Alex was glad he could put off his social obligations for a bit. He needed to learn everything he could about the most recent victim, Warner Mason, who was a clerk with the War Office. The man was thoroughly respectable on the surface, but Alex thought something more had to be going on.
However, it was imperative that he not be connected to this part of the investigation in any way. The War Office was full of people who might recognize him as the Duke of Dunmere, or worse, people who might start wondering what organization he represented.
So he’d have to break in at night, he decided cheerfully. Alex missed that part of being an agent. The challenge of slipping into the well-guarded offices of a building run by the War Office was simply too inviting. Alex dressed in his favorite outfit for such activities—dark, nondescript, and excellent for running in—and made his way to Mason’s old office.
After he watched the place for a half hour, Alex was not impressed with the War Office’s security. Two guards patrolled the grounds, but they weren’t coordinated, so it was easy to slip across the yard when both were on the other side of the building. Alex had a bit of trouble with the lock on the door, but even that gave way after a few moments. He got inside and pushed the door shut just as one guard rounded the corner of the building.
Inside, the place was dark, except for a glow far away, which he assumed to be where the night watchman was resting. Alex moved silently through the halls, searching for the place where Mason had worked. He knew the details of the man’s employment from his previous research, so it wasn’t long before he found the office that held Mason’s desk. It looked like he had shared the room with several other clerks. Now, the top of Mason’s desk was conspicuously empty, and a few boxes were stacked nearby.
Packing up, Alex thought. Good thing he got here tonight, before everything was gone. Alex opened the curtain of the window nearby, which let in enough light so he wouldn’t need a lamp.
A quick look through the boxes revealed only files of notes, memoranda, and some dull-sounding bureaucratic papers. Alex memorized the names in some of the most recent documents, but he doubted that they were what he needed to find. Using his skills again, he picked the exceedingly simple locks on the desk drawers. Apparently no one else had opened them yet. Papers were jammed inside, and nothing was sorted. Alex shifted the papers carefully, seeking something out of place or interesting, or ideally both.
Soon enough, something caught his attention: a paper marked with several familiar symbols. He pulled the paper out of the drawer and read it. It appeared to be astrological advice meant for Mason specifically. He read the last entry.
Venus occluded on the day of 15 Mar heralds a time of sacrifice without fame. Perform a worthy task on this day. Though no one will applaud your act, it will bear fruit when the moon passes through Scorpio.
The serpent bearer seeks only the brave and unflinching, as shown by the constellation’s position over the next three weeks. Follow the design of the heavens to prove your worth as the true sky dictates.
Alex put the paper into his jacket pocket. “A great omen,” he muttered, with derision. That was the day Mason died, and Alex would bet that the man would have preferred some hint of that cosmic design, rather than some bromide about proving one’s worth.
But the fact that the paper existed at all was significant. It meant Mason was interested in the occult, and since the killer used similar signs, the two certainly could have known each other for that reason. Alex kept looking through the desk, and found a little notebook shoved toward the back of one drawer. It appeared to be written by Mason himself, and it was also concerned with astrology. Alex pocketed that, too.
He decided not to press his luck further. He put everything back and relocked the drawers. He had just pulled the curtain shut again when he heard a sound in the hallway. The night watchman was on his rounds. Alex held still, praying the man wouldn’t open each office door.
He didn’t. The footsteps faded away. Alex moved to the door and slipped through. He retraced his steps, but just when he reached the stairway, a voice called out.
“Stop there!”
Alex didn’t feel like obeying that order. He bolted down the stairs to the ground floor. The night watchman was not an idiot, though. Rather than chase Alex, who had a head start, he opened a window and yelled an alert to the outdoor guards. They were already converging on Alex when he yanked open the door to the yard.
But he was in no mood to get caught. He barreled past the guards, neatly avoiding one’s bat. They gave chase, but Alex didn’t let them get close. He ran like a thief and outdistanced the guards well before he had to stop to catch his breath.
He dove down a narrow alley when he was sure he was out of sight. A quick breather, then he adjusted his clothes to be as presentable as possible. He walked out the other end of the alley and ambled down the street. He was not entirely surprised when a few minutes later, one of the guards ran past him, offering only a shouted apology for nearly knocking Alex over.
He shook his head, and then hailed a coach to take him home.
“People always expect thieves to be running,” he said to himself, sitting back in the seat.
He took out the notebook, and saw a street direction inscribed on the front flap. Inspired, he called out to the driver to take him there instead. He was already dressed for it, he thought.
Mason had rented rooms in a neighborhood that Alex would have thought too expensive for a mere clerk. Breaking in was almost too easy, and Alex pushed the front door open very gently, reasoning that Mason might well share accommodations with someone to help with the rent.
But the whole place was utterly silent, and seemingly undisturbed.
Alex walked through the rooms, noting how well-appointed everything was. The furniture was quite new. Paintings and mirrors hung on the walls, and the only unpleasant thing in the place was the sour tang of rotted food. No one had been here since Mason’s death. No one but mice and rats, he amended, seeing little dark shapes flee at his approach.
There was little evidence that Mason took his work home. The only papers Alex found were personal letters. Most seemed to be from a sister who wrote every week, to judge by the dates. There were a few other letters as well, some kept carefully in a little cardboard box, as if they were special. Alex opened the first one and read it in the dim light by the window.
“My darling,” he muttered. A love letter? If so, it was a dangerous one to keep in the open. The writing was decidedly masculine, and the sender signed the note with Forever, Daniel.
That didn’t necessarily mean much for Alex’s investigation, though. Mason didn’t appear to have worried about exposure. And he wasn’t short of money, to judge by the place. So he wasn’t being blackmailed by someone who thought they might exploit his romantic preferences.
Unless Mason was the blackmailer. That might explain how he could afford to live beyond the means of a clerk’s pay.
Alex quickly went through the rest of the place, pocketing all the documents that interested him. Then he left, using a window like a thief.
* * * *
Though it was quite late, Violet was awake when Alex returned to the townhouse. She heard his distinctive footsteps below. Though she didn’t want to bother him when he was working, she was also rather curious about his progress.
So she descended the steps, looking for him. The study light was on, and she knocked softly on the door. “Alex?”
There was a pause, then, “Come in.”
Violet stepped into the room, and gasped. “You look terrible.” He wore dark clothes that were a bit ripped and torn. But more than that, his face was haggard.
“That makes sense,” he said. “I feel as if I’ve got no sleep for days.”
“That’s because you haven’t,” she said, “unless you’re sleeping somewhere else.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
Alex just looked at her for a long moment, then said, “It sounded as if you’re slightly concerned about my well-being.”
“Oh,” Violet said, relieved that she hadn’t accidentally started a new argument. “In that case, I meant it exactly as it sounded.”
“You’re not asleep either,” he said then. “The usual reason?”
“More or less.” Violet moved further into the room. “I shouldn’t bother you now, either. You’re working, aren’t you?”
“If breaking into a victim’s home to find out who they were counts, then yes, I’ve been working.”
Violet thought of her well-born husband acting as a common thief. It was surprisingly easy to picture. “I suppose,” she said, “that if one waited for the law to do everything, it would take too long to get to the answer. Did you learn anything?”
“I think so. But not enough. There are more questions than answers at this point.” He pushed what he’d been reading aside. “And of course, I do still have to act like everyone else. There’s some event tomorrow evening, isn’t there?”
“Yes, but if you’re pursuing…”
“No,” Alex said quickly. “We’ll appear as expected. A few hours among society won’t kill me.”
Violet laughed. “I think your notion of what’s dangerous has got skewed, Alex. Society isn’t asking you to sneak into buildings and chase murderers.”
“Not directly. But someone has to.”
She shook her head, saying she’d leave him to work. She could tell Alex wanted to say something else, but she turned away before he could. Violet wouldn’t get in the way of his pursuit. She knew that it was important, and he’d made his priorities quite clear.
* * * *
As she warned Alex, the next night brought another event to attend. They reached the party when it was already packed with guests. Alex said he hoped to put in an appearance and then leave as soon as possible.
Almost as soon as they entered, an absolutely gorgeous woman hailed them. No, Violet corrected, she hailed Alex, and Violet just happened to be in the vicinity. Alex led her over to the woman with a speed that made Violet even more suspicious.
“Your grace,” the woman murmured. She was even more stunning up close. Her very dark hair was cut quite short, though on her the style seemed perfect. Her eyes fairly smoldered. It didn’t matter that her mouth was a little small or that she was actually rather skinny. The deep burgundy silk of her gown rustled whenever she moved. And her smile was far too…knowing.
“Didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” Alex said to her. “May I introduce you to my wife?” Without waiting for a response, he said, “Violet, this is Sophia, Lady Forester. She is the wife of my friend, the Viscount Forester.”
“How do you do, your grace,” the other woman said. By her accent, she was obviously French by birth. Something in her expression made it clear that this was a woman who expected the world to turn around her.
But then she smiled, and Violet found herself smiling back.
“I’ve heard quite a lot about you, your grace,” Lady Forester went on. “I suspect some of those things may even be true.”
“You have faith,” Violet said quietly.
Lady Forester’s smile deepened. “Does it seem so? Tell me, are you staying in London long?”
“A couple of weeks, I expect. My husband is much in demand.”
“The irony of his position,” Lady Forester said, with an understanding laugh, and a glance toward Alex. “My own husband finds himself in much the same position, and I am left all alone to pine for his return.” The last part was said in a deliberately theatrical tone, making both Violet and Alex laugh.
“I must entertain you while his grace is occupied,” she went on. “You will come to my home tomorrow for the afternoon.”
Violet almost agreed without even considering it. Such was the power of this woman’s voice. “I may have a prior engagement,” she hedged.
“I hope not,” Lady Forester said smoothly. “You would enjoy the day, I think. Only intelligent women are permitted over my threshold, and gossip is considered terribly boring by my guests.”
“Are you inviting me to Utopia?” Violet asked before she thought better of it.
Lady Forester laughed delightedly. “You will come. I know that you will.”
“You should, Violet,” Alex added. “No sense in you being bored at home while I’m away.”
“Very well, then.”
Alex then sighed. “I think I see one of my cousins. Damn. I’ll have to speak to him now. Please excuse me.”
Lady Forester also excused herself, saying that she had to locate her own husband, saying, “He’s probably trying to climb out a window. He hates parties.” Then she left, after reminding Violet of the invitation to her home.
At moment later, a man with dark hair and very well cut clothing came up to Violet. He was quite handsome—a little too handsome, actually, in the sense that he was quite aware of his looks. He bowed to her, with a touch more drama than necessary.
“Excuse me, your grace. That is, you are the Duchess of Dunmere, is that right?”
“Correct,” Violet said.
“I saw you across the room and knew you had to be her. You must be a particularly daring woman, to brave the curse.”
“I do not believe in curses,” she said flatly.
He merely smiled. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m only testing the range of your beliefs, your grace,” he explained easily. “Do you believe in dancing, for example?”
“I believe it exists, if that’s what you’re asking,” Violet said, uncertain.
“Excellent. Prove it to me.” He took her hand with the obvious intention of taking her to the floor. “I am Derek Holbrook, by the way. You may have heard of my father, Lord Leconbury. Shall we dance?”
Violet wasn’t sure she wanted to do that, but a quick glance around didn’t help. Alex was nowhere to be seen.
“Very well,” she said, even as Derek led her to the dance. One dance couldn’t possibly hurt.
* * * *
Alex thought the evening was going surprisingly well. Violet looked even more lovely tonight than ever before. She was wearing a white gown with touches of blue and purple embroidered all over it, and she wore another necklace from her new collection—this one featuring a large amethyst as the center stone. With her hair up in a mass of curls, the whole effect made her look both innocent and tempting. Or perhaps Alex was reading a little too much of his own desires into her appearance. Either way, she was certainly the most beautiful woman there tonight.
But she also seemed to be missing, or at least he didn’t see her. He asked a few people, and heard from one that she’d been dancing with Derek Holbrook. His cynical, investigative side immediately created a mental image that set his teeth on edge. Derek was notorious for chasing newlywed women. He saw their presumably blissful state as a challenge to his talents as a seducer. And Violet, of course, was completely innocent. If Derek set his sights on her, Alex would likely end up in a duel tonight, one way or another.
Alex had to find her. But before he could get very far, it seemed half of London had to come up to him and tell him things he didn’t want to hear.
He avoided as many of them as he could, but some people were more persistent.
“I must say, she looks better than the rumors would have it,” a Lord Morley was saying to him.
“What rumors?” snapped Alex.
“Ah, there are rumors that the duchess haunts the grounds like a ghost, wandering at all hours and scaring everyone half to death.”
Alex took a deep breath. He said, “Tell me. Does the duchess strike you as someone who haunts anything?”
Lord Morley looked sorry he brought it up. “No.”
“Good. I hope that puts an end to any discussion of a rumor that’s patently stupid.” Privately, Alex resolved to find out exactly how the reality of Violet’s insomnia got blown up into this wild tale. Some servant must be to blame. There were over a hundred on the estate, and it was impossible to get all of them to hold their tongues.
But first he had to find Violet before she got into trouble.
* * * *
Violet was getting into trouble. Derek seemed harmless enough at first. He was a good dancer and made her laugh more than she thought he might. But after the dance, he’d drawn her well away from where he’d found her. Indeed, he drew her well away from the crowd. While it was a relief to breathe in the less congested room near the gallery on the upper floor, she did not like being alone with the gentleman, or his increasingly uncomfortable conversation.
She didn’t want to be rude, so she tried to simply ignore the man’s words at first. But when he touched her arm and made an unquestionable innuendo about temptation, she had had enough.
In a voice as cold as winter, Violet said, “I do not find you tempting, my lord. I find you tedious.”
Derek, who must have been slightly drunk, took a moment to digest her words.
“I refused you,” Violet added helpfully. “Get out of my sight immediately, and I shall not press the matter. The stairs are that way.” She pointed with her closed fan, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it as a weapon.
He didn’t say a word, but instead huffed and turned around. The sound of his boots faded rapidly down the corridor in the other direction.
Violet snapped open her fan, and felt the beginnings of a sob in her chest. Why should she feel so embarrassed when it was the man who behaved so terribly? But Violet should have known better than to let it get so far. She been taught that it was a lady’s responsibility to guard her own virtue and keep any hint of scandal away. If anyone discovered that she’d been alone with the gentleman for even a moment, it would reflect badly on Violet. Alex would be furious, she thought. Her first impulse was tell him all about it, for some reason. But he was always cognizant of what society would say, and he’d likely blame her for getting into the situation.
Nevertheless, she should return to him as soon as possible. Still overheated and feeling ashamed at the whole encounter, she stepped out of the room and made her way back to the crush.
It took a moment to find Alex among the many guests, but she finally did and made a beeline for him. “Alex, I’m so glad I found you.”
“Was I lost?” he asked. His voice was joking, but he put one hand around her waist as if he worried about her slipping away. She stepped as close to him as she dared, wordlessly seeking his protection from the likes of Derek Holbrook.
“There are some truly awful people here,” she confided in a soft voice meant for him alone.
His hold tightened fractionally. “Anyone in particular?”
“I…” She paused. “It’s partly my fault. I should not have been wandering through the house, and I didn’t expect him to follow…never mind.”
“We can leave if you’d like,” he said, noticing her flush.
“I would like.”
In the carriage, she stayed quiet, though she felt much better than she had in the house. Alex clearly knew something had upset her, though he didn’t ask her questions about it. He sat across from her, politely looking out the window at nothing.
“Please sit beside me,” she said suddenly.
He shifted to accommodate her request. Violet reached for his hand in the darkness, and he squeezed hers in response.
“Would it be possible to return to the Abbey soon?” she asked in a small voice.
“Do you not care for London?”
“Not especially,” she responded, her eyes pricking. What a country mouse she was after all.
“We can leave soon,” he said. “A few days. Certainly less than a week.”
“Are you sure? Will your work keep you—”
“I don’t want to talk about that now,” he said.
She looked up at him, feeling unshed tears in her eyes. “It’s good we left.”
“Violet, if anyone back there did anything to make you upset, I swear…”
“No! Please, don’t.” She sighed, exhaustion creeping over her. She laid her head on Alex’s arm, and he quickly lifted it to draw her against his chest. She felt the fine weave of his linen jacket on her cheek, and thought it was surprisingly comfortable. “I just want to go home soon. There might even be swans on the lake by now,” she added in a soft, almost dreamy tone.
“You said home,” Alex said after a moment. “You think of the Abbey as your home now?”
“Of course I do,” she said.
“Oh,” he said, exhaling. “I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”
Violet sensed he was not merely glad, but she was too tired to pursue it, and really it was pleasant to have Alex to lean against, his warmth surrounding her and easing her into a doze. She had no idea when her eyes closed, but she’d rarely felt so safe in her life.
* * * *
Violet rose early the next morning. Dalby came in when she rang.
“Good morning, ma’am. If you would like, you could take breakfast with his grace. He just walked down a moment ago.”
“Oh, yes. Find me a morning dress and don’t fuss about my hair.”
Dalby had her dressed in no time and sat her at the vanity to brush her hair quickly.
Violet studied her refection, thinking of the previous night. “Dalby, do you happen to know how I got inside last night? I remember falling asleep in the carriage, but I don’t remember waking.”
Dalby giggled. “Well, you didn’t, ma’am. I was waiting up, of course, and I saw out the window when the carriage pulled up. His grace carried you inside. All the way up the stairs and to the bed. Then he said not to wake you if I could help it, since you have such trouble sleeping. Then he left. You woke a bit when I helped get you out of your gown, but you dropped off right after. You must have danced forever!”
Violet was interested in only one detail of the previous night. “He carried me in? All the way?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dalby clearly thought the whole thing was rather romantic. Perhaps she was right.
“Well, finish my hair then. I should certainly thank him for it.”