Night Storm (16 page)

Adair considered his next step. If he handled it incorrectly, he could send her stomping off in a huff. Even if he did execute his next question perfectly, she could still leave angry, and he would be no farther along in his investigation than when he’d entered the museum.

“Has anyone new entered her ladyship’s life?”

“New? As in a new friend?”

“That’s one possibility.”

Her blond brows knit together while she tried to understand the meaning behind his words. “You’re speaking of a lover.”

Adair said nothing.

Rather than being outraged, Lady Bentondorf’s expression changed from confusion to dawning horror to loyal stubbornness. Adair knew her next words would be a lie before she did.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m not convinced that’s true.”

He allowed his comment to sit between them; a silent challenge. Most people were uncomfortable with silence. Adair was not.

“I’ll not be a party to destroying Susan’s honor.”

“I’m not interested in destroying anything, especially a lady’s honor. However, you might know something that will lead me to her killer. If I don’t stop him, another of your ilk will die.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Experience. When a predator gets his first taste of blood, it is a rare occasion when one bite is enough.”

“How positively dreadful.” She flicked the edge of his card. “Why is it you’re involved in Susan’s murder inquiry? Are you assisting the coroner? Or did Lord Winthrop send you?”

“No, on both scores. I’m here on behalf of another client, who has an equal interest in finding the killer.”

“How did you get my name?”

“One of her servants mentioned you.”

“Granston?”

“He’s one possibility.”

A fond smile played about her lips. “When Susan married Winthrop, Granston followed her, leaving the earl’s employ. Granston loved her like a daughter. If he sent you to me, he did so because he trusted you.” She studied him. “Did he send you, Mr. Adair?”

Since the butler didn’t request anonymity, Adair could not come up with a reason to keep the information from her. “Yes.”

“Thought so. He always wanted the best for her, and I think he worried about her choice of husband.”

“Why?”

She glanced off into the distance, saying nothing for a full minute. “A little over a decade ago, Susan and I took the
ton
by storm. We danced, flirted, and kissed many a young man—and even a few women. We were fearless on so many unacceptable levels.” Her gaze, soft and sultry now, glided over to lock with his. “Shall I continue, or are you too appalled?”

Although he could see the diamond she had been—and probably still was when she was not masking her beauty—her languid, blue eyes stirred not a single twinge of desire within his long-suffering groin. Sage green was his favorite color. Sage dusted with small flecks of gold and framed by an oval, often too serious, face.

Sage made his body stir. Awaken.
Yearn
.

“By all means, continue.”

Her eyelids lowered, and he could feel the weight of her gaze on his lips. An awkward moment passed before she straightened and fixed her attention on a distant display. “Several of society’s matrons took notice of our antics—not all of them, thankfully—and deemed us loose and unmanageable. Their labels transformed our idyllic season into a miserable black void of vanishing invitations, disappearing suitors, and slowly receding dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“Despite our wild, experimental ways, we both wanted a family—adoring husband, healthy children, beautiful home, and, perhaps, a kitten or two.” Her right thumb worried the skin over the knuckle of her left thumb. “In two months’ time, we had destroyed our reputations and any chance of marrying respectable gentlemen.”

“If you wanted to marry, why jeopardize your future with all those other things?”

She sent him a rueful smile. “We didn’t
mean
to catch the matrons’ notice. Being all of eighteen years old, we thought ourselves clever and discreet. And, yes, we were more than a little headstrong in those days and might have ignored the early warning signs.”

“Though I find your history with Lady Winthrop fascinating, I’m not sure what relevance it has to my murder investigation.”

“Bear with me, Mr. Adair. I shall get there in a moment.” She smoothed her hands over her skirts. “Susan became more than a little obsessed with repairing the damage to her reputation. She set out to find a respectable, unblemished husband, even if her father had to buy her one.”

“And did he?”

“Yes.”

“Earlier, you mentioned Granston left the earl’s household. I take it Lady Winthrop was the daughter of a rich earl?”

“Yes, quite wealthy.”

“Let me guess. Lord Winthrop had the requisite standing in society and his coffers were in need of replenishing.”

“You are correct, Mr. Adair.”

“What did you do to repair your reputation?” The idle question came out of nowhere. Normally, Adair avoided such personal inquiries. He found most people were prone to providing far more detail than he cared to hear. But something about this woman tweaked at his curiosity.

“Who said I had?”

“I doubt you would be able to volunteer your time at this fine establishment if you hadn’t.”

“To some degree, you are correct. Unlike Susan, I would have rather lived my life as a spinster than to have tied myself to a man who married me only for my father’s money. So I escaped the
ton
’s scorn by disappearing from the continent for several years.” Her blue eyes took on a faraway look. “I disappeared to finish what Susan and I had started.”

“Which was?”

“Living, breathing,
feeling
life.”

In that one brief moment, he envied her. Envied her courage, envied her freedom. Envied her acceptance of her scandalous past. After Charley left him to go to Scotland, he had considered escaping the memories and the pain by going abroad. But the notion had passed, and Adair had soon learned that the very emotions he’d wanted to escape were the ones that fed his ambition and drive.

Lady Bentondorf continued. “From the time we’re no longer little girls until the time gray strands have overtaken our heads, we are confined, restricted, and trivialized. Susan and I, we wanted to experience a gentleman’s freedom before we allowed one to lock it away.”

“Both of you were courageous in different ways. Lady Winthrop sought and obtained the secured future she desired, and you fought for your freedom and reveled in the moment.”

“Neither one of us felt so at the time. Determined, yes. Courageous, no.” Her mouth kicked up in a self-deprecating smile. “But you were right. Later, I would never have been accepted back into society had I not married a wonderfully wealthy and influential gentleman. Quite frequently, he indulges my love of ancient civilizations, most especially Egypt. The British Museum is often the beneficiary of his generosity.” Her smile grew broader. “My time away from England combined with my husband’s money has helped many in society to push my youthful sins back into the far recesses of their minds.”

Adair believed himself to be an intelligent man. But he had only the faintest inkling of where her ladyship was leading this conversation. “I take it something went wrong after her ladyship’s marriage?”

She nodded. “Despite their less-than-romantic arrangement, Susan entered her marriage determined to make it a love match. The two appeared extraordinarily happy for the first year or so, then something went wrong.”

“In what way?”

“All of a sudden, they weren’t. Happy, I mean. It was as if they’d become strangers overnight, and that’s how they stayed for several years.” Lowering her gaze, she fidgeted with one long nail on her left forefinger.

“There’s more?”

“It is…delicate.”

“Any information you share with me will be treated with care. You have my word.”

When she lifted her eyes to his, they were aflame with anger. “Susan’s husband had not touched her in a long time, Mr. Adair. He finds the business too messy. Can you imagine such a thing?” She shook her head as if trying to release an unpleasant thought. “If he’d left it at that, Susan could have coped with her situation. But, after she miscarried twice, the bastard picked at her like a broken scab, leaving her bleeding after each encounter.”

Coming to the end of his patience, he jumped to what he now believed was the grand finale. “You might think me cold, Lady Bentondorf,” he said in a low voice. “But I’m not concerned with why your friend took a lover, only if she had. Had she?”

Her eyes widened. “I believe so.”

“You’re not certain, though.”

“No.” Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Susan and I have shared many confidences over the years, some quite sensitive. For the past three or four weeks, she’s been exceedingly secretive and nauseatingly happy.”

Disappointment smothered the excitement of uncovering a possible lead. “From this, you believe your friend was having an affair?”

The smile playing along her mouth became draped in sadness. “My old friend had returned. The one who flirted and danced and gallivanted about town with me before she got married. I might not have solid evidence to prove Susan was having an affair. But I knew my friend well—she’d found someone who’d made her happy.”

“And she didn’t exhibit any uneasiness or discuss any odd encounters in the last few weeks?”

“No, quite the opposite, I’m afraid.”

“Well, then.” He rose. “If you recall anything more, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

She peered down at his card, though Adair sensed her gaze focused on nothing.

With a nod, he said, “Lady Bentondorf.”

He’d barely taken three steps, when he heard her say, “There is something else you should know, thief-taker.”

So she had been reading his card. He turned. “And that is?”

“I don’t think her lover is a member of the
ton
. Whoever Susan had welcomed to share her bed was unconventional enough that she wouldn’t share a name with me, her most scandalous friend.”

# # #

“You want to do what?”

Charlotte kept her gaze steady on Piper, even while apprehension quaked along her spine. “I would like to return to the theater,” Charlotte said.

“But why? The theater manager made it quite clear we were unwelcome there.”

After Cameron had delivered his devastating reminder yesterday, Charlotte knew she had to find Felix’s costume and see if the mantle was missing a tie. Until she resolved this last bit of unfinished business, she wouldn’t be able to move ahead. “Yes. That’s why you’re going to help me sneak inside.”

Her assistant stared at her as if she’d announced the plague had returned. “How exactly am I supposed to accomplish that feat?”

“Peter seemed quite smitten with you. All you have to do is talk your way inside.”

“Where will you be?”

“Right behind you.”

Piper busied herself with wiping off the shop’s counter. “Are you going to tell me why I must play fast and loose with Peter’s feelings?”

“It would be best if I didn’t.” Charlotte hoped Piper would leave it at that. Her assistant knew her well enough to understand she wouldn’t make such a request unless she had a good reason.

“Does this have something to do with Lady Winthrop’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“And Felix?”

A brief pause. “Yes.”

“You don’t know that Peter will answer the door.”

“I sent a note to him last evening, explaining we would be arriving around ten this morning.”

Unhooking the apron from around her neck and untying it at her waist, Piper said, “Looks like Felix won’t be the only actor in the Scott family.”

# # #

As it turned out, Piper had to employ few acting skills. With Mr. Riordan gone, Peter opened the door wide when she explained that she’d misplaced a favorite handkerchief and thought it might be on the landing where they’d sat to watch Felix’s audition.

Peter led the way to the spiral staircase where they assured him they could manage without him. Since Peter had other work to do, he was happy to leave them to search on their own. Once Peter was gone, they split up—Piper going up the stairs, and Charlotte in search of the wardrobe, with a promise to meet again in a quarter of an hour.

Luckily, it didn’t take Charlotte but a few seconds to find the long, rectangular room housing what looked to be hundreds of costumes from various eras. Dread sank deep into her stomach. How would she search them all? Mild panic gripped her until she noticed the garments appeared to be arranged by time period.

Picking up her pace, she performed a quick survey of the rows—and failed to find a Roman section. She rubbed the muscles at the base of her skull; where a tension knot began to form. Could he have borrowed the costume from someplace else? No, she was certain he’d mentioned getting the clothes back to Wardrobe.

Piper was right. Coming here had been a mistake. After her less-than-cordial exchange with Mr. Riordan yesterday, she had no doubt he would call for the authorities if he found her trespassing.

Focused on the three long rows in front of her, she had not checked the line of costumes hung against the far wall. Intermingled between browns, blacks, and whites, she noted several splotches of red.

She rushed to what had to be the missing Roman section. Sure enough, she found plain red military tunics amid coarse drab tunics more suited for peasants of the time, along with fine white togas and multicolored
stolas
likely worn by men and women who enjoyed more elevated circles. Voluminous cloaks hung to the floor. Some were a rich bloodred color, and some a brighter red shot through with intricate gold patterns.

Peering into the lavender reticule dangling from her wrist, she retrieved the pilfered red tie. She closed her eyes and brought Felix’s outfit to mind.
Long flowing red cloak embellished with gold thread, sturdy arm guards, worn leather apron sectioned into strips that hung to his knees, short-sleeved red tunic beneath it all, and leather-strapped sandals.

When she opened her eyes again, she narrowed her search to red and gold clothing. From this vantage point she found only two pieces.
Thank goodness
. She could feel time slipping away and her fifteen minutes were almost up.