Captives of the Night (47 page)

"That isn't everything."

"I am much tidier."

"Oh, well, that settles it."

"Nay, we have not discussed my flaws." His hand closed over her breast. "I am bad tempered sometimes. Moody." He kissed her neck. "Also, I am very old fashioned. My tastes do not incline to perversions."

"But you know all about them. About tying people to bedposts."

He drew back. "I see. I have made you curious."

She fixed her embarrassed gaze on his neckcloth. "I thought… perhaps… it needn't be
uncomfortable
."

He considered for a moment. Then, with a low chuckle, he took off his neckcloth. "As you wish,
ma belle
," he said softly. "Only tell me, is it to be you — or me?"

Two weeks later, Ismal was still brooding over the events of that day and night.

There was no question that,
dans le boudoir
at least, Leila trusted Ismal not to hurt her. Still, as she had said, lovemaking wasn't everything. In marriage, there were many other ways to hurt one's partner, as she had learned the hard way. He couldn't blame her for being cautious. He knew well enough he hadn't earned her full trust. If one expected trust, one must be willing to give it. And he was not ready. He, too, had a fear he couldn't reason away: that in trusting her with the truth, he would lose her.

He stood beside her in a corner of the Langfords' crowded ballroom. While he watched Avory dance with his betrothed, Ismal wondered how the marquess had endured those long months of believing his beloved was lost to him. Beyond doubt, he had more than paid for his present joy in suffering. Ismal was glad for his joy, yet it hurt to watch. Unlike Ismal, Avory might hold his woman in his arms, for all the world to see.

"I wish we could dance," he muttered. "It has been months since we waltzed together."

"Later," she said. "When we get home. You can hum in my ear and whirl me about the studio."

Home. He wished it were, truly: that they could sleep together and wake together and share breakfast. He hated his predawn departures. He hated them more lately, because Eloise had reported that Madame suffered bad dreams. Twice in the fortnight since Langford's visit, Eloise had been working on the second floor and heard her mistress's cries of distress. Leila had cried Ismal's name… and he had not been there for her.

"I think instead I shall put you straight to bed," he said. "You are not getting enough rest lately. Eloise says you wake screaming — "

"I do
not
scream, and everyone has bad dreams," she interrupted. "It's just because of this provoking mystery. I didn't mind any of our five favorite suspects running loose. But now our villain has become a faceless monster. I need the face of a real person, and we haven't got a one."

He knew she was evading the issue, but he didn't press. She would not discuss her dreams. He suspected it was because she'd rather be shot than admit she was frightened. She wouldn't want to give him any excuse to keep her out of the inquiry — not that they'd accomplished much lately.

Since Langford's visit, Ismal and Leila had reviewed the list of Beaumont's acquaintances several times, but no one stirred their interest. They attended at least one, usually more, social affairs each evening, and talked and listened until they were dizzy. Each night, they returned to her house, put their heads together, and produced nothing.

They tried making love first and handling business after. They tried the reverse. They tried business-love-business and love-business-love. It made no difference. Their intellects simply whirled uselessly, like spinning wheels with no wool.

Though he was beginning to wonder whether they were wasting their time, he wasn't ready to give up. The notion that anyone could outsmart him was intolerable. Never in his career had his prey been able to elude him for long. In any case, he felt sure that the cleverness of their prey wasn't the real problem.

From the start, his mind had not been working with its usual cool efficiency. He knew why. The reason stood beside him. Until matters were fully settled between them, he couldn't attend properly to this case or any other.

He watched her tawny gaze move restlessly from guest to guest.

"I can't believe that not one name has even jiggled my intuition," she said. "Most of the Beau Monde is here, and not a single face stirs anything. I feel nothing."

She turned back to him. "I even wonder if we stuck to those five because we sensed they were 'safe' somehow. Don't you find it odd that we persisted, even though something didn't fit in each case: circumstances, character, means."

"You will give yourself a headache," he said. "Leave it alone for tonight. This is a joyous occasion, celebrating a betrothal. Assuredly, their happiness will continue. They are admirably well suited, are they not? Miss Woodleigh fully appreciates Avory's many superior qualities, and he hers. Also, the strengths of one character neatly balance the weaknesses of the other. But you were aware of this, I think, the instant I told you he was in love with her."

She rewarded him with a smile. "I shouldn't have browbeaten poor Fiona otherwise," she said.

"Poor Fiona" at the moment was detaching herself from a small crowd of admirers. She made directly for Leila and Ismal.

"I count half a dozen hearts crashing to the floor and splintering into pieces," Ismal said as she joined them.

"They recover quickly," she said. "The instant they discovered Leila was out of bounds, they latched onto me. I daresay they'll latch onto someone else soon enough."

"I do not think Lord Sellowby will," he said. "That one looks like a man whose mind is made up."

Leila followed his gaze. "Most observant, Esmond," she said.

"Don't be tiresome," said her friend. "Sellowby is a rattle, and a confirmed bachelor. Not to mention I've known him this age — lud, since the nursery, I think. He might as well be another brother."

Ismal gave his partner a conspiratorial look. "Madame, it has been weeks since you made a match," he said. "You will not wish your skills to rust through want of practice."

"I certainly don't."

"Leila, you will not — " her friend began.

"Yes, I will. I owe you this, Fiona."

Leila had but to look Sellowby's way to catch his eye. Then she lifted her fan and beckoned.

Remembering a certain night in Paris when Lady Carroll had summoned him, Ismal watched Sellowby respond in the same unhesitating way. This man, too, knew what he wanted, judging by the intent expression in his dark eyes as he joined them. Clearly, Lady Carroll's days of freedom were numbered.

"I'm sorry to trouble you," Leila told Sellowby. "But I was telling Esmond about your race across the Mediterranean. Lackliffe described it to me, and I do recall that it was amazingly swift — but I can't remember exactly how long he said it took."

"Gad, ancient history," Fiona muttered.

"Indeed it is — a decade ago," Sellowby said. "One of the follies of my youth. A month — six weeks — perhaps more. Frankly, all I recollect with any clarity is beating Lackliffe by a hairsbreadth and finding London perishing cold."

"I collect you were drunk most of the time," said Lady Carroll. "Time passed in a pleasant haze, no doubt."

"At any rate, time passed," he said. "You must not twit me with the foibles of my youth, Fiona. You were hardly a paragon of decorum then. When you were Letty's age — "

"It’s exceedingly ill-mannered to call attention to a lady's age." She briskly fanned herself.

"Ah, well, you're not so old as that," he said. "Not quite decrepit yet."

She turned to Ismal. "As you see, Esmond, chivalry is stone dead in England. I vow, directly after Letty is shackled, I shall take the first packet to France."

"That would be just like you," said Sellowby. "To hare off to a country on the brink of revolution."

"You'll never intimidate her with threats of riot," said Leila. "On the contrary, you've only made the prospect more exciting."

"Riot, indeed," Her Ladyship said scornfully. "You are not to take his side, Leila. You know as well as I there's no imminent danger. If there were a hint of it, Herriard would never have left Paris without his clients."

"What the devil has Herriard to say to anything?" Sellowby asked. "Has he been made ambassador while I wasn't looking?"

"He does have the confidence of several members of the diplomatic corps," she said. "He would know if there were immediate peril, and if he knew such a thing, Andrew Herriard would haul his crew of English exiles home by main force if necessary. What do you say, Leila? Who knows Herriard better than you?"

"It's true," Leila said. "He wouldn't leave until he'd done his duty — until every last one of his charges was safe away."

"And all their affairs tied up neatly," said Lady Carroll. "Every T dotted. Every 'f crossed."

"Precision," Ismal murmured. "The hallmark of a superior legal mind."

"Everyone knows how Herriard is," said Lady Carroll. "Even you, Sellowby. Come, admit your error like a man."

"I shall do better than that," he said, his dark eyes glinting. "I shall spare you the filthy packet and take you to France on my yacht."

The fan went into violent motion. "Will you indeed? Drunk or sober?"

"I shall want all my wits," he said. "Sober, of course. But you may be as drunk as you please, my dear."

A short while later, Sellowby was whirling a flustered Fiona about the dance floor. Leila wasn't looking at them, but at Ismal. She didn't want to think what she was thinking. She certainly didn't want to say it. To her dismay, she saw she didn't need to. She recognized the predatory glint in Ismal's blue eyes. She had seen that look before, the first time she'd met him, in Paris.

"Every T dotted. Every 'f crossed," he said, confirming her fears. "All neatly tied up, in perfect order."

"It's not the same," she said.

"Your house was in perfect order when you returned, you told me. I examined the bedroom myself. Even upon the dressing table, the objects were arranged with military precision. Avory does this — but only when his mind is troubled and he tries to sort out his thoughts. It is not a personal habit, for his servants do everything for him."

"We haven't a motive," she said, while her heart told her they'd soon discover it.

"We have the character," he said. "The precise legal mind. Cool-headed, quick to note detail and use it to his advantage. Discretion, too, is the hallmark of the superior lawyer. He is the keeper of family secrets."

"He couldn't have been in two places at once. He'd already left for Dover, and he was on the first packet to Calais. Otherwise he would have received my message."

"If you truly believed that, you would not be so agitated," he said gently. "But your mind has leapt just as mine has, because the way is clear for the leap. The others' problems, the obvious problems, are out of our way. We fixed on them for a reason, as you said. I believe, in some way, we sensed their difficulties were connected. Perhaps that puzzle solution itself is a clue. But first, we should examine the alibi."

"No," she said. "I can't stop your doing what you want. But I shan't help. There's no 'we' in this. I won't be a party to it."

He stepped closer. "Leila, you have trusted me to deal kindly with your friends. Surely you can trust me with this."

She shook her head. "No. I never
owed
them. I owe him. I won't — " Her throat was tight, and her eyes were stinging. She couldn't trust herself to utter another word.

"Leila, look at me," he softly urged. "Listen to me."

She wouldn't. Dared not. In another moment, she'd disgrace herself. She was already moving away as quickly as she could without attracting notice. She needed to be alone, for just one minute, to collect herself.

Scarcely able to see past the welling tears, she made for the nearest door.