The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Menace (10 page)

Welham’s was
set in the heart of the theatre district, where it did prime
business. Flowers loomed and dripped from vases as they entered,
and there was an air of sophistication and entitlement to the shop.
Indeed, the man behind the counter examined them with a faintly
arched brow as though wondering what they were doing there.

Garrett introduced them, flashing his credentials. “We’re
curious about an order of red roses that is sent
weekly to
Miss Nelly
Tate at the Veil Theatre. Or more particularly, we’re interested in
the name of the person sending them.”

Welham pressed his wire-rimmed spectacles up his
nose. “A standing order for red roses? Yes, I
know the one. A Mr. Hobbs, I believe. Once a week the
order is to go through.”

“
Hobbs?” Perry blurted. “James Sterling Hobbs?”

Welham looked
surprised. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Roses weren’t
cheap, but then, they already knew that Hobbs was making a small
fortune from his side business.

“
And is there a frequent order for peonies?” Garrett
asked.

Mr. Welham
shook his head. “Goodness, no. That’s the sort of thing you can buy
in Covent Garden.”

Thanking Mr.
Welham for his time, they turned toward the door. The bell rang as
it shut behind them.

“
Who sends the peonies then?” Perry asked, as soon as they
were alone. “I felt certain they must have come from Hobbs. One of
the stagehands seemed to think she was terribly excited to receive
them. The roses however... Nelly kept them, but she didn’t seem to
make as large a fuss over them.”

There went
their lead. A dead end, like all the others. Garrett swore under
his breath. “Rommell and Hobbs were both interested in her, for
their own reasons. So was Lord Beckham, but he sent no flowers... I
feel like we’re missing something.”

“
You think there’s someone else involved?”

“
Maybe.”

“
We need to know what the connection is between Nelly and
Hobbs,” Perry said, “And who sent her the peonies.”

“
Back to the theatre?” he suggested. “We should see how Eliza
is faring.”

“
Eliza?”

A slip of the
tongue. Garrett met her gaze, daring her to comment. “Miss
Radcliffe.”

Perry’s gaze
drifted away. Sometimes that was worse than if she’d commented, for
he had no idea what she was thinking at the moment. Muscles bunched
in his gut in expectation, but the moment stretched out, and still
she said nothing. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

Cool gray eyes
locked on his. “No,” she said coolly. “The theatre it is.”

And that told
him nothing at all, either, damn her.

Garrett had
gone in search of the stagehand who’d originally commented on the
significance of the peonies, leaving her to deal with Miss
Radcliffe.

Or Eliza.
Perry hadn’t missed the significance of that little slip of the
tongue. What had he meant by it? What had happened last night?

Don’t
, she told herself severely.
She’d already made a muck of things. Time to focus on the case, and
not on what had occurred between her partner and the beautiful
actress, in the privacy of the woman’s apartment.

No sign of
Miss Radcliffe in her dressing rooms. Perry withdrew from the room
with a frown–

“
There you are!” Someone called.

She looked up
as one of the stagehands bore down upon her, then glanced behind
her. There was no one there, which meant he must be referring to
herself. “Can I help you?” Recollection began to dawn; she’d begun
to place names and faces here. “It’s Arthur Millington, isn’t it?”
One of the stagehands.

“
Aye. A man tried to drag Miss Radcliffe into a carriage not
ten minutes ago,” the man declared. “Right off the
street!”

“
Miss Radcliffe? Is she all right?”

“
Shaken up and scared, but she ain’t injured if that be what
you’re asking.”

Good God
. “Where is she?”

Millington gestured toward the stage. “Lord Rommell’s with
her. Saved
her from the ruffian, thank the
devil.”

The sound of
raised voices caught her ear as she hurried toward the stage. A
pair of figures materialised; Miss Radcliffe and Lord Rommell, deep
in quarrel at the side of the stage.

“–
not to see that Nighthawk again,” Rommell snapped, then his
voice changed to a soft cajolement. “I can keep you safe, Eliza.
There’s no need to fear another assault, when I can have a man
guarding your door during the day.”

“
And what of my nights?” Miss Radcliffe stammered.

Rommell lifted
a hand to her cheek, his face tightening when she subtly withdrew.
“I’m certain we can come to some sort of arrangement there
too.”

“
I–I–” Miss Radcliffe colored up, as if realizing she’d walked
into a trap. “I spoke in haste. I’m certain that I’ll be quite safe
at home. My door has a sturdy lock upon it.”

Something ugly
flickered across his expression. “Hopefully, it’s sturdy enough.”
He tipped his head to her. “Don’t wait too long to consider my
offer. You don’t want to see it withdrawn.”

Rommell
stalked in the other direction, his back stiff, and Miss Radcliffe
watched him go. When he vanished, she let out a tiny, quivering
sigh, and whispered, “When hell freezes over, my lord.” The moment
she turned, she caught sight of Perry, her breath catching.
“Detective.” A fleeting glimpse of fear darkened her expression. “I
didn’t realize you were standing there.”

Sympathy was a
brutal crush in Perry’s chest. Perhaps both she and Miss Radcliffe
had more in common than she’d thought. She too had been at the
mercy of a powerful lord once, though in entirely different
circumstances.

But that sense
of being alone, trying to deal with consequences you couldn’t quite
escape, and knowing that no one could help you... Oh, yes, Perry
knew what that felt like.

“
Here,” Perry murmured, tugging a handkerchief out of her
pocket, and presenting it to Miss Radcliffe.

“
I’m so sorry.” Miss Radcliffe dabbed at her eyes, a false,
watery smile painted on her lips. “That was most unbecoming of me.
I’m sorry you had to hear me say such a thing.”

“
Yes, well, it echoed my own thoughts somewhat.” The dark stir
of the craving virus lifted its head within her. For a moment Perry
had a thoroughly enjoyable image of beating the claret out of
Rommell. Heat flared behind her eyes, and Perry swallowed hard,
knowing they’d just turned black. “Rommell ought to be given the
strap. What kind of man uses such an opportunity to hunt a woman
into his own bed?”

“
One without so much as a hint of nobility in his nature,”
Miss Radcliffe said, somewhat bitterly. Then she flushed, as though
realising what she’d said.

“
I’m not going to say anything,” Perry murmured. “You may
speak plainly.”

Miss
Radcliffe’s shoulders slumped, and she worried the handkerchief in
her hands. “He makes me feel ill.”

“
He makes me feel somewhat violent,” Perry
admitted.

That won her a
faint hint of a smile. Miss Radcliffe looked wistful. “You’re so
brave,” she said. “I wish I could be as accomplished and
independent as you. I should like to be able to stand up to men
with impunity.”

Truly? Miss Radcliffe admired
her
? “It’s not quite as easy as you
make it sound,” Perry replied carefully. “I hear that there was an
incident outside, where someone tried to grab you?”

That washed
away any hint of smile. Miss Radcliffe paled. “You don’t think it
was the same man as... as kidnapped Nelly?”

“
I couldn’t speculate. We don’t yet know if it was a man or
woman who had anything to do with Nelly’s disappearance. Did you
see who tried to grab you? How did you get free?”

“
I was just trying to take some air in the alley behind the
theatre, when someone grabbed me from behind,” Miss Radcliffe
replied. “I’m sorry, but I was so distracted that I didn’t see
anything - just a glimpse of his hands. He slammed one over my
mouth so that I couldn’t protest. I was certain that something was
going to happen to me - that I was going to end up with poor Nelly,
so I bit him, and managed to scream when he let go. Ned Barham -
one of the stagehands - ran to help, and the man fled.”

“
Did Ned see what he looked like?”

Miss Radcliffe
shook her head. “I don’t think so. The fellow cast me aside when he
ran, and poor Ned had to help me up. He didn’t know what had
happened, at first.”

First, the red
roses... and now someone had tried to assault Miss Radcliffe,
perhaps even steal her away too. “It sounds like someone has an
unhealthy fascination with actresses.”

“
Do you think they’ll try again?”

“
They may,” Perry admitted. “Which is why you’re going to take
up Lord Rommell’s generous offer of a man to watch over you during
the day. I’ll arrange for a Nighthawk to keep a watch on your
apartment of nights, though, whilst we try to get to the bottom of
all of this.”

“
And what should I tell Rommell?”

“
Tell him it wouldn’t be proper, so arrangements have been
made,” Perry replied. “How much pressure is he placing on
you?”

Miss Radcliffe
lowered her head, scrunching the handkerchief in her gloved fist.
“He’s like that with all of us,” she whispered. “I knew what to
expect, of course, after the way he went after poor Nelly, but I
just– It makes me feel so helpless, when I know my career relies
upon his good graces. I’d hoped to be able to keep him at arm’s
length, but he’s... persistent.”

That made her
furious. “If you need help, you should come to us. Nothing, not
even your career, is worth being pressured into a relationship you
don’t wish for.”

“
What else do I have, other than my career?” Miss Radcliffe’s
smiling facade slipped, revealing a haunted edge to her
eyes.

A question
Perry had often asked herself. She’d forced herself to put aside
any other feminine dreams to focus on her career. To forge her own
path up the ladder in the Nighthawks, she’d had to be ruthless,
exacting and forgo her own pleasures.

She also had
no answer for Miss Radcliffe. A woman’s lot was precarious in this
world. “Perhaps... if you made it clear your attentions were
engaged elsewhere, he might relent.”

“
Nobody else would dare stand up to him.”

“
Garrett would.”

Silence
bloomed. Miss Radcliffe flushed. “I-I wasn’t aware that you’d
noticed.”

So her heart
did lie in that direction. Something squeezed tight in Perry’s
chest, but she forced it down. A woman’s safety was more important
than her own insecurities.

“
Or perhaps you could earn your right on the stage. If the
audience loves you enough, they’ll clamour your name,” Perry said.
“Rommell wouldn’t be able to cut you from the show.”

“
The audience is fickle, and I’m not Nelly. She owned the
crowd, you know. Flirted with all of them - men and women alike.
She had this... this ability to make everyone think she belonged to
them - and yet, it’s only now that I realize how private she was in
person. How little I knew of her.”

“
May I ask you a question?”

Miss Radcliffe
nodded. “Of course.”

“
I find it curious the way you said ‘Rommell went after poor
Nelly’. Did he pressure her into becoming his mistress?”

Miss Radcliffe’s eyes widened. “Oh, Nelly wasn’t his
mistress. She had a beau, I think, who sent
her peonies.
I caught a glimpse of
the card once. It
read, ‘From Nick,
with love’, or something like that. Maybe it was
Nathan? No, no it was something shorter than that.”

Everything in
Perry went still, as her hunting instincts rose. “It wouldn’t have
been James, would it?”

Miss Radcliffe
shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m certain it began with ‘N’.
Or maybe it was Mick?” She frowned. “Nelly saw me looking, and
tucked the card away, most likely to keep it quiet from Rommell. He
was so focused on having her, and she put him off all these
months.”

Which was
unusual, because Rommell had told Garrett precisely the opposite.
“I was under the impression that she’d accepted his proposal.”

Miss Radcliffe
shook her head. “Nelly... it wasn’t easy for her, but she... she
managed him far better than I have. She kept pretending she’d think
about it, or hinting that she enjoyed the chase, but sometimes,
when he’d turn away she’d get this look in her eyes - as though he
disgusted her. Rommell was desperate to have her. He kept bringing
her more exotic gifts, but she’d always turn them away. It only
made him more determined.”

That
was a very important fact. “How
strange. Rommell’s made it clear she was under his protection -
indeed, he seemed to think that several other blue blood lord’s
were trying to steal her away from him.”

Trying to lead
her and Garrett to other potential suspects perhaps?

“
Oh, he was very protective of her - or her affections,
rather. And that slimy Lord Beckham’s been trying to lure her to
the Highcastle. Offered her a place in his troupe - and his bed, no
doubt. Rommell was furious. It’s like a game to them.”