“They were on the right track,” Joshua said. “But he was planning a murder and a kidnapping, not a burglary.”
“The interesting fact was that they all gave a strikingly similar description of the man. They said he spoke very little but when he did it was with a heavy foreign accent.”
“The people who inhabit small, closely knit neighborhoods always remember outsiders, especially outsiders with strong accents,” Joshua said. “Did they give any more details?”
“It was all quite vague,” Nelson said. “But the baked potato vendor said the stranger had a face that could keep a child awake at night. Reminded him of a skull, he said. The shopkeepers agreed.”
“That confirms my conclusion,” Joshua said. “Lancing is using a professional assassin. Now we must locate the skull-faced man.”
“How?” Beatrice asked.
Nelson looked interested. “Yes, how do we do that, Uncle Josh?”
“A professional killer—especially one with a foreign accent—will not have gone unnoticed in the criminal underworld,” Joshua said. “That is a small, closely connected neighborhood, too.”
“But how do we make inquiries in that world?” Nelson asked.
“I have an associate who makes it a point to know everything that goes on in that realm. As it happens, he owes me a favor or two.”
“Now, there’s a surprise,” Beatrice said. She smiled. “I’m shocked to hear that you are acquainted with such an individual, Mr. Gage.”
Nelson burst into laughter. After a moment, Joshua’s mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.
Like uncle, like nephew, Beatrice thought.
“I cannot wait to go home and bathe and put on a fresh change of clothing,” she said.
Joshua looked at her. “You’re not going home, not yet. It’s too risky. There is a possibility that by now the assassin has discovered your address. He may be watching your house. There is only one place in London where I can be assured of your safety.”
“Where is that?”
“The home of an old friend of mine. Assuming I can prevail upon him to help us.”
“Does he owe you a favor like your associate in the criminal underworld?” Beatrice asked.
“No. I am the one who owes him,” Joshua said.
Thirty-Five
What is going on between you and Mr. Gage?” Sara asked.
She was sitting on a chair in the small bedroom watching Beatrice dress in clean petticoats and a fresh gown.
“What do you mean?” Beatrice said. “I told you what happened at Alverstoke Hall and afterward.” She finished fastening the bodice of the dress and sat down in front of the fire to dry her hair. “Mr. Gage believes that a madman named Clement Lancing is intent on kidnapping me.”
She was feeling refreshed and invigorated from the bath. Shortly after their arrival at the back door of Flint & Marsh, she and Joshua had been ushered upstairs to the private quarters of the town house. George had been dispatched to the house Beatrice shared with Clarissa. He had been given instructions to tell the housekeeper that Beatrice had been called away on a special assignment for Flint & Marsh and required a change of clothing and some toiletries. He had returned with a bag packed with the requested items and a few additional things that Mrs. Rambley had thoughtfully included—a hairbrush, hairpins, a nightgown and fresh underclothes.
Mercifully, Sara and Abigail had asked few questions when they found Beatrice and Joshua at the door. Food and baths had clearly been the first priorities. Beatrice had given Sara a summary of events but it was obvious now that Sara was not entirely satisfied.
She regarded Beatrice with a stern air. “You know very well that I am referring to your personal relationship with Mr. Gage.”
Beatrice braced herself. “I thought I explained that Mr. Gage has more or less appointed himself my bodyguard until he can find Clement Lancing. I would not call that a personal relationship.”
“Rubbish. It is evident from the way he looks at you that Gage has appointed himself your lover as well as your bodyguard.”
Beatrice winced and picked up the hairbrush. “Is it that obvious?”
Sara’s expression softened. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Under other circumstances, I would not dream of interfering in your private affairs. You are a woman who has been on her own for quite some time. You are not a naïve innocent. More to the point, you are a Flint and Marsh agent, a lady possessed of considerable talent. You can take care of yourself or you would not be working for us. But Mr. Gage is a man unlike any other you have had occasion to encounter.”
“I am well aware of that, Sara.”
Sara exhaled slowly. “I suppose that is part of the attraction.”
Beatrice smiled. “I suppose it is.”
Upon reflection, Sara’s diagnosis might be the correct one, Beatrice thought. She had been struggling with the question of the attraction she felt for Joshua ever since she had risen from the bed they had shared at dawn.
All morning she had been trying to tell herself that the passion that had flared between them had been fueled, in part, by the excitement generated by danger. In addition she was attracted to Joshua. For his part, there was the factor of that very long year spent rusticating in the country. The two of them had found themselves alone in a bedroom. Those factors had combined to create a volatile brew. The sexual encounter that had taken place at the inn had, in hindsight, been entirely predictable.
But she was not sure that all of those reasons explained the powerful metaphysical bond that she sensed between Joshua and herself this morning. It was as if the lovemaking had established an invisible link between the two of them. She reminded herself that if such a connection actually did exist, it was quite possible that she was the only one who felt it.
Then again, the sensation of an intimate bond might simply be a fantasy that her fevered imagination had concocted to explain her reckless passion. There was no doubt but that she had been struck by a fever of the senses.
“Make no mistake,” Sara continued, “I have always had the greatest admiration for Mr. Gage. But he comes from a very different social world, as I’m sure you realize. He is not yet married but it will not be long before he is obliged to wed for the sake of his family name.”
“I know all this, Sara.” Beatrice tightened her grip on the hairbrush. “As you pointed out, I am not naïve. I am well aware that there is no future for me with Joshua. But I also know that I will never again have an opportunity to experience these feelings and sensations with another man. He is . . . unique.”
“As are you, Bea.” Sara got to her feet and went to the door. “Under normal circumstances, I have no objections to passion. But in my experience, Flint and Marsh agents who make the mistake of falling in love with a person who is connected to a case usually regret it. I advise you to protect your heart while Mr. Gage is protecting you from this madman.”
Thirty-Six
I am well aware that at the moment you have Miss Lockwood’s best interests at heart,” Abigail Flint said.
Joshua had been about to reach for another small sandwich. He paused and cocked a brow at Abigail.
“At the moment implies that at some future time and place I might not have Miss Lockwood’s best interests at heart,” he said.
Abigail fixed him with a grim look. “I do not mean to imply anything of the sort. But I do want to make it clear that Miss Lockwood, although an experienced agent, is, nevertheless, a young woman with very little experience of the sorts of strong emotions and passions that can be generated when two people find themselves confronting danger together.”
“In other words you are trying to warn me not to take advantage of her.”
“In most cases Flint and Marsh agents go about their investigations unnoticed by others, including gentlemen,” Abigail said. “In their role as paid companions they are generally invis
ible in a household. But there have been exceptions. You are not the first man to assume that a Flint and Marsh agent is, by virtue of her career, experienced in the ways of the world.”
“One would assume that one of the ladies of Lantern Street could take care of herself.”
“Our agents all have one thing in common, Mr. Gage. They come to work for us because, for any number of reasons, they find themselves impoverished and on their own. They do not have families to protect them. We both know that leaves them vulnerable in some ways.”
“So you and Mrs. Marsh take it upon yourselves to look after your agents.” Joshua picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “That is very commendable of you.”
“We do not care to see any of our ladies seduced and abandoned. That sort of thing complicates our business.”
He could feel his temper sparking. He could not decide whether to be amused or offended by the interrogation and the warning that he was receiving. Very well, he was guilty of seducing Beatrice, but he had no intention of abandoning her. Not that he had given much thought to their future together, he realized. During the past year he had gotten out of the habit of making any sort of long-range plans. He had been living life day-to-boring-day.
“Does it happen often?” he asked. “The seduction and abandonment of one of your agents, I mean.”
“Mrs. Marsh and I do our best to keep that sort of behavior to a minimum.” Abigail gave him a steely smile. “But I can assure you that I have used information gained in the course of a case to warn off more than one man who thought he could amuse himself with a lady of Lantern Street.”
“Ah, yes, blackmail. Always a useful tool.”
“As I said, for the most part, Mrs. Marsh and I are all the family our agents possess. As their employers, we have a responsibility to look after them.”
“Beatrice carries a gun and some very potent smelling salts, yet you are concerned that she cannot protect herself,” he said.
“Passion can make any woman reckless.”
“I have news for you, Mrs. Flint. It can have similar effects on a man. Have you considered the possibility that you have misread the situation? What if I am the one who is at risk of having my heart broken? Will you look after me if I find myself abandoned?”
Abigail gave a small snort. “I am not the least bit concerned about you, sir. Mr. Smith’s Messenger is quite capable of taking care of himself.”
“Do not be so sure of that, madam.”
She glared. “I’m serious, Mr. Gage. I am well aware that Sara and I are in your debt. I expect half of London is in the same situation.”
“Not half.”
She ignored that. “But I want your word that you will not allow Beatrice to dream dreams that can never come true.”
“What of my dreams, Mrs. Flint?” he asked.
“I can only imagine what your dreams are like, sir.” She glanced rather pointedly at his scarred face and then at his cane. “Given what I know of your past, I suspect they are not particularly pleasant.”
She did not wait for a response. She rose and walked to the door, leaving him alone.
He waited until the door closed behind her.
“My dreams have improved considerably of late,” he said to the empty room.
Thirty-Seven
Beatrice waited until Abigail and Sara had disappeared through the door of Sara’s laboratory. Then she sidled up to Joshua. He had the pack containing the smoke canisters slung over one shoulder.
“Did you, by any chance, get a lecture on the subject of your honorable intentions toward me?” she whispered.
He gave her a politely puzzled expression. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I got a pithy little talk on the subject of gentlemen who feel free to trifle with an innocent lady’s affections. Very annoying, to say the least.”
“The gentlemen or the lecture?”
“That is not amusing, Joshua.”
“Sorry.” He paused at the door to allow her to enter first. “Yes, I got a lecture.”
“I was afraid of that. I apologize on behalf of my employers. They do mean well, you know.”
“I never doubted it.”
She beetled her brows. “How did you respond?”
“I pointed out that you carry a gun and those rather nasty smelling salts and appeared to be quite capable of defending yourself.”
She smiled, pleased. “An excellent response.”
“How did you reply to the warning about my intentions?”
“I made it clear that as I am no longer innocent, the lecture came too late to do any good.”
She swept through the doorway, ignoring his muffled laugh. Really, the man had the oddest sense of humor, she thought.
Sara and Abigail were waiting. Sara was in the process of donning a large leather apron. Her laboratory occupied the basement of the town house. A number of workbenches were covered with a variety of scientific instruments that ranged from delicate scales to an electricity-generating machine. Some of the glass-fronted cabinets along the walls contained ore and gemstone specimens. Others held bottles and small boxes filled with various chemicals.
“Let’s have a look at those smoke-producing devices, Mr. Gage,” Sara said. Enthusiasm and curiosity sparked in her eyes as well as in her voice. She gestured toward a nearby workbench. “You can set them on that table. You say they are volatile?”
Joshua went to the workbench and slipped the pack off his shoulder. “The man who used one of these against me ignited it by smashing the canister at my feet. There was a great deal of smoky vapor but no flames.”
He put the pack on the workbench, opened it and removed the three remaining canisters.
Sara put on a pair of goggles and tied a mask over her nose and mouth. She pulled on some heavy gloves and went to the table.
“Stand back, everyone,” she ordered.
No one argued. Beatrice and the others moved away from the workbench. They all watched, intrigued, as Sara picked up one of the canisters and examined it closely.
“Interesting,” she said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
She removed the stopper with great care. A strong chemical odor wafted out of the opening. Beatrice wrinkled her nose.
“Whew.” Abigail waved a hand in front of her face and hastily retreated another few steps.
“Hmm,” Sara said.
She used a medicine dropper to remove a sample of the contents. The fluid was clear. She placed a few drops in a test tube and repeated the process several times until a number of samples had been prepared. Then she replaced the stopper in the canister.
She looked at Beatrice, Joshua and Abigail.
“This is going to take a while,” she announced. “I can’t work with so many people watching my every move. Go upstairs and have some more tea. I’ll call you when I’ve got news.”
Obediently, Beatrice and the others trooped back upstairs. Abigail led the way into the small parlor. Joshua went to stand at the window looking out into the fog. Beatrice sensed his impatience. Abigail noticed as well.
“You may as well sit down, Mr. Gage,” she said. “There is nothing to be gained by watching the street.”
“No, I suppose not. Can’t see a damned thing in this fog, anyway.” Reluctantly he turned away from the window and lowered himself into a chair. “But I have the feeling that time is running out. Lancing would not have taken the risk of pulling me into this affair if that wasn’t the case. I must find the source of the chemicals as soon as possible. And then I must find the assassin.”
“I understand,” Abigail said. “Meanwhile, what are your plans for tonight? You and Beatrice are welcome to stay with us.”
“Thank you, but no,” Joshua said. “Beatrice will be safer in another location that I have in mind. I need to be assured that she is protected while I pursue
my plan to draw Lancing’s hired assassin out into the open. The Bone Man is an obstacle that I wish to remove as quickly as possible.”
Beatrice looked at him. “It seems to me that the simplest way to draw the killer into a trap would be to use me as bait.”
“No,” Joshua said. The single word was flat and unequivocal.
“Have you got a better plan?” she asked politely.
“Let’s just say it is an alternative strategy.”
She did not like the sound of that. “What do you intend to do?”
“It’s clear now that Lancing used me to find you, but now I have become a problem for him,” Joshua said.
Abigail’s brows rose in cool comprehension. “Lancing knows that you are standing in his way. Even if he manages to grab Beatrice, he is aware that you will continue to be a problem.”
“Because you won’t stop looking for me,” Beatrice said quietly.
“No,” Joshua said. He met her eyes. “Not ever.”
Abigail watched him intently. “You believe that Lancing’s first objective is to get rid of you?”
“That is certainly the strategy I would employ if I were in his place,” Joshua said. “He knows how I think, but the reverse is also true. I know his ways as well as he knows mine. After all, we were both trained by the same man.”
“But it is the assassin you must deal with first, not Lancing,” Beatrice said.
“The assassin is Lancing’s vulnerable point,” Joshua said. “The skull-faced man is the one person who knows how to get to Lancing. The thing about hired killers is that one must pay them on a regular basis. That means there is always a rendezvous point. When I have that, I will have Lancing.”
“But first you must draw out the assassin,” Beatrice said. “If you don’t use me as bait, what will you use?”
“Myself,” Joshua said. “He will be in a vengeful mood after two failures. His pride will make him reckless.”