He smiled. “Do you really believe that was her objective?”
“I am quite certain of it. It is clear to me that she finds you fascinating, intriguing, and something of a challenge.”
“I would be flattered were it not for the fact that I have the distinct impression that Celeste places all men into one of two categories. Useful and Not Useful. I have a nasty suspicion that she has decided that I fit into the former.”
Lavinia tilted the parasol to get a better look at him. “You believe that she thinks she can somehow use you?”
“It is a blow to my pride, of course. Nevertheless, I am forced to conclude that it is the most likely explanation for her interest in me.”
“And just how do you imagine that she might use you, sir?”
“Damned if I know,” he admitted.
“Rubbish.” Lavinia’s hand tightened around his arm. “I think she is madly attracted to you and thinks it would be amusing to indulge in an affair.”
He grinned. “As I am not the sort of man who can be put into a trance by just any passing mesmerist, we are unlikely to ever discover the truth of her intentions.”
“I trust not.”
“Are you by any chance jealous, Lavinia?”
“Of her extremely limited mesmeric skills? Certainly not.”
“Not of Celeste’s mesmeric talents.” He lowered his voice. “Of her interest in me.”
She gazed straight ahead. “Is there any reason why I should feel the pangs of jealousy?”
“No.”
She brightened. “Then the subject does not arise.”
“The subject has arisen. You’re avoiding it.”
“Really, Tobias. You are a man of honor. Your word is your bond. Of course I trust you.”
“That is not quite the question I am asking.”
“That nonsense about free samples.” Lavinia gave him a suspicious look. “She was offering herself to you, wasn’t she?”
“You know me, my dear. I have never taken the trouble to master the fine arts of flirtation and innuendo, so I cannot say for certain what she was about with that chatter.”
“Bloody hell.” Lavinia came to a halt and spun around to face him. “That is precisely what she was doing. That hussy as much as offered you a free sample of the extremely cheap goods she is selling. What nerve.”
“You are jealous.” For some reason he felt quite cheerful.
“Let’s just say that I do not trust that woman any farther than I could throw that hackney over there.”
“On that point, we are in complete agreement.” Tobias looked back over his shoulder to where Celeste had been standing a few minutes ago. “The goods may be cheap, but I very much doubt that anything Mrs. Hudson offers-including samples-would prove to be free.”
Chapter Seven
The sight of the unlit warehouse looming in the darkness near the river gave her a moment of nervous dread. For the first time in this endeavor she experienced true fear. It started in her palms, an icy, prickling sensation that climbed up her arms and spread through her chest. Suddenly she found it hard to breathe.
What was the matter with her? It was almost finished. She had come too far to lose her courage at this juncture.
She took a deep breath, and the disturbing sensation passed. She was in command of herself once more. Her brilliant future lay before her. All she had to do was complete this night’s work and she would be on her way into the ton’s glittering ballrooms and elegant drawing rooms at last.
Hoisting the lantern, she went to the door of the warehouse and opened it carefully. The rusty hinges groaned in protest.
Inside, she paused again on the threshold and surveyed the cavernous interior of the building. The flaring light from her lantern splashed sharp shadows across a jumble of empty packing crates and shipping casks. For a terrible instant they looked like so many monuments and headstones scattered about in an abandoned graveyard. She shuddered.
It is too late to turn back now. You’ve come too far. All the way from that dreadful little shop. Soon you will move in Society.
A rapid skittering sound emanated from a corner between two large crates. She flinched.
Rats, she thought. Just rats, fleeing from the light.
She heard the bootsteps behind her, and another cold wave of fear flashed through her. It was all right, she assured herself. He had received her message and had come to meet her, just as she had instructed. They would conduct their business and that would be the end of it. When it was over, she would be poised to move into her golden future.
“My dear Celeste,” the killer said in a voice as soft and low as a lover’s. “I have been waiting for you.”
She knew then that something had gone terribly wrong. Another lightning bolt of freezing horror flashed through her. She started to turn, fumbling frantically with the little fan. She opened her mouth to speak so that she could bargain for her’ life. This was why she had not brought the bracelet with her. Her plan had held an element of risk, so she had left the Blue Medusa in safekeeping as surety for her own life while she negotiated the new price.
But it was too late to bargain. He already had the cravat around her throat, silencing her so that she could not use her skills to save her own life. In those last moments when the red darkness clouded her brain, she knew with horrifying clarity that she had made a fatal mistake. She had known he could be ruthless, understood that he was obsessed. But she had not recognized the madness in him until now.
When it was finished, he looked down at the results of his handiwork and was quietly satisfied. The creature would never again play her tricks on him or any other man.
He picked up her reticule, opened it, and poured out the contents. It contained the usual paraphernalia one expected to find. There was a handkerchief and some coins for the hackney she would not be hailing. But what he sought was not inside.
The first stirrings of alarm went through him. He went back to the body and knelt to check the folds and pockets of the cloak.
Not there either.
A feeling uncomfortably akin to panic swept over him. He suppressed it and quickly patted down her clothing.
Still nothing.
He yanked up her skirts to see if she had concealed it between her thighs.
But there was no sign of it.
Desperate now, he rose and hoisted the lantern to check the surrounding floor. Perhaps she had dropped it during her death struggle.
But a few minutes later he was forced to confront the terrible truth. The Blue Medusa was gone. And he had just murdered the only person who could have told him where it was hidden.
Chapter Eight
“Are there any more of those curried eggs, Mrs. Chilton?” Tobias turned a page of the morning newspaper he had brought with him. “They are excellent.”
“I’ll bring some out, sir.” Mrs. Chilton chuckled as she backed through the door that led to the kitchen.
“And another currant biscuit would go very nicely with the eggs,” he added. “You do have a way with currants, Mrs. Chilton.”
“I made plenty of extra,” she assured him. “Had a hunch you’d be here this morning.”
The door swung shut behind her.
“Indeed.” Lavinia looked up from her own newspaper and eyed Tobias across the width of the table. “This is the third time in a week that you have appeared at breakfast. You are becoming predictable in your habits, sir. I vow, it has reached the point where we could set our clock by your arrival here in the mornings.”
“I have reached the age at which a man must look after his constitution. They say that regular habits and a properly cooked breakfast are essential to good health.”