Late for the Wedding Read online

  “The sort of old friends who meet in each other’s bedchambers?” Emeline asked, voice rising.

  “Tobias assures me that the two of them never had that sort of connection.”

  “I see.” Emeline was troubled. “Do you believe him?”

  Lavinia glanced at her, surprised by the question. “Yes, of course. Tobias has his little eccentricities and small foibles, as you just pointed out, but lying outright to my face about a matter such as this is not one of them.”

  Emeline’s brow cleared. She looked knowing. “The two of you do seem to have established a certain degree of trust.”

  “Mmm. It is quite true that Tobias will answer my questions honestly.” Lavinia exhaled deeply. “The problem, I have discovered, is that I must first ask the right questions.”

  “I suppose it is only to be expected that a man of Mr. March’s age and experience of the world would have some private matters in his past that he might wish to remain confidential.”

  “It is also a fact that a man of Mr. March’s nature is strongly inclined to keep his secrets,” Lavinia muttered.

  “You are rather worried about this new case, are you not?”

  “With good cause. We are dealing with a killer.”

  “Yes, of course, but I have the impression that the links to Mr. March’s past have compounded your concerns.”

  Lavinia pursed her lips. “There are several aspects of this situation that bother me. Our client is one of them.”

  “What is it about Aspasia Gray that worries you?”

  “Most likely it has something to do with the fact that the first time I met her, she had her arms around Tobias’s neck.”

  “Never say that Mr. March was kissing her?” Emeline was appalled. “But you just told me that you were not alarmed by the nature of their friendship.”

  “According to Tobias, she was attempting to kiss him. A token of her gratitude or some such nonsense. He assures me he was not a willing participant in the act and, as I said, I believe him.”

  Emeline relaxed slightly. “I see. One can understand the kiss, I suppose. Mrs. Gray behaved in an extremely forward fashion, presuming on their past acquaintance, and poor Mr. March simply did not know how to deal with the situation in a gentlemanly fashion.”

  “In all the months that I have known poor Mr. March, I have not yet seen him in a situation that he could not handle,” Lavinia said. “In a gentlemanly fashion or otherwise.”

  “Yes, well, I quite agree that he never seems to be without resources and he is certainly very competent.”

  Lavinia brooded on her slippers for a moment or two.

  “I trust Tobias,” she said eventually. “But I do not trust Aspasia Gray.”

  “Well, it is one of Mr. March’s axioms that one can never entirely trust the client, is it not?”

  “I am more than willing to apply that rule in this case.” She touched the tips of her slippers together. “But I am afraid that Tobias may not be following his own advice when it comes to Aspasia.”

  “Calm yourself, Lavinia. Mr. March is nothing if not cautious about such things. I am certain that he will not allow his personal feelings for Mrs. Gray to get in the way of sound judgment.”

  Lavinia tapped her slippers together. “We can only hope that will prove to be true. In any event, there is very little to be done about the problem at this juncture. There is no getting around the fact that Tobias cannot avoid this case, even if he were so inclined.”

  Emeline nodded knowingly. “And so long as he is involved in it, you must be also.”

  “I cannot allow him to investigate this affair alone.”

  “I understand.” Emeline started to raise her cup and then paused with the vessel in midair. She studied Lavinia with an uncertain expression for a few seconds, and then her resolve appeared to firm. “As long as we are discussing matters of a somewhat personal nature involving Mr. March, there is something I feel compelled to discuss with you.”

  Lavinia braced herself. “If this is about your connection with Mr. Sinclair, could we wait until some other time? I know that you are in love with him. However, he appears to be a responsible and entirely honorable young man, and I very much doubt that he will ask for your hand until he feels himself to be comfortably situated. Given his rather precarious career as an assistant to Tobias, that may take some time. Until then, I really do feel that it would be best if you—”

  “This is not about my relationship with Anthony,” Emeline interrupted with surprising forcefulness. “It is about yours with Mr. March.”

  Lavinia stared at her. She blinked a couple of times and finally managed to recover herself. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Please, I am no longer a child. Furthermore, our sojourn in Rome as companions to that dreadful Mrs. Underwood gave me an excellent education in worldly matters. I am well-aware that you and Mr. March have formed a very intimate connection.”

  “Ah. Yes. Well.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. This was ridiculous. She was a woman of the world, after all. She cleared her throat. “The exact nature of my association with Tobias is an extremely personal matter, Emeline.”

  “Yes, of course.” Emeline’s gaze did not waver. “The thing is, although it is certainly personal, it is not exactly a secret, if you take my point.”

  “It would be somewhat difficult to miss your point. Where is this conversation headed?”

  Emeline took another deep breath. “It has not escaped my notice that you and Mr. March are spending more and more time in each other’s company of late.”

  “Our professional partnership requires a close association at times.” Lavinia strove to achieve an off-putting, suitably repressive tone, in the faint hope that it might discourage Emeline. “We must consult frequently on various inquiries. You know that very well.”

  Emeline did not look put off or discouraged. Her fine dark brows formed a determined line. “I feel that I must be frank. We both know that it was not your professional relationship that required the two of you to travel together to Beaumont Castle.”

  “I am rather tired.” Lavinia rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Could you please tell me why you are suddenly so concerned about my association with Mr. March? For heaven’s sake, I thought you liked the man. Indeed, if memory serves, you thought a good deal more highly of him the first time we encountered him than I did.”

  “I do like him. Very much.” Emeline put down her teacup. “It is not my feelings for him that we are discussing.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Aunt Lavinia, tell me the truth. You are in love with Mr. March, are you not?”

  “Mmm.”

  “And he appears to be in love with you.”

  “Mmm.” Lavinia glanced toward the door, wondering if she could plead sudden illness and make a dash for the stairs.

  “Everyone knows why two people who have formed an intimate connection would accept an invitation to a large house party.”

  “Indeed.” Lavinia clutched the arms of her chair. “Long walks in the fresh air. The chance to commune with nature. The opportunity to enjoy jolly rustic entertainments.”

  “I am not that naive, Aunt Lavinia, and well you know it. It is common knowledge that house parties provide opportunities for ladies and gentlemen who are involved in romantic liaisons to be private with each other. Do not try to tell me that that is not precisely what you and Mr. March planned to do at Beaumont Castle.”

  “Whatever plans Mr. March and I might have made in regard to our personal entertainment were drastically altered by Lord Fullerton’s demise, I assure you.”

  “I understand. But the point is, you did have some plans.”

  Embarrassment sparked into annoyance. “Accepting the invitation to Beaumont Castle was Tobias’s idea, not mine.”

  “But you agreed to the journey,” Emeline insisted. “You must have known what it would entail.”

  “Enough.” Lavinia pushed herself up out of the chair
and went to stand at the window. “What is the aim of this exceedingly personal interrogation?”

  “Forgive me, but I feel I must be blunt,” Emeline said quietly. “I expected that when you returned from Beaumont’s house party, you and Mr. March would announce your intention to wed.”

  Lavinia’s mouth went dry. The floor suddenly seemed to shift under her feet. She reached out and grasped a fistful of drapery to steady herself.

  “You expected what?” she finally managed.

  “You heard me,” Emeline said. “I assumed that Mr. March would ask you to marry him in the course of your visit to the Beaumont estate.”

  Lavinia whirled around. “Whatever put that notion into your head?”

  “I have lived with you for several years, and I feel I know you well enough to state without hesitation that this connection you have formed with Mr. March is unique.” Emeline rose to her feet. “I realize that you have had one or two minor flirtations over the years, but none of them amounted to much. Certainly none of those other gentlemen was even allowed to get into the habit of joining us for breakfast on a frequent basis. You never went off to house parties with any of them.”

  “Emeline—”

  “You have as much as admitted that you are in love with Mr. March, and he appears to be quite fond of you. I had every right to assume that this connection would lead to marriage.”

  “Every right?” Lavinia realized she was crumpling the drapery. Very carefully, she released the fabric and smoothed the folds. “Yes, well, your assumption was incorrect.”

  Emeline’s expression became one of astonishment mingled with outrage. “Do you mean to say that Mr. March has not even mentioned the subject of marriage?”

  “No, he has not.” Lavinia elevated her chin. “Furthermore, there is no reason why he should do so. Indeed, I do not expect an offer of marriage from him.”

  “You cannot mean that, Lavinia.”

  “The thing is, Emeline, our current arrangement suits both Mr. March and myself very well.”

  Emeline spread her arms. “But as it stands, your arrangement is little more than an unconventional liaison, an affair. It cannot go on forever.”

  The note of censure in her tone was extremely irritating, Lavinia thought. “I do not see why it cannot continue indefinitely. A great many ladies engage in long-standing affairs.”

  “Not you, Lavinia.”

  “Bloody hell, you need not look so scandalized.” Feeling the need for another medicinal glass of sherry, she stalked back to the cabinet and yanked the door open. “You know very well that, although a lady of your years and status would be ruined by such an unconventional liaison, as a widow I may do as I please in such matters.”

  “I am well-aware that Society has a different set of rules for each of us,” Emeline said stiffly. “But that does not mean that it is proper for you to bestow your . . . your favors upon Mr. March without some understanding concerning the future of your relationship.”

  “Good lord, Emeline, you make me sound like a member of the demimonde.”

  Emeline had the grace to blush. “I did not mean to imply any such thing. But I must tell you that I assumed from the outset that Mr. March’s intentions were honorable.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” She splashed sherry into the glass she had used earlier. “They are honorable.”

  “I fail to see how you can say that if he has not asked you to marry him.”

  “I cannot believe that you are presuming to lecture me on the subject of proper decorum and behavior.”

  “It distresses me greatly to say this, but I fear we must consider the possibility that Mr. March may be deliberately taking advantage of you.”

  That was too much.

  “Advantage? Of me?” Lavinia swallowed the sherry and set the glass down hard. “Does it occur to you that I may be the one taking advantage of Mr. March?”

  Emeline’s lips parted in shock. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Consider the matter from my point of view.” Lavinia headed for the door. “As things stand now, I have everything a woman in my situation could possibly want. I enjoy a close connection with a gentleman, but I do not need to make any of the sacrifices that are so often required of a married woman. I retain all of my rights, both legal and financial. I can come and go as I please. I operate my own business. I answer to no man. Frankly, Emeline, there is a lot to be said for this sort of arrangement.”

  Shock bloomed in Emeline’s eyes.

  Lavinia did not wait for her to recover. She went out into the hall and swiftly climbed the stairs.

  It was only when she was alone in the sanctuary of her bedchamber that she acknowledged to herself that she had lied through her teeth to Emeline.

  Not that all of the things she had just said to her niece were not true and accurate as far as they went. There were indeed a great many excellent reasons why she was better off unwed.

  But none of them was the real reason why she feared marriage to Tobias.

  Chapter 11

  “Evidently country life does not agree with you, March.” Lord Crackenburne’s bristling gray brows bunched above the rims of his spectacles. “Let me see if I have got it all straight. In the course of the single night you spent under Beaumont’s roof, a mysterious death occurred, you found evidence that a new Memento-Mori Man is at work, and a lady from your past managed to involve you in an awkward situation in front of your good friend Mrs. Lake.”

  “Nor is that the end of the list of lively particulars.” Lord Vale’s eyes glittered with sardonic amusement. “Let us not forget that this memorable visit to the country culminated in you and Mrs. Lake being summarily tossed out of the castle before breakfast.”

  Tobias stretched out his left leg, which still ached from the long carriage ride the previous day, and sank deeper into his chair. It was one o’clock in the afternoon and the club’s coffee room was only sparsely populated. He and Crackenburne and Vale had the place almost entirely to themselves. Hardly surprising, he reflected. It was a fine day, and the majority of those members who had remained in Town for the summer had found some interesting occupations to pursue outside in the warmth of the sun. The gentlemen would not drift back into their clubs until this evening, when whist and claret and gossip called them indoors once more.

  At this time of year, the demands of the social world were considerably diminished. The Season, with its rigorous schedule of balls, soirees, and parties, had ended for all intents and purposes. Many of the most fashionable hostesses had already retreated to their estates for the summer.

  Not all of the high flyers fled London in the summer. For a variety of reasons—including the long, uncomfortable journeys, the lack of a suitable residence, or a dread of the sheer boredom of country life—a goodly number of those who moved in the better circles chose to remain in Town.

  A few, such as Crackenburne, did not even leave their clubs.

  Following the death of his lady several years earlier, the Earl had virtually taken up residence here in the coffee room. Crackenburne was such a familiar fixture that the other members were inclined to overlook him as though he were a comfortable old sofa or a worn carpet. They gossiped freely in his presence, as though he were deaf. The result was that Crackenburne absorbed rumors and news the way a sponge took up water. He knew some of the deepest secrets of the ton.

  “I cannot take all of the credit for being chucked out of Beaumont Castle,” Tobias said. “Mrs. Lake played the leading role in that little melodrama. Had she not taken it upon herself to insist to Beaumont that a murder had occurred under his roof—or, to be more precise, upon his roof—we might not have been asked to leave so unceremoniously.”

  Crackenburne was amused. “One can scarcely blame Beaumont for not wanting to acknowledge the manner of Fullerton’s demise. That sort of gossip would no doubt discourage some of the less adventurous members of Society from accepting future invitations to his wife’s parties. Lady Beaumont would have been furious if
her reputation as a hostess had been ruined by talk of murder.”

  “True.” Tobias sank deeper into his chair. “And it is not as though we had any proof to offer.”

  “But there is no doubt in your mind?” Vale asked.

  Tobias was not surprised by the cold interest in the other man’s eyes. Vale had listened to the recitation of events at the Beaumont house party with the degree of interest he usually reserved for his collection of antiquities.

  Nearing fifty, Vale was tall and elegantly slender, with the long fingers of an artist. His receding hairline set off a strong profile and a high forehead that would not have looked amiss on one of the Roman busts in his collection.

  Tobias was not yet certain what to make of Vale’s newfound interest in the investigation business. His lordship was a scholar and an expert on Roman artifacts. He spent a great deal of time excavating various ancient sites around England. But he was also something of a mystery. The fact that he was intrigued with the notion of consulting for the firm of Lake & March made Tobias a little uneasy.

  On the other hand, there was no doubt that Vale’s rank and wealth, combined with his very close and presumably intimate connection to Lavinia’s new friend Mrs. Dove, had proved useful on the last case. There was every possibility that he could be helpful on this new investigation as well.

  Tobias reminded himself that he needed all the assistance he could get.

  He steepled his fingers and examined the carved marble of the mantel in the vain hope that it might offer up a clue. “I am quite certain that Fullerton’s fall from the roof was no accident. Mrs. Lake found the cap that the killer wore to conceal his features. But the memento-mori ring I discovered on the night table was all the proof I really needed.”

  “Now you wish to know who might have benefited from Fullerton’s death,” Crackenburne said with a meditative air.

  “It appears that this new killer seeks to emulate his predecessor,” Tobias said. “One of the few things of which we can be certain about Zachary Elland is that he considered himself a professional. He not only took pride in the strategy he devised to carry out his kills, he always sought to turn a profit. He was a man of business, right down to his journal of accounts.”