Don't Look Back

“I am delighted to be able to consult on this matter.” Joan kept her eyes on the crowd and lowered her voice to a confidential tone. “What I discovered is that the news of the Blue Medusa has captured the interest of a certain collector, an extremely wealthy, powerful gentleman who has a reputation for obtaining whatever he sets out to possess.”

  “How do you know he wants the Medusa bracelet?” Lavinia asked.

  “Because he rarely deigns to appear at social affairs, even though he is on every hostess’s guest list. The fact that he just walked into this ballroom is proof that he is after the bracelet. I cannot imagine anything else that would have brought him here.”

  Lavinia followed Joan’s gaze and saw a man standing with a small group near a cluster of palms. He was well dressed, and he held himself with the cool arrogance and unmistakable assurance that came with rank and wealth. In that, he had a great deal in common with most of the other men in the room tonight. He should have been virtually indistinguishable from those around him. But he stood out in the crowd in some indefinable way, even though he was obviously making no effort to do so. If anything, given his quietly elegant appearance and manner, he was making every effort to be perceived as a part of the landscape.

  Yet, Lavinia thought, her eye had gone straight to him. She had known at once which man Joan was watching. In a sea of colorful little fish, he was a poorly disguised shark.

  Rather like Tobias, she thought uneasily. The realization made her take a swallow of champagne.

  Physically, however, the two had little in common. For one thing, the stranger was older than Tobias—late forties, perhaps. For another, his hairline had receded in a dramatic fashion, drawing attention to a high forehead and a strong profile. He was also taller and more elegantly slender than Tobias.

  “Who is he?” Lavinia asked.

  “Lord Vale,” Joan said softly.

  There was something in her voice that made Lavinia glance quickly at her. She was startled to see an expression of interest in her friend’s face. It occurred to her that she had never seen Joan regard any other man in that manner.

  Joan found Vale intriguing.

  “Bloody hell,” Tobias muttered. “Is Vale involved in this affair?”

  “So it would seem,” Joan said. “What is more, I suspect that he is aware that you and Lavinia are investigating it. There simply is no other reason why he would be here tonight.”

  “Damnation.” Tobias set down his unfinished champagne. “I could have done very nicely without this complication.”

  Lavinia looked at him. “Why are you concerned about Vale?”

  Tobias did not take his attention off the man on the other side of the room. “As Joan just told you, Vale is a collector with very discriminating tastes. He possesses the financial resources to satisfy those tastes. It is rumored that if money alone will not help him obtain what he chooses to acquire, he is willing to employ other means and methods.”

  “He is the founder of a very exclusive club,” Joan said. “The members call themselves the Connoisseurs. Only those who collect the most exotic and unusual antiquities are invited to join. Vacancies occur rarely. When they do, a prospective new member must present a suitable relic for the club’s private collection in order to be considered for admission.” She paused. “There is an opening for a new member now, as it happens.”

  Tobias glanced thoughtfully at Joan. “How do you know that?”

  “Because the vacancy was created by my husband’s death a year ago. He was a member of the Connoisseurs for many years.”

  “I wonder why Vale has not filled the opening in the club membership,” Tobias said.

  “Perhaps no suitable candidate has applied,” Joan said. “Do not forget, the prospect must present not simply a very fine artifact but one that is considered unusual or extremely rare. It is not easy to find such a relic.”

  Lavinia caught her breath. “The Medusa bracelet would almost certainly qualify as an acceptable membership artifact.”

  “Indeed. The club’s museum is a very private collection, one that is never open to public viewing. I doubt that Vale or any of the members would be inclined to question the source of a relic provided that it was suitably exotic and rare.” Joan contemplated Vale. “Given his lordship’s appearance here tonight, I think we must assume that he has no intention of sitting back in hopes that some other collector will find the Blue Medusa and present it to the club’s museum. Vale plans to acquire it himself.”

  Tobias glanced at her. “Do you know him well?”

  Joan hesitated. “He was a guest in our home on occasion when my husband was alive. Fielding liked him. The two respected each other. But I cannot say that I know Vale well. I do not think anyone can make that claim.”

  “No,” Tobias agreed. “Probably not.”

  “Have you met him?” Joan asked.

  “Crackenburne introduced us. But like you, I cannot claim a close acquaintance. We certainly do not move in the same circles.”

  “Look, he has left his companions,” Lavinia said. “He’s coming toward us.”

  “So he is,” Tobias said quietly. “You were right, Joan. He knows about Lavinia and me.”

  They watched Vale glide smoothly around the edge of the dance floor, bestowing an almost imperceptible nod here and there, pausing once or twice to greet someone. But although his path appeared random, it was clear to Lavinia that he was working his way toward where the three of them stood in the alcove.

  “He’ll no doubt attempt to interrogate both of you,” Joan warned. “He will be very polite about it, of course, but he is a very clever man. Be careful what you say if you wish to keep your secrets.”

  Vale materialized out of the crowd at that moment and stopped in front of them. Lavinia studied him covertly and saw that there was another way in which he differed from Tobias in terms of physical appearance.

  Vale had the haunting eyes of a romantic artist.

  “Joan.” He bent gracefully over her gloved hand. “It is good to see that you are getting out into Society again. It has been too long.”

  “Good evening, Vale.” She retrieved her hand with a smooth motion. “Do you know my friends? Mrs. Lake and Mr. March.”

  “March.” Vale nodded once in Tobias’s direction and then he turned to Lavinia. “A pleasure, Mrs. Lake.”

  When he took her hand she noticed the odd iron ring he wore. It was shaped like a small key. She tried for a truly charming smile and added a little curtsy for good measure.

  “Lord Vale.”

  He did not look particularly dazzled, she noticed. He merely bowed briefly over her hand and turned back to Joan.

  “May I have the honor of a dance, madam?” he said.

  Joan stiffened ever so slightly. The tiny hesitation was almost undetectable. If Lavinia had not been watching her she would have missed it altogether.

  “Yes, of course,” Joan said, recovering quickly.

  She flicked a puzzled glance back at Lavinia as Vale led her away.

  Lavinia watched the pair move out onto the dance floor.

  “Well, so much for being interrogated,” she said. “It appears that the only thing Vale had in mind was a dance.”

  “Don’t be too certain of that. As Joan said, Vale is subtle.” Tobias clamped a hand under her arm. “Come, there is nothing more we can do at the moment and I find myself in need of some fresh air.”

  “It is a bit stuffy in here, is it not?”

  She allowed him to steer her toward the French doors that opened onto the terrace. They walked out into the cool of the spring night.

  Tobias did not stop at the low rock wall. He kept going, drawing her with him down the stone steps into the lantern-lit garden.

  They strolled along a path toward the darkened conservatory attached to the rear of the mansion. The windows of the large greenhouse glinted in the moonlight.

  Lavinia pondered the surprise and uncertainty that she had seen in Joan’s eyes when Vale had led her out onto t
he floor. There were very few things that could fluster Joan, but Vale’s invitation to dance had come close to achieving that rare state.

  “I wonder if perhaps you and Joan are both wrong about the reasons for Vale’s presence here tonight,” she said.

  “What the devil makes you think we might be wrong?”

  “It is simply that I gained the distinct impression that Vale’s goal was to dance with Joan, not to find out how our investigation was proceeding.”

  “Vale is an expert at concealing his goals. Joan is equally skilled at the business, if you ask me.”

  She blinked at the unmistakable thread of irritation in his voice. “You are annoyed.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are. I can sense it quite clearly. You are in an ill temper. What on earth is the matter? Are you irritated because Vale did not attempt to question us?”

  “No.”

  “Tobias, really, you are being very difficult.”

  He came to a halt in front of the conservatory and opened the glass-paned door.

  Lavinia hesitated when she saw that he intended to enter. “Do you think we should go inside?”

  “If the owner had wanted no one to enter, he would have seen to it that the door was kept locked.”

  “Well, I suppose—”

  He tugged her gently into the humid atmosphere and shut the door. The heavy scents of rich earth and growing things teased her senses. There was enough moonlight streaming through the myriad windows to reveal the ranks of palms, ferns, and other plants arrayed in neat rows. She smiled as the pleasant warmth enveloped her.

  “Isn’t this spectacular?” She surveyed the heavy foliage and started slowly down an aisle, pausing here and there to sample the fragrance of a flower. “I imagine that this is how it feels to stroll through a jungle. I trust we will not encounter any snakes or wild beasts.”

  Tobias fell into step beside her. “I would not depend on that if I were you.”

  “Your mood is not improving.” She stroked a long, glossy leaf.

  “Do not get too close to that.” Tobias pulled her back from the plant. “I do not recognize the species and there is no point taking chances.”

  She swung around, exasperated. “I have had quite enough of your surly mood. Tell me what is wrong, Tobias.”

  He looked at her, eyes dark and brooding in the moonlight. “If you must know, when I watched Vale lead Joan out onto the floor, I was suddenly overtaken with an overpowering desire to ask you to dance.”

  She could not have been more astonished if he had suddenly announced that he could fly.

  “You wished to dance with me?”

  “I don’t know what the bloody hell came over me.”

  “I see.”

  “I have never taken much interest in dancing,” he continued. “And with this damned leg of mine, that sort of exercise is entirely out of the question. I would make a complete fool of myself on the floor.”

  In the distance she could hear the muted strains of the waltz emanating from the ballroom. A deliciously exhilarated sensation swirled through her. She smiled at him in the shadows.

  “There is no one to see you make a fool of yourself in here,” she said softly.

  “Except you.”

  “Ah, but I am already well aware that you are not a fool, and there is nothing that you could say or do that would make you out to be one in my eyes.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. Then, very deliberately, he reached for her and drew her into his arms.

  And for the first time in their tumultuous acquaintance, they danced together.

  His steps were awkward and careful, as if he was afraid he would accidentally step on her toes or topple her to the floor of the greenhouse. But that did not matter, she thought. What mattered was that there was music in the distance and moonlight glinted on his dark hair. What mattered was that the air around them was heavy with the exotic fragrances of flowers that had come from far-off climes. What mattered was that she was in his arms and that time was standing still for a precious little eternity.

  It was a scene of metaphysical enchantment, a scene that could have come straight from the pages of one of her precious books of poetry.

  Tobias moved with her in a slow, measured tread down the aisle of tropical plants. She rested her head against his broad shoulder. The waltz was faerie music. The moonlight was liquid silver. The lush foliage that surrounded them was a magical garden.

  When they reached the small bower at the far end, he stopped and tightened his hold on her. He kissed the curve of her bare shoulder.

  “Tobias.”

  A delicious urgency swept through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and raised her mouth to meet his.

  His kiss left her breathless.

  He eased the tiny sleeves of her gown down her arms, drawing the low-cut bodice to her waist. His powerful, competent hands cradled her breasts with astonishing tenderness. She felt his thumbs brush across her nipples and shivered in response.

  He lowered himself onto the padded bower bench and pulled her down astride his thighs. His hands slid up her legs under the billowing satin folds of her gown. When he cupped her gently with his palm, her head fell back.

  He slid one finger along her cleft, resting it against the small, tight nubbin at the top. She breathed deeply and moved against his hand.

  He unfastened his trousers. She reached down and encircled him with her fingers. Her thumb glided across the broad, straining tip of his shaft.

  He groaned with fierce pleasure.

  “At times like this,” he muttered against her throat, “I cannot doubt your powers of mesmerism. You never fail to entrance me.”

  “I may be a trained mesmerist, but you, sir, are nothing less than a sorcerer.”

  The moonlight and the magic closed in around them.

  Thirteen

  IT WAS THE FIRST TIME SHE HAD DANCED SINCE Fielding’s death.

  Joan felt oddly bemused as Vale guided her through the sweeping turn.

  She had never thought to waltz with any man again, had never even dreamed that someday she might enjoy the music and the graceful patterns with anyone other than her beloved Fielding. Yet here she was, in the arms of one of his more dangerous friends, and it was intoxicating.

  “Your gown is exquisite, madam,” Vale said. “But I cannot help but notice that you still wear the colors of mourning, even though it has been a year since Fielding departed this world.”

  “I miss him,” she said quietly.

  “I understand. I miss him too. Fielding was my friend. But I must tell you that I do not believe that he would have wanted you to wear nothing but gray and black for the rest of your life.”

  She did not know what to say to that. The truth was that until quite recently she had not even thought about ending her period of mourning. She had had no desire to end it. Indeed, she knew that some part of her had anticipated wearing somber hues forever.

  But the certainty that she was doomed to live out her days in a state of melancholia had begun to abate in recent weeks. Lavinia and Tobias had broken through the dark trance in which she had been ensnared. They had found answers to the questions surrounding Fielding’s death, questions that had haunted her for months. In doing so, they had helped free her from a gloom that had seemed unrelenting.

  “We shall see,” she said.

  Vale smiled, obviously content for now with her response. He swept her into another long, gliding turn.

  He was, she thought, an excellent dancer. She relaxed and gave herself up to the glorious strains of the waltz and the sure strength of his arms.

  “You have acquired some interesting new companions,” Vale said after a while.

  The comment brought her back to the reality of the moment with a decided jolt. This was no pleasant dream. Vale did nothing without a reason. She must be on her guard.

  “You refer to Mrs. Lake and Mr. March, I believe,” she said smoothly. “They are, indeed, somewhat out
of the ordinary. But I find I enjoy their company.”

  He chuckled. “That is no doubt because you, madam, are very much out of the ordinary yourself.” He paused for another turn. “I know nothing of Mrs. Lake, but there are a number of rumors about March.”

  “You surprise me, sir. I would not have thought you the type to give credence to gossip.”

  “You know very well that I pay very close attention to certain types of gossip, just as Fielding did.”

  “What do the rumors say of Mr. March?” she asked.

  “Among other things, they tell me that he served as a spy during the war and that he continues to make a living in a rather unorthodox fashion.” Vale gave her a knowing look. “I believe he accepts commissions to conduct private investigations on behalf of persons who prefer to avoid Bow Street.”

  “A most unusual line of work.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But no doubt quite an interesting occupation.”

  Vale’s brows rose. “One hears that he and, presumably, his good friend Mrs. Lake are presently searching for a certain antiquity.”

  “Ah.”

  Vale looked amused. “What does that signify, madam?”

  “Merely the fact that you mention this relic implies that you too are looking for it, sir.”

  He sighed mockingly. “Subtlety is lost on you, madam. You know me too well.”

  “On the contrary, sir. I do not know you well at all. But when it comes to the matter of rare antiquities, I am acquainted with some of your tastes.”

  “Yes, of course. You and I and Fielding discussed the pleasures of collecting many times over the years, did we not?” He spun her into another turn. “I believe that you are something of an authority yourself.”

  “I do not claim any great expertise, but I admit that I learned many things about relics while listening to you and Fielding discuss and compare your acquisitions,” she said.

  “And of course, you have inherited Dove’s outstanding collection, have you not? Tell me, madam, do you intend to add to it?”

  Keep him guessing, she thought. Give nothing away.

  “If that is a subtle way of asking me whether or not I plan to acquire the Blue Medusa,” she said, “I cannot give you an answer as yet. I have not made up my mind.”