ten

The leather binding was cracked and charred from the flames. Most of the pages were burned to a crisp. But there were enough bits and pieces left in the ashes to enable Tobias to determine beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was looking at the remains of the valet’s diary.

“Bloody hell.”

He stirred the ashes with a poker. They were cold. Whoever had burned the thing had allowed plenty of time for the embers to die before he had sent the message.

He glanced around the small chamber. It was obvious no one lived here on a permanent basis, but there was enough clutter about to indicate that the room was frequented by those who made their living on the streets. He wondered if the book had been burned elsewhere and then brought here to be dumped on the hearth.

He did not know who had sent the summons to him. He doubted it was one of his usual informants, because no one had come forward to claim the money he had offered for information.

Someone, however, had very much wanted him to discover the diary here tonight.

Luckily he had been at his club when the note had arrived a short while ago. He had set out immediately, devoutly grateful that the bad weather and the lateness of the hour had given him the excuses he needed not to send word to Lavinia. She would no doubt be annoyed when he woke her up to tell her what he had found, but she would have to accept that time had been of the essence.

He looked around for something he could use to collect the burned diary and saw an old empty sack stuffed into the corner.

It did not take long to scrape up the remains of the valet’s dangerous little journal.

When he was ready, he put out the smoky tallow candle he had found in the room. He picked up the sack and went to the window. There was no reason to expect any trouble. After all, someone had gone to a good deal of effort to ensure that he found the diary tonight. But others were searching for the journal. It was only prudent to take some precautions.

The rain that had been falling all evening had transformed the narrow lane into a shallow stream. The weak glow of a lantern emanated from a window across the narrow lane. The light did little to relieve the dense darkness.

He observed the shadows down in the lane, waiting to see if any of them shifted or moved. After a while he concluded that if anyone was watching the entrance he had used earlier, that person was not in his line of sight now.

He removed his greatcoat. After knotting the sack’s ties, he slung it on one shoulder. Satisfied the burden would stay dry, he pulled on the coat again and left the small chamber. There was no one about on the stairs. He descended to the cramped hall and let himself out onto the stone step.

He waited a moment longer in the minimal shelter of the doorway. None of the shadows across the way moved.

Setting his teeth, he waded into the shallow, filthy stream that was the lane. The paving stones proved surprisingly slippery. His left leg could not be trusted in such circumstances. He flattened a gloved hand against the wet stone wall to his left to steady himself.

Oily water splashed across the toes of the boots Whitby had labored so valiantly to bring to a high gloss. It would not be the first time he had been obliged to rescue badly treated footwear, Tobias thought.

He worked his way cautiously toward the end of the lane. He hoped the hackney that had brought him here still waited in the next street. There was little hope of finding another on a night like this.

Halfway to his goal, he sensed the other presence in the lane. He took another step, sought purchase with his left hand, and swung about very suddenly.

The outline of a man in a heavy greatcoat and hat was silhouetted against the weak lantern light that illuminated the window. The sight was vaguely familiar. Tobias was almost certain he had seen this particular greatcoat and hat earlier in the evening outside his club.

The man in the heavy coat froze when he saw that Tobias had halted. The figure whirled and fled in the opposite direction. Water splashed at his heels. The sound echoed down the lane.

“Bloody hell.”

Tobias shoved away from the wall, throwing himself into pursuit. Pain shot through his leg. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it.

He was wasting his time, he thought as he struggled to maintain his balance. With his treacherous leg, he did not stand a ghost of a chance of catching the fleeing man. He would be lucky not to fall facedown into the murky stream.

His boots slipped and slid on the wet stones, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. Twice he put out a hand in time to save himself.

But the running man was having troubles of his own. He lurched abruptly and flailed his arms. His greatcoat flapped as he tried to regain his footing. An object he had been carrying clanged when it struck the pavement. Glass shattered. An unlit lantern, Tobias thought.

The fleeing figure went down hard. Tobias was nearly upon him now. He threw himself forward and managed to grab one of the man’s legs. He used the grip to raise himself and slam a fist into solid flesh. It had no immediate effect. The man struggled furiously.

“Be still or I’ll use my knife,” Tobias said roughly. He had no blade on him, but the man had no way of knowing that.

There was a groan and then the man slumped into the cold rainwater. “I was only doin’ what I was told, sir. I swear it on my mother’s honor. I was only following orders.”

“Whose orders?”

“My employer’s.”

“Who is your employer?”

“Mrs. Dove.”

“I received a message.” Joan Dove picked up the delicate porcelain teapot. “I sent Herbert to see what it was about. Obviously he arrived shortly after you did, Mr. March, and saw you leave the building. In the shadows, he could not make out your identity. He tried to follow you. You spotted him and brought him down.”

Lavinia was so angry she could barely speak. She watched Joan pour the tea into china cups. The act had all the practiced grace one expected from a wealthy, polished lady serving afternoon guests. But it was not three o’clock in the afternoon. It was three in the morning. She and Tobias had not come here tonight to exchange gossip about the latest scandals of the ton. They had come to confront Mrs. Dove.

Thus far she had done all the talking. Tobias lounged in a chair, a stony expression on his face, and said little. Lavinia was worried about him. He had taken time to stop by his house to change into dry clothing before he had arrived on her doorstep with the remains of the diary. She was certain his outer air of calm was deceptive. He had been through a great deal tonight. She could tell that his leg was causing him some discomfort.

“What did the message say?” Tobias asked, making one of his rare contributions to the conversation.

Joan displayed only the slightest hesitation as she set down the pot. “It was not a written note. A young street urchin appeared at my door and said that what I wanted could be obtained at Number Eighteen, Tartle Lane. I dispatched Herbert.”

“Enough, Mrs. Dove.” Lavinia’s fury boiled over. “If you cannot bring yourself to tell us the truth, be good enough to say so.”

Joan’s mouth tightened. “Why do you doubt me, Mrs. Lake?”

“You received no message. You sent Herbert to follow Mr. March, did you not?”

Joan’s eyes were cold. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you hoped Mr. March would recover the diary, and when he did, you intended for Herbert to steal it from him. Is that not the truth?”

“Really, Mrs. Lake. I am not accustomed to having my word doubted.”

“Indeed?” Lavinia smiled coldly. “How very odd. Mr. March believes you have lied to us from the start. But I was prepared to credit your tale, or at least most of it. However, it would appear you have attempted to use us for your own ends, and that is intolerable.”

“I do not comprehend why you are so angry.” Joan’s words were edged with reproof. “There was no harm done to Mr. March tonight.”

“We are not pawns for you to move about on the board, Mrs. Dove. We are professionals.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Mr. March risked his neck to go down that lane and into that building. He was working on your behalf. But I am convinced your man, Herbert, would have tried to take the diary by force if he believed Mr. March had discovered it.”

“I assure you, I had no desire for Mr. March or anyone else to be hurt.” Joan’s voice held a distinct edge now. “I instructed Herbert to keep watch on him. That is all.”

“I knew it. You did assign him to spy on Mr. March.”

Joan hesitated. “It seemed a prudent move.”

“Bah.” Lavinia squared her shoulders. “Mr. March is correct. You have lied to us from the start, and I, for one, have lost all patience. We have fulfilled our commission, madam. The diary has been recovered. It is quite unreadable, as you can see, but at least it can cause no further harm.”

Joan frowned at the charred remains of the valet’s diary. They filled a large silver platter.

“But you cannot halt your inquiries now,” she said. “Whoever burned that diary no doubt read it first.”

“Perhaps,” Lavinia said, “but it is clear to Mr. March and to me that destroying the diary was someone’s way of telling us the affair is ended. We suspect that the culprit was another one of Holton Felix’s victims, very likely the person who murdered him.”

Tobias glanced at the platter. “I believe the message was intended to convey more than mere reassurance that there will be no more blackmail threats.”

“What do you mean?” Joan asked swiftly.

Tobias did not take his thoughtful gaze off the charred book. “I have a hunch we are being told in no uncertain terms to cease our inquiries into this affair.”

“But what of the death threat I received?” Joan demanded.

“That is your problem now,” Lavinia said. “Perhaps you will be able to find someone else to look into the matter for you.”

“Uh, Lavinia,” Tobias murmured.

She ignored him. “Under the circumstances, I cannot allow Mr. March to continue to take risks on your behalf, Mrs. Dove. I’m sure you understand.”

Joan stiffened. “All you cared about was the diary, because it contained your secrets too. Now that it has been found, you are content to take my money and quit the affair.”

Lavinia leaped to her feet, incensed. “You may keep your bloody money!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tobias wince. She went behind the sofa and gripped the elegantly curved wooden frame with both hands.

“Mr. March took great chances on your behalf tonight,” she said. “For all he knew, he was walking into a trap. The killer could have been waiting for him in that chamber where he found the book. I will not allow him to continue such dangerous work for a client who lies to us.”

“How dare you? I have not lied to you.”

“Well, you certainly have not told us the whole truth, have you?”

Anger flashed across Joan’s face. It was under control in an instant. “I have told you everything I thought you needed to know.”

“And then you employed a man to spy on us. You used Mr. March. I will not tolerate that.” She whirled and pinned Tobias with a glance. “It is time to leave, sir.”

Tobias obligingly pushed himself up out of the chair. “It is getting late, is it not?” he said mildly.

“Yes, it is.”

Lavinia swept out of the drawing room and led the way down the hall to the front door. The bull-size butler ushered them out into the wet night.

She stopped short when she saw that the hackney that had brought them to the mansion was gone. In its place was a gleaming maroon carriage.

“Madam gave instructions earlier when you arrived that the hackney was to be dismissed, as she wished you to be conveyed home in her coach,” the butler said without inflection.

Lavinia thought of the unpleasant conversation that had just taken place in the drawing room. She doubted that Joan Dove was still feeling quite so generous.

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly accept such a—”

“Indeed we can.” Tobias’s fingers closed firmly on her arm. “I think you’ve said quite enough tonight, Mrs. Lake. You might wish to stand out in the rain and attempt to summon a hackney, but I trust you will humor me. I would much prefer to travel in Mrs. Dove’s very comfortable carriage, if you don’t mind. It has been a long evening.”

She thought of what he had been through and was immediately stricken with remorse.

“Yes, of course.” She went smartly down the steps. If they hurried, she thought, they would get to the vehicle before Joan thought to rescind her offer.

A burly footman handed Lavinia up into the plush cab. The interior lights revealed soft, maroon velvet cushions and cozy blankets to keep out the chill. She reached for one of the latter as soon as she took her seat, and discovered that it had been heated with a warming pan.

Tobias sat down next to her. There was a stiffness about his movements that concerned her. She paused in the act of arranging the blanket around her knees and draped it over Tobias’s legs instead.

“Thank you.” There was rough gratitude in the words.

She frowned. “Have you noticed that Mrs. Dove has a number of very large men on her staff?”

“I’ve noticed,” Tobias said. “Something of a small army.”

“Yes. I wonder why she feels it necessary—” She broke off when she saw his hand slip under the blanket and begin to rub his leg. “You were not injured when you subdued Herbert, were you?”

“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Lake.”

“You cannot blame me for being concerned, under the circumstances.”

“You have your own concerns, madam.” He paused meaningfully. “Under the circumstances.”

She huddled beneath the warm blanket and settled into the depths of the velvet cushions. The full implications of what had just happened struck her quite forcibly.

“I take your point,” she said morosely.

Tobias did not respond.

“I do believe I just dismissed the most important client I have had to date.”

“I believe so, yes. Not only that, but you also turned down her offer to pay you for the services rendered thus far.”

“There is something to be said for the sort of client who can afford to send us home in nice, comfortable equipages.”

“Indeed.” Tobias rubbed his leg.

The silence hung heavily inside the cab.

“Well,” Lavinia said eventually, “it is not as if there was any other course of action open to us. We certainly cannot continue to make inquiries on behalf of a client who withholds vital information and sets spies to follow us about.”

“I fail to see why not,” Tobias said.

“What?” She straightened in the seat. “Are you mad? You could have been hurt or badly injured tonight. I am convinced Herbert intended to take that diary from you by force.”

“I have no doubt but that she instructed Herbert to take the diary from me if I managed to recover it. After all, her primary objective is to conceal her secrets.”

She pondered that. “There is obviously something in the diary she does not want anyone to know, including us. Something potentially more damaging than the details of an affair that is more than twenty years old.”

“I warned you, all clients lie.”

She snuggled back under the blanket and thought about matters for a while.

“It occurs to me that Mrs. Dove is not the only one who failed to be completely forthcoming this evening,” she muttered finally.

“I beg your pardon?”

She glowered. “Why didn’t you send word to me the instant you received that message at your club? I should have accompanied you to find that diary tonight. You had no business going alone.”

“There was very little time. You must not feel slighted, Lavinia. I was in such a hurry that I did not even attempt to get word to Anthony.”

“Anthony?”

“In general, he is the one who assists me in such matters. But he was at the theater tonight, and I knew it would be extremely difficult to get a message to him in time.”

“So you went alone.”

“In my professional opinion, the situation required immediate action.”

“Rubbish.”

“I had a hunch you would hold that view,” Tobias said.

“You went alone because you are not in the habit of working with a partner.”

“Damnation, Lavinia, I went alone because there was no time to waste. I did what I thought best and that is the end of the matter.”

She did not dignify that with a response.

Silence settled heavily on the cab once more.

After a while she realized he was still massaging his thigh.

“I expect you strained your leg when you ran after Mrs. Dove’s footman.”

“I expect so.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I most certainly do not intend to allow you to put me into a mesmeric trance, if that is what you mean.”

“Very well, sir, if you insist upon being churlish about the matter.”

“I do. I am very skilled when it comes to behaving churlishly.”

She gave up and lapsed back into silence. It was going to be a long drive home, she thought. The carriage was making slow progress, not only because the rain had become heavier but also because the streets were crowded at this hour. The glittering balls and sparkling soirees of the ton were ending. People were returning to their town houses and mansions. Drunken young rakes were drifting out of the hells and brothels and clubs and climbing into whatever vehicles they could find to convey them back to their lodgings.

A number of gentlemen were no doubt demanding to be driven to Covent Garden. There they would find prostitutes who, for a few coins, would get into their carriages to provide a few minutes of desultory pleasure. The hired coaches that accepted their custom would smell sour in the morning.

Lavinia wrinkled her nose at the thought. There was, indeed, a great deal to be said for a client who could afford to send one home in a fine carriage.

Beside her, Tobias shifted slightly in the seat, settling more deeply into the cushions. His uninjured leg pressed briefly against her thigh. She had no doubt but that the slight contact had been entirely accidental, but it set afire her already agitated nerves. Memories of the heated embrace in her study shivered through her senses.

This was madness.

She wondered if Tobias was in the habit of stopping off in Covent Garden late at night on his way home. Somehow she doubted it. He would be more selective, she decided. More particular.

That consideration led to another, even more disturbing question. What sort of female did Tobias prefer?

In spite of the kiss in the study, she was quite certain that she was not the type he generally found attractive. They had been thrown together by circumstances. It was not as if he had been attracted by her ravishing looks or entranced by her clever conversation. He had not glimpsed her across a crowded ballroom and been overwhelmed by her stunning beauty.

In point of fact, given her rather short stature, it was unlikely he would even be able to see her across a crowded room.

“You let your client go because of me, didn’t you?” Tobias asked.

The remark, falling as it did into the deep pool of silence, startled her out of her reverie. It took her a moment to collect herself.

“It was the principle of the thing,” she muttered.

“I don’t think so. You let your client go because of me.”

“I do wish you would stop repeating yourself, sir. It is a most annoying habit.”

“I’m sure I have any number of habits you find annoying. That is not the point.”

“What is the point?”

He slid one hand behind her neck and put his lips very close to hers. “I cannot help wondering how you will feel in the morning when you realize that because of me, you refused the handsome fee that Mrs. Dove would have paid you.”

It was not her lost fee that she would be contemplating in the morning, Lavinia thought. It was the end of her uneasy partnership with Tobias that would weigh heavily on her mind. The diary had brought them together and now the diary was no more.

The full impact of this night’s events finally struck her. A ghastly sensation of doom descended.

She might never see Tobias again after tonight.

The sense of impending loss that swirled through her was intense. What was the matter with her? She ought to be grateful to know that he would soon be out of her life. He had cost her the fee for this night’s work.

But for some reason, all she could feel was regret.

With a soft cry, she released the blanket and threw her arms around his neck.

“Tobias.”

His mouth closed urgently over hers.

His last kiss had left smoldering embers. At the touch of his mouth now, the flames leaped into a searing, dazzling blaze. No man’s embrace had ever had such an effect on her. What she had known with John all those years ago had been a sweet sonnet of delicate, insubstantial feelings too ethereal for this world. What she experienced in Tobias’s arms, however, filled her with indescribably thrilling sensations.

Tobias tore his mouth from hers and trailed kisses down her throat. She fell back onto the velvet squabs. Her cloak spread out beneath her. She felt his hand on her leg and wondered how he had got it beneath the cloak and the skirts of her gown without her being aware of his action.

“We hardly know each other,” she whispered.

“On the contrary.” He slid warm fingers up the inside of her thigh. “I’ll wager I discovered more about you during the time in Rome than a great many husbands know about their wives.”

“I find that extremely difficult to believe.”

“I shall prove it to you.”

She kissed him hungrily. “How can you do that?”

“Let me see, where shall I begin?” He reached behind her and loosened the tapes of her bodice. “I know that you are very fond of long walks. I must have followed you for miles in Rome.”

“Healthful. Long walks are excellent for the health, sir.”

He lowered the bodice of her gown. “I know that you enjoy reading poetry.”

“You saw the books on my shelf in Rome that night.”

He touched the silver pendant she wore at her throat and then he kissed one stiff nipple. “I know that you would not allow Pomfrey to make you his mistress.”

That piece of information was like cold rain dashed in her face. She went still, her hands on his shoulders, and stared up at him.

“You know about Pomfrey?”

“Everyone in Rome knew about Pomfrey. He seduced nearly every widow in town and a fair number of wives.” Tobias kissed the valley between her breasts. “But you turned down his offer out of hand.”

“Lord Pomfrey is a married man.” Good grief, she sounded quite prim, even to her own ears.

Tobias raised his head. His eyes gleamed in the dim glow of the lamps. “He is also very rich and said to be exceedingly generous with his mistresses. He could have made your life a good deal more pleasant.”

She shuddered. “I cannot think of anything more unpleasant than being Pomfrey’s mistress. The man drinks heavily and when he is in his cups he has no control over his temper. I once saw him strike a blow at another man who had only teased him for being inebriated.”

“I was there the day he saw you in the market. I heard him try to persuade you to let him set you up in a small apartment.”

She was mortified. “You overheard that embarrassing conversation?”

“It wasn’t particularly difficult to overhear your response to his offer.” Tobias’s teeth flashed briefly. “Your voice was somewhat elevated, as I recall.”

“I was furious.” She paused. “Where were you?”

“In the doorway of a small shop.” He slid his hand higher along the inside of her leg. “I was eating an orange.”

“You remember such a small detail?”

“I remember everything about that moment. After Pomfrey took himself off in high dudgeon, I decided that the orange I was eating was far and away the finest orange I had ever eaten in my entire life. Nothing else had ever tasted so sweet.”

He closed his palm over the hot, damp place between her legs.

Heat swirled through her lower body, leaving her tingling and trembling in a storm of sensation. She could tell from the wicked satisfaction in Tobias’s eyes that he knew full well what he was doing to her. It was time to turn the tables.

“Well, at least now I know something about you, sir.” She clutched his shoulders very tightly. “You are fond of oranges.”

“I like them well enough. But in Italy they say there is no fruit that can compare with a ripe fig.” He stroked her deliberately. “I’m inclined to agree.”

She nearly choked on a gasp that was a mix of outrage and laughter. She had lived long enough in Mrs. Underwood’s household to learn that in Italy ripe figs were considered an earthy symbol of a woman’s sex.

He covered her mouth once more with his own, silencing her. He used his hand to bring her to the brink of a sensation she had never known before. When she shivered and moaned in his arms, seeking something more, he unfastened the opening of his trousers.

And then he was between her legs, sliding slowly, relentlessly into her body, filling her completely. Without warning, the great tension within her suddenly exploded in glittering fragments of intense feeling that no poet could have even begun to describe.

“Tobias?” She clawed her hands down his back. “Bloody hell, Tobias. Tobias.”

A soft, husky laugh, more of a groan really, purred through him.

She wrapped her arms around him, repeating his name over and over again. He used his weight to sink himself deeper into her body.

Beneath her hands the muscles of his back went taut and rigid. She knew he was on the edge of his own release. Impulsively she tried to pull him closer.

“No,” he muttered.

To her astonishment he wrenched his mouth from hers and jerked himself roughly, unceremoniously out of her body. He gave a muffled exclamation and convulsed violently.

She held him while he spent himself into the folds of her cloak.