated on the sofa turned to look at him.
Bloody hell, Tobias thought. She was a client. So much for his plan to get rid of her before Lavinia returned.
“What are you doing here, Aspasia?” he asked.
“Tobias.” She gave him her cool, knowing smile. “What a coincidence. I came here to talk to Mrs. Lake because I assumed you would be busy with your inquiries. I wanted to find out how the investigation was proceeding.”
If this was any other client, he would lie through his teeth and tell her that he had made substantial progress. He always said that sort of thing to whoever was paying the fee for his services. But this was Aspasia, and she was not a typical client.
He went to stand with his back to the window, automatically putting the light behind him, and looked at Aspasia.
“I cannot speak for Mrs. Lake,” he said, “because I have not yet had a chance to compare notes with her this afternoon. But as for myself, I have made damned little progress. I sent our assistants out to make inquiries regarding the rings and the blond wig, however, and I have hopes that they will come back with some useful information.” He glimpsed Lavinia out of the corner of his eye. She was on the front step. “I see my associate has returned. Perhaps she will have news.”
Lavinia was a vision in deep violet. He found himself smiling a little even though his plans for the afternoon appeared to be in ruins. Something inside him always responded to the sight of her, he thought. He was aware of a sense of bone-deep satisfaction whenever he was in her presence.
He heard the muffled sound of the front door opening and closing. A moment later Lavinia breezed into the parlor. She had removed her bonnet in the front hall. Her face was warm and flushed from her recent exercise. The feminine vitality that she radiated made his insides tighten with a familiar hunger. Visions of the bed upstairs tormented him.
“Mrs. Gray.” Lavinia inclined her head a bare half inch. “Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Her smile was so polished and professional that only someone who knew her well would notice the acute lack of warmth, Tobias thought.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lake,” Aspasia said. “But I simply could not rest. I returned to London yesterday afternoon. I came here today because I had to find out if you and Tobias had discovered anything useful yet.”
“Yes, indeed.” Lavinia sat down on a chair near the tea tray and arranged her skirts with a flourish. Her smile never dimmed. If anything it actually brightened. “We have made substantial progress.”
Unlike himself, Tobias thought, she had no compunction about lying to this particular client.
“Indeed?” Aspasia raised her brows. “Tobias was just telling me that he had not been terribly successful. Isn’t that right, Tobias?”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “I certainly do not have much to offer yet.”
Lavinia gave him a repressive glare. “How fortunate, then, that I do have some useful information.”
She was certainly determined to follow his rules for dealing with a client, even if he was not bothering to do so, he thought.
“Your professional abilities nev
er cease to astound me, madam,” he said dryly. “What did you learn from your private informant?”
He saw at once that she had caught the slight inflection he had given the last two words. He doubted that Lavinia had had any intention of dragging Mrs. Dove’s name into this affair, but it was best to be cautious.
She turned to Aspasia with a businesslike air. “I have discovered that there may have been at least two other recent deaths in Society that are highly suspicious. Lady Rowland and a certain Mr. Newbold. Both departed this earth quite unexpectedly.”
That got his attention. “I heard the rumor concerning Lady Rowland. An overdose of the medicine she took to help her sleep. No one mentioned Newbold.”
Aspasia’s brows puckered in a delicate frown. “Newbold died in a drunken fall down his own staircase a month and a half ago, I believe. I heard something about it shortly after I returned to Town. I did not pay much attention.”
“Most people ignored his death.” Lavinia’s mouth tightened in a manner that emphasized her disgust. “Evidently Newbold was quite dreadful. He was known to patronize the brothels that cater to those creatures who enjoy debauching children. In my opinion the young lady to whom he had recently got engaged had a very close call. Only imagine the horror of being wed to such a man.”
“Indeed.” Aspasia drank tea and made no further comment.
“The thing is,” Lavinia continued, turning toward Tobias, “I find the coincidence extremely intriguing, don’t you, sir?”
“Three unanticipated deaths? Yes, I do.”
“Not the deaths,” she said impatiently, “the cancellation of the wedding plans that followed in each instance.”
She was serious, he thought. He could not believe it. Neither could Aspasia, to judge by her expression.
“Lavinia,” he said carefully, “are you implying that the motive behind each of these three murders was a desire to stop a wedding from taking place?”
Lavinia set down the pot. “Have you got a better motive?”
“I’m working on one.” Her certainty irritated him. “All three deaths resulted in the transfer of fortunes. That makes for a lot of suspects among the family members.”