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  “But it is your writing that speaks to the wider audience because your observations are in print for all to read. I will come straight to the point. I recently paid a visit to the gentleman who is going to publish your book.”

  Alarm flashed through her. She had allowed herself to be influenced by Benedict and Penny, she thought. Nevertheless, her own intuition was finally rising to the occasion.

  “You saw Mr. Galbraith?” She felt as if she were walking across quicksand now.

  “Yes.” Humphrey’s eyes lit with determined enthusiasm. “He told me a great deal about your travel guide for ladies. He seems to think it will sell very well.”

  “Mr. Galbraith has been very encouraging.” Amity picked up the teapot. “I am putting the final touches on the manuscript now.”

  “It occurred to me that the book would sell to a much broader audience if you and I engaged in a collaboration.”

  A hansom rolled to a halt in the street. Automatically Amity glanced out the window. She saw Benedict emerge from the cab.

  Distracted, she set the teapot down so sharply the china rang on the silver tray. She considered the possibility that she had not heard Humphrey correctly.

  “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” she asked carefully.

  He gave her a winning smile. “I am merely suggesting that you and I collaborate on your travel guide.”

  She went quite blank. “I don’t understand. I have almost completed the manuscript. There is nothing left to collaborate on, if you see what I mean.”

  “That is wonderful news. It means that all that is necessary is to add my name to the title page.”

  “Your name?” She stared at him. “Sir, it’s a guide for ladies going abroad. Not gentlemen.”

  “I realize that. But only consider how much more authoritative your guide will appear if my name is also on the cover.”

  Anger crackled through Amity. “I am well aware that your name carries a great deal of weight in certain quarters, but you did not write the book, Mr. Nash. I wrote it.”

  Benedict was on the top step now. He banged the knocker. Amity watched Mrs. Houston hurry past the open door of the drawing room on her way to respond to the summons.

  “You saw how many ladies were in the audience last night,” Humphrey said. There was an edge of urgency in his tone. “I don’t want to sound vain, but I do have a way with women. Just imagine if I were to give a series of travel lectures like that one with the goal of publicizing A Lady’s Guide to Globetrotting. We could make the book available for purchase at the door along with my photographs. I’m sure the lectures would dramatically increase sales. Together we could make a great deal of money, Amity.”

  Mrs. Houston opened the front door.

  “Mr. Stanbridge,” she said cheerfully. “How nice to see you again, sir.”

  Amity shot to her feet. “I am not interested in your proposition, Mr. Nash. Indeed, I have nothing further to say to you. I suggest that you take your leave immediately.”

  Benedict strode into the room. His eyes were as heartless as those of a hellhound.

  “Exactly what sort of proposition are you making to my fiancée, Nash?” he asked.

  Alarmed, Humphrey jumped to his feet. “Not the sort you are clearly imagining, sir. It was a business proposition, nothing more.”

  “You call that a business proposition?” Amity demanded. “How dare you?”

  Benedict did not take his eyes off Humphrey.

  Humphrey moved toward the door, showing a fine turn of speed. Benedict stepped into his path. Penny appeared in the doorway. Her hand went to her throat. There was near panic in her eyes.

  Belatedly Amity realized that the situation was escalating out of control.

  “It’s all right, Benedict,” she said firmly. “Please allow Mr. Nash to leave. I assure you I have dealt with the matter. There is no need for violence. Indeed, I will not allow any fisticuffs in this household. Do I make myself clear?”

  Benedict did not move for a moment. Amity held her breath.

  Reluctantly Benedict shifted out of Humphrey’s path. Humphrey hurried out into the hall, where Mrs. Houston handed him his coat and gloves. A few seconds later the front door closed.

  Penny stared at Amity, stricken. “What happened?”

  “Evidently Nash just made your sister a business proposition,” Benedict said grimly.

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Penny whispered. “He knows she is engaged to you.”

  “I will speak with him in private,” Benedict said.

  “No, you will not,” Amity said. “I told you, I took care of the matter.”

  “He insulted you with his proposition,” Benedict said, his eyes still burning with icy rage.

  Amity wrinkled her nose. “I suppose, viewed in the proper light, it was actually something of a compliment.”

  “How can you say that?” Penny whispered. “Mr. Stanbridge is right. Fifty years ago, such an insult could have meant pistols at dawn.”

  “These days such matters can be settled in other ways,” Benedict said.

  Amity threw her hands wide. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, there is no need for such high drama. Mr. Nash’s proposition was definitely of a business nature. He wanted me to agree to put his name on my book as a coauthor. Indeed, although he did not come straight out and say it, I suspect that he intended for his name to go first.”

  Penny blinked. Understanding and something that might have been amusement lit her eyes. “Oh my. The poor man had no notion of what he was getting into, did he?”

  Amity clasped her hands behind her back and paced the room in a tight circular pattern. “He seemed to think that my book would sell more briskly if the public thought that he’d had a hand in writing it.”

  Benedict frowned. “That was his proposition? He wanted you to give him credit as a coauthor?”

  “Exactly.” Amity stopped. “You see now why I was so annoyed.”

  “Certainly,” Penny said. “He did, indeed, want to take advantage of you. Financial advantage.”

  “He may be an excellent photographer and an entertaining speaker, but I suspect he cannot string two or more interesting sentences together,” Amity said. She exhaled a small sigh. “I must admit you were right, Benedict. Mr. Nash did have ulterior motives for wanting to call on me today.”

  Fifteen

  I am very impressed with your investigative talents, Mrs. Marsden.” Inspector Logan lowered the sheaf of notes he had been perusing and looked at Penny. “I wish I had more people like you on my staff.”

  Amity smiled proudly. “You are brilliant, Penny. You managed to provide some information on every single gentleman who was present at the Channing ball who comes close to my description of the killer. You even found out which ones smoke cigarettes.”

  They were gathered in the drawing room. Logan had arrived shortly after Benedict. The two men had immediately set themselves to studying Penny’s annotated list of guests.

  “Excellent work, Mrs. Marsden,” Benedict said. He got to his feet and went to stand at the window. “That list should help narrow our search. I will ask my brother, Richard, and Uncle Cornelius to make further inquiries in their clubs. You have saved us a great deal of time.”

  Penny blushed and made a gracious gesture with one hand. “I had considerable assistance from Mrs. Houston and the members of her family who are also in service. We pooled our resources and worked our way through the list.”

  Logan smiled at the housekeeper. “I owe you my thanks, as well, Mrs. Houston. Obviously we should be hiring women at the Yard.”

  Mrs. Houston blushed. “Pleased to be of service, sir. It was very interesting work. I wouldn’t mind doing that sort of thing again. Makes a nice change of pace.”

  Logan gave her a knowing look. “There is something about the hunt.”

  Amity saw
Penny cast a quick, curious glance at Logan. Nothing was said but Amity got the impression that Penny had gained a deeper understanding of the inspector and admired what she saw. Logan was good for Penny, Amity thought. But the last thing Penny needed now was a broken heart.

  Benedict picked up the list and examined it again. “One of the men here is of particular interest—Arthur Kelbrook. He is the man who exhibited an unwholesome curiosity about Amity’s experience at the hands of the Bridegroom. Kelbrook was present at both the Society for Travel and Exploration reception and the Channing ball.”

  Amity frowned. “But I told you, I am quite certain that he is not the man who attacked me.”

  “I understand,” Benedict said. “Nevertheless, his curiosity about you concerns me.”

  “In my experience there is a certain type of individual who is prone to develop a macabre curiosity in crimes of this nature,” Logan said. “Kelbrook is obviously one of that sort. If Miss Doncaster is convinced that he is not the killer, however, we must look elsewhere. We cannot afford to waste time on a suspect who does not match her description.”

  Benedict nodded reluctantly. “You’re right, of course, Inspector. We must stay focused.”

  “I would feel so much more positive about the outcome of our inquiries if we knew for certain that the killer actually did attend the Channing ball,” Penny said. “We are operating on pure conjecture here.”

  “Not entirely,” Logan said. “I think our original assumption has merit. As far as we can tell, your sister came to the notice of the Polite World the morning after that ball.”

  “Many of the people who attended the Channing affair will also be at the Gilmore ball tomorrow evening,” Penny said. “As we have noted, Polite Society is a small world. The guest lists for the various events are often nearly identical.”

  Amity and the others looked at her.

  “What of it?” Amity asked.

  Penny cleared her throat. “It occurred to me that it might be interesting for you to attend, Amity—with Mr. Stanbridge, of course.”

  Amity stared at her. “Me?”

  “And Mr. Stanbridge,” Penny repeated. She looked at Benedict. “I’m quite certain you could obtain an invitation, sir. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you have already received one. You are no doubt on the guest list of every hostess in town.”

  “It’s possible,” Benedict admitted. “Invitations are always arriving at my house. I usually toss them away.”

  “You receive such invitations because you are considered a highly eligible bachelor,” Penny said dryly.

  Benedict frowned. “You don’t think it’s because of my charming personality and my witty conversation?”

  They all looked at him for a moment. And then Amity giggled.

  “Without a doubt,” she said.

  Benedict smiled, his eyes warming. “You reassure me.” He turned back to Penny. “Do you really think it might be useful for Amity and me to attend the Gilmore affair?”

  “She’s got a point,” Logan said. “If it’s true that at least some of our suspects will be there—”

  “I might be able to identify the killer,” Amity concluded. Enthusiasm splashed through her. “Brilliant, Penny.”

  Logan smiled at Penny. “Yes, quite brilliant.”

  Penny blushed. “I admit, the odds of identifying the killer at the ball are probably not very good.”

  “But at the very least it would allow us to remove some of the suspects from our list,” Amity said. “The plan will only work if Mr. Stanbridge received an invitation, though.”

  “If I did not get one, I know someone who can obtain it for us,” Benedict said. “As I may have mentioned, my uncle is very well connected in certain circles.”

  Twenty minutes later Benedict and Logan left the house—Benedict to secure an invitation to the Gilmore ball, Logan to continue with his inquiries.

  The moment the door closed behind the two men, Penny looked at Amity.

  “There is something I wish to discuss with you now that Benedict and Inspector Logan are gone,” Penny said quietly.

  Amity wrinkled her nose. “I suppose this is about a gown for the ball? I’m sure we can rely on your dressmaker to see that I am properly attired for the occasion.”

  “I’m not concerned with the dress. Madame La Fontaine will take care of that aspect of things. What I want to tell you is that, in addition to some of the suspects on our list, there is another person who will very likely attend the ball. Lady Penhurst.”

  Amity frowned. “Who is she?”

  “Her name was once linked with Benedict’s in a romantic fashion.”

  Amity sighed. “I see. This isn’t the same woman who left him at the altar, is it?”

  “No, this is Leona, Lady Penhurst. She was Mrs. Featherton at the time she was involved with Benedict. She was the widow of an elderly, high-ranking gentleman who did not leave her nearly as much money as she had anticipated receiving. She set her cap at Benedict. When that did not work out as she had hoped, she married Lord Penhurst instead.”

  “I see.”

  “Penhurst is a widower twice over,” Penny explained. “Leona is some forty years younger than him. It was widely assumed that she married Penhurst because she believed that he had one foot in the grave and could be relied upon to insert the other foot in the near future. But thus far she has been disappointed. Penhurst is in his dotage and going senile but he shows no signs of moving on to the next world.”

  Amity clasped her hands behind her back and went to the window. “You’re trying to warn me that she might create a scene.”

  Penny came to stand behind her. “I’m not sure what to expect from her. But I did not want you to be taken by surprise tomorrow evening. It is said that Lady Penhurst was furious when it became clear that Benedict had no intention of giving her the Stanbridge necklace.”

  “I don’t understand. She wanted a family necklace?”

  “It’s known as the Rose Necklace,” Penny said. “It’s worth a fortune. According to the family tradition, the eldest Stanbridge heir—Benedict in this case—gives it to his bride-to-be when he asks her to marry him. I’m sure there was never any possibility that Benedict would have married Leona, but everyone knows she was furious when he ended their association. She is reputed to be a vindictive woman. If Leona believes that there is some way to take her revenge on Benedict, she might be inclined to do so.”

  “You think she might try to use me to avenge herself? I don’t see how that is possible.”

  “Neither do I,” Penny said. “But Lady Penhurst’s reputation is such that you must promise me that you will be very, very careful if you encounter her.”

  Amity smiled ruefully. “I shall be sure to take my tessen to the ball.”

  Sixteen

  I must say, the news of your engagement came as something of a surprise, Ben.” Leona, Lady Penhurst, smiled at Benedict, managing to ignore Amity, who was standing beside him. “Can we assume that the wedding will take place in the near future? Or do you plan an extended engagement?”

  Leona was a beautiful woman, tall, willowy and regal. Her profile was classically molded. Her dark hair gleamed in the light of the chandeliers that hung from the ballroom ceiling. Diamonds and emeralds decorated her ears and dipped low into the deep décolletage of her garnet-colored satin and lace gown. But all the glitter and charm could not conceal the frustration and bitterness in her brown eyes.

  Leona had been blessed with any number of attractive attributes, Amity thought, but she had been cursed in marriage. Lord Penhurst was, as Penny had said, slipping rapidly into senility, but he appeared to be in remarkably good health for a man his age. Amity suspected that a good deal of Leona’s venom was directly attributable to the fact that her husband was still hanging around.

  “My fiancée and I intend to marry as soon as possib
le,” Benedict said. He looked around the room, clearly bored with the conversation.

  Amity winced inwardly. She could not blame Benedict, she thought. He probably had no notion of how he had just added a little more fuel to the fires of anger that burned deep inside Leona.

  Leona seized on the opening. She focused rather pointedly on Amity’s midsection.

  “I understand the need for a hasty marriage,” Leona said with sugary sympathy. “I thought I detected that special glow about you, Miss Doncaster. But not to worry, your gown appears to be designed to conceal any small . . . mistakes. I congratulate you both. Now, if you will excuse me, I do believe my husband is indicating that he wishes to leave.”

  Leona floated away on a foaming tide of elegantly draped skirts. Benedict pulled his attention from the crowd long enough to scowl at Leona’s departing figure.

  “What the devil did she mean by that comment about your gown?” he asked. “I think the dress looks very nice on you.”

  “She was implying that the reason we are planning a hasty wedding is that I am pregnant,” Amity said.

  Benedict’s jaw tightened. “Leona is an extremely irritating female.”

  Amity fiddled absently with her tessen while she watched the crowd. “I am told that you knew her rather well at one time.”

  Benedict glanced down at the lethal fan. A smile edged the corner of his mouth and a dark amusement lit his eyes.

  “I think I can guess who may have mentioned that supremely unimportant fact,” he said.

  “My sister thought it best to forewarn me.”

  “I admit that there was a period in my life when Leona and I passed some time in each other’s company. For a while I was under the impression that she found me . . . interesting.” Benedict shrugged. “But when I discovered that in reality she considered me to be a great bore we parted ways.”

  “May I ask how you came to make that discovery?”

  Benedict surprised her with one of his rare, quick, grins. “She made the mistake of telling one of her friends, who told her husband. He, in turn, mentioned it at his club. Word got back to me.”