Authors: Amanda Quick
He had almost reached Prudence’s side when he glimpsed Jeremy out of the corner of his eye. He paused and watched as his cousin left the crowded room to go out onto the terrace. Jeremy was alone. Now was as good a time as any to confront him.
Sebastian abruptly changed direction to pursue Jeremy. When he reached the open doors he glanced outside and saw his cousin standing near a low stone wall. As Sebastian watched, Jeremy withdrew a small snuffbox and flipped open the lid with an elegant flick of his finger. He had obviously been practicing the gesture.
Sebastian took the snuffbox he had found at Curling Castle out of his pocket and started forward.
“Allow me to offer you a special blend, cousin.” Sebastian held the box out to Jeremy.
“What? Oh, it’s you, Angelstone.” Jeremy did not immediately
look at the snuffbox in Sebastian’s gloved hand. Instead he surveyed him without any enthusiasm. “Surprised to see you here tonight, though Mother said she thought you would show. Said you would seize the opportunity to demonstrate your contempt for the rest of us.”
“Seizing such opportunities requires more energy than I wish to exert this evening. Do you recognize this snuffbox?”
Jeremy glanced at the box and frowned. “Since when did you take up the habit?”
“I have not taken it up.” Sebastian flipped open the lid. “I am told this mixture is unique. Blended expressly for one particular person.”
“What the devil are you on about?” Jeremy took a closer look at the box. “Damnation, Angelstone, that’s my snuffbox. Where did you get it?”
“It came my way not long ago. When and where did you lose it?”
Jeremy picked up the snuffbox. “I do not recall precisely. I noticed it was missing after I returned from a house party at Curling Castle. Why do you ask?”
“I found it at Curling Castle.”
Jeremy shrugged. “That explains it, then, But how did you know it was mine?”
“I made inquiries.”
“I see.” Jeremy stared at him, perplexed. “But why did you go to the effort of tracking down the owner? The box is rather nice, but it’s not all that valuable.”
“I was very curious about the owner of that box,” Sebastian said softly, “because I found it in a most unusual chamber on the top floor of Curling Castle. A room done entirely in black.”
“Black?”
“A month ago a man named Ringcross fell to his death from that particular chamber. You may recall hearing of the incident?”
Jeremy gazed at him, dumbfounded. “Ringcross’s fall occurred
the weekend I attended one of Curling’s house parties. What is this about, Angelstone?”
“Nothing, at the moment.” Sebastian studied him intently. “I merely find the coincidence interesting.”
“What coincidence?” Jeremy demanded. “The fact that you found my snuffbox in the chamber where Ringcross died? Well, I find it interesting that I only have your word that you discovered the snuffbox there.”
“Do you think I am lying about the matter?”
“I think you are quite capable of it if it suited your own ends.” Jeremy pocketed the snuffbox. “But I vow I cannot conceive of why you would want to invent such a tale. For your information, I never visited the top floor of the castle. I never saw this black chamber you describe.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes, damn it, I am very certain.” Jeremy’s face was tight with anger, “Why in blazes are you trying to connect me to that chamber?”
“I am not trying to connect you to it. The snuffbox does that all by itself.” Sebastian turned on his heel and started back into the ballroom.
“Hold on a moment, Angelstone,” Jeremy called after him. “What devil’s game are you playing now? I demand to know what you think you are doing.”
Sebastian paused on the threshold of the French doors and glanced back at Jeremy. “As it happens, I am about to ask my wife to dance the waltz with me.”
Prudence appeared in the doorway before Jeremy could react. Her smile was as bright as it had been earlier, but her eyes held speculation and concern. “I see you are getting some fresh air, Mr. Fleetwood. Lovely night, is it not?”
“A fine night, madam,” Jeremy said stiffly.
“Yes, it is. A bit chilly, however. And I believe we shall have more fog before morning.” She turned to Sebastian. “They are playing a waltz, Angelstone. I have been searching all over for you. No less than a dozen people informed me
that you had arrived, but when you did not seek me out, I thought perhaps you were unable to locate me in the crowd.”
Sebastian smiled slightly as he took her arm and led her out onto the floor. “Never fear, Prue. I will always find you, regardless of where you go or how well hidden you may be.”
She wrinkled her nose at him as he swung her into the dance. “That sounds more like a threat than a promise.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Honestly, Sebastian, sometimes you are impossible.”
“I know, my dear, but you seem to be able to deal with me. How did your investigation conclude this afternoon?”
“It was very disappointing, if you must know,” Prudence said. “I could not produce a single ghost with the electricity machine. I am beginning to wonder if there is a flaw in my new theory.”
“Perhaps there was no ghost to be found in that particular garret.”
“Probably not. I discovered a scarf in the room that belonged to one of the housemaids. When I interviewed her she admitted that she has been meeting one of the footmen up in the garret late at night. I believe they are the source of the moaning sounds Miss Singleton heard.”
“Another blow for logic and reason.”
“I suppose so, but hardly an interesting solution to the puzzle.” She eyed him closely. “What was going on out there on the terrace between you and your cousin? I do hope you were not causing trouble.”
“I am crushed by your lack of faith in my social tact.”
“Hah.”
“I have been wanting to speak to you for the past several hours,” Sebastian said.
“Have you?”
“I tracked down the owner of the snuffbox.”
Prudence brightened. “That is wonderful, my lord. How very clever of you.”
“Thank you.” Sebastian could not keep the trace of smugness out of his voice.
“I am delighted to hear the news and I cannot wait to learn the details, but what has that got to do with Mr. Fleetwood?”
“The snuffbox belongs to Jeremy.”
Prudence stared at him. “Sebastian, are you serious?”
“Very.” Sebastian watched his cousin reenter the ballroom and move quickly through the throng. Jeremy’s face was grim as he headed toward the door. His stride was that of a tense, angry man.
“Good heavens,” Prudence whispered in dismay as she followed his gaze. “Jeremy looks upset.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, dear. The word will be all over Town tomorrow that you and he have quarreled.”
Sebastian shrugged. “A quarrel between Jeremy and me will not be news, Prue. The only thing that would interest the gossips would be rumors that he and I had engaged in a friendly conversation.”
“Did you?” she asked, looking extremely hopeful.
“No,” Sebastian said. “We did not.”
rudence awoke abruptly, aware that something was wrong. This was the first night she and Sebastian had gotten to sleep before dawn. The combination of the demands of their busy social life and Sebastian’s lovemaking had somehow combined to keep her awake all night every night since her marriage. She got the feeling that Sebastian was accustomed to staying up all night. He seemed in the habit of not going to bed until after dawn.
Prudence had begun to wonder if she would ever be able to return to a normal schedule, one that involved going to bed at a decent hour and getting up early in the mornings. Perhaps now that she had married Sebastian she would be obliged to adapt to Town ways. The thought of being up all night for the rest of her life was daunting.
She lay still for a moment. Ghostly remnants of a dream drifted through her mind. She concentrated, but could not quite catch them. She thought she recalled black drapes blowing in front of a window that opened out onto an endless night. But the image vanished almost at once.
Then she realized that she was alone in the big bed. She turned on the pillow.
“Sebastian?”
“I’m here, Prue.”
She glanced toward the window and saw the large but rather fuzzy shape of him standing there. He had his back to her, one hand braced against the sill. Prudence sat up against the pillows and reached for her spectacles.
When she fumbled them into place on her nose she saw that Sebastian had put on his black dressing gown. He looked more like a Fallen Angel than ever as he stood there gazing out into the night-darkened gardens. Lucifer was sitting on the windowsill next to Sebastian. The cat was as intent on the night as Sebastian was.
“Are you having difficulty sleeping?” she asked softly as she lit the candle by the bed.
“I never sleep before dawn.”
“Oh. Then there is nothing wrong?”
“No.” His voice was dark and brooding. “Go back to sleep, Prue.”
Prudence ignored the instruction. She drew her knees up under the bedclothes and wrapped her arms around them. “You may as well tell me what you are thinking about. I am unlikely to go back to sleep with you standing there staring out the window like that. It makes me uneasy.”
Sebastian stroked Lucifer. “I’m sorry that I’m keeping you from your sleep.”
She smiled. “Well, you are, so you had best tell me what it is that you are contemplating so intently. Otherwise I shall never get back to sleep.”
He glanced at her, momentarily amused. “I believe you mean that.”
“I do mean it.” Prudence rested her chin on her knees. “You are contemplating the investigation, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“I thought that might be it.” Prudence hesitated. “I suspect you are thinking about Jeremy’s snuffbox. You are no doubt trying to figure out why it was in that chamber.”
“I have begun to wonder lately if you have developed a talent for reading my mind.”
“As you once observed, my lord, we are very much alike in our thinking processes.”
“Yes.” Sebastian stroked Lucifer in silence for a moment. “It puzzles me,” he said at last.
Prudence knew without being told that he had leaped back to the original topic. “Jeremy’s connection to the investigation? I agree with you. It is very puzzling.”
She and Sebastian had discussed the matter at length after the ball. Sebastian had told her about his confrontation with Jeremy and of how Jeremy had denied any knowledge of the black chamber.
“I made some inquiries earlier this evening. It seems my cousin is not one of Curling’s close friends. That weekend that Jeremy spent at the castle was the only time he had ever been there.”
“Who told you that?” Prudence asked. “Jeremy?”
“No, a man named Durham who is in the habit of regularly attending Curling’s house parties. He’s a professional hanger-on who maintains a presence in Society by making himself amusing and agreeable. You know the sort.”
Prudence smiled ruefully at Sebastian’s obvious contempt. “I suppose poor Mr. Durham’s role in the polite world is rather like that of an Original such as myself. People tolerate us as long as we are amusing.”
Sebastian turned his head swiftly. His eyes gleamed fiercely in the shadows. “You, madam, are now the Countess of Angelstone. Do not ever forget it. You do not exist to amuse and entertain Society. Quite the contrary. Society exists to amuse and entertain you.”
Prudence blinked at the controlled violence of his response to what she had intended only as a small jest. “An interesting concept, my lord. I shall consider it more closely some other time. For now, let us return to the matter of your cousin Jeremy.”
“The problem,” Sebastian said slowly, “is that there is nothing to which one may return. We know nothing else yet
except that Jeremy was at the castle when Ringcross died and that it was his snuffbox that we found in that damn chamber.”
“Along with the gold button.”
Sebastian tapped one finger slowly on the windowsill. “Yes. I have not yet started my inquiries in that direction. It might prove interesting to see what we learn about the button.”
Prudence studied him for a moment. “Do you think your cousin lied to you when he claimed he had never been in that black chamber?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you concerned that he may actually be involved in Ringcross’s death?” Prudence asked.
“I think the coincidence of that snuffbox being in that black chamber is a bit hard to dismiss out of hand. My instincts tell me there is some connection.”
“Coincidences do happen, Sebastian.”
“I’m aware of that, but they don’t happen often and it has been my experience that they rarely occur at all in an investigation of this sort.”
Prudence considered the matter for a minute. “I do not know him well, but from what I have seen of your cousin, I would have a hard time envisioning him as a murderer. He seems to be very much a gentleman.”
Sebastian stared out into the fog-bound night. “Any man can be driven to murder if there is sufficient motivation. A gentleman may kill as easily as the next man.”