Late for the Wedding by Amanda Quick
“You mean there might be another murderer out there who seeks to emulate the Memento-Mori Man? What a terrible thought.” She paused. “But if that were true, it would have been far more logical for him to leave his calling card with you, not me. You were the one who hunted Zachary down.”
“For all I know there will be a ring waiting for me when I return to Town,” he said quietly. “I set off very early this morning. Perhaps he delivered this ring to you first, and by the time he got to my house I was gone.”
She swung around and took a step toward him, anxiety clear in her eyes. “Tobias, whoever left that ring has something dreadful in mind. If you are right and this is a calling card, we are dealing with a new Memento-Mori Man. You must find him before someone is murdered.”
Chapter 2
Lavinia heard a door open just as she reached the bottom of the shadowed staircase. Midway along the stone corridor, a wedge of candlelight appeared. A gentleman moved stealthily out of the bedchamber and started toward her.
Yet more traffic. This was not the first time she had been obliged to pop into a closet or hurry around a corner in the past few minutes. The passageways of Beaumont Castle were as busy as a London street tonight. All the comings and goings between bedchambers would have been amusing if not for the fact that she herself was attempting to make her way to a clandestine rendezvous.
It was her own fault, she reminded herself. Tobias had suggested that he visit her in her bedchamber after the house quieted down for the night. It would have been an excellent plan, if she had been allowed to remain in the spacious, comfortable room that she had been given when she and Tobias arrived this afternoon. But earlier this evening, for reasons that remained quite unclear, she had been moved to a very small bedchamber.
She had taken one look at the cot in her new room and realized that it would be extremely uncomfortable for two people, especially when one of them was a man endowed with very fine shoulders. She had informed Tobias that she would come to his room instead, never imagining for a moment that the task would be so difficult to carry out without drawing attention to herself.
She was well aware that most of the guests were not unduly concerned with the prospect of being spotted navigating between bedchambers. It was understood that these sorts of goings-on were to be ignored by passersby. Such was the way of the world when one moved in elevated social circles, she reminded herself.
But she had a feeling that it would not be good for business for a lady who made her living conducting discreet, private inquiries to be seen behaving in a very indiscreet manner. One had to consider the possibility that some of the elegant people who had been invited to the Beaumont estate this week might prove to be future clients.
She was suddenly very glad that she’d had the foresight to bring along the silver half-mask, sword, and shield that she’d worn to the costume ball in her guise as Minerva.
Raising the mask to conceal her features, she stepped into the deep pool of darkness behind the stairs.
The gentleman with the candle never noticed her. He was too intent on reaching his destination. When he started up the stairs, she heard a solid thump followed by a muffled groan.
“Od’s blood.”
The gentleman paused and bent down to feel gingerly about in the vicinity of his toes. Then, with a few more muttered oaths, he limped up the stairs.
She waited until she was certain he had disappeared, and then she made to move cautiously out from her hiding place.
At that moment another door opened a short distance down the hall.
“Damnation,” she whispered under her breath. At this rate she would never get to Tobias’s bedchamber.
In the dim glow cast by a wall sconce, she saw two figures emerge from the chamber. The woman gave a deep, throaty chuckle.
“Come along with me, sir; ye won’t be sorry, that I promise.”
One of the maids, Lavinia realized. Obviously the guests were not the only ones who took part in the late-night revelries of a country-house party. Suppressing her irritation with an effort, she raised the mask again and slipped back into the shadows behind the stairs.
“Don’t see why we cannot have our sport in my bedchamber,” the man said. His words were slurred with drink. “I’ve got a nicely warmed bed.”
“I’ll soon have ye warmed good and proper, sir. No need to fret yerself about that.”
The man chuckled hoarsely. “Let’s get to it, then. Where’s your bedchamber?”
“Oh, we cannot use my bedchamber, sir. There’s three other maids sharing it with me tonight on account of the house is so full. We’ll go out on the roof. It’s a little cool, but I’ve got some cozy quilts up there waiting for us.”
“Hell’s teeth, you mean to tell me I’ve got to climb all the way to the top of this bloody castle just to enjoy a romp?”
“It’ll be worth it, sir. I’ve got some very special apparatus that is sure to amuse a man of the world such as yerself.”
“Apparatus, eh?” The gentleman’s anticipation and excitement were clear even through the fog of drunkenness. “What sort of equipment do you use, my girl? I’m partial to the whip, myself.”
The maid whispered something that Lavinia could not hear.
“Well, now.” The man’s voice thickened even more with lust. “That sounds interesting, indeed. I’ll look forward to a demonstration.”
“Soon, sir.” The maid hurried him toward the staircase. “Just as soon as we get to the roof.”
The pair continued toward the foot of the stairs. Lavinia caught a glimpse of a portly gentleman who appeared to be in his early sixties. He was garbed in a plum-colored velvet coat and old-fashioned breeches. He wore an elaborately tied cravat. His balding head gleamed in the light of the wall sconce.
The maid was dressed in the manner of the rest of the staff at Beaumont Castle. She wore a plain, dark gown and an apron. Her face was almost entirely hidden beneath the shadows of a large, floppy cap.
The gentleman put one foot on the bottom stair and stumbled awkwardly. The misstep made him chortle. “A tribute to Beaumont’s excellent brandy, eh? Let me try that again.”
“No, not this staircase, m'lord.” The maid tugged on his arm. “We’ll use the back stairs. It would cost me my post if the butler or the housekeeper saw me with you.”
“Oh, very well.” The bald man obligingly allowed himself to be led on down the hall.
The maid picked up her skirts, revealing sturdy, sensible shoes and stockings. She hurried her companion past the small pool of light cast by another wall sconce. Several thick golden-blond corkscrew curls bobbed beneath the edge of the large cap.
The inebriated gentleman allowed himself to be steered around a corner into another darkened hall.
Relieved to find herself alone again in the corridor, Lavinia moved briskly out from behind the staircase and hurried toward Tobias’s bedchamber. At this rate she was going to need a glass of sherry to settle her nerves when she arrived at her destination.
There was a thin edge of light showing beneath Tobias’s door. She raised her hand and then hesitated. The occupant of the neighboring bedchamber might hear the knock and grow curious.
Grasping her sword, shield, and mask in one hand, she tried the doorknob. It turned easily in her fingers. Casting one last glance down the passageway to make certain that she was not being observed, she opened the door.
The sight of the couple locked in a close embrace in front of the fire brought her up short. The man had his back to her. He had removed his jacket and cravat and unfastened his collar. There was something very familiar about the strong line of his shoulders. She could not see his face, because his head was bent intimately toward a woman with long black hair, who had her arms around his neck.
“I beg your pardon.” Mortified, Lavinia quickly averted her gaze and retreated back into the hallway. “Wrong room. Dreadfully sorry to disturb you.”
“Lavinia?” Tobias’s voice crackled across the short
No wonder the set of those shoulders had looked familiar. She spun back around, aware that her mouth had fallen open in stunned shock.
“Tobias?”
“Bloody hell.” He disengaged himself from the woman’s arms in a single swift motion. “Come in and close the door behind you. I want you to meet someone.”
“Oh, dear.” The woman stepped away from Tobias and surveyed Lavinia with cool amusement. “I do believe that we have shocked poor Minerva.”
Feeling as though she had just been caught in some dark magician’s spell, Lavinia moved a short distance back into the room and shut the door very carefully.
Tobias, looking very grim and dangerous, crossed to a small, round table and picked up a cut-glass decanter. “Lavinia, allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Gray.” He poured himself some brandy. “She came here tonight to see me in regard to a professional matter. Aspasia, this is my, uh, associate, Mrs. Lake.”
Lavinia recognized the cold, uninflected tones. Something was very wrong in this room. She turned back to Aspasia. “I assume that you are one of Tobias’s clients, Mrs. Gray?”
“I believe I have recently become one.” She gave Tobias an unreadable glance. “But, please, you must call me Aspasia.”
Lavinia could see that she was very sure of herself and of her place in Tobias’s life. These two had formed a connection long ago, she thought. There was a bond between them that excluded her.
“I see.” A chill went through her. She turned back to Tobias, fighting to keep her voice even. “Will you be needing my assistance on this case?”
“No,” Tobias said. He took a swallow of the brandy. “I will handle this matter by myself.”
That flattened her spirits as nothing else could have done. Perhaps she had presumed too much, she thought. After the successful completion of the affair of the mad mesmerist a few weeks ago, she had found herself slipping more and more often into the habit of thinking of herself as Tobias’s full-time business partner. But that was not how things stood and she would do well not to forget that fact, she thought.
In truth, their business arrangements more or less mirrored their personal relationship. They sometimes worked together, just as they sometimes made love together. But they each maintained separate careers, just as they maintained separate households.
Nevertheless, Tobias had not hesitated to involve himself in her last two cases, and it came as a decidedly painful surprise to discover that he did not welcome her assistance in this one.
“Very well.” She pulled herself together, summoned up what she hoped was a polished, businesslike smile, and opened the door. “In that case, I will bid you both good evening and allow the two of you to return to your private affairs.”
Tobias’s jaw hardened in a telltale warning sign that she had come to recognize. He was not in a good mood. Fair enough, she thought. Her own mood at the moment was not what anyone would describe as sunny.
His powerful hand tightened around the neck of the brandy decanter. For an instant she thought he might change his mind and ask her to stay. But in the end he made no move to keep her from leaving. Anger replaced the hurt his words had caused. What was the matter with him? It was obvious to her that he needed her assistance.
“I will come to see you later,” Tobias said deliberately, “after Aspasia and I have concluded our business.”
He had practically ordered her back to her bedchamber and told her to wait upon his convenience. Outrage leaped within her. Did he really believe that she would open her door to him tonight after he had ejected her from this room in such a summary fashion?
“Do not trouble yourself, sir.” She was pleased that her smile did not waver so much as a fraction of an inch. “It is late, and as we had to endure that very tedious carriage ride as well as the various entertainments here at the castle earlier this evening, I’m sure you’ll be quite exhausted after you and Mrs. Gray finish your discussion. I would not dream of allowing you to go to the effort of climbing that extremely long flight of stairs. I will see you at breakfast.”
Anger burned in Tobias’s ice-and-fog eyes.
Satisfied that she had made an impression, Lavinia stepped smoothly out into the hall and closed the door with a good deal more force than was necessary.
Halfway up the stairs she decided that she did not like Aspasia Gray.
Chapter 3
He missed his footing again on one of the high, cramped steps and likely would have fallen if the maid had not held his arm with such a firm grasp. The close call sent a small tingle of dread through him. It was a long way down to the bottom of the narrow staircase.
“Steady as ye go, m'lord,” the maid said bracingly. “We don’t want ye to have an accident before we get there, do we? Come along now.”
“What d'ya expect? It’s bloody damned dark in here.” Perhaps he should have refused those last two glasses of brandy she had pressed on him before they left the bedchamber. His head was spinning and he was starting to worry about his stomach. “Ought to have used the main staircase.”
“I told ye, sir, the master doesn’t like staff to entertain guests alone in their bedchambers.”
“Beaumont always was a bit prim and proper when it came to that sort of thing.”
She was a strong wench, he thought; stronger than she looked. She was able to hold the candle in one hand and maintain her grip on his elbow with the other. But, then, good maids were required to be sturdy, he reminded himself. They not only had to be able to hoist heavily laden breakfast trays, full chamber pots, and huge stacks of linens all day long, they routinely carried their burdens up and down long flights of steep stairs like this one. In addition to the exercise, there was all that sweeping and scrubbing and washing. Bound to build stamina in a wench. But he liked ‘em that way. That was the reason he preferred to take his evening sport with one of the hardworking girls in a household rather than with the professional whores in the brothels. The latter were inclined to be weak and listless from an excess of gin and the milk of the poppy.
He told himself that the long climb would prove worthwhile when they reached their goal. Doggedly, he plodded up another few steps.
“How much farther?” he muttered. His heart was beating so strongly he wondered that she did not hear it.
“We’re almost there.”
The step in front of him seemed to waver in the flaring candlelight. He had to work hard to set his foot down on it, and even at that he nearly missed.
The maid tightened her grip on his arm and urged him upward. “Come along now.”
When he reached the top of the cramped stairs, he was wheezing. The maid halted in front of a door. He was grateful for the pause, because he could no longer conceal his ragged breathing. He was sweating profusely too. Should have left my coat and neckcloth in my bedchamber. Ah, well, I’ll have them off soon enough.
“Are you feeling all right, sir? You look a trifle feverish. Mayhap you had a bit too much to drink tonight, hmm? I trust you’ll be able to last long enough to give me a nice romp before you fall asleep. I’d hate to think we climbed all this way for naught.”
There was something different about her now, he thought. Her speech no longer suited her station. It had taken on a more cultured, educated tone. She did not sound like a servant.
He wanted to ask her a question, but his tongue was thick in his mouth and no longer functioned properly. The dizziness was getting worse.
For some reason the sight of the night sky sent a jolt of terror through him.
“Don’t worry, m'lord, brandy has this effect when you put a drop or two of laudanum in it.”
“What’s this about laudanum?”
“Never mind, I know just what you need to restore your senses.” The maid opened the door. “Some fresh night air.”
“N-no.” He shook his head when she tugged him through the opening. “I’m not feeling well. I think I’d better go back to my bedchamber.”
“Nonsense, m'lord. Y
He peered blearily at her. “How . . . how did you know that I’m engaged?”
“Gossip gets around, m'lord.”
The balmy night air did nothing to clear his head. The full moon began to move in a circle overhead. He closed his eyes, but that only made the spinning sensation worse.
“Almost time for you to have your little accident, m'lord,” the maid said cheerfully.
Sudden panic shot through him. He managed to get his eyes partway open. “My wh-wh-what?”
“Rest assured that there is nothing personal about this. Just a matter of business.”
Chapter 4
As exit lines went, the one she had just used to bid Tobias good night had not been particularly clever or original, Lavinia thought. While it had no doubt made her point, she was already regretting it by the time she reached her bedchamber a short time later.
This floor of Beaumont Castle had clearly been reserved for the less important guests such as herself, as well as a sprinkling of companions, valets, and ladies’ maids. One extremely fashionable guest, Lady Oakes, had brought along her own personal hairdresser, who had been provided with a room halfway down the hall.
Lavinia let herself into the cramped little bedchamber and lit the candle on the dressing table. The light flickered in the cracked looking glass, casting a weak glow across the sparse furnishings.
She strongly suspected that this room had once been occupied by a maid or a very poor relation. The narrow bed took up most of the available space. There was a small wardrobe against one wall. The basin and pitcher on the washstand were badly chipped.
She went to the window and opened it. It was cool for a night in late June, but not cold. She would survive very well without a fireplace for warmth. Moonlight flooded the gardens and grounds below. The deep silence of the countryside was a stark contrast to the familiar clatter and din of London’s nighttime streets. All this resounding quiet would no doubt make it difficult to get to sleep.