With This Ring (16 page)

"Wonderful." Excitement hummed through her. "How very clever of you, my lord."

"Thank you.' Leo grimaced. "I can only hope that I did not start any unfortunate rumors about myself in the process.-

"What do you mean?"

He took her arm to escort her out of the shop. "Let's just say that when a man asks for the direction of a quack who is noted for treating impotence, he invites a certain amount of speculation."

Beatrice struggled to quash her laughter as they stepped out onto the walk. "I can hear the gossip now. Everyone will be wondering if the Mad Monk of Monkcrest has come to Town to find a cure for his failing manhood."

"I am glad that you-find the prospect of such gossip so

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amusing." Leo gave her a thoroughly menacing smile. "Because you will no doubt play a role in the rumors."

"In what way, my lord?"

"As I am spending a great deal of time in your company these days, the Polite World may assume that you are the reason I am so eager to cure my affliction."

Beatrice stopped laughing.

A chill gray mist had gathered in the streets by the time Leo handed Beatrice up into an anonymous hackney for the trip to Moss Lane. The fog promised to grow thicker before nightfall.

In spite of what he had told her that morning, the truth was, it was not his own reputation that concerned him. Beatrice apparently had no qualms about playing ducks and drakes with her good name, but he was not so sanguine.

It was true that a widow enjoyed a great deal of freedom that was not accorded to unmarried ladies under the age of thirty, but there were limits to everything.

The journey into the maze of narrow streets and dark alleys that contained Moss Lane took nearly half an hour. In the end the coachman halted the vehicle and announced that he could go no farther.

"Ye'll 'ave to walk from 'ere, m'lord. Moss Lane is too narrow for the coach. No room to turn the 'orse around. I'll wait right 'ere for ye and the lady."

"We shall be back within the hour." Leo tossed the coachman several coins to ensure that he would wait. "I shall expect to find you here."

The coachman caught the money with a practiced move. He gave Leo a toothless grin. "Don't ye worry none, m1ord. I won't be goin' anywhere."

Leo took Beatrice's arm and started into Moss Lane. The looming buildings that lined the street closed in around them, cutting off what little light was left in the day.

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"Are you certain Dr. Cox's shop is near here?" Beatrice frowned at the dark doorways. "It does not appear to be a good location for a business."

"I am told that Dr. Cox does not have to pay high rent in a more prosperous section of town in order to attract business. The gentlemen who seek his services prefer to come to a less public spot."

"One can understand that, I suppose."

Leo kept an eye on the doorways. At this hour of the day the neighborhood appeared to be reasonably safe, but it was not the kind of place one brought a lady after dark.

"What did your aunt say when you told her that I wished to escort all of you to the theater tonight?" he asked. "Winifred was ecstatic. She cannot wait to display Ara-

bella in a private theater box. She even contrived to send word to Mr. Burnby in a roundabout way in hopes that he would also attend. It was very kind of you, sir. I cannot thank you enough for the invitation."

Leo wanted to ask her if she, too, was excited about the prospect of attending the theater in his company or if she was merely grateful to him because of the social opportunity he had created for her aunt and cousin.

It did not appear to have occurred to Beatrice that the only reason he had suggested the evening at the theater was that he wanted to spend the time with her.

Until then his relationship with her had been anything but normal. He had proposed the theater because he had been seized with a strange desire to entertain her in a more conventional fashion. He wanted to see if he could please her. He wished to have her smile at him and thank him for a pleasant evening. He wanted to catch another glimpse of womanly desire in her eyes.

Hell's teeth, he thought. I want to seduce her.

Beatrice glanced up at a small wooden sign overhead that bore an image of a mortar and pestle. "Here is Dr. Cox's shop. This promises to be most interesting."

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Leo glanced at her as he opened the door. He would have felt a good deal more cheerful if he could have convinced himself that some of the sparkle in her eyes was due to his presence. Unfortunately, he was fairly certain that her enthusiasm had everything to do with the prospect of interviewing Cox and nothing at all to do with himself.

"It does, indeed," Leo said.

Oapler 9

She went deeper into the dark passageway, seeking

the secrets of the Ruin's strange master. All around

her the shadows roiled and seethed.

FRom CHAPTER NiNE oFfhe Ruin BY MRs. AmELiA YoRK

he fog that had coalesced outside the shopwindows shrouded the panes of glass and created an artificial twilight inside Dr. Cox's Apothecary.

Beatrice blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior of the shop. A single lamp burned at the rear of the establishment. The weak light glinted on rows of grimy glass jars filled with herbs and other, not so easily identified materials.

A balance for weighing small amounts of various substances sat on the counter. The bookshelf near the lamp held a number of volumes. Most appeared to have been consulted on a frequent basis. The leather bindings were cracked and worn.

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A soft rustling sound at the rear of the apothecary made

Beatrice flinch. Leo noticed her startled reaction and gave her a condescending smile. Annoyed with her all-too-vivid imagination, she glowered at him.

The slithering noise grew louder. Beatrice steeled herself and turned to watch as a strange apparition emerged from the shadows. The figure that shuffled slowly into the dim light could have emerged from one of the haunted crypt scenes in The Castle of Shadows.

The troll-like man had hunched shoulders, a large head thrust aggressively forward from a thick neck, and a heavy body. One gloved hand gripped the handle of a cane.

He was garbed in an ill-cut coat and aged breeches that had been stained to an indeterminate hue with the residue of a'thousand herbal concoctions. He had a woolen scarf wrapped around his neck. Shafts of dull gray hair stuck out from beneath a floppy cap.

Stiff, curling whiskers that had not been trimmed in a very long while concealed his ears and most of his mouth. A pair of tiny wire-rim spectacles perched on a bulbous nose. In the dim light it was impossible to make out the color of his eyes.

"What's this?" The rasping voice bristled with indignation. "I had no appointments this afternoon."

"I am Monkcrest," Leo said.

Beatrice raised her eyes silently to the ceiling. She doubted that Leo had any notion of the chilling arrogance he could infuse into a simple introduction. Then again, perhaps he did. Madman or sorcerer, there could be no doubt about the generations of pride that had been bred into his bones.

"Monkcrest." Rheumy eyes squinted over the rims of the spectacles. "I've heard of ye. Yer the one they call the Mad Monk. What do you want with me, sir?"

"My friend Mrs. Poole and I wish to have a word with You on a private matter."

"Private matter, eh?" A knowing cackle erupted from

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the whiskers. Yellow teeth gleamed. "So that's it. Got a little problem of the private sort, have ye? Well, m'lord, ye've come to the right place. I'll get ye straightened out and standing tall in short order, I will."

Beatrice saw Leo's jaw tighten. She stepped forward quickly. "You misunderstand, Dr. Cox. We are not here to discuss his lordship's, er, health. We wish to inquire about the concoction you sold to my uncle Lord Glassonby. Do you remember him?"

"Glassonby. Glassonby." Cox's thick brows bobbed violently. "See here, the man's dead, ain't he? Heard he'd cocked up his toes in a bawdy house.'

"Yes. I shall come straight to the point, Dr. Cox. I wish to know if there was anything unusual in the tonic you prepared for him."

"Unusual? What's this?" With a crablike movement Cox retreated into denser shadow. "What are ye saying, Mrs. Poole? I had nothing to do with Glassonby's death. Man died in a brothel. A heart seizure, they said. Ye can't lay that at my door, madam."

"Calm yourself, Cox." Leo moved closer.

Beatrice watched him start to lean one arm negligently against the counter. He glanced at the thick layer of grime and apparently thought better of the move.

"Mrs. Poole wishes to reassure herself and the rest of her family that Glassonby died of natural causes."

"I warned him not to allow himself to become overstimulated," Cox whined. "I instruct all my clients in the dangers of too much excitement. Men who haven't been able to enjoy their full manly vigor in years sometimes overdo things when they regain their strength overnight. Not my fault if they don't listen to my advice."

Beatrice took a step forward. "Dr. Cox, the only thing I want to know is if there was any ingredient in that last dose of my uncle's tonic that was different from what you had mixed in onprevious occasions."

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"No, there certainly was not." Cox trembled with indignation. "The Elixir of Manly Vigor is my own special formula. I've supplied it to many gentlemen and there have never been any accidents."

"Would you give me a list of the ingredients?" Beatrice asked.

"See here, ye cannot ask a man to give up his trade secrets." Cox waved her back with a flapping hand. "Go on. There's no more to be said."

"But, Dr. Cox-"

"Mrs. Poole, yer uncle obviously allowed himself to become overstimulated and his heart gave out. 'Tis a pity, but there ye have it. These things happen, especially with elderly gentlemen who are not in robust physical condition. Now I'll thank ye both to take yerselves off. I'm a busy man."

Leo glanced at Beatrice and raised a brow in silent inquiry. Frustrated, she racked her brain for some other, more useful question.

"Dr. Cox, I appreciate your telling me that there was nothing out of the ordinary in my uncle's tonic. The information will provide some peace of mind to my family."

"Should think so." Cox huffed a bit. "I'm a man of science, Mrs. Poole. I do not make mistakes."

"No, of course not."

Leo looked at Cox. "Do you recall your last meeting with Glassonby?"

"Certainly. He came to pick up his bottle of elixir at the first of the week as usual."

"You provided him with a week's supply at a time?" "That's right." Cox glared at her over his spectacles. "What of it?"

"Did Glassonby happen to mention that he might be experimenting with other treatments for his problem?" "Other treatments?" Cox's gnomelike face worked furi-

ously. "Do ye mean to say that he was going to another doctor?"

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"I do not know. I merely wondered if he might have been using anything other than the Elixir of Manly Vigor to treat his problem,' Beatrice said. "Something that could have caused his heart seizure."

"Hah." Cox's trollish features cleared at that notion. "Another treatment. There's yer answer, then, Mrs. Poole. Yer uncle was combining remedies without proper medical supervision. I cannot be held accountable for the effects of some other doctor's therapies."

"No, of course not," Beatrice murmured. "Thank you very much for your time, Dr. Cox. My uncle's family will be reassured to know that your tonic had nothing to do with his death.'

"See to it that fact is made very clear, Mrs. Poole." Cox's colorless eyes glittered in the gloom. "Got my reputation to consider, ye know. Can't have the fancy goin' around sayin' untrue things about my special tonic. That sort of talk will ruin my trade, it will."

"I'll make sure everyone understands," Beatrice assured him. She looked at Leo. "I am quite satisfied. Let us be on our way, sir."

"As you wish, Mrs. Poole."

He took her arm and escorted her out of the shop. In silence they started back toward the waiting hackney. The fog had thickened considerably in the narrow lane, Beatrice noticed. Voices rose and fell in the mist. The hooves of invisible horses clattered eerily.

Moss Lane had appeared cramped and dismal a short while earlier, but it had not offered any great threat. Now the heavy mist had transformed the atmosphere with remarkable effect.

Although he kept a firm grasp on her arm, Beatrice was acutely conscious of the fact that Leo was not paying much attention to her. He was entirely focused on their surroundings. She could feel the alert, prowling tension in him. She sensed that he registered every scrape of shoe leather on

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stone, every figure that loomed in the fog, every vacant doorway.

She did not realize how quick and shallow her breathing had become until she and Leo reached the street where the hackney carriage waited. When Leo handed her up into the cab, she heard herself release a deep sigh of relief.

"We left the visit to Cox's shop a bit late," Leo said dryly. He closed the door and sat down across from her. "I believe that the next time we set out in search of information, we will make the appointment closer to noon."

Beatrice gave a rueful chuckle. "Agreed." She sat back and arranged her skirts. "What do you make of Cox?"

"I'm not certain. As was the case with Madame Virtue, he was extremely anxious at the prospect of being accused of murder."

"One can hardly blame either of them," Beatrice said. "No." Leo lounged in the corner and studied the fogbound street. "But I do not think that we are going to make much progress with the direct approach. Everyone we talk to fears that he or she will be accused of theft or worse. The time has come to take a more indirect route in our inquiries."

Beatrice leaned forward, fascinated. "What do you mean?"