Don't Look Back by Amanda Quick
“Thank you, my dear.” Howard closed the study door behind him, but he did not sit down. Instead, he came to a halt in front of her desk and stood looking at her. “I was feeling quite restless this afternoon so I decided to take a walk.” He spread his hands. “The next thing I knew, I was standing at your front door.”
“I understand,” she said gently. “I expect you are anxious to know if Mr. March and I have made any progress in our inquiries.”
“I must admit the subject is foremost in my mind these days.” He removed his watch from his pocket and began to toy with it in an absent fashion. The gold fobs dangled and danced. “Tell me the truth, Lavinia. Do you really think you can find the bastard who murdered my Celeste?”
Tobias had told her that it was important to reassure the client as often as necessary, she reminded herself.
“We are making progress,” she said firmly. “Mr. March and I feel certain that we shall find her killer.”
“My dear Lavinia.” The watch fobs swayed in a steady rhythm. “What would I do without you?” Howard’s voice deepened and grew heavy. “My dear, dear friend. You and I have so much in common. So much to talk about. So much that we can explore together, my dear friend.”
The intent quality of his gaze and the gold fobs disturbed her. Surely he was not attempting to put her into a mesmeric trance in such a sly fashion. This was her dear friend Howard, after all. He would not seek to take advantage of her with his skills. The steady, relentless movement of the fobs was simply happenstance, not deliberate. This was her dear old family friend.
“Such a dear friend . . .”
Quite suddenly she knew that she needed to look away. The urge was strong, but when she tried to avert her eyes from the gold watch fobs, it proved surprisingly difficult. She raised her fingers to touch the silver pendant that she wore at her throat, and the unpleasant sensation eased.
Relieved, she studied the page of the journal that was open in front of her. “As it happens, I am glad you came by this afternoon, Howard. I have been going over some notes and I find I have a few more questions.”
“I will tell you anything I can, of course, my dear, dear friend.” His voice was as resonant as a large bell. “What is it you wish to know?”
“Forgive me for such a personal inquiry, but I must ask how you came to be aware that Celeste was having an affair.”
“How does a man know such a thing? I suppose it was a matter of small clues, most of which I chose to ignore at first. She began to go shopping more frequently and returned late, sometimes without any purchases to show for her efforts. There were days when she seemed too cheerful or excited or impatient for no apparent cause. What can I say? She acted the way a young woman in love acts.”
Lavinia looked up at that and found herself staring at the dangling watch fobs again. The effort required to look away this time left her feeling rather breathless.
“Does that answer your question, my dear, dear friend?”
She was imagining this, she thought. Howard was not trying to induce a trance. Perhaps she was becoming a victim of bad nerves.
Returning her attention to her notes, she pressed on determinedly. There was another question she wanted to ask. She had to work hard to remember it.
“The antiquity Celeste stole belonged to Lord Banks,” she said. “Have you ever met him?”
“No, my dear friend.”
The gold seals bobbed gently.
“Do you think that Celeste may have somehow contrived to meet him?”
“I don’t see how that would have been possible.” Howard frowned. “Unless she was acquainted with him before I met her.”
“I had not thought of that possibility.” She tapped the quill on the edge of the ink bottle a few times. “I wonder if that is how she came to know about the bracelet.”
Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . .
“I cannot answer that, my dear, dear friend. . . .”
She suddenly realized that the tip of the quill was striking the bottle in a pattern that matched the swaying movements of the dangling watch fobs. She stopped and hastily put down the pen.
“You are trying to establish the manner in which Celeste learned of the antiquity,” Howard said.
“Yes.” Lavinia closed the journal. This time when she raised her eyes, she avoided his gaze by focusing on a picture that hung on the wall across the room. She tried to appear pensive rather than rude.
There was a short pause. Then, with an almost inaudible sigh, Howard dropped the watch back into his pocket. He began to pace the study.
“I think that the most likely explanation is that her lover informed her of the whereabouts of the bracelet and its value,” he said.
“But if he knew those facts, why did he not steal it himself? Theft is a dangerous business. Why send her to do the deed?”
“I’ll tell you why. The bloody bastard was too cowardly to take the risk of entering the mansion.” Howard’s voice throbbed with fierce emotion. He closed one hand into a fist at his side. “He preferred to force my Celeste to take such risks. He used her and then he murdered her.”
“I’m sorry, Howard. I know this is difficult for you.”
“Forgive me. You are only attempting to help, but when I think about the monster who strangled her I cannot contain my feelings.”
“I understand.”
“Please give me a moment to compose myself.” Howard turned away abruptly and went to look at the spines of the books on a nearby shelf.
After a few seconds he smiled wistfully. “You have not lost your taste for poetry, I see. You were always very fond of it, as I recall.”
It was a great relief not to have to avoid his eyes, she thought. “Emeline says it is a sign that I am a romantic at heart.”
“You have not had much opportunity for romance in your life, have you, my dear?” His voice was low, freighted with understanding and deep sympathy.
“I would not say that.” She tried to keep her own voice light. “My husband was a poet, if you will recall. I thought him wonderfully romantic.”
“I remember meeting him at your wedding.” Howard turned around unexpectedly, trapping her with his eyes. “I did not think that he was the right man for you, but it was not my place to speak of such matters. You seemed so happy at the time.”
“I was happy. For a while.” Instinctively, she touched the silver pendant again. The trapped feeling dissipated once more.
“I was sorry to learn of his untimely death from fever. I know it must have been very difficult for you, following, as it did, so soon in the wake of the loss of your parents.”
“Howard, I think it would be best if we returned to the subject of Celeste’s murder. We really do not have time to reminisce.”
“Do you miss your career as a mesmerist, my dear?” he asked in a strangely gentle tone. “You displayed such a gift for the science while still in the schoolroom. Quite astounding, actually. I cannot but assume that your talents have only grown stronger with the years. May I ask what made you abandon the profession?”
“I really don’t think this is the time or place to—”
She broke off at the sound of familiar bootsteps in the hall. A few seconds later the study door opened abruptly. Tobias glanced at her briefly and then immediately switched his attention to Howard.
“I beg your pardon if I am interrupting a private conversation,” he said.
His tone of voice made it quite clear that he was not the least bit sorry, Lavinia thought. In fact, unless she was sorely mistaken, he was furious.
“Not at all,” Howard said smoothly. “We were discussing the inquiry.”
“I see.” Tobias looked at Lavinia. “I believe we have an appointment.”
“Really? I do not seem to recall—” Something in his expression made her swallow the rest of her words. She summoned what she hoped was a professional sort of smile. It was never a good idea to let the client know that there might be some friction between oneself and on
Howard hesitated, his gaze switching from Tobias to her and back again. For a second she thought he might prove stubborn. But in the end he inclined his head in a graceful nod.
“Yes, of course.” He gave Tobias an unreadable stare as he went through the opening into the hall. “I shall hope for a report of positive results at your earliest convenience.”
Tobias said nothing until the door in the front hall opened and closed. Only then did he turn back to Lavinia. He crossed the study, planted his hands on top of her desk, and fixed her with an expression that sent a shiver clear to her bones.
“I want your word,” he said in a voice that was as chilling as his expression, “that you will never again allow yourself to be closeted alone with Hudson.”
“I beg your pardon? What on earth—” She broke off on a shocked gasp when he rounded the desk and plucked her out of her chair. “How dare you, sir. Put me down at once.”
“Your word, Lavinia.”
“Why should I make such an outlandish promise?” she sputtered. “You know very well that Howard is an old friend.” An old, dear friend.
“I do not trust him alone with you.”
“I assure you, he is a gentleman.”
“He may be a killer.”
“I do not believe that for one moment.”
“Even if he did not murder his wife, I do not like the way he looks at you.”
She parted her lips to offer another defense of Howard. But the memory of how strangely uneasy she had felt a few minutes earlier when Howard had pinned her with his fathomless gaze stopped the words in her throat. Truth be told, she thought, she did not particularly want to be alone with Howard again, even though she was not sure why.
“Promise me, Lavinia.”
“Oh, very well,” she muttered ungraciously. “If it will make you set me down on my feet and cease acting in this ridiculous fashion, I shall give you my word. Any future conversations with Howard will be conducted with someone else present. Does that satisfy you?”
“Not entirely. The only thing that would truly satisfy me would be for you to drop this case and never come in contact with Hudson again. But I know that is not going to happen, so, for now, I will accept your word that you will not be private with him.”
“Yes, yes, you have it.”
He lowered her to her feet.
“Enough of this nonsense.” She fussed with her skirts and patted her hair. “We have work to do.”
He watched her with a dark, brooding expression.
“I learned some very interesting facts this afternoon from Crackenburne,” he said. “It seems that those two gentlemen in Bath whose names Celeste gave us as references are both missing valuable items of jewelry.”
Lavinia frowned. “Antiquities?”
“No. At least there was nothing to indicate that they were old. Merely expensive. A pair of diamond earrings and a gemstone necklace.”
“Good heavens.” She sank slowly back down onto her chair. “Celeste really was a jewel thief. For some reason she was inspired to try her hand at stealing antiquities. I wonder why.”
“An excellent question since, in my experience, the more professional class of thieves tends to specialize in particular types of valuables. But that is not important at the moment. What is crucial is that this information gives us another way of looking at the matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suspect that Hudson and his wife worked as partners in the family business, as it were.”
She was outraged. “What’s this? Are you accusing Howard of being a jewel thief?”
“I think it very likely, yes.”
“First you label him a murderer and now you call him a thief. It is quite outrageous. Allow me to tell you, sir, that you are allowing your personal feelings in this matter to influence your judgment.”
“But if I am right,” he said softly, “if Celeste and Howard Hudson were partners in theft, we have yet another motive for murder here.”
“A falling-out among thieves? You think Howard killed her not because she betrayed him with another man but because she attempted to make off with the antiquity? Rubbish.” Lavinia gave a ladylike sniff. “I refuse to countenance the possibility that Howard murdered his wife.”
Tobias said nothing. He just looked at her for a long moment.
“Well?” She frowned. “What is it?”
“I cannot help but notice that you are not rushing to defend Hudson from the charge of theft.”
She sighed and sank deeper into her chair. “You’re certain about the stolen jewelry in Bath?”
“As certain as I can be without proof. But Crackenburne’s information is almost always reliable.”
She picked up her pen and fiddled with it absently while she forced herself to contemplate the facts from a dispassionate distance. “I will admit that if Celeste was such an active thief, it is highly unlikely that Howard did not, at the very least, suspect some-thing.”
“I think it far more probable that he was involved in the thefts.”
“If that is so, why would he take the risk of hiring us?”
“He did not want to hire us. He wanted to hire you. And he did so because the Medusa bracelet is missing and he wants to find it.” Tobias frowned. “In any event, he may not believe that he is taking much of a risk.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Lavinia. He didn’t go to Bow Street to find a detective, did he? He came to you, an old acquaintance who remembers him fondly, a dear friend from the past who would never for a moment consider the possibility that he might be guilty of either murder or theft.”
She winced and placed the pen very precisely down on the blotter. “I’m still not convinced. It is entirely possible that there are other explanations for the murder and the theft. Poor Howard.”
“Poor Howard, indeed.” Tobias looked amused. “Just his bloody luck that when he hired you, he got me in the bargain.”
Nineteen
HIS DARK MOOD DID NOT LIFT WHEN TOBIAS walked into his own house a short while later and found Anthony sprawled on a chair in the study. On the table beside his brother-in-law sat three quarters of a cold salmon-and-potato pie, which was rapidly disappearing into Anthony’s mouth.
“I trust you are here because you have some useful information for me.” Tobias went around the corner of his desk and lowered himself into the chair. “Did you find the valet?”
“Not yet.” Anthony swallowed a large bite of the pie and put aside the dish and fork. He regarded the tips of his gleaming boots. “One of the neighbors said Fitch has been spending a lot of time in the hells since he was let go from his post. I’ll try again in the morning.”
“Time is of the essence here, in case you haven’t noticed.” Tobias tapped one finger against the blotter. “I want him found as soon as possible.”
“It’s not that easy. He never seems to go home, and I don’t even know what the man looks like.”
“Use some initiative. Ask one of his acquaintances for a description. Make inquiries of the street boys. Discover which hells he favors. Damnation, Tony, you’re the one who demanded to play assistant detective. I suggest you start practicing your new craft.”
“You know I’ve been busy interviewing the prostitutes who work near the inn where Oscar Pelling is staying.”
Tobias frowned. “Any luck there?”
“No.”
“In other words, you haven’t made any progress at all on either front, have you? I suggest you return to your inquiries. It would no doubt be more productive than helping yourself to the contents of Whitby’s pantry.”
“I just stopped by for a quick bite.” Anthony glared at him morosely from the depths of the chair. “What the devil is the matter with you? Have another one of your lively little quarrels w
“My relationship with Lavinia is none of your bloody business.”
“Of course it isn’t. I don’t know what came over me.”
Tobias slammed the flat of his hand against the blotter. “I walked into her study a short time ago and found her alone with Hudson.”
“Ah.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing in particular. Just that I now comprehend the reason for your foul temper.” Anthony raised his brows. “You don’t much care for your client, do you?”
“I do not trust the man. He’s a practicing mesmerist who may well have murdered his own wife. I’m certain that he’s hatching some dark scheme that involves Lavinia. And she refuses to see the danger.”
“Want some advice?”
“No, thank you. Your advice on how to charm a lady with compliments has proven a resounding failure.”
Anthony cleared his throat. “Very well, then, how about giving me some advice?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I came here this afternoon because I wanted to consult with an older, wiser man who has had some experience of the world and who can assist me in resolving a particularly confounding problem that I now find myself confronting.”
“Damnation, you gave me your word you would not go into the hells. If you have got yourself into dun territory, you can bloody well finance your own way out.”
“Calm yourself, sir. I haven’t lost any money at the gaming tables. In the event that it has escaped your attention, I’ve been too busy pursuing inquiries for my new employer to spare any time for cards or dice.”
It dawned on Tobias that he had never heard this particular edge in Anthony’s voice.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
“Emeline.”
“Damn, I was afraid of this.” Tobias leaned back in his chair, stacked the heels of his boots on the corner of the desk, and steepled his fingers. “Something happened yesterday after you left Banks’s mansion, did it not?”