“You.”
“Me?” She sat up straighten, anchoring the sheet across her breasts. Her brows nipped together above her nose. “What about me?”
He touched the silver pendant she wore around her neck.
“I told you that he wants you,” he said. “He’s searching for a replacement for Celeste.”
“And I told you that’s outrageous.”
“Trust me on this matter.”
“How humiliating. I cannot believe that you actually embarrassed me to such a degree.” She scowled ferociously. “What, precisely, did you say to him?”
He pulled her back down onto the pillows and rolled on top of her. Sliding one leg between her soft, warm thighs, he cradled her face between his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
“I told him that he could not have you,” he said.
Twenty minutes later Lavinia put on a dressing gown to see him out the front door. She kissed him one last time in the shadows of the hall.
“Hurry,” she said. “Mrs. Chilton will return at any moment. We are extremely fortunate that neither she nor Emeline chose to come back before this. I cannot imagine what is keeping them.”
He smiled to himself. He was of the opinion that the unlocked door and the housekeeper’s convenient absence told a different story, but he thought it best not to question his good fortune.
“Until tonight,” he said. “I take it all is in readiness for the grand event?”
“Yes. The gowns are to be delivered in an hour’s time. Joan sent a note around this morning to say that her personal hairdresser will come at five and that she has arranged for the carriage to call for us at eight-thirty.”
He nodded. “Anthony will no doubt show up promptly at nine. I’ll put in my appearance around ten. Will that do?”
“Perfectly.” She practically shoved him down the steps. “Off with you now.”
She shut the door in his face.
Reluctantly, he went down the steps and started toward the end of the lane in search of a hackney.
He saw the small group of familiar faces when he was halfway to the corner. Emeline, Anthony, and Mrs. Chilton strolled toward him with a studied nonchalance. Anthony made a small show of pulling his watch out of his pocket and checking the time.
Tobias ignored him to greet Emeline and Mrs. Chilton.
“Mr. March.” Emeline gave him a gracious smile. “How nice to see you. What an unexpected surprise.”
“A pleasure, Miss Emeline.” He stopped and inclined his head. “Good day, Mrs. Chilton. I understand you went out for currants.”
“I know how much you like currant jam,” she muttered.
“I am certainly very fond of yours,” he agreed. “Indeed, it was very kind of you to dash out for more currants this afternoon just to make a new batch for me. I can only hope that you will feel the urge to make a lot more jam in the future.”
“Depends upon the weather.”
“The weather?”
She gave him a reproving look. “Can’t buy good currants when it’s cold or when it rains. Ye might want to bear that in mind.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Chapter Twenty-five
At nine-thirty that evening Crackenburne slowly lowered his newspaper and looked at Tobias. “Things are not going well with your newest case, I take it?”
Tobias lounged against the mantel of the club-room fireplace and regarded the flames. “I would happily consign the bloody case to the pit if it were not for the fact that Lavinia is desperate to solve it.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“There’s not much I can do except solve the damned case, prove Hudson is a murderer, and let her see him for what he is.”
“She may not thank you for proving her old family friend a villain.”
Tobias noticed Vale walking toward them across the crowded clubroom. “Probably not.”
“How goes the situation with Pelling?” Crackenburne asked.
“Nothing new there either. Anthony is still trying to find the prostitute Pelling is bedding. She seems to have dropped out of sight. But from what we can determine by talking to the stable lad at the inn, Pelling is merely in Town to see to his business affairs.”
“Nevertheless, you are concerned about his presence here.”
Tobias did not take his eyes off Vale. “I find the fact that two men from Lavinia’s past chose the same month to visit London something of a disturbing coincidence.”
“All coincidences disturb you,” Crackenburne pointed out dryly. “And I must say, one cannot feel comfortable about the man. But let us try for a degree of logic. Has Pelling actually said or done anything to indicate that he has an interest in Lavinia?”
Tobias flexed the hand on top of the mantel. “No.”
“He has not contacted her?”
“No.”
“She has not encountered him since that one casual sighting in Pall Mall?”
“No.”
“Then very likely his business in London is nothing out of the ordinary.” Crackenburne’s brows jiggled. “Mayhap he is shopping for a new wife.”
Tobias frowned. “Hadn’t thought of that possibility.”
Vale came to a halt on the other side of the fireplace. He nodded at Crackenburne and then gave Tobias a look of polite inquiry. “I’m about to leave for Mrs. Dove’s ball. Can I offer you a ride in my carriage?”
Tobias managed to conceal his surprise. “Thank you.” He took his arm off the mantel. “I would appreciate it. I was not looking forward to finding a hackney in this fog.”
“Enjoy yourselves.” Crackenburne adjusted his spectacles. “Please convey my regards to your ladies.”
“I don’t seem to have a lady at the moment,” Vale murmured.
“And you’ve never met Lavinia,” Tobias said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Crackenburne said. “From what you’ve told me, Mrs. Dove and Mrs. Lake both sound extremely interesting females.”
Vale was amused. “Interesting is an odd way to describe a lady.”
“At my age interesting ladies are the most attractive sort.” Crackenburne shook out his newspaper. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
Tobias walked back through the club with Vale and out into the fog-bound night, where a sleek carriage and an elegantly matched team waited.
“Crackenburne always seems to know the latest rumors before anyone else.” Vale got into the vehicle and sat down. “Astonishing, really. You must find him a great source of information.”
Tobias grasped the edge of the door and hauled himself up into the carriage, grimly ignoring the twinge in his thigh. He settled into the comfortable cushions with a sense of relief and entertained a pleasant little fantasy of owning his own carriage and team. He could take Lavinia for long drives in the country, close the curtains for privacy, and make love to her for hours on well-sprung cushions.
“Crackenburne is quite helpful on occasion,” he admitted.
The carriage rolled off into the fog.
Vale leaned back against the brown velvet squabs. “The man has a point. There is something to be said for an interesting lady.”
“I agree. But in my experience, interesting generally implies stubborn, strong-willed, and unpredictable.”
Vale nodded amiably. “Something to be said for those qualities too.”
Tobias examined him in the light of the carriage lamp. “Do not mistake me, sir, I am indeed grateful for the ride in your carriage. But curiosity compels me to ask if it is the Blue Medusa or Mrs. Dove that persuaded you to attend Joan’s ball tonight.”
“I am a patient man, March.” Vale looked out the window into the mist-shrouded night. “I have waited a year. I think that is long enough, don’t you?”
“It depends what you are waiting for,” Tobias said.
Twenty minutes later he paused with Vale at the top of the grand staircase. He looked down at the crowd of elegantly garbed guests, searching for Lavinia’s flame-red head. It was not a simple task to find her in the throng. But wherever she was down there, he thought, she was no doubt feeling quite pleased with herself. The ball was another grand social coup.