Slightly Shady (5 page)

4vinia paused beneath the leafy branches of a tree to check the address on the small slip of paper. Number Fourteen, Hazelton Square, was in the middle of a row of very fine town houses that fronted one side of the lush green park. Elegant colonnades and new gas streetlamps marked the entrance of each residence. A sense of unease trickled through her as she took in the sight of the two gleaming carriages waiting in the street. They were horsed with glossy, well-matched teams. The grooms who held the reins were attired in expensive livery. As she watched, a lady emerged from Number Sixteen and came down the steps. Her pale pink walking dress with its matching pelisse had obviously come from a modiste who catered to a wealthy, stylish clientele. This was not quite the sort of neighborhood she had expected to find herself in when she had set out this morning, Lavinia reflected. It was difficult to believe that Holton Felix had been acquainted with, let alone had actually tried to blackmail, a person who lived at such a fashionable address. She studied the colonnaded residences warily It would not be easy to talk her way into the front hall of one of these houses. Nevertheless, she could not see any other choice but to make the attempt. The address she held in her hand was the only clue she possessed at the moment. She had to start somewhere. Steeling herself for the task, she crossed the street and went up the white marble steps of Number Fourteen. She raised the heavy brass knocker and rapped it with what she hoped was an authoritative strike. Muffled footsteps sounded from the hall. A moment later the door opened. An imperious-looking butler built along the lines of a large bull gazed down at heL She could see by the expression in his eyes that he was already planning to close the door in her face. Hastily she extended one of the crisp, new cards she had ordered from a printer last month. "Kindly present this to your employer," she said briskly. "it is most urgent. My name is Lavinia Lake." The butler glanced disdainfully at the note. He clearly harbored grave doubts about the wisdom of accepting it. "I believe you will find that I am expected," Lavinia said in her iciest tones. It was a bald-faced lie, but it was all she could think of at the moment. "Very well, madam." He stood back to allow her into the hall. "You may wait here." She drew a deep breath and stepped hastily over the threshold. She had jumped the first hurdle, she thought. She was inside. The butler disappeared down a shadowy hall. Lavinia took the opportunity to assess her surroundings. The black and white tiles beneath her feet, together with the elaborately framed and gilded mirrors on the walls, spoke of fashionable taste and a great deal of money She heard the footsteps of the returning butler and held her breath. When he appeared, she knew immediately that her card had worked. "Mrs. Dove will see you. This way, if you please, madam." She started to breathe again. So much for the easy part. Now she faced the infinitely more delicate task of persuading a stranger to talk to her about blackmail and murder. She was shown into a large drawing room done in shades of yellow, green, and gilt. The furnishings were covered in striped silks. Heavy green velvet drapes tied back with yellow cords framed the view of the park. Her footsteps were hushed by a thick carpet woven in the same hues. A strikingly elegant woman occupied one of the gilded sofas. She was dressed in an exquisitely stylish gown cut from the palest of silver-gray silk trimmed with black. Her hair was caught up at the back of her head in a graceful style that subtly emphasized the graceful length of her neck. From a distance she could have been easily mistaken for a woman in her early thirties. But as Lavinia drew closer she noticed the fine lines at the corners of the intelligent eyes and an unmistakable softness around a throat and jaw that had once no doubt been quite firm. There was a fair amount of silver in the honey-colored hair. The lady was closer to fortyfive than thirty-five. "Mrs. Lake, madam." The butler bowed curtly "Do come in, Mrs. Lake. Pray be seated." The words were spoken in a cool, refined voice, but Lavinia could hear the tension in them. This woman had been living under a great deal of strain.

Lavinia sat down in one of the striped gilded armchairs and tried to look as if she were accustomed to holding conversations in the midst of such fine furnishings. She was very much afraid that her plain muslin gown, once a vivid, reddish brown but now closer to the shade of weak tea, betrayed her. The recent attempt to dye the fabric back to its original hue had not been entirely successful. "Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Dove," Lavinia said. "How could I refuse after you presented such an intriguing card?" Joan Dove raised her elegantly arched brows. "May I ask how it is that you are acquainted with my name when I am well aware we have never met?" "There is no great secret to that. I simply asked one of the nannies in the park. I was informed that you are a widow who lives here with your daughter." " Yes, of course, " Joan murmured. " People will talk. "In the course of my new career,, I frequently rely on that particular tendency" Joan tapped the little card absently against the arm of the sofa. "What, precisely, is the nature of your career, Mrs. Lake?" "I shall explain later, if you are still interested. First, allow me to tell you the reason for my visit here today. I believe we have, or rather I should say, had, a mutual acquaintance, Mrs. Dove." "Who would that be?" "His name was Holton Felix." Joan's brows drew together in a frown of polite bewilderment. She shook her head. "I am not acquainted with anyone by that name." "Really? I found your address in a book that he kept next to his bed." She saw that she had Joan's full and unwavering attention. She was not certain that was a good thing. But she was committed now, Lavinia told herself. There was no turning back. A woman in her profession had to be prepared to take the bold course. "In a book next to his bed, you say?" Joan sat very still on the sofa, her gaze unwavering. "How very odd." "Actually, that is not nearly so odd as his profession. He was a blackmailer." There was a beat of silence. "Was?" Mrs. Dove repeated with subtle emphasis. "When I made the acquaintance of Mr. Felix last night, he was dead. Murdered, to be precise." At that, Joan stiffened ever so slightly. The reaction amounted to no more than a small, involuntary intake of breath and a faint narrowing of the eyes, but Lavinia knew the other woman had received a shock. Joan recovered quickly, so quickly, in fact, that Lavinia wondered if she had misjudged her reaction to the news of Felix's death. "Murdered, you say," Joan said as though Lavinia had made a passing remark on the weather. "Yes." "You're quite certain?" "Absolutely certain. It is not the sort of thing that is easily mistaken for other conditions." Lavinia folded her gloved hands together. "Mrs. Dove, I will be frank. I know very little about Holton Felix, but what I do know does his memory no credit. He attempted to blackmail me. I came here today to ask if you were also among his victims." "What a perfectly outrageous question," Joan said swiftly. "As if I would pay blackmail." Lavinia inclined her head slightly in polite agreement. "I was equally repelled by the attempt at extortion. In fact, it was because I was so incensed that I took the trouble to discover Mr. Felix's address. It is why I went to his lodgings last night. I was careful to choose a time in the evening when I had every expectation that he would not be at home." Joan looked unwillingly fascinated. "Why on earth did you do such a thing?" Lavinia gave a small shrug. "I went there with the intention of retrieving a certain diary Mr. Felix claimed to possess. It transpired that he was at home for the evening, after all. But by the time I arrived, someone else had already paid him a visit." "The murderer?" "Yes." There was another short, tense silence while Joan appeared to contemplate the news. "How very adventurous of you, Mrs. Lake." "I felt I had little choice but to take some action." "Well," Joan said eventually, "it would seem your problem has resolved itself. Your blackmailer is dead." "On the contrary, Mrs. Dove." Lavinia smiled coolly. "The matter has grown more complicated. You see, the diary I had hoped to 'retrieve was not in Mr. Felix's rooms. I was left to conclude that the killer now has it in his or"-Lavinia paused delicately-"her possession, as the case may be." Joan was not in the least slow-witted, Lavinia noted. She caught the implications immediately. They seemed to amuse her. "Surely you do not believe I am the person who killed Mr. Felix and took the diary," Joan said. "I was rather hoping you were the one. It would make things ever so much more simple and straightforward, you see." An odd expression litJoan's eyes. "You are a most extraordinary woman, Mrs. Lake. This career you mentioned a moment ago.

Does it by any chance involve treading the boards in Drury Lane or Covent Garden?" "No, Mrs. Dove, it does not, although I find myself called upon to do a bit of acting now and again." "I see. Well, this has all been quite entertaining, but I assure you I know nothing of murder and blackmail." Joan made a show of looking at the clock. "Dear me, it is rather late, is it not? I fear I must ask you to leave. I have an appointment with my modiste this afternoon." This was not going well. Lavinia leaned forward slightly. "Mrs. Dove, if you were being blackmailed by Holton Felix and if you are not the person who killed him, you are now in a somewhat precarious position. I may be able to assist you." Joan gave her a look of polite bemusement. "Whatever do you mean?" "We must consider the possibility that the person who murdered Holton Felix and stole the diary may attempt to set himself up in the extortion business." "You expect new threats?" "Even if there are no new blackmail notes, the fact remains that someone out there has the bloody diary. I find that a very disturbing notion, don't you?" Joan blinked once, but she gave no other sign that the picture Lavinia painted alarmed her. "I mean no offense, Mrs. Lake, but you are starting to sound like a candidate for Bedlam." Lavinia gripped her hands together very tightly. "Holton Felix must have known something about you, madam. There is no other reason why he would have had your address stuck inside a perfectly dreadful novel devoted to the subject of the debauching of an innocent young woman." Rage flashed in Joan's expression. "How dare you imply that I would be acquainted with such an individual. Please remove yourself at once, Mrs. Lake, or I shall ask one of the footmen to perform the task." "Mrs. Dove, please listen to me. If you were one of Holton Felix's blackmail victims, then you may well possess information that, combined with what I already know of the matter, will enable me to determine the identity of whoever now possesses the diary. Surely you are as interested as I am in recovering it, madam." "You have wasted enough of my time." "For a small fee, just enough to compensate me for my time and expenses, you understand, I will be happy to make inquiries into the matter." "Enough. You are clearly a madwoman." Joan's eyes were as hard as gemstones. "I must insist that you take your leave or I will have you thrown out into the street." So much for the direct approach, Lavinia thought. it was not always easy finding clients in her new profession. With a small sigh of frustration, she got to her feet. "I shall see myself out, Mrs. Dove. But you have my card. If you should change your mind, please feel free to call upon me. I suggest you do not delay too long, however. Time is of the essence." She walked quickly to the door and let herself out of the drawing room. In the front hall the butler gave her a chilling look and opened the front door. Lavinia tied her bonnet strings and went down the steps. Overhead the sky was leaden. With her luck this afternoon, the rain would no doubt start again before she got home. She crossed the street and hurried past the park. She hated to admit it, but Emeline had been right. Her niece had warned her that whoever lived at the residence in Hazelton Square was highly unlikely to admit to being a victim of blackmail and even less eager to employ a stranger to make discreet inquiries into the matter. She would have to come up with another scheme, Lavinia thought. She turned a corner and went along a narrow walk between two rows of town houses. There had to be a way of convincing Joan Dove to confide in her. She was certain the woman knew a great deal more than she had let on during the short interview. The shadows in the small passageway darkened abruptly A chill that had nothing to do with the impending rain shot down Lavinia's spine. She sensed the presence behind her. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take this shortcut. But she had used it on the way to Hazelton Square and there had been nothing the least bit ominous about the small walk. She stopped and turned quickly The large, looming figure of a man garbed in a heavy greatcoat blocked a good deal of what little light entered the tiny passage. "Imagine finding you here, Mrs. Lake." Tobias March came toward her. "I have been looking everywhere for you." She was still fuming a short time later when she swept into the small hall of the little house in Claremont Lane. Tobias March was right behind her. Mrs. Chilton appeared, drying her big, competent hands on the hem of her apron. "There ye are, ma'am. I was afraid ye wouldn't get home ahead of the rain." She eyed Tobias with unconcealed curiosity. I "Luckily, I made it without getting soaked to the skin." Lavinia stripped off her bonnet and gloves. "That is, however, the only piece of good fortune I have had today. As you can see, we have an uninvited guest, Mrs. Chilton. I suppose you had best prepare a tray and bring it into the study." "Aye, ma'arn." With a last, searching glance at Tobias, Mrs. Chilton turned to go down the hall to the stairs that descended into the kitchen. "Do not waste the fresh oolong I purchased last week," Lavinia called after her. "I'm sure we still have some of the old, less expensive tea left in the chest." "Your gracious hospitality is overwhelming," Tobias murmured. "My gracious hospitality is reserved for those who are invited into my home." She slung the bonnet onto a hook and turned away to stalk down the hall. "Not those who invite themselves." "Mr. March." Emeline leaned partway over the upstairs railing. "How lovely to see you again, Sir." Tobias looked up and smiled for the first time. "I assure you, the pleasure is mine, Miss Emeline." Emeline came lightly down the stairs. "Did you go to the address in Hazelton Square too? Is that where you met up with Lavinia?" "In a manner of speaking," Tobias said. "He followed me to Hazelton Square." Lavinia went through the doorway of the small study. "He was spying on me again, just as he did in Rome. it is really a most irritating habit." Tobias moved into the cozy room. "It would be an entirely unnecessary habit if you would simply keep me informed of your intentions." "Why on earth should I do any such thing?" He shrugged. "Because if you do not, I shall continue to follow you about London." "This is too much. Absolutely insupportable." She went quickly toward her desk and sat down behind it. "You have no right to intrude into my personal affairs, Sir." "Nevertheless, that is precisely what I intend to do." Tobias settled himself into the largest chair in the room without waiting to be asked. "At least until this affair of the diary is finished. I strongly suggest that you cooperate with me, Mrs. Lake. The sooner we combine forces, the sooner the matter will be brought to a satisfactory conclusion." "Mr. March has a point, Lavinia." Emeline walked into the study and took the one remaining chair. "It makes great sense for you two to work together to resolve this business. I told you that this morning before you left the house to find the address in Hazelton Square." Lavinia glared at both of them. She was trapped and she knew it. Combining forces was only logical. Had she not made precisely the same argument to Joan Dove a short time earlier? She narrowed her eyes at Tobias. "How do we know that we can trust you, Mr. March?" "You don't." Unlike the smile he had bestowed on Emeline, the one he gave her held no warmth, only cool amusement. "Just as I have no way of knowing whether or not I can trust you. But I see no sensible alternative for either of us." Emeline waited expectantly. Lavinia hesitated, hoping for inspiration. None struck. "Bloody hell." She drummed her fingers on the desk. "Bloody hell." "I know precisely how you feel," Tobias said neutrally " 'Frustration' is the word that comes to mind, is it not?" "Indeed, the word 'frustration' does not begin to convey the full depth of my feelings at the moment." She leaned back and gripped the arms of the chair very tightly. "Very well, Sir, as everyone seems to agree that it is the sensible, logical thing to do, I am prepared to explore the possibilities of a partnership." "Excellent." Tobias's eyes gleamed with a triumph he made no attempt to conceal. "It will make matters much simpler and more efficient." "I sincerely doubt that." She sat forward abruptly. "Nevertheless, I shall attempt the experiment. You may go first." " First? " "To show your good faith, of course." She gave him the sweetest smile she could manage under the circumstances. "Tell me what you know of Joan Dove." "Who is Joan Dove?" "Bah. I knew it." Lavinia turned to Emeline. "You see? This is pointless. Mr. March possesses even less information than we do. I fail to comprehend how a partnership with him will benefit me." "Come now, Lavinia. You must give Mr. March a chance." "I just did. He is quite useless." Tobias looked at her with an expression of grave humility. "I like to think I have something to offer to you, Mrs. Lake." She did not trouble to hide her suspicion. "Such as?" "I presumejoan Dove is the identity of the person who lives in Hazelton Square." "A brilliant deduction, sir." Emeline winced at the sarcasm but Tobias appeared undaunted. "I admit I know nothing about her," he said, "but it should not prove too difficult to uncover a fair amount of information in a relatively short time." "How do you intend to do that?" Lavinia asked, unwillingly curious. She still had a lot to learn about this new profession, she reminded herself. "I have a network of informants here in London," Tobias said. "Spies, do you mean?" "No, merely a group of reliable business associates who are willing to sell information when it comes their way." "Sounds like a gang of spies to me." He let that go. " I can make inquiries, but I'm sure you would agree that it would be a waste of time to duplicate your efforts. if you will tell me what you learned today, matters will progress far more quickly." "Our conversation was somewhat limited in nature." Emeline gave a start of surprise. "Lavinia, never say you actually spoke with this Joan Dove?" Lavinia waved a hand in a casual manner. "Well, yes, as it happens, the opportunity presented itself and I took advantage of it." "You assured me that you were only going to locate the resi- dence and watch it for a time to see if you could discover anything useful." Emeline frowned with concern. "You said nothing about introducing yourself to anyone in the house." For the first time, Tobias looked more than irritated. He looked a bit dangerous. "No, Mrs. Lake, until now you did not mention that you actually spoke with Joan Dove." "It was clear to me that she was very likely another one of Holton Felix's blackmail victims." Lavinia could feel Tobias's cold disapproval. She did her best to ignore it. "I decided to strike while the iron was hot, as it were." "But, Aunt Lavinia-" "What the devil did you say to her?" Tobias interrupted much too quietly. "It is obvious," Emeline said somewhat testily, "that my aunt saw an opportunity not only to gain some information about the mystery but also to acquire a client." "Client?" Tobias looked stunned.