twelve

“What on earth is wrong with you this morning?” Emeline reached for the coffeepot. “I vow, you are in a very strange mood.”

“I have a right to be in a strange mood.” Lavinia ladled eggs onto her plate. She was also unusually hungry, she realized. She had awakened with an extremely healthy appetite. All that exercise in Mrs. Dove’s carriage, no doubt. “I told you, we are presently without a client.”

“You were quite correct to terminate your association with Mrs. Dove.” Emeline poured coffee into her cup. “She had no business instructing her man to spy upon Mr. March. Who knows what she intended?”

“I’m almost certain she ordered the footman to try to get to the diary first or take it from Mr. March by force. She wanted the book very, very badly. She did not want Tobias or me to read the passages that contained her secrets.”

“Even though she had already told you about them?”

Lavinia raised her brows. “I am forced to agree with Mr. March. I think we can assume that whatever Mrs. Dove’s secrets are, they amount to something more than the details of an indiscretion conducted in the distant past.”

“Well, that is neither here nor there now, is it? The diary has been destroyed.”

“I may have been a bit hasty in throwing her money back in her face,” Lavinia said slowly.

Emeline’s eyes sparkled. “It was the principle of the thing,” she said.

“Yes, it was. Mr. March was an extremely difficult partner, but he was my associate in the affair. I could hardly allow a client to believe she could treat him like a pawn and perhaps take advantage of him. One has one’s pride.”

“Was it your pride or Mr. March’s pride that concerned you last night?” Emeline asked dryly.

“It makes no matter now. The upshot is that I am without a client this morning.”

“Never fear. Another one will soon come along.”

Emeline’s sunny optimism could be extremely irritating at times, Lavinia reflected.

“It occurs to me,” she said, “that Mr. March will no doubt collect his fee from his client. In which event, he really ought to split it with me, don’t you think?”

“Indeed,” Emeline said.

“I believe I will mention the matter to him.” Lavinia munched eggs and absently listened to the muffled clatter of hooves and carriage wheels in the street. “Do you know, as difficult as he proved to be on occasion, Mr. March was of some use in the affair. When all is said and done, he was the one who discovered the valet’s diary.”

Emeline eyed her with interest. “What are you thinking, Lavinia?”

She gave an elaborate shrug. “It strikes me that it might prove beneficial to both Mr. March and myself to occasionally collaborate in the future.”

“Well.” A strange expression appeared in Emeline’s eyes. “Well, well, well. Indeed. A fascinating thought.”

The thought of future partnerships with Tobias was exhilarating and quite terrifying, Lavinia decided. Best to change the subject.

“First things first,” she said firmly. “Today we must concentrate on your evening at the theater tonight.”

“Our evening at the theater.”

“Indeed. It was very kind of Lady Wortham to invite me also.”

Emeline’s brows rose. “I believe she is somewhat curious about you.”

Lavinia frowned. “I trust you have not mentioned any of my former careers to her?”

“Of course not.”

“And you haven’t told her anything of my new business venture either, I hope?”

“No.”

“Excellent.” Lavinia relaxed slightly. “I do not believe that Lady Wortham would find any of my professions suitable.”

“In her circles, there are no suitable professions for females,” Emeline pointed out.

“Quite true. Tonight I shall make certain to drop a hint to the effect that you have a modest but secure inheritance.”

“That’s not exactly a hint, Aunt Lavinia. It’s more in the nature of a lie.”

“Details.” Lavinia waved that aside. “Now then, do not forget we have our final fittings at Madame Francesca’s this morning.”

“I will not forget.” Emeline hesitated, a worried frown marking her usually smooth brow. “Aunt Lavinia, concerning this evening, I trust you will not get your hopes too high. I’m quite sure that I will not take.”

“Nonsense. You will look beautiful in your new gown.”

Emeline grinned. “Not nearly so beautiful as Priscilla Wortham, which, of course, is the real reason her mother has been so kind to me and well you know it. She believes that having me in the vicinity shows Priscilla off to advantage.”

“I don’t care a fig for Lady Wortham’s schemes—” Lavinia broke off, appalled. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It makes no matter to me that Lady Wortham is plotting to display Priscilla in the best possible light. As Priscilla’s mother, that is her duty. But in the process, she has provided us with a golden opportunity, and I intend to make full use of it.”

The door of the breakfast room opened without warning. Mrs. Chilton loomed. There was a marked glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Mrs. Dove is here, ma’am,” she said loudly. “Are you seeing callers at this early hour?”

“Mrs. Dove?”

Panic roared through Lavinia. Tobias had been wrong when he had assured her there were no stains on the carriage cushions. In the poor light, he had no doubt missed an incriminating spot. She wondered if Joan Dove had come to demand payment for damages done to the seat of her expensive equipage. How much did it cost to recover a carriage cushion?

“Aye, ma’am. Shall I put her in the parlor or yer study?”

“What does she want?” Lavinia asked warily.

Mrs. Chilton looked startled. “Well, as to that, I couldn’t say, ma’am. She asked to speak with you. Do you want me to send her away?”

“No, of course not.” Lavinia took a deep breath and braced herself. She was a woman of the world. She could deal with this sort of thing. “I will see her. Please show her into my study immediately.”

“Aye, ma’am.” Mrs. Chilton removed herself from the doorway and disappeared.

Emeline looked thoughtful. “I’ll wager that Mrs. Dove has come here this morning to insist upon paying you for your services.”

Lavinia’s spirits rose. “Do you really think so?”

“What other reason could there be?”

“Well—”

“Perhaps she wishes to apologize for her actions.”

“I doubt it.”

“Lavinia?” Emeline frowned. “What is wrong? I should think you would be thrilled that she has come here today to give you the money she owes you.”

“Thrilled.” Lavinia went slowly toward the door. “Absolutely thrilled.”

She managed to keep Mrs. Dove waiting for four full minutes before the suspense became unbearable. She tried to look politely unconcerned and unhurried as she walked into the study.

A woman of the world.

“Good day, Mrs. Dove. This is a surprise. I was not expecting you.”

Joan stood in front of the bookcase, where she had apparently been perusing the handful of volumes on the shelves. She wore a dark gray gown that Madame Francesca had obviously designed to discreetly display her elegant figure and to accent her blond and silver hair.

The veil of the clever black hat was crumpled attractively on the brim. The expression in Joan’s eyes was, as always, unreadable.

“I see you read poetry,” Joan said.

Caught off guard by the remark, Lavinia glanced quickly at the handful of books. “I do not have many volumes at the moment. I was obliged to leave a great many behind when we returned somewhat hurriedly from a recent tour of Italy. It will take me some time to replenish the contents of my library.”

“Forgive me for disturbing you so early in the day,” Joan said. “But I did not sleep at all last night and my nerves would not tolerate any further delay.”

Lavinia forged a path toward the fortress that was her desk. “Please be seated.”

“Thank you.” Joan chose a chair in front of the desk. “I shall come straight to the point. I wish to apologize for what occurred last night. My only excuse is that I did not entirely trust Mr. March. I felt it would be best to keep an eye on him.”

“I see.”

“I came here today to insist upon paying you the fee I owe you. You and Mr. March were successful, after all. It is not your fault the diary was destroyed.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Lavinia said carefully.

“You may be correct. However, it still leaves a rather glaring question.”

“You wish to know who sent you that dreadful little waxwork, I suppose.”

“I cannot rest until I know the answer,” Joan said. “I wish you to continue your inquiries into the matter.”

Joan had not come here today to complain of ruined carriage cushions. She was here to pay her bill and to request further services.

Lavinia sat down rather more abruptly than she had intended. Quite suddenly the morning seemed much brighter in spite of the rain. She made an effort to conceal her relief behind a professional facade. Very deliberately she clasped her hands on her desk.

“I see,” she murmured.

“I will understand if you feel it necessary to raise your fees to compensate for what you feel was my failure to be completely forthright in the matter of the diary.”

Lavinia cleared her throat. “Under the circumstances.”

“Yes, of course,” Joan said. “Name your price.”

If she had any sense at all, Lavinia thought, she would seize the opportunity of a second chance, pluck a handsome sum out of the air, and let bygones be bygones. But the memory of Tobias’s close call last night insisted upon getting in the way.

Against her better judgment, she fixed Joan with a steady gaze.

“If we are to continue to do business together, Mrs. Dove, I must make it plain that there is to be no more spying on your part. I will not have Mr. March followed about as if he were a thief and a villain. He is a professional, just as I am.”

Joan elevated one brow. “Mr. March is important to you, is he not?”

She would not rise to that bait, Lavinia vowed silently. “I’m sure you will understand when I tell you that I feel a strong sense of obligation toward Mr. March because he is my business associate.”

“I see. A sense of obligation.”

“Indeed. Now then, Mrs. Dove, may I have your promise that you will not send a man to skulk about in the shadows while Mr. March is performing his inquiries?”

Joan hesitated and then inclined her head slightly. “You have my word that I will not interfere again.”

“Very well.” Lavinia smiled coolly. “I shall send a message to Mr. March immediately. If he has no objection to resuming inquiries on your behalf, I will accept your new commission.”

“Something tells me that Mr. March will not be at all hesitant to continue on in his capacity as your associate in this affair. I gained the distinct impression last night that he was not in favor of the manner in which you hurled my money back in my face.”

Lavinia felt herself grow very warm. “I did not throw it back in your face, Mrs. Dove. Not literally.”

Joan smiled. She said nothing.

Lavinia sat back in her chair. “Very well, I believe you are correct when you say that Mr. March will be only too pleased to resume his efforts in this matter. Going on that assumption, I may as well ask you some questions. It will save time.”

Joan inclined her head. “Yes, of course.”

“We must assume that whoever burned the diary and left it for Mr. March to discover is trying to tell us that the blackmail is finished. I suspect you will not receive any more notes from the person who sent that waxwork to you. I believe he has lost his taste for blackmail.”

“You may well be right. The knowledge that I had employed professionals to make inquiries into the matter no doubt alarmed him greatly and drove him back into the shadows. Nevertheless, I must know who he is. I’m sure you understand.” Joan smiled humorlessly. “I cannot tolerate strangers sending death threats.”

“No, of course not. In your shoes, I would feel the same way about the matter. Last night in bed I thought about some aspects of this situation. It occurred to me that there might be more to this than ordinary blackmail. Please do not be offended, but I must ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Before you answer, I hope you will think carefully and be honest.” Lavinia hesitated, searching for the most polite way of asking the question. “Is there any reason why someone might wish to harm you?”

No emotion flickered in Joan’s eyes. Not surprise or outrage or fear. She simply nodded, as if she had anticipated the question.

“I cannot think that anything I have done would make someone want to murder me,” she said.

“You are a very wealthy woman. Have you conducted any business dealings that might have caused someone great financial distress?”

For the first time, a whisper of emotion appeared in Joan’s eyes. It was a sad, wistful expression that was quickly veiled.

“For many years, I was married to a very wise, very clever man who managed my affairs and his own quite brilliantly. I learned a great deal about investments and financial matters from him, but I do not believe I shall ever become as proficient as he was in such things. I have done my best since Fielding’s death. But it is all enormously complicated.”

“I understand.”

“I am still struggling with many aspects of the investments and business affairs he left to me. It is all quite arcane. Nevertheless, I feel certain that nothing I have done since his death has caused anyone to lose money.”

“Forgive me, but is there anything in your personal life that might be involved? Something of a romantic nature perhaps?”

“I was deeply in love with my husband, Mrs. Lake. I was true to him during the whole of our marriage, and I have not formed any connections of an intimate nature since his death. I do not see how there could be any personal reason for someone to threaten me.”

Lavinia met her eyes. “Nevertheless, a death threat is a very personal thing, is it not? More personal, when you think about it, than blackmail, which is more in the nature of a business transaction.”

“Yes.” Joan rose from the chair. The beautifully cut skirts of her gown needed no adjusting. They fell instantly into graceful folds. “That is why I am asking you to continue your inquiries into the matter.”

Lavinia got to her feet and started around her desk. “I shall send a message to Mr. March at once.”

Joan went toward the door. “You and Mr. March are very close, are you not?”

Quite inexplicably, the toe of Lavinia’s shoe snagged on the carpet. She stumbled and was obliged to grab hold of the side of the desk to steady herself.

“Ours is a business connection,” she said. Her voice was a little too loud, she realized. A bit too forceful.

She straightened and rushed forward to open the door.

“You surprise me.” Joan looked politely bemused. “Judging by your concern for his safety and well-being last night, I would have guessed the two of you had a personal as well as a professional relationship.”

Lavinia yanked open the door. “My concern for him is nothing more than the feeling anyone would have for a business associate.”

“Yes, of course.” Joan walked out into the hall and paused. “By the way, I very nearly forgot. This morning my coachman told me he had found something on the seat of the carriage.”

Lavinia’s mouth went dry. Her hand locked on the doorknob. She knew she had probably turned a dreadful shade of pink, but there was nothing she could do.

“On the seat, you say?” she managed weakly.

“Yes. I believe it belongs to you.” Joan opened her reticule and removed a folded square of muslin. She held it out to Lavinia. “It certainly isn’t mine.”

Lavinia stared at the cloth. It was the fichu she had worn last night. She had not even noticed it was missing. Her hand went to her throat.

“Thank you.” She hastily plucked the fichu from Joan’s fingers. “I had not realized I lost it.”

“One must take care in a carriage.” Joan lowered the veil of her hat. “Especially at night. In the shadows it is often difficult to see clearly. It is easy to lose something valuable.”

She sent the message to Tobias minutes after Joan departed in her elegant maroon carriage.

Dear Sir:

I have been offered a new commission from our former client, who wishes us to continue making inquiries on her behalf. I have her firm promise that she will abide by certain strict requirements. Are you at all interested in resuming your position as my business associate for the purpose of continuing on in this affair?

Yrs.

Mrs. L.

His reply came back less than an hour later.

Dear Mrs. L.,

Rest assured I will be delighted to assume whatever position suits you in this affair of ours, madam.

Yrs.

M.

Lavinia studied the short note for a long time. Eventually she concluded it would be best if she did not attempt to read any hidden meaning into what Tobias had written. He was not given to subtlety and nuance in his communications with her.

The man was not a poet, after all.

“Destroyed, you say?” Neville looked thoroughly confused by the news. “Bloody hell. Completely burned?”

“If I were you, I would lower my voice.” Tobias glanced meaningfully around the lightly crowded club room. “One never knows who may be listening.”

“Yes, of course.” Neville shook his head in bewilderment. “I forgot myself. It is just that I am quite startled by this turn of events. There was nothing left?”

“A few pages had been spared. I believe that was done to allow me to confirm that I had discovered the diary I sought.”

“But all of the pages containing the entries pertaining to the members of the Blue Chamber—they were all unreadable?”

“I went through the ashes very carefully,” Tobias assured him. “There was nothing of interest left.”

“Damnation.” Neville’s hand closed into a fist, but the gesture had a theatrical quality to it. “This means the affair is finished, does it not?”

“Well—”

“It is all quite frustrating, of course. I very much wanted to know the name of the one surviving member of the Blue Chamber, the man who turned traitor during the war.”

“I understand.”

“With the diary destroyed, we shall never know his name, nor will we ever learn the real identity of Azure.”

“Given that he is dead and has been for nearly a year, perhaps that does not matter,” Tobias said.

Neville frowned and reached for the bottle of claret. “I suppose you are right. I would have given a great deal to have got my hands on that diary. But in the end, the crucial thing is that the Blue Chamber no longer exists as a criminal organization.”

Tobias leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together. “There is one small problem.”

Neville paused in the act of pouring his claret and looked up sharply. “What is that?”

“Whoever destroyed the diary may well have read it first.”

Neville started visibly. “Read it. Bloody hell. Yes, of course. I had not thought about that aspect.”

“Someone out there now knows who Azure really was. That same person also knows the identity of the one remaining member of the Blue Chamber.”

The claret bottle shook a little in Neville’s hand. “Hell’s teeth, man. You’re right.”

“Whoever he is, he may have no intention whatsoever of revealing the secrets of the diary. In fact, I assume that is what he was attempting to tell us when he arranged for me to find the burned pages.” Tobias paused deliberately. “Nevertheless, he knows the answers to our questions. That makes him dangerous.”

“Well.” Neville set the bottle down very carefully. “Well, yes, it does. What do you suggest?”

“I am prepared to continue my inquiries into the matter.” Tobias smiled. “If you are prepared to continue paying my fees.”