The Mystery Woman (11 page)

B
eatrice left a worried Hannah in her bedroom and descended the main staircase. She wore her plain day dress and a pair of soft-soled leather slippers in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. The big house had finally fallen silent a short time ago. Lord Alverstoke kept early hours in the country and his guests were obliged to do the same. Not that the elegant, bored people who had accepted his invitation were bothered. They had other plans for the evening.

Beatrice was well aware that the hush was deceptive. In her role as a paid companion she had attended enough house parties to know that the main attraction of such affairs was not the fresh air and scenic landscapes of the countryside. Nor were many of Alverstoke’s guests truly interested in his collection of Egyptian antiquities. They could view any number of relics at the British Museum were they so inclined.

Country-house parties were popular for one reason and one reason only: They provided ideal opportunities to conduct illicit trysts. Sprawling Alverstoke Hall, with its many bedrooms, antechambers, storage rooms, gardens and other secluded locations, was perfect for discreet liaisons. She had no doubt but that the many staircases scattered throughout the mansion were already seeing a steady stream of traffic as lovers and seducers made their way between floors.

The house was not completely dark. The servants, obviously aware that many of the guests were interested in matters other than antiquities, had thoughtfully left several wall sconces burning. But with the lamps turned down and the mansion draped in relative silence, she was more aware of the eerie energy of the artifacts seething in the atmosphere. Paranormal currents always seemed stronger and more easily detectable at night.

She reached the ground floor and paused briefly to get her bearings. The surroundings appeared different—more mysterious and somehow more ominous—now that they were cloaked in shadows.

The hot energy of the artifacts was disorienting but there was another problem as well. The original core structure of the mansion was very old. Over time various occupants had remodeled sections, built entire new wings, and added floors. In addition structural modifications had been made to the existing house in order to install modern amenities such as gas lighting and proper plumbing. The result was that Alverstoke Hall was a maze of oddly connected passages, hallways and staircases.

Earlier she had taken care to note the route to the library, but she was alarmed to realize that things looked so different now that the lamps had been turned down.

After a moment’s close reflection she started forward. She shuddered when she passed the massive, vault-like doors that guarded the great hall. The chamber that held Alverstoke’s most valuable antiquities had been locked for the night following the grand reception. Rumor had it Alverstoke was very proud of his security measures. But no locks could stop the dark energy that seeped out from under the lower edges of the heavy doors.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she located the long, moonlit gallery where she had been sitting earlier when Joshua had found her. Now she had her bearings. The library was at the far end of the passage.

The gallery was cloaked in shadows but she saw the wobbly flame of a candle in the distance. As she watched, it moved toward her in an unsteady manner, as though the person carrying the candlestick walked with a limp.

Relieved, she hurried toward him.

A solid thud, followed by a sharp gasp, warned her that she had made a mistake. The light of the flame flared wildly on the stone walls.

“Bloody hell,” a man rasped, his voice slurred by drink. “Damned artifacts.”

Definitely not Joshua,
Beatrice thought.

She halted and looked around, searching for a convenient staircase or room she could dart into. But there was no time. The man who had just run afoul of one of the relics was almost upon her. In the glow of the fluttering candle his face was cast in demonic chiaroscuro.

When he spotted her his anger immediately transmuted into lecherous anticipation.

“Well, well, now what have we here?” he said. “You must be one of the maids. Off to meet a lover, eh?”

“You have made a very grave mistake, sir,” she said coldly. “I’ll thank you to step aside.”

“You’re no maid, not with that accent. Not a governess, either. There aren’t any children here at Alverstoke Hall. You must be some lady’s companion.”

“You are correct, sir, and as it happens I am on a very important errand for my employer. She will not be pleased if I am delayed.”

“Carrying a note to her paramour, are you?” He chuckled. “You have my deepest sympathies. Yours is a hard lot, is it not? You are doomed to convey messages between lovers but never to have one of your own.”

“I will ask you once again to step aside, sir.”

He held the candle higher and examined her with a critical air.

“You are no beauty,” he announced. “No figure to speak of and red hair is always off-putting. But I’ve tumbled worse in Covent Gardens.” He grinned. “Fortune has smiled upon you tonight. My plans for the evening have changed. The bitch I was to meet opened her door to another man. So, as you are convenient and I am not feeling overly selective at the moment, let’s get on with the business.”

“Sorry, not interested.”

Aware that flight would likely invite pursuit, she moved forward decisively, meaning to step around him. The bold tactic failed. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

“You bloody well will be interested by the time I’ve finished with you,” he snarled. “Who do you think you are to refuse your betters? A woman like you ought to be down on her knees thanking me for sparing a few minutes of my time for you. Now that I consider the matter, on your knees is where we’ll start. If you show any talent with your mouth I might be persuaded to give you a few other lessons in the art.”

He set the candle on a nearby table and used his grip on her arm to force her to her knees. With his other hand, he opened his trousers.

She reached for the vial attached to her chatelaine. “Let me go.”

“What’s that? Your smelling salts? I trust you’re not about to faint on me. I’m going to give you a taste of the finest cock in London. You’ll remember this night for the rest of your life, I promise you.”

“So will you the next time you accost another woman,” she said.

She twitched out from under his restraining hand, leaped to her feet and removed the stopper of the vial of smelling salts. She splashed some of the liquid contents straight into his face.

The shock of the pepper-based brew caused her assailant to stop breathing for a moment. He stared at her in horror. And then he squeezed his eyes shut against the burning sensation.

Gasping for air, he released her to claw at his throat.

“What have you done, you crazy whore?” he wheezed.

“Nothing permanent.” She moved back another few steps. “I trust you will spend the next few minutes contemplating the fact that not every woman you meet is helpless to resist your charms.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, you damned witch.” He was trying to shout but the pepper concoction still had a grip on his throat. The words were scratchy and barely audible. “I’m Covington. I’ll see that you’re arrested.”

“For tossing smelling salts into your face? I doubt that will be enough to get me arrested.”

“These aren’t smelling salts.”

“No one will ever know otherwise,” she assured him. “The damage is not permanent.”

“I’ll see that your employer turns you off without a character.” He sank to his knees. “You’re too old to make your living on the streets. You’ll end your days in the workhouse, damn you.”

A faint, steady tapping sound came from the entrance of a doorway at the end of the hall. A dark shadow emerged. In the moonlight Beatrice could see that Joshua was no longer wearing his disguise. He paused to extinguish the candle.

“There you are, my dear,” Joshua said. “I wondered what had delayed you. I would offer to be of assistance but, as usual, you seem to have the situation well in hand.”

“Who is that? Who’s there?” Covington turned toward the sound of Joshua’s voice but tears were streaming down his face. It was obvious that he could not make out Joshua clearly. “You must help me, sir. I have been attacked by this woman, poisoned, I think.”

“He’ll live,” Beatrice assured Joshua. “But it will take a while before the effects of my smelling salts wear off.”

“Then there’s no point wasting any more time standing around out here,” Joshua said. “You and I have other things to discuss.”

“Quite right,” Beatrice said.

She moved quickly around Covington and joined Joshua.

“Help,” Covington squeaked. “This creature has murdered me.
Help.
”

“You heard the lady,” Joshua said. “You will live. I’m not convinced that is the most desirable outcome, but it will probably cause less fuss than the alternative. Rest assured, however, that if you offend her again in any manner whatsoever, you will find yourself dealing with the other possible ending.”

“Who the devil are you and why are you bothering with this little whore? She’s just someone’s paid companion.”

“Enough,” Joshua said, his voice lethally soft. “You were warned.”

Bracing himself on his cane, he leaned down and gripped the back of Covington’s neck with one powerful hand. Covington went limp and collapsed, unconscious, to the floor.

“Oh, dear,” Beatrice said. “I do hope you didn’t kill him. As much as I appreciate the gesture, it would create no end of trouble.”

“Give me some credit, Miss Lockwood. I’m never sloppy when it comes to my work. Rest assured he’ll wake up in a few minutes. With luck he won’t remember you, but if he does and if he becomes a problem, I will find a more permanent solution.”

“Very well, then.”

“Come, let’s not waste any more time. You are here because you have news for me. We have the library to ourselves.”

When his powerful hand wrapped around her arm she got the small, thrilling shock across all of her senses. She would always know his touch. No matter what the future held, she would remember these whispers of deep, stirring awareness for the rest of her life.
I will never forget this man
.

Joshua’s fingers tightened for an instant. She sensed that he, too, experienced some sensation when they were in direct physical contact. She wondered how he interpreted the flashes of connection. He would have some logical explanation, she thought, amused, possibly something involving static electricity.

He guided her along the gallery and through a doorway. She moved ahead of him into a room lit by moonlight. She inhaled the smell of leather-bound books and old, frequently polished furniture.

Joshua released her arm with, it seemed to her, reluctance. He closed and locked the door. When he turned back to face her she sensed the energy in the atmosphere. For the first time she realized that he was coldly furious.

“Did that bastard hurt you in any way?” he asked.

“No, really, I’m fine. It certainly is not the first time I’ve had to deal with a drunk, lecherous man. Encounters like tonight are one of the hazards of my work. That is why all of the Flint and Marsh agents now carry Mrs. Marsh’s new special smelling salts.”

“I don’t like the idea that you are forced to come into contact with men like Covington on a frequent basis.”

“Generally speaking, the Covingtons of this world can be avoided,” she assured him.

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” she asked, going rather blank.

“You should not be placed in situations that require you to defend yourself.”

She raised her chin. “It’s how I make my living, Mr. Gage. And given what you used to do for a living, I do not think that you are in a position to criticize.”

“Damn it to hell.” He spoke with great depth of feeling. Then he exhaled heavily. “I will allow you that point. What the devil is in your vinaigrette bottle? It appeared to be quite effective.”

“Mrs. Marsh recently created the concoction in her laboratory. She gave each of the agents a vial filled with the stuff. I believe the formula is based on a distillation of some extraordinarily hot peppers.”

“I have long admired Mrs. Marsh’s talent as a chemist,” Joshua said.

“She was inspired to brew the pepper vinaigrette after another employee of the firm, a close friend of mine named Evangeline Ames, was very nearly murdered. Following the Crystal Gardens affair, Mrs. Flint and Mrs. Marsh concluded that all of their agents should carry some means of self-defense that was a bit more discreet than a gun.”

“Firearms have their uses but they frequently cause far more problems than they solve,” Joshua said. “And they are not what anyone would call discreet. The police tend to take notice when someone gets shot.”

“Discretion is the primary reason our clients come to us,” Beatrice said, not bothering to conceal her pride. “Flint and Marsh agents go into some of the wealthiest and most exclusive homes. Our goal is to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

“That is the goal of any good investigator,” Joshua said.