Dangerous (13 page)

He left her lying there, a large, interesting lump under the quilt, and quickly crossed the room to the window. He yanked the heavy drapes together, cutting off the moonlight. The room was plunged into stygian darkness.

“Lydia, where are you? Your time has come. I have waited a long, long while for you to join me in my grave
.”

Chains rumbled again on the floorboards in the other room. From his vantage point near the wardrobe, Sebastian watched the crack under the door. Candlelight appeared.

The door opened slowly and the clanking was suddenly much louder. A startling figure moved into the room with slow, ponderous steps.

Sebastian retreated deeper into the dark shadows cast by the big wardrobe and watched with interest as the apparition clanked toward the bed.

The candle revealed a hideously scarred face partially concealed by the hood of a cloak. There was a great, gaping wound in the specter’s throat. One gloved hand held the candle. The other hand was hidden beneath the folds of the
cloak. The chains appeared to be attached to the ghost’s ankle.

The ghost moved inexorably toward the bed.
“Lydia. Lydia. Where are you, Lydia?”

Sebastian took a step forward. But before he could reach the apparition, Prudence tossed aside the bedclothes and sat up. She had her pistol clutched in her hand.

“Stop right where you are or I shall put a bullet in you,” she announced.

“What the bloody hell?” the ghost squawked. “You’re not Aunt Lydia.”

“I most certainly am not. And you’re no ghost.” Prudence scrambled off the bed, careful to keep the pistol pointed at the apparition. “And this sorry business has gone quite far enough.” She fumbled with her glasses and managed to get them on her nose. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Christ, who the devil do you think you are? I’ll teach you to interfere in my affairs.”

The intruder withdrew his hand from beneath the folds of the cloak, revealing a long dagger. He raised the blade and started purposefully around the edge of the bed.

“Halt or I’ll shoot.” Prudence took a step back.

“Not bloody likely,” the ghost said. “Ladies don’t know how to use pistols.”

Sebastian launched himself at the dagger-wielding ghost. He grabbed him by the shoulder, yanked the hood of the cloak down over the man’s eyes from behind, and spun him around. The candle went flying.

“What in blazes?” The ghost struggled to throw aside the hood of the cloak which was effectively blinding him.

Sebastian gave him no chance to raise the hood. He could not risk having the ghost see him and recognize him. There would be far too much explaining to do.

Sebastian knocked the dagger aside with one hand. Then
he slammed a fist straight into the ghost’s jaw, which was just barely visible beneath the hood.

The intruder reeled backward, struck his head against the bedpost, and crumpled, unconscious, to the floor.

“Well done, my lord,” Prudence exclaimed as she hurried to pick the candle up before it could singe the carpet. “And just in the very nick of time. I do believe he actually intended to use that dagger on me.”

Sebastian stood over his victim and stared at her. Rage at the risks Prudence had taken mingled with relief that she was safe.

“You little fool. Do you realize what could have happened?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Well, it was a bit of a near thing, I’ll grant you. I really did not want to have to shoot him, you see. I’ve never actually fired a pistol and my aim might have been a bit off.”

“A bit of a near thing?” Sebastian repeated in outraged disbelief. He stepped around the fallen body of the ghost and loomed over Prudence. “He could have slit your throat with that dagger. He might have killed you, you fluff-brained little idiot.”

She started to frown. “Really, Sebastian, there is no need to shout.”

“I am not shouting. But I am seriously considering putting you over my knee and paddling you so hard you won’t be able to sit a horse for a week. You nearly got yourself killed tonight.”

“I had my pistol,” she reminded him.

“Have you any notion of how hard it is to actually bring a man down with a small pistol like that? I have seen men keep going with two bullets in their guts. I have seen them go on to kill other men before they collapsed.”

Prudence stared at him. “Where did you see that sort of thing, my lord?”

“Never mind.” This was hardly the time to describe the
horrors of bandit hunting in the mountains of Saragstan. “But believe me when I say that a bullet does not always fell a man.”

“Now, see here, Sebastian, this is my investigation and I was fully prepared to handle it. I did not ask for your assistance.”

“No, you did not,” he acknowledged through his teeth. “Instead you chose to risk your neck.”

“What of it?” she flung back, equally outraged now. “ ’Tis my affair, not yours.”

“It is most certainly my affair, Miss Merryweather. You happen to be engaged to me.”

“Yes, well, that can be remedied soon enough.”

“Damnation, woman.”

The man on the floor groaned. Sebastian scowled down at him, annoyed at the interruption.

“Oh, dear, I believe he is going to awaken soon,” Prudence said. She held the candle over the fallen ghost. “He appears to be wearing a mask.”

“Give me that candle.” Sebastian realized there were matters to be attended to before he could continue his chastisement of Prudence. He took a grip on his temper and on the candle which Prudence obediently handed to him.

He knelt down beside the unconscious man, groped for and found the edge of the mask. With a single motion he wrenched it off, revealing an unfamiliar face.

“Do you recognize him?” Prudence asked.

“No, but I would lay odds he is one of Mrs. Leacock’s infamous nephews.”

“Most likely.” Prudence reached for the bell rope. “I shall summon assistance at once. Mrs. Leacock has several strong footmen in her employ. They can manage our ghost until the magistrate arrives. You had best be on your way, my lord.”

“How do you intend to explain the fact that your damn ghost is unconscious?” he demanded.

Prudence thought a moment. “I shall say that he tripped and fell when he lunged at me. He hit his head against the bedpost and lost consciousness. Who can gainsay me?”

“I suppose that will work,” Sebastian said reluctantly. “It has been my experience that people who suffer from being knocked unconscious rarely recall anything about what happened in the moments immediately before the icident. He’ll likely believe that he did trip and fall, if that’s what you tell him.”

“Then that is precisely what I shall say. Now off with you, my lord.”

He shot her a disgusted glance, knowing full well she was right. For her sake, he could not allow himself to be discovered by Mrs. Leacock and her staff. The rumpled condition of the bed, Prudence’s disheveled appearance, and his state of undress would lead everyone to the obvious conclusion that he had been making love to his fiancée.

Being discovered like this with Prue would not be a complete disaster. Society would wink and turn a blind eye. After all, the pair had already declared their intention to wed. Nevertheless, there were some limits. Society expected romantic assignations to be conducted with some discretion. Being found together in this situation would virtually require a special license.

A special license
. Sebastian paused at that interesting thought.

“Well, my lord? Hadn’t you better hurry?” Prudence handed him his shirt. “Pray, do not forget your boots.”

“You are quite correct, my dear.” Sebastian smiled grimly. “I should be on my way. Your reputation is already hanging by a thread, is it not?”

“’Tis not my reputation which concerns me,” she said tartly. “It is your own.”

The woman never ceased to amaze him. “Mine? Why in God’s name are you worried about my reputation?”

“You have the most to lose, do you not?” she asked softly.
“People already take great pleasure in viewing your reputation in the worst possible light. I have no wish to see you titillate the
ton
with an escapade such as this.”

Sebastian was taken aback. No one had ever worried about his reputation before. It took him a moment to find a response. “I assure you, I do not give a damn for what Society thinks of me.”

“Well, I do. Furthermore, I’m sure there is no need to point out that if we are found together in an awkward situation such as this, you will be obliged to marry me out of hand. I have already inconvenienced you enough, my lord. I would not wish you to be leg-shackled in a marriage you undoubtedly cannot want.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Well, as to that, Prue, I’ve been thinking—”

“Hurry, I hear footsteps in the hall.”

Sebastian frowned. He heard them, too. Mrs. Leacock’s trusty footmen were hastening to obey the summons of the bell. He glanced at the alarmed expression on Prudence’s face and swore silently. She definitely did not have the appearance of a lady who wanted badly to be married out of hand.

He would have to give her more time. He was not yet done with this crazed courtship, he thought.

Sebastian picked up his boots, slung his greatcoat over his shoulder, and went reluctantly to the window. He opened it and stepped out onto the ledge.

He paused there and looked back at Prudence. She looked so sweetly serious, her eyes anxious as she watched him leave. He remembered how she had trembled in his arms.

Next time she shivered like that, he vowed silently, he would be buried deep inside her.

“Good night, Prue.”

“Good night, Sebastian.” Her smile glowed in the candlelight. “And thank you for your assistance tonight. I look
forward to helping you solve your next case. I knew we would make an excellent team.”

Life with Prue, Sebastian reflected as he made his way along the window ledge, was going to be maddening, infuriating, and alarming by turns, but he was definitely not going to be bored.

Or cold.

histlecroft sneezed into a dirty handkerchief, wiped his bulbous red nose, and leaned across the wooden table. He lowered his voice to a harsh, guttural whisper. “Have ye heard about Lord Ringcross breakin’ his neck during the house party at Curling Castle?”

“I heard the news.” Sebastian sat back in an effort to avoid Whistlecroft’s obnoxious breath. “The tale was all over Town two days ago. The fool got drunk and fell from one of the tower rooms. What about it?”

Sebastian had not known Ringcross well, but he had not particularly liked what he had known about the man. Ringcross had had a reputation for favoring brothels that featured very young innocents of both sexes. Few people mourned his passing when word of his death circulated among the
ton
.

“Well, m’lord, as it happens, there’s a gentleman who wants me to look into Ringcross’s death.” Whistlecroft hoisted his mug of ale and eyed Sebastian expectantly. “I thought the case might interest you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Whistlecroft’s bushy brows quivered in surprise. “Because we may be discussin’ a murder, sir, that’s why. You ain’t had an opportunity to investigate a murder for several months now. Usually we find ourselves dealin’ with matters
o’ blackmail, stolen goods, and the odd bit of embezzlement.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Intriguing cases involving murder among the
ton
were rather rare. Members of polite society managed to get themselves killed readily enough, it was true. But the culprits were usually footpads, opposing duelists, or the occasional outraged husband. Such cases seldom presented an interesting puzzle for Sebastian.

“I believe you’ll find this case very fascinatin’, m’lord,” Whistlecroft said persuasively. “A right puzzle it is.”

“Who in blazes hired you to look into Ringcross’s death? I cannot fathom why anyone would give a damn. The world is well rid of him.”

Whistlecroft shrugged his massive shoulders and looked important. “Afraid, in this case, the identity of my client must remain confidential.”

“Then you may find someone else to help you investigate.” Sebastian made to rise from the booth.

Whistlecroft set down his mug in alarm. “Hold on there, m’lord. I need yer help on this one. There’s a fat reward involved.”

“Then investigate the matter yourself.”

“Be reasonable,” Whistlecroft whined. “If Ringcross was murdered, the deed was done by someone from your world, not some ordinary footpad from the stews. A Runner such as myself won’t get far tryin’ to investigate among the fancy. You know that as well as I do.”

“The thing is, Whistlecroft, I don’t particularly care about Ringcross’s recent departure from this earth. In all likelihood it was an accident. But if it transpires that someone pushed him, it is a matter of no great moment to me. As far as I am concerned, the murderer did the world a favor.”

“My client just wants to know what happened.” Whistlecroft yanked out his filthy handkerchief and blew his nose again.
“He’s
a bit anxious.”

“Why should he be anxious?”

“Don’t know.” Whistlecroft leaned close again. “He wouldn’t tell me. But if you ask me, he’s scared the same thing might happen to him as happened to Ringcross.”