Don't Look Back

  She refused to admit to herself that he could be intimidating, but there was no getting around the fact that he was quite capable of exhibiting a formidable strength of will and a certain forcefulness of mind that would make any prudent person cautious.

  Here in her study, enthroned behind the big desk, she was in command, she told herself. Most of the time.

  “I will be blunt.” He gripped the edge of the mantel and used it to lower himself down into a crouch in front of the hearth. “I don’t trust Hudson.”

  She watched him light the fire, aware that he always favored his left leg, even on good days, when he undertook the small task. She opened her mouth to inquire about the old wound but managed to swallow the words before they could escape. He would not thank her for the sympathy, especially not while he was in this mood.

  She folded her hands on top of the desk. “You have allowed your negative feelings concerning mesmerists in general to influence your opinion of Howard. It is really very closed-minded of you, sir.”

  He concentrated on the flames he had coaxed forth. “Hudson did not tell us the whole truth.”

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling in silent entreaty. There was no help from above, however.

  “Yes, yes,” she said, not bothering to conceal her impatience. “I am very well aware that, in your professional opinion, the client always lies, but I do not see why you should apply that narrow and somewhat misguided theory to Howard. He is obviously a desperate and distraught man whose only wish is to find his wife’s killer.”

  “I do not think that we can assume for one moment that he wants her murderer found.”

  She stared at him, shocked. “What on earth do you mean? Of course he wants the villain discovered.”

  “I think it is far more likely that what Hudson wants is the missing bracelet.”

  Her first thought was that she had not heard him aright. “I beg your pardon? Are you saying that you do not believe that Howard wants his wife’s killer found?”

  “I do not doubt but that he wants us to find her lover.” Tobias tightened his grip on the mantel and levered himself upright. “Because he believes that the lover has the bracelet.”

  “Tobias, you are not making sense. The lover is also the murderer.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  He went to the window and stood looking into the tiny garden behind the house. “In my professional opinion, I believe that it is quite likely that Dr. Howard Hudson is the person who murdered Celeste.”

  She was stunned by the certainty of his words. It took her a few seconds to find her voice.

  “Are you mad, sir?” she finally managed in a whisper.

  “I know that you consider him an old friend of the family. But put aside your personal feelings and consider another possible version of events.”

  “What version is that?”

  “Mine.” Tobias did not turn around. “It goes like this. Hudson learns that his much younger and extremely attractive wife has betrayed him with another man. He cannot rest until he knows the identity of her lover. One evening he makes an excuse to attend a demonstration of mesmerism given by a competitor, but he leaves early. He returns to the house and follows his wife to her rendezvous. He finds her alone, perhaps waiting for her lover. In a rage, he confronts her. There is a terrible quarrel. He strangles her with his own cravat.”

  She drew a deep breath. “What of the lover?”

  Tobias shrugged. “Perhaps he arrives at the scene in the midst of the quarrel, realizes that something has gone wrong, and flees before Hudson sees him. Perhaps he never shows up at all.”

  “But why would Howard murder Celeste? He loved her.”

  “We both know that love can turn to hate in a crucible that is heated with the fires of betrayal and rage.”

  She started to argue the point, but the memories of what she had learned in the course of their last case made her hesitate.

  The tall clock ticked in the silence.

  “I understand your concerns,” she said at last. “Mind you, I do not believe for a moment that Howard killed Celeste, but I can see where a professional investigator who did not know him personally might consider the possibility.”

  “And I can comprehend your desire to believe that Hudson is honest and sincere. I know how much it means to you to reestablish your acquaintance with him. He is, after all, someone whom your parents considered a friend. He shares some of your own memories of happier days. He reminds you of a time when you were not so alone in the world.”

  Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that he had a point. It had been good to see her old family friend again, in large part because Howard was a link to her past. His presence brought back lingering traces of the warmth and the quiet security of the close-knit family life she had known when her parents had been alive. The world had seemed so much simpler in those days. The future had looked rosy and bright and free of dark clouds.

  “It was certainly good to see Howard again after all these years,” she said briskly. “But I do not think that the pleasure of renewing our acquaintance has blinded me to the facts. I know Howard better than you do, Tobias. He was never a man given to rages or fits of strong passion. Indeed, he was always a model of self-control. His is a scholarly nature. I never saw him exhibit any inclination toward violence.”

  “You knew him as a visitor in your parents’ home. In my experience, people are generally on their best behavior under such circumstances.” He did not take his eyes off the small garden. “You cannot possibly know his innermost thoughts. You cannot know him the way a wife would have known him.”

  She thought about that. “You have logic on your side.”

  He looked at her over his shoulder, one brow raised in mocking surprise. “You astound me, madam. I did not expect you to accept my opinions so readily.”

  “I did not say that I accepted them. In point of fact I disagree with them entirely. But I can now comprehend why you hold those views. Let us get to the meat of the matter. Would you prefer not to assist me in solving this case, Tobias?”

  “Bloody hell.”

  He swung around with a suddenness that caused her to sit back very quickly in her chair.

  “The only way I would abandon this investigation,” he said, “would be if I could convince you to give it up. And I can see that is highly unlikely.”

  “Impossible, actually.”

  He covered the small space in less than a couple of heartbeats, leaned across the desk, and planted his big hands on top of some papers that cluttered the surface.

  “Let us have one thing understood between us, Lavinia. I have no intention of allowing you to make inquiries on your own into a situation that involves murder.”

  “It is not your place to determine the sort of cases I choose to investigate.”

  “Damnation, if you think that I will let you risk your neck—”

  “That is quite enough, sir.” She shot to her feet. “You have always had the most annoying tendency to issue orders, but you have grown decidedly worse in that regard since the business of the waxwork murders. Indeed, you have become extremely overbearing of late, and I must tell you that it is not an attractive quality in a man.”

  “I am not overbearing,” he said through his teeth.

  “Yes, you are. Indeed, it is no doubt such a natural condition for you that you do not even notice when you slip into that mode.”

  “I am merely attempting to instill some common sense into this situation.”

  “You are attempting to give me orders and I do not like it. Hear me well, sir.” She leaned forward a little, putting her face close to his. “We are either equal partners in this venture or else I shall solve the case on my own. The choice is yours.”

  “You are, without a doubt, the most infuriatingly stubborn, willful woman I have ever met.”

  “And you, sir, are the most arrogant, dictatorial man of my acquaintance.”

  They glared at each other across the width of the desk
for a long moment.

  “Hell’s teeth.” Tobias straightened abruptly. An edgy expression simmered in his eyes. “You leave me no alternative. I am not about to let you take this case on your own.”

  She concealed a small sigh of relief. The unfortunate truth was that she had had only limited experience investigating murder. One case of it, to be precise, hardly sufficient to make her an authority in the field. She had a great deal yet to learn about her new profession, and Tobias was the only one who could instruct her in the fine points.

  “It is settled, then,” she said. “We are agreed that we will be partners in this affair.”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent.” She sat down quickly. “I believe the first step is to make a plan, is it not? As I recall, you are very fond of plans.”

  He did not move. “I am. I only wish that I had a plan that enabled me to deal more effectively with you, Lavinia.”

  She gave him a cool smile. “My, my. And here it was not long ago that you were holding me up as a paragon of female behavior suitable for Emeline to emulate.”

  “I cannot think what made me say such a thing. I must have taken temporary leave of my senses.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I find that happens frequently when I am in your vicinity.”

  She chose to ignore that. “About our plan, sir. It occurs to me that we must approach this puzzle from several different angles.”

  He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “You are right. There is the antiquity itself to be investigated. We must also try to discover the identity of the owner, the person from whom it was stolen.”

  “I have had some experience with the antiquities trade. I am acquainted with a number of persons who deal in relics. Rumors of the theft of an item as unusual as the Blue Medusa will no doubt be rampant by now. Why don’t I make the inquiries in that direction?”

  “Very well. You see to the legitimate shops and dealers. I will deal with the other sort.” He started to pace. “Smiling Jack has any number of contacts among the criminal class. He will likely know this mysterious person who calls himself Mr. Nightingale. I shall ask him to arrange a meeting.”

  This was, she decided, the perfect opportunity to bring up a matter that she had been mulling over for several days. She cleared her throat delicately.

  “Now that you raise the subject of your criminal connections,” she murmured, “I may as well tell you that I have decided that it would be very helpful for me to become acquainted with your friend Smiling Jack.”

  “Out of the question. One does not take a lady into the Gryphon.”

  She had anticipated resistance, she reminded herself. “I could go in disguise, as you do, sir.”

  “And just how do you plan to disguise yourself?” His mouth curved grimly. “As a tavern wench?”

  “Why not?”

  “Absolutely not.” He stopped smiling and gave her a narrow-eyed look. “I have absolutely no intention of introducing you to Smiling Jack.”

  “But I might need his connections myself one day. Only consider how efficient it would be if we were both able to contact him. It would not be necessary for you to be inconvenienced whenever the need to consult with him arose.”

  “Save your breath, Lavinia. There will be no introductions.” He must have noticed her mouth opening again to further her argument, because he immediately raised his hand for silence. “I suggest we get back to business. If you are determined to pursue this new venture, we don’t have time for one of our more spirited discussions.”

  “You are attempting to change the subject, sir.”

  “Not attempting, madam, I am changing it.”

  Much as she disliked admitting it, he was right. They did not have time for a quarrel. She subsided reluctantly, propped her elbows on the desk, and rested her chin on the heels of her palms.

  “We could use some assistance,” she mused. “I hesitate to say this, but I feel obliged to point out that this case provides both of us with an ideal opportunity to give our would-be apprentices a taste of this work.”

  Tobias came to a halt in front of her desk and met her eyes. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but she was quite certain she knew precisely what he was thinking. This deep sense of responsibility they had each assumed for the younger people who had been left in their care was something they had in common, she thought.

  She smiled wryly. “You are no more eager to teach Anthony your trade than I am to instruct Emeline in the business, are you?”

  He exhaled deeply. “This is not the career Ann would have chosen for him.”

  “But it was never Ann’s decision to make, was it?” she said gently. “It is Anthony’s choice.”

  “The same can be said of you and Emeline. Her choice of a profession is not yours to make.”

  “I know. It is just that I had hoped to establish her in the sort of life her parents wanted her to have. They naturally wished to see her safely and securely wed.” She frowned. “Although I must admit that the sight of Oscar Pelling on the street the other day was a sad reminder that marriage is not always a safe, secure institution for a woman.”

  Tobias fixed her with a steady look. He said nothing.

  His unwavering gaze made her uncomfortable for some reason. “Well, that is neither here nor there, is it?” She sat forward determinedly and pushed aside the piece of paper on which she had been making notes for the advertisement she planned to write. She reached for a pen and a fresh sheet of foolscap. “Please sit down, sir. It will be helpful if we outline our plan, will it not?”

  “Perhaps.” He sat down across from her. “In addition to determining the identity of the bracelet’s owner, we need to learn more about Celeste Hudson.”

  She tapped the tip of the quill against the inkwell. “We can ask Howard some questions.”

  “No offense, Lavinia, but I’m not at all certain one could rely upon his answers.”

  “Are you implying that he would lie about her? Why would he do that?”

  “If he is not a murderer, as you insist, then the best that can be said is that he was blind to his wife’s true nature.”

  “You may be right on that last point,” she said, “but he would certainly not be unique, would he?”

  “No,” Tobias admitted. “I doubt if most of the men in the ton know their wives any better. And vice versa.”

  “How do you propose to learn more about Celeste, in that case?”

  He smiled thinly. “I shall do precisely what you suggested one ought to do when one sets about selecting a competent mesmerist or investigator. I shall consult her references.”

  “What references?” She suddenly recalled the conversation in the street two days earlier. “Oh, you mean the ones she mentioned in Bath? Lord Gunning and Lord Northampton?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you acquainted with them?”

  “No. But Crackenburne will no doubt be familiar with them. If he is not, he will know someone who is acquainted with them.”

  “That reminds me. You have mentioned Lord Crackenburne on several occasions. He seems to be very useful to you.”

  “He knows virtually every gentleman in Society and a sizable number of those who hang around the fringes.”

  “I should like to make his acquaintance.” She gave him her sweetest smile. “Surely you can have no objection to introducing me to him. As you just pointed out, he is a gentleman.”

  “I have no objection,” Tobias said. “But it is unlikely to happen.”

  She stopped smiling. “Why not?”

  “Since the death of his wife, Crackenburne hardly ever leaves his club. Which is what makes him so useful, of course. He hears rumors and gossip before anyone else does.”

  She glared. “He must go home sometime.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “Really, Tobias, a man cannot live at his club.”

  “He can if he wishes. A club is a gentleman’s home away from home.”

  “But—”

  H
e glanced pointedly at the tall clock. “I do not believe that we have time for any more digressions, do you?”

  She felt her jaw tighten but she knew that he was right. Reluctantly, she returned her attention to the piece of paper in front of her.

  “Very well, sir,” she said. “If you insist upon being rude.”

  “Of course I insist upon being rude. I have a talent for it.” He sat forward and glanced absently at one of the papers she had moved aside. His eyes narrowed in a faintly puzzled expression.

  “What’s this?” he said, reading aloud. “Superior and exclusive services provided to persons of quality who wish to commission private inquiries?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, I believe I mentioned that I intend to put a notice of my professional services into the papers. I am making a list of striking words and phrases that appear in advertisements.” She reached for the sheet of paper he was examining. “That reminds me, there was a particularly effective bit of writing in this morning’s paper. I had best jot it down before I forget it.”

  He frowned at what she had written on the sheet of foolscap. “I thought I made it clear that I do not recommend putting an advertisement in the papers. You will likely attract all sorts of odd clients. In our line we are better off relying upon word of mouth.”

  “You are free to operate your business in an old-fashioned manner if you wish, but I am determined to try a more modern approach to obtaining clients. One must do something to attract attention.”

  He angled his head to read another line. “Confidential and effective devices for gentlemen of intrigue?”

  She studied the words with a sense of satisfaction. “I thought it had a very attractive ring to it. I especially like the phrase gentlemen of intrigue. It is very . . . well, intriguing, don’t you think?”

  “Very intriguing, indeed.”

  “Naturally, I do not wish to imply that I provide services only for gentlemen of intrigue.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I want to appeal to ladies also. I am thinking of substituting the phrase persons of intrigue.” She paused as another notion occurred to her. “How does this sound? Private and confidential services provided for ladies and gentlemen of intrigue.”