Don't Look Back by Amanda Quick

The watch fobs went back to their steady, rhythmic arcs.

  “They were clients of yours in Bath, I believe.”

  “Yes. Gunning visited me for a time because he experienced difficulty sleeping. Northampton’s problem centered on his inability to sustain an erection.” Howard’s voice grew more resonant. The watch fobs continued to swing. “Both are common complaints among men of their years. I fail to see how either of those two cases affects this situation.”

  The motion of the watch fobs was becoming annoying, Tobias thought.

  “Both men were victims of a jewel thief sometime after they came to you for treatments,” he said.

  “I don’t understand. Surely you are not implying that my Celeste had anything to do with their losses? How dare you, sir?” Howard’s voice did not tighten with outrage as he came to the defense of his wife’s reputation. If anything, it only reverberated more strongly and deeply. “I told you, she was a beautiful, impulsive woman, but she was no thief, sir.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “A beautiful, impulsive woman,” Howard repeated gently. The gleaming fobs swung like pendulums. “Not a thief. Eyes as bright as gold. As golden in the light as these little balls dangling from my watch. Look at the balls, March. Golden and bright and lovely in the light. It is very easy to look at them. Very hard to look away.”

  “Save your energy, Hudson.” He smiled thinly. “I am in no mood to be put into a trance.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Celeste’s criminal talents do not interest me. What does interest me, Hudson, is the fact that it is quite probable that you are also a thief.”

  “Me.” Howard’s voice abruptly hardened. The watch fobs ceased swinging. “How dare you accuse me of having committed theft?”

  “I cannot prove it, of course.”

  “You certainly cannot.”

  “But here is what I think happened.” Tobias clasped his hands behind his back and started to prowl the room. “You worked alone for years. However, I suspect you had one or two close brushes with the law at some point and decided it might be wise to disappear for a while. So you sailed to America. You did rather well for yourself there and remained for some time. But eventually you chose to come back to England. You returned and settled in Bath.”

  “This is utter conjecture on your part.”

  “Indeed. Utter conjecture is something that I do very well. As I was saying, you set up in business in Bath. And there you met Celeste, a lady whose principles mirrored your own.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Merely that neither of you had any difficulty with the notion of pursuing a life of crime.”

  “I could call you out for that, sir.”

  “You could, but you won’t,” Tobias said. He halted at the far end of the room and looked at Howard. “You know very well that I am likely the better shot, and in any event, the gossip would be bad for your business.”

  “How dare you.”

  “As I was saying, you and Celeste formed a team. You selected the victims, no doubt favoring wealthy, aging gentlemen well into their dotage, who would be especially vulnerable to Celeste’s charms. She used her wiles to convince them to consult you for therapy. Once you had them in your treatment room, you employed your mesmeric skills to manipulate them into giving you some valuable from their personal collections. Afterward they remembered nothing of the experience, of course, thanks to the instructions you gave them while they were entranced.”

  Howard composed himself. He stood, unmoving, behind his desk and watched Tobias with a stare that would have done credit to Medusa.

  “You can prove none of this,” he said.

  “What went wrong this time?”

  “You must be mad, sir. Perhaps you should seek professional help.”

  “This business with the artifact was different from the start,” Tobias said. “The decision to steal Banks’s relic was a change of pace for you. At first glance, it makes no sense. Your specialty is valuable jewelry, not antiquities. Artifacts such as the Medusa bracelet have a limited market. It certainly wouldn’t be as easy to get rid of as a pair of diamond earrings or a pearl-and-emerald necklace.”

  Howard said nothing. He just stood there in the shadows, an angry snake watching for an opening.

  Tobias casually picked up the aged, leather-bound book he had noticed earlier.

  “I can think of only two possible reasons why you would have elected to steal the Medusa bracelet,” he continued. “The first is that you knew for certain that you could sell it to a particular collector; someone whom you had good reason to believe would pay well for it.”

  “You are lost in your own fantasies, March.”

  Tobias opened the cracked leather binding of the book he had taken down from the shelf and read the title page.

  Discourse on Certain Secret Rituals and Practices of the Ancients in British-Roman Times

  “There is a second possibility.” He closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “And, while I admit it lacks the merit of sound logic, in some ways it strikes me as even more likely than the notion of a commissioned theft.”

  Hudson’s mouth twisted in disdain. “What is the second possibility?”

  “That you are the one who has gone mad,” Tobias said softly. “The second possibility is that you actually put some credence in the legend of the Medusa bracelet. Is that why you set out to steal the damned thing? Because you convinced yourself that the Medusa head cameo could augment your own mesmeric powers?”

  Hudson did not move so much as an eyelash.

  “I have no notion of what you are talking about.”

  Tobias motioned in the direction of the ancient book. “You stumbled across some mention of the Blue Medusa and its supposed powers, perhaps in that very volume. In any event, you became obsessed with the damned thing. You told Celeste that it would be your next acquisition, and the two of you removed to London and concocted a plan to obtain it.”

  “You are a fool, March.”

  “But Celeste was a woman of the world who long ago learned to look after her own interests. She no doubt sensed that this theft you now planned held only risk and no profit. Perhaps she feared that you were slipping into madness.”

  “Leave Celeste out of this.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot do that. What really happened between the two of you the night she died, Hudson? At first I assumed that you killed her because she betrayed you with another man. Then I began to wonder if the murder was simply the result of a falling-out among thieves. But now I’m starting to think that you murdered her because she believed you were no longer quite sane and wanted to end the partnership.”

  Howard gripped the back of his desk chair so fiercely that his knuckles whitened. “Damn your eyes, March, I did not murder Celeste.”

  Tobias shrugged. “I will admit that there are still a number of unanswered questions. I haven’t yet deduced what happened to the bracelet, for instance. Obviously you don’t know where it is either. That is the real reason you hired Lavinia, isn’t it? Not to find the killer. You wanted her to find the damned bracelet.”

  “You amaze me, sir.” Howard’s laugh was harsh, completely lacking in its former mellifluous tones. “I thought you had all the answers.”

  “Only some of them at the moment.” Tobias started toward the door. “But rest assured, I will soon have the rest.”

  “Wait, damn you. Is Lavinia aware of your wild speculations?”

  “Not all of them.” Tobias opened the door. “Not yet.”

  “You would do well not to tell her your crazed notions. She will never believe you. She has known me far longer than she has known you, March. I am an old friend of the family. If you force her to choose between us, she will side with me. You may depend upon it.”

  “Speaking of Lavinia,” Tobias said, “this is probably as convenient an opportunity as any to give you some advice.” r />
  “I don’t want any of your damned advice.”

  “Then consider this a warning, instead. Do not think for one moment that I will allow you to use Lavinia to replace Celeste.”

  “Do you believe that she is so enamored of you that she would never cast you aside in favor of me?”

  “No,” Tobias said. “But I do know this much: If you were to succeed in taking Lavinia away, you may be certain that you would not live long enough to savor your victory.”

  He walked out the door and closed it very gently and deliberately.

  Twenty-four

  HE DID NOT PAUSE TO CONSIDER HIS DESTINATION. There was only one place he wanted to be at that moment. He hailed a passing hackney and ordered the coachman to take him to the little house in Claremont Lane.

  His leg gave a few protesting twinges when he alighted, but he ignored them and went up the steps to bang the brass knocker.

  There was no response.

  He was not in the best of moods, and the silence did nothing to enhance his temper. On his way out after breakfast he had informed Mrs. Chilton that he would return this afternoon around three.

  It occurred to him that lately he had begun to think of Lavinia’s little house as his home away from home. Rather like his club. He had even taken to issuing instructions to Mrs. Chilton just as he did to Whitby.

  He knew that he had no right to be annoyed when those instructions were not carried out. Nevertheless, Mrs. Chilton had implied that Lavinia would be home this afternoon. Yet no one came to answer the door.

  He went back down the steps into the street and studied the upstairs windows. The drapes were pulled shut. In his experience, Lavinia kept all of the household curtains open during the day. She liked the light.

  A chill of unease drifted through him. It did not seem right that the house should be entirely empty at this hour. Perhaps some last-minute shopping had taken Emeline and Lavinia out, but where was Mrs. Chilton?

  This was more than a little odd. He spent so much time in this house these days that he knew Mrs. Chilton’s schedule as well as he knew Whitby’s. This was not the day she took the afternoon off to see her sister.

  The sense of unease darkened in him. He tried the front doorknob, expecting to find it locked.

  It twisted easily in his hand.

  Memories of how the door at Tredlow’s shop had opened just as smoothly yesterday chilled him.

  Quietly, he let himself into the front hall and closed the door. He stood for a moment, testing the quality of the silence. It told him nothing.

  He reached down into his boot and found the small knife he kept in the hidden sheath. Gripping it in his right hand, he went to the door of the parlor. The room was empty.

  He continued down the hall to Lavinia’s study.

  It, too, was empty.

  So was the kitchen.

  He suppressed the fear that threatened to claw at his insides and started up the stairs, careful to make no sound on the treads.

  At the top of the staircase he paused. This was the first time he had ever been up here, he realized. He did not know his way around on this floor.

  He studied the doors that opened off the hallway and recalled that Lavinia had once mentioned that her bedchamber had windows that faced the street.

  He approached it cautiously, glancing into the other rooms he passed along the way. There was no sign of a disturbance, he noted with some relief, nothing to indicate that an intruder had been here.

  A soft rustling came from the bedchamber he had decided belonged to Lavinia. He moved to the wall and flattened himself against it, listening intently.

  The slight noise came again. Someone was moving about in that chamber.

  Stealthily, he made his way to the edge of the door and looked into the room at an angle. A handsome screen covered in panels decorated with scenes of Roman gardens stood in his line of sight. It concealed whoever was on the other side, but he could hear the soft crackle of a fire on the hearth and a soft splash.

  An elegantly arched bare foot appeared beneath the bottom edge of one of the screen panels. It settled on a towel that had been spread on the floor. There was another little splash and a second foot materialized.

  The cold tension inside him evaporated. It was immediately replaced by another kind of awareness. He bent slightly to sheath the knife, straightened, and went through the partially open door.

  “I would be delighted to assist you with your bath, madam,” he said.

  There was a soft gasp from the other side of the screen.

  “Tobias?” Lavinia peeked around the edge of one of the panels, a thick towel clutched to her breasts. Her eyes widened at the sight of him standing in her bedchamber. “Good heavens. What are you doing here?”

  He looked at her and felt his blood heat. Her hair was pinned up into a knot on top of her head. Wispy tendrils trailed down the length of her bare neck. Her face was flushed and rosy from the combination of the warm water and the flames of the fire. The voluminous folds of the towel she grasped draped gracefully to her small ankles.

  “I’m certain that there is something poetic and romantical that I ought to say at this moment,” he muttered. “But I’m damned if I know what it is.”

  He left the doorway and crossed the room to where she stood at the edge of the screen. She smiled at him, her eyes as brilliant as the flames on the hearth.

  “I’m wet,” she warned him when he reached for her.

  “That is extremely fortunate for both of us.” He picked her up and started toward the bed. “Because I am aching to sink myself into you.”

  Her husky laugh was the most alluring music he had ever heard.

  He put her down on the bed and took hold of the towel that veiled her body. Gently, he tugged it aside and tossed it onto the floor. He had thought himself already fully aroused, but the heavy excitement he was feeling became almost painful at the sight of her gently curved breasts and the triangle of tight curls at the apex of her thighs.

  He reached down and curved his hand around her hip. She shivered at his touch and his mouth went dry. This was, he realized, the first time he had ever experienced the luxury of seeing her entirely nude. The very nature of their affair limited such opportunities. All of their previous trysts had been hurried encounters conducted in locales that did not allow for complete disrobing.

  He knew from the way she watched him strip off his shirt, trousers, and boots that she was thinking the same thing.

  “Do you realize,” he whispered thickly when he came down on top of her, “that this is the first time we have ever shared a bed together?”

  “That thought did occur to me, yes.”

  “I trust you will not find the experience too dull or boring. I know how fond you are of exotic locales and a touch of novelty when it comes to this sort of thing.”

  She smiled up at him and put her arms around his neck. “I must admit that there are certain advantages to having a bed. It is considerably more comfortable than a stone bench or a coach seat or the top of my desk.”

  “Comfort is not my primary concern when I am with you,” he whispered against her throat. “But there is something to be said for it.”

  He raised his head, found her mouth, and kissed her deeply. She returned the embrace with a sweet hunger that ravished his senses. The knowledge that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her was the most intoxicating drug imaginable. Need pounded through him, a driving urgency that was far more intense than mere passion. The hot brew flooded his veins and tightened every muscle.

  He would never let her go, he vowed silently, not to Hudson or any other man.

  He stroked the length of her body from bare breast to bare thigh. Her skin was soft, sleek, and wonderfully resilient to the touch. She arched beneath him. He plunged his fingers into her warmth.

  “You are, indeed, very wet,” he said into her mouth. “Perfect.”

  She moaned and twisted against him, closing her thighs around him. He could
feel the fullness of the small button at the top of her cleft. He stroked lightly until she sank her nails into him.

  He could wait no longer.

  He eased slowly, deliberately into her snug, warm passage and groaned aloud at the raw satisfaction.

  He felt the edge of her teeth on the skin of his shoulder. She clung to him so tightly that he thought they surely must be bound together for all time.

  ANTHONY FELT THE TINY JOLT OF ELECTRICITY across the back of his neck again. No doubt about it, the flower-seller was following him. He caught sight of the now-familiar shape of the massive gray bonnet at the edge of his vision. It disappeared quickly behind a farmer’s cart, but he was sure it was the same flower-seller he had spotted a few minutes ago in the square.

  A tingle of anticipation, a heightening of all his senses arced through him. He suddenly felt more alert. Objects, buildings, and the people around him appeared to be more sharply focused.

  He wondered if this odd excitement was one of the lures that drew Tobias to the business of conducting private inquiries. The sensations were certainly vastly more stimulating than those that came with placing a wager or watching a boxing match, he thought.

  There was no time to contemplate the philosophy of his new profession. The goal now was to identify the person who was spying on him.

  “Thank you for your assistance, miss.” He handed the streetwalker a few coins. She was the youngest woman he had talked to today. He guessed her age to be fifteen or sixteen at the most. “Something for your trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, sir.” She giggled and made the money disappear into the front of her shabby gown. “Glad to help.”

  Her laughter made him uneasy. For a moment or two she sounded like an innocent young chit who ought to be in the schoolroom, looking forward to being launched into Society, not a hardened prostitute with no hope of a future. He wondered what sad fate had brought her here to this corner.

  He touched the brim of his hat politely in farewell. The girl broke into another gale of giggles. Evidently the notion of a man offering her a small gesture of gallantry struck her as vastly entertaining.