Slightly Shady by Amanda Quick
“Or Holton Felix, apparently.” Tobias looked at the body. “But I think it would be best to save this discussion of my lack of exquisite sensibilities for another occasion when we will have the leisure to examine my flaws in detail. At the moment, we have other problems. I assume we are both here for the same purpose.”
“I don’t know why you are here, Mr. March, but I came to search for a certain diary that apparently once belonged to the valet of Mr. Carlisle. The man you claimed was the leader of the criminal gang in Rome.” She paused, frowning. “What do you know of this affair?”
“You know the old saying ‘No man is a hero to his valet.’ It seems that Carlisle’s faithful servant kept a private record of his employer’s most damning secrets. After Carlisle’s death—”
“Carlisle is dead?”
“Quite. As I was saying, the valet sold the diary to purchase passage back to England. He was killed, apparently by a footpad, before he got out of Rome. From what I was able to determine, the diary was sold twice after that. In both instances, the temporary possessors have suffered fatal accidents.” He angled his head toward Felix’s body. “And now there is a third death associated with the damn thing.”
Lavinia swallowed. “Good heavens.”
“Indeed.” Tobias left the doorway to walk toward the desk.
Lavinia watched him uneasily. There was something odd about the way he moved, she thought; a slight but detectable catch in his gait. A limp, actually. She could have sworn there had been no such hesitation in his stride the last time she saw him.
“How do you come to know so much about this diary?” she asked.
“I have been on the trail of the damned thing for the past few weeks. Followed it across the Continent. I arrived in England a few days ago.”
“Why have you chased after it?”
Tobias jerked open a desk drawer. “Among other interesting bits of gossip, I believe it to contain information that may answer some questions for my client.”
“What sort of questions?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Questions of treason and murder.”
“Treason?”
“During the war.” He opened another drawer and rifled through some papers. “We really do not have time to go into the details of the matter. I shall explain later.”
“Never say you failed in your endeavors in Rome, Mr. March. Surely, after all you put us through that dreadful night, you did not fumble the prize? What, precisely, happened to that man Carlisle? You claimed he would show up in our shop to collect the message from his minion.”
“Carlisle arrived after you left.”
“Well?”
“He tripped and fell on the stairs.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “He tripped and fell?”
“Accidents do happen, Mrs. Lake. A staircase can be treacherous.”
“Bah. I knew it. You mishandled matters after Emeline and I left that night, did you not?”
“There were complications.”
“Obviously.” For some reason, in spite of the horrific situation, she was able to take a perverse satisfaction in laying the blame at his feet. “I should have guessed the truth immediately after I received Holton Felix’s first extortion note. After all, things had been going along quite smoothly until that moment. I should have known that when problems arose, you would be at the root.”
“Damnation, Mrs. Lake, this is not the time to take me to task. You know nothing of the intricacies of this affair.”
“Admit it, sir. This problem with the valet’s diary is entirely your fault. If you had dealt properly with the situation in Rome, we would not be here tonight.”
He went very still. In the hellish light cast by the fire, his eyes were very dangerous. “I assure you, the serpent who controlled that band of vipers in Italy is dead. Unfortunately, that was not the end of the matter. My client wishes to see the entire affair resolved. He has engaged me to do so, and that is precisely what I intend to do.”
She went cold. “I see.”
“Carlisle was at one time a member of a criminal organization known as the Blue Chamber. The gang had tentacles throughout England and Europe. For many years the organization was controlled by a leader who styled himself Azure.”
Her mouth went dry. For some inexplicable reason she sensed he was telling her the truth. “How very theatrical.”
“Azure was the undisputed head of the organization. But from what we can discern, he died about a year ago. The Blue Chamber has been in chaos since his death. Azure had two powerful lieutenants, Carlisle and another man whose identity remains a mystery.”
“Azure and Carlisle are both gone, so I assume your client wants you to discover the identity of the third man?”
“Yes. The diary may contain that information. With luck, it will also tell us who Azure was and clear up a few other questions as well. Now do you see why it is so dangerous?”
“Indeed.”
Tobias picked up a sheaf of papers. “Rather than just standing there, why don’t you make yourself useful?”
“Useful?”
“I did not have an opportunity to search the bedchamber before you arrived. Take a candle and see what you can discover in the room. I will finish in here.”
Her first impulse was to tell him to consign himself to Hades. But belatedly it occurred to her that he had a point. They were both after the same thing, it seemed. The advantages of dividing up the task of searching Felix’s rooms were self-evident. In addition, there was another extremely compelling reason for following his instructions. If she took the bedchamber, she would not have to work in sight of the bloody body.
She picked up a candle. “You do realize that there is a very good chance that whoever murdered Mr. Felix found the diary and took it away?”
“If that is the case, our problems are considerably compounded.” He cast her a cold-eyed look. “One step at a time, Mrs. Lake. Let us first see if we can discover that damned diary. It would certainly simplify matters.”
He was right, she thought. March was irritating, provoking, and extremely annoying, but he was correct. One disaster at a time. That was the only way to get through this affair. It was, in point of fact, the way she got through life.
She hurried into the small room adjoining the parlor. There was a book on the table beside the bed. A tingle of excitement sparked within her. Perhaps luck was with her, after all.
She crossed the room to examine the title in the glow of the flame. The Education of a Lady. On the off chance that the leather binding might conceal a handwritten diary, she opened the cover and thumbed through a few pages. Disappointment drowned her small burst of hope. The volume was a recently published novel, not a personal journal.
She replaced the book on the table and went to the washstand. It took only moments to search the small drawers. They contained the things she would have expected to discover in such a location: a comb and brush, shaving items, and a toothbrush.
She tried the wardrobe next. There were a number of expensive-looking linen shirts and three stylish coats inside. Evidently on the occasions when he had done well at the tables, Felix had spent his winnings on fashionable clothing. Perhaps he saw the costly apparel as a business investment.
“Have you found anything?” Tobias called softly from the other room.
“No,” she said. “You?”
“Nothing.”
She heard him shift a large item of furniture in the outer room. The desk, perhaps. He was certainly being thorough in his search.
She opened the drawers inside the wardrobe and discovered only a selection of gentlemen’s smallclothes and cravats. She slammed the doors and turned around to study the sparsely furnished chamber. Desperation grew until she could hardly breathe. What on earth would she do next if they did not find the evidence that had led Felix to attempt to blackmail her?
Her gaze fell again on the leather-bound volume on the nightstand. There were no other books in eviden
She went slowly across the room to take another look at the book. Why would a gamester take an interest in a novel that had no doubt been written for young ladies?
She picked up the book again and flipped through a few more pages, this time pausing to read a sentence here and there. It did not take long to see that the story had most definitely not been written for the edification of young ladies.
. . . her elegantly sculpted buttocks
quivered in anticipation of my velvet whip . . .
“Good grief.” Hastily she slammed the book closed. A small slip of paper fluttered to the floor.
“Did you find something of interest?” Tobias inquired from the other room.
“I most certainly did not.”
She glanced down at the small sheet of paper that had landed on the toe of her half boot. There was handwriting on it. She grimaced. Perhaps Felix had enjoyed the novel to such an extent, he had resorted to making notes on the text.
She bent down to retrieve the paper, glancing at the words scrawled on it as she did so. Not notes on The Education of a Lady, but an address. Number Fourteen, Hazelton Square.
Why would Felix keep an address tucked in this particular novel?
She caught the faint but telltale slide of Tobias’s boot on the floor of the parlor. On impulse she tucked the note into her reticule and turned toward the door.
He appeared in the opening, silhouetted against the dying firelight. “Well?”
“I found nothing that even remotely resembles a diary,” she said firmly and, she reflected, quite honestly.
“Neither did I.” He swept the bedchamber with a grim expression. “We are too late. It appears that whoever murdered Felix had the presence of mind to take the diary.”
“Hardly a surprising turn of events. It’s certainly what I would have done under the circumstances.”
“Hmm.”
She scowled. “What is it?”
He looked at her. “It seems we must now bide our time until the new blackmailer makes his move.”
“The new blackmailer?” Shock held her motionless for a few seconds. She had to work to get her jaw closed. “Dear heaven, whatever are you saying, sir? Do you suppose that Felix’s killer intends to set up shop as an extortionist?”
“If there is a promise of money in the enterprise, and I’m certain there is, then we must assume the answer to that question is yes.”
“Bloody hell.”
“My sentiments exactly, but we must look on the positive side, Mrs. Lake.”
“I fail to see one.”
He gave her a humorless smile. “Come now, the two of us managed to track down Felix independently, did we not?”
“Felix was an incompetent fool who left all sorts of clues. I had no problem bribing the urchin he used to deliver his blackmail notes. The lad gave me the direction in exchange for a few coins and a hot meat pie.”
“Very clever of you.” Tobias looked back into the other room, where the dead man lay on the carpet in front of the fire. “I do not believe that whoever succeeded in murdering Felix will be quite so inept. Therefore, we had best combine forces, madam.”
A fresh wave of alarm shot through her. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“I’m sure you comprehend my meaning.” He switched his gaze back to her. One brow rose. “Whatever else you are, you are not slow-witted.”
So much for hoping he would want them to go their separate ways after this meeting.
“Now see here,” she said crisply. “I have no intention whatsoever of forming any sort of partnership with you, Mr. March. Every time you appear, you cause me no end of trouble.”
“There have been only two occasions when we have been obliged to spend time in each other’s company.”
“Both have been disastrous, thanks to you.”
“That is your opinion.” He took an uneven stride toward her and grasped her arm firmly in his large gloved hand. “From my perspective, it is you who possess a most remarkable talent for complicating a situation beyond belief.”
“Really, sir, this is too much. Kindly take your hands off me.”
“I fear I cannot do that, Mrs. Lake.” He guided her out of the room and down the back hall. “Given that we are both enmeshed in this web, I must insist we work together to untangle it.”
three
“I can’t believe you encountered Mr. March again. And under such odd circumstances.” Emeline put down her coffee cup and regarded Lavinia across the breakfast table. “What an astounding coincidence.”
“Rubbish. It is no such thing, if his tale is to be believed.” Lavinia tapped her spoon against the side of her plate. “According to him, this affair of blackmail is connected to that business in Rome.”
“Does he think that Holton Felix was a member of this criminal gang called the Blue Chamber?”
“No. Apparently Felix came into possession of the diary more or less by chance.”
“And now someone else has it.” Emeline looked thoughtful. “Presumably whoever murdered Felix. And Mr. March is still on the trail. He is really quite tenacious, is he not?”
“Bah. He is doing this for the money. So long as someone is willing to pay him to make inquiries, it is in his own best financial interests to be tenacious.” She made a face. “Although why his client continues to purchase his services after his shockingly incompetent performance in Rome defeats me.”
“You know very well we must be grateful for the way he carried out his inquiries in Italy. Another man in his position might well have concluded that we were, indeed, members of that gang of cutthroats and acted accordingly.”
“Anyone engaged in such inquiries would have had to be a fool to imagine we were involved in criminal activities.”
“Yes, of course,” Emeline said soothingly, “but one can certainly see how another, less intelligent, less observant gentleman than Mr. March might have concluded that we were members of the gang.”
“Do not be so quick to credit Tobias March with any positive qualities, Emeline. I, for one, do not trust him.”
“Yes, I can see that. Why ever not?”
Lavinia spread her hands. “For heaven’s sake, I found him at the scene of a murder last night.”
“He found you at the same scene,” Emeline pointed out.
“Yes, but he had got there before me. Felix was already dead when I arrived. For all I know, March was the one who killed him.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much.”
Lavinia stared at her. “How can you say that? March was quite free with the information that Mr. Carlisle did not survive the encounter in Rome.”
“I thought you said something about an unfortunate accident on the stairs.”
“That was March’s version of events. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to discover that Carlisle’s death was not an accident.”
“Well, that is neither here nor there now, is it? The important thing is that the villain is dead.”
Lavinia hesitated. “March wants me to help him find the diary. He wants us to combine our efforts.”
“That makes perfect sense, does it not? You are both determined to find it, so why not form a partnership?”
“March has a client who is paying him a fee for his efforts. I do not.”
Emeline studied her over the rim of her coffee cup. “Perhaps you can negotiate with Mr. March to give you a portion of the money his client pays him. You developed a distinct talent for bargaining while we were in Italy.”
“I have given the matter some consideration,” Lavinia admitted slowly. “But the notion of a partnership with March makes me extremely uneasy.”
“It does not appear that you have much choice. It would be a trifle inconvenient for us if the gossip about our business in Rome began to circulate here in
“You have a gift for understatement, Emeline. It would be more than inconvenient. It would utterly destroy my new career, to say nothing of your chance to enjoy a Season.”
“Speaking of your career, did you happen to mention the nature of your new profession to Mr. March last night?”
“Of course not. Why would I do that?”
“I merely wondered if, in the intimacy of the setting in which you and Mr. March found yourselves, you perhaps felt called upon to confide in him.”
“There was nothing intimate about the setting. For heaven’s sake, Emeline, there was a dead man in the same room with us.”
“Yes, of course.”
“One does not become intimate under such circumstances.”
“I understand.”
“In any event, the last thing I would want to do is become intimate in any way with Tobias March.”
“Your voice is rising, Aunt Lavinia. You know what that means.”
Lavinia slammed her cup down onto the saucer with a great deal of force. “It means that my nerves have been sorely tried.”
“Indeed. But it is clear to me that you have no choice but to do as Mr. March suggests and join together to search for the diary.”
“Nothing can convince me that forming a partnership with that man would be wise.”
“Calm yourself,” Emeline said gently. “You are allowing your personal feelings about Mr. March to interfere with sound judgment.”
“Mark my words, Tobias March is once again playing his own deep game, just as he was the last time we had the misfortune to encounter him.”
“What game would that be?” Emeline asked, showing the first hint of exasperation.
Lavinia contemplated the question for a moment. “It is entirely possible that he is seeking the diary for the same reasons that Holton Felix wanted it. For purposes of extortion and blackmail.”
Emeline’s spoon clattered loudly on the saucer. “Never say you actually think that Mr. March intends to set himself up as an extortionist. I refuse to believe he has anything in common with a creature like Holton Felix.”