Truth about Leo (25 page)

He honestly couldn't love her more than he did at that moment in time. She was everything he could ever have wanted in a woman—large breasts, a slightly warped sense of wit, a fine appreciation of pornographic literature, and most of all, a brain that worked day and night to keep him on his toes. He loved that brain. “Quite right, my adorable one. We will be back as soon as possible. In the meantime, you ladies can do a few things to help ensure that our visit to Chez Dalton is the success we hope it to be.”

It is important for a princess to remember that she is held to higher standards than other women, and in particular, her dealing with people; she must endeavor with all her being to be gracious to everyone, no matter how trying she believes they are. It need not be mentioned that a gracious princess is not a princess who puts an irritating powder into her cousin's wigs and clothing, and then tells his entire court that he has leprosy.

—Princess Christian of Sonderburg-Beck's Guide for Her Daughter's Illumination and Betterment

Sometime later, three black closed carriages came to a stop a block away from Philip Dalton's house. Two of the carriages disgorged the conspirators from Plum and Harry's library, while the third unburdened itself of two large men, and one shrinking, small woman who gave a muffled shriek of happiness as soon as her feet touched the ground.

“Oh, my dearest, my most dearest Princess Dagmar! You have worked a miracle, a veritable miracle! I cannot ever hope to make you understand just how happy I am to see you and how grateful I am that you have made the authorities see reason at long last.”

Dagmar was as pleased to see her friend as the latter was to be released. She met Julia's hug with a tight one of her own. “And we are delighted to see you too, although all the gratitude must go to Leo since it was he who went to Lord Salter and had the governor persuaded that you would be safe enough in our care until you have to return to gaol.”

Julia jerked in her embrace and turned her face away, but not before Dagmar caught a look of fury in her friend's eyes. Before she could point out that an outright release, rather than the parole Leo had arranged, was out of the question without proof of just who did kill Louisa Hayes—assuming she was actually dead—Julia's expression was back to her normal vapid look, and she was gushing her thanks to Leo.

It was all very curious and made her feel uneasy. Was Julia just distressed by her recent incarceration, and thus annoyed that she hadn't been released outright as she evidently believed, or was there a more sinister explanation? Dagmar pulled her cloak tighter, trying to convince herself that it was nothing but the moody environment around them.

Moody
, she decided a moment later while glancing around them, was an understatement.
Downright
eerie
worked better as a description. The street was silent now that two of the three coaches had moved off, the clip-clopping echoes of the horses' hooves on cobblestone fading into nothing. A few torn bits of paper whispered along the street, driven by the odd eddy of wind, but Dagmar could almost imagine a ghostly hand lifting and tossing the paper about.

Gas lighting had reached this section of town, but the lampposts were scarce, and their light, a sickly yellow, did little to chase away the darkness.

Dagmar shook her head at her fancies, taking Leo's good hand and huddling next to him with the others while he gave explanations.

“Mrs. Deworthy and the two Runners will stay here at the carriages. If all goes as we think it will, we'll send for you once we are ready to confront Dalton.”

“Please don't part me from my dearest princess,” Julia begged, tugging at his sleeve. “Can you not see your way clear to including me in your party? I will be as quiet as a church mouse and will behave in no way that would justify the hire of these two men.”

Dagmar glanced at the two Bow Street Runners that Lord Salter had insisted Leo engage to watch over Julia. Both men looked bored, and she couldn't blame them.

Leo hesitated. Dagmar leaned into him and said softly, “I appreciate the fact that you are merely complying with Lord Salter's terms for Julia's release to our custody, but I don't think those gentlemen are needed. She's not going to run away, if that's what he fears, and will certainly be safe enough with all of us.”

Leo continued to hesitate, his eyes moving from her to Julia before he agreed, gesturing the two Runners to the side for a brief consultation. The men nodded and returned to the carriage, leaving them in the silent darkness of the wee hours of the morning.

“Thank you,” Julia said breathily and clutched at Dagmar's free arm.

“Does everyone understand what they are to do?” Leo asked in a whisper. The street was as silent as a tomb, and even the whisper seemed to skitter along it, gathering volume. Dagmar shivered, more from nerves and excitement than from the cold, and pressed closer to her husband. What a nice man she had found. When she considered that anyone could have turned up in her back garden, she was doubly thankful that it was Leo who had found his way there. She smiled at him, causing him to check in mid-sentence and give her a warning look that was more than a little tinged with desire.

“As you know,” he continued, squeezing her hand in acknowledgment of the little skitter of attraction between them, “stealth is going to be uppermost in importance. I don't even want to contemplate what I would say should Dalton discover us in his sitting room tampering with his sister's coffin, so above all else, be quiet. Do not speak unless necessary. Do you all have your candles?”

There was a rustle of clothing as several hands were pushed into pockets to pull out various candles and small lamps.

“Very well. Nick and I have our tinderboxes, and we'll light the candles once we get into the room. You all know your parts, yes?”

“Plum and I are guards,” Gillian said softly. “We will be stationed at the door leading into the house, listening for sounds of any approach.”

“I am to hold the tools and pass them out as needed,” Dagmar said with a little fillip of pride that Leo had chosen her to assist him, rather than the more mundane task of waiting by the door. She held up a small cloth sack that thunked suggestively until she put a controlling hand on its body.

“Thom and I will help cut off the seals,” Nick said.

“And Noble and I will lift off the lid and examine the remains, assuming there is something to see,” Harry finished. “We are also ready to engage in fisticuffs, should the need arise.”

Plum stared at him. “Why would you need to do so?”

Harry shrugged. “It's been my experience that just when you think you have a good, solid grip on life, it goes off down a path you didn't anticipate. Fisticuffs fixes many of the problems that arise when that happens.”

“Personal philosophy aside, I doubt we'll have need for you and Noble to engage in battle, but your offer is duly noted. Mrs. Deworthy, I have your word that you will remain in the background?”

“Oh, yes, yes you do, you most certainly do,” Julia said eagerly, her eyes bright with excitement. Dagmar felt foolish for imagining that Julia could be anything but the woman she had always been.

“Very well, then we will proceed. Nick, if you would bring up the rear, we'll go in single file, with the ladies in the middle. Remember! Stealth is key.”

Getting to the window that opened into the sitting room where the coffin resided was no trouble. They were as stealthy as their number of people could be, with only tiny little outbreaks of stifled giggles that ended as soon as Leo manipulated the large multipaned window to swing open; however, the sight of the coffin glinting in the light of the lantern that Nick held up sobered them all. One by one, the ladies were lifted over the windowsill, the men following until they all huddled together in a corner of the sitting room, their faces white and strained in the dim light of Nick's lamp.

Dagmar had only a vague memory of the room, since most of her attention had been focused on the casket during her visit there earlier in the day. But she had a sketchy memory of the coffin being supported by two small octagonal tables, flanked by a couple chairs and a sofa in gold-and-green brocade, and two medium-sized Chinese vases on wooden plinths stationed on either side of the marble fireplace. As Leo lit his candle from Nick's lamp, he lifted it to cast light on the room. The shadows from the bulky vases were thick and impenetrable. Dagmar shivered again, wondering if it was possible for someone to hide in those shadows, remaining unseen until an unwary person stepped within reach.

Then there was the coffin. She'd never been one to be afraid of the dead, but at that moment, she eyed the solid, hulking mass of the coffin with the perfect memory of every horrific gothic novel she'd ever read. What would she do if the lid slowly opened and a skeletal hand darted out to clutch at her? What if the body of Louisa, bloody and rotting, suddenly sat up and shrieked? What if some unnamed terror lurked within, just waiting for them to release it?

“Right,” Leo said, taking a deep breath and luckily breaking the spell of terror that Dagmar was quickly wrapping around herself. His voice sounded as if it had been stretched thin, but Dagmar greeted it with a shaky laugh to herself. “Light your candles, and then to your posts.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Gillian said from the doorway, giving Leo a brief salute.

“Gillian!” Plum said, outrage evident in her whisper. A sniffing noise followed. “You've been drinking!”

“No I haven't.”

“I can smell it on you!”

“Oh, that. It was just a little nip from Noble's flask. I was chilly.”

“You're inebriated!”

“Hush, I am not. I'm just pleasantly warm.”

“You're going to get us in trouble, that's what you are,” Plum snapped, then added, “Do you still have the flask?”

Gillian giggled. Dagmar ignored the rustling of clothing that indicated that Gillian did, in fact, have possession of the flask and concentrated on laying out her tools. Leo had given her a long oilcloth wrap filled with assorted knives, awls, and blunt objects that she assumed were meant to pry up the heavy coffin lid. She knelt on the floor, arranging them next to her candle, ready to hand one off to whoever needed it.

“Can you give me that curved knife, my love?”

She scooted over to Leo, giving him the object in question. Nick perused her selection, picked one out, and went to work on the far side of the casket. Noble, having heard giggling from the door patrol, marched over to see what was going on and instantly (although quietly) demanded possession of his flask.

“I might as well help cut off those seals, since no one thus far seems to need to be beaten soundly,” Harry said softly and accepted the remaining knife that Dagmar handed him. She watched with interest as the three men, setting their respective candles on the coffin, worked at cutting off the lead seals.

“Luckily,” Leo said, grunting slightly as he pried up a section of the seal with the curved bladed dagger, “whoever sealed this didn't know his job very well. He just plopped the lead on the wood of the coffin. Ah, there it goes. Nick?”

“Almost done with mine.”

“This one came off quite easily,” Harry whispered, picking off large flat strips of metal.

“I believe I shall look out the window,” Julia whispered as the men rose prefatory to lifting off the lid. “May God have mercy on our souls for disturbing the dead.”

Dagmar frowned, momentarily annoyed with her companion for making it sound as though they were the very worst kind of grave robbers, but she was too interested to see who, if anyone, was in the coffin to say anything.

She pressed close to Leo as he counted to three, then the men lifted the lid off the coffin.

The rotten smell of death immediately filled the room, making her cover her mouth to keep from gagging. A handful of flies arose, buzzing around in a sated manner that indicated they'd been feeding well. Leo swore softly. Harry choked and stumbled toward the window. The ladies at the door made gasping noises.

“That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen, and less than a month ago I carried around a boiled pig's head for an entire day, so I
know
disgusting.”

“Why on earth did you carry around a boiled pig's head?” Gillian asked, her voice muffled because she had her handkerchief to her face.

“I'd just stolen it from my cousin, the prince regent.” Dagmar studied the repulsiveness in the coffin. “It seemed wasteful to go to all the trouble of stealing it and then leaving it where anyone could take it. Is that a foot?”

Leo, standing next to Nick as the two of them stared in horror at the bloody mass, glanced where Dagmar pointed. “Hard to tell.”

“That's…” Dagmar squinted. Maggots squirmed around the mass. “That's…”

“A horse,” Thom said, peering over Nick's shoulder.

“Parts of a horse, yes,” Leo said.

“Here's his head,” Nick said from where he had moved to the foot of the coffin. “Oh look, Thom found his tail.”

“I think it's actually two tails,” Thom said, looking with interest at the objects she held in both hands.

“Whoever heard of a horse with two tails? This is definitely a foot.”

“Hoof,” Leo corrected. “There are two hooves over here. And the rest…” He eyed the repulsive mass in the middle. “Perhaps it's better if we don't catalog the parts that are contained.”

“Much better,” Plum said hurriedly.

“Tell me,” Gillian asked her husband in a slower than normal cadence. “If you were called upon to steal a boiled pig's head from a crown prince, where would you hide it?”

“No more flask for you,” Noble told her, taking the flask from her hand and kissing her on her nose.

“Nick, help me with the lid…” Harry, Nick, and Leo sealed the coffin again, and while Gillian tried to persuade her husband to hand over his flask again, the three men screwed the bolts back into place.

“A horse,” Dagmar repeated, trying to come to grips with that idea.

“They're not going to allow that monstrosity to be given a Christian burial, are they?” Julia asked, moving a few feet from the window in order to watch the men.

“I don't see why not. The poor horse…or horses, given the two tails…died, so there's no reason why they shouldn't be buried.”