“What?” She swung around, her voice rising, eyes widening. “Are you saying that everyone knows that we-” She broke off and waved one of her hands wildly.
“That we are lovers?” He grinned at her expression of horror. “I suspect so.”
“But how can that be? I have never told a single soul.” She glared at him. “Tobias, I vow, if you have discussed the details of our personal connection with anyone, I shall throttle you.”
“I take grave offense at that, madam.” He held up both hands, palms out. “I am a gentleman. I would not dream of disclosing such intimate details to anyone. But I must tell you that our friends and relatives would have to be uncommonly stupid not to have concluded that we are engaged in an affair.”
“Oh, dear.” She looked nonplussed. “Do you really think so?”
“Calm yourself, Lavinia. It is not as if we are two young, inexperienced people with reputations to consider. We have both been out in the world for some time and have acquired a certain immunity. Provided we are reasonably discreet, no one will so much as blink at what we choose to do in private.”
“But what of Emeline and Anthony? We really ought to set a proper example, don’t you think?”
“No,” he said flatly. He shrugged into his coat. “There is no call for us to set an example for them. The rules are different for people of our age and experience. Emeline and Anthony know that as well as we do.”
She hesitated. “Well, yes, I suppose what you say is true. Nevertheless, discretion is required, and in future we really must take more care when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“I will allow that your concerns on the subject of discretion are not entirely unfounded. In addition, I have noticed that this business of sneaking around has a few other drawbacks. One is forever searching for privacy. Indoor locations are hard to come by, and when they are not available, one is obliged to keep an eye on the weather.”
“True. But I have been thinking about the matter lately and I have concluded that there are some positive aspects.”
A chill of dread went through him. “Such as?”
“I do worry about being discovered and I still get a jolt of horror whenever there is a close call. And then there is the discretion issue. But when all is said and done, I must admit that it is quite thrilling at times.”
“Thrilling,” he repeated evenly.
“Indeed.” Her voice brightened with enthusiasm. “Odd as it seems, I have begun to wonder if perhaps the very risk of being discovered is responsible for a certain sense of excitement.”
“Excitement.”
“Yes. And I must say that the frequent change of location endows the business with a definite touch of novelty.”
“A touch of novelty.”
Good God, she had grown to enjoy the clandestine aspects and the uncomfortable venues. This was his own fault, he thought. Like Dr. Frankenstein in that new horrid novel he had been hearing about, he had created a monster.
“How many other people do you think will have made love in a conservatory?” she continued with what sounded like genuine scholarly interest.
“I have no notion.” He yanked open the door. “Nor do I care to discover the answer to that question.”
“Do you know,” she continued brightly, “some of our more daring trysts remind me of scenes from certain poems. Byron’s writings, especially, come to mind.”
“Bloody hell.” He stopped and turned around to confront her. “I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of spending the rest of my days hiring dirty hackneys and searching out secluded sections of the park whenever we wish to-”
The long scrape of a boot sliding on gravel stopped him cold. He turned swiftly, putting Lavinia behind him.
“Who goes there?” he said. “Show yourself.”
There was movement on the other side of the hedge. A low, hulking figure slithered around the corner of the bristling greenery and came to a halt at the edge of a patch of moonlight. He wore a many-tiered greatcoat that cloaked him from neck to ankle. A shapeless hat was pulled down over his face. He stood slanted and hunched, a walking stick in one hand.
“Forgive me if I am interrupting,” the stranger rasped in a bruised voice. “I assumed the two of ye had finished your business in the conservatory.”
Lavinia peered at the strange little man over Tobias’s shoulder. “Who are you, sir?”
“Mr. Nightingale, I presume?” Tobias did not take his eyes off the newcomer. “I was told you preferred to meet under cover of darkness.”
“Aye, sir, that I do. Darkness offers a cloak of privacy that is difficult to obtain in any other way.” Mr. Nightingale sketched a small bow. “A pleasure to meet ye both.”
“How did you get into this garden?” Lavinia asked. “Lady Stillwater maintains a small army of servants. I cannot imagine how you managed to slip past them.”
“On a night such as this, with so many people coming and going, it was quite a simple matter to get past the footmen at the front door. Rest assured, I do not intend to stay long.” He chuckled hoarsely at some private joke. “I have no great interest in dancing.”
“What do you want with us?” Tobias asked.
“Rumor has it that ye are looking for a certain artifact.”
“To be precise, we are looking for the person who murdered a woman in order to steal the artifact,” Lavinia said.
Mr. Nightingale made a lumpy movement that was no doubt intended to be a shrug. “Either way, ye’re looking for the Blue Medusa, are ye not?”
“Well, yes,” Lavinia agreed. “If we discover it, we’ll no doubt learn the identity of the killer. Can you help us?”
“I’ve got no interest in murderers, although I wish ye well in your hunt,” Mr. Nightingale said. “Generally speaking, murder is bad for me business. Oh, I’ll admit that it does add a bit of spice now and again and sometimes drives up the prices in certain quarters. But unfortunately, it can just as often lower them. There are any number of clients who get nervous when there’s murder involved, ye see.”
“What is your interest in the bracelet?” Tobias asked.
“Have ye heard of a small, very exclusive club known as the Connoisseurs?” Mr. Nightingale asked softly.
Lavinia inhaled sharply, a small, startled gasp. But she kept silent.
“We know of it,” Tobias said. “What does it have to do with this case?”
“The number of members is limited. Openings occur rarely. They come about only when a member dies, quits, or is tossed out of the club. Competition to join the club is fierce.”
“Go on,” Tobias said.
“As it happens,” Mr. Nightingale continued softly, “such an opening has existed for a year now and word has gone out that it will at last be filled. Rumor has it that the Connoisseurs is accepting applications.”
“Prospective members must present an artifact for the club’s private museum of curiosities, I believe,” Tobias said. “The person whose offering is judged the most suitable will be admitted to the club.”
“You are well informed, Mr. March.” Nightingale nodded approvingly. “The Keeper of the club’s museum makes the final decision, and the deadline for applications is less than a fortnight away.”
“You think the Blue Medusa will appeal to the Keeper, is that it?” Tobias asked.
“The Keeper is known to have a strong preference for British-Roman antiquities. They say he has a passion for ‘em.” Mr. Nightingale shook his head. “Don’t understand it meself. Most collectors of a truly discriminating nature prefer relics from the ancient ruins abroad. Hard to compare a cameo found in some English farmer’s field with a fine statue discovered in Pompeii, if you ask me. But there ye have it. Each to his own, I suppose.”