Pride & Passion (17 page)

Brushing the leaves away, Anastasia Lockwood was revealed, pale, bruised, and, unfortunately, dead.

He heard a gasp behind him—Lucy. He reached for her, thinking she might swoon, but Lucy was nothing if not made of stern stuff. She passed him, headed for the wheelbarrow before he could reach her.

“Oh, good God! Who is she?” Alynwick asked.

Adrian’s heart stopped. He could not answer truthfully; it was too great a secret, and he couldn’t risk revealing it. He considered telling Black and Alynwick that she had been his mistress but he couldn’t do that
with Lucy present—not after last night and the progress he sensed they had made.

“She’s still warm,” Lucy whispered, and she crossed herself, shuddering. “And look.” Lucy pulled a folded letter from Ana’s lax fingers. Passing it to him, Lucy watched him read it then shrieked as he lifted her off her feet and carried her into the house.

A
DRIAN WAS AWARE
of the curious faces staring at him—especially Lucy’s. Lizzy and Isabella had joined them, although they stayed far away from the body. Lucy, however, was still at his side, right where he had put her when he released her from his arms. The anger that was evident when she had burst into his study was still there, still simmering, but there was pity there, too. Why, he could not fathom—unless of course she truly believed that Ana was his mistress.

As he stared down at Anastasia’s lifeless body that had been carried into the house and carefully placed on a settee in the salon, he quietly contemplated it, the marks she bore and the awkward angle of her neck. The sparkle of life that had once shone in her eyes was gone, hidden by eyelids that would never open again.

There were bruises around her neck—she had been strangled. She still wore the diamond ear bobs and necklace she had been wearing last evening, and a gold House of Orpheus coin covered each closed eyelid. Gently he took them, and studied them in his palm. In that moment, he decided he already had enough secrets from his friends—and from Lucy. He didn’t want this one, too.

“Her name is Anastasia Lockwood,” he said as his thumb passed over the engraving of the coins. The
name caused Elizabeth to gasp in recognition. “She was my father’s mistress, and unknown to anyone—to us, and to your fathers—my father let Ana know of his past, and his duties as a Guardian.”

“That son of a bitch!” Alynwick growled. “He took an oath.”

“That poor woman,” Lizzy murmured, interrupting the marquis’s tirade. “I didn’t know her, of course, but I knew my father, and putting up with him for all those years, only to wind up murdered…well, it’s horrible.” And then something shone in her eyes. “Why is she here, Adrian? What has led her to us?”

Adrian could not look at his sister, or anyone else. “She is dead because of me. Because she met a man who seduced her into going to the House of Orpheus, and I allowed it because she knew she could do more than just infiltrate the club—she could give us a firsthand account of Orpheus himself. What he looks like, his weaknesses, his strengths—any information that might have proved useful in his capture. She wanted to be of use to us, to repay me for… Well, for not turning her away after my father’s death. I allowed it, even when I knew I shouldn’t have.”

Ana’s death was just one more thing he would feel guilty about.

“Let’s see how she died, perhaps her killer left some evidence.”

Black stepped in and examined the body; Isabella let out a shriek and cried, “Oh, Black, no, you mustn’t.”

“You needn’t worry, Issy. All will be well. Death is gone, I assure you.” They shared a private glance
then Black went back to examining the body. Alynwick stood looking down, watching him.

Black pointed to Ana’s neck. “She’s got a curious mark there, amongst the bruising on her throat, below her ear.”

“What is it, Black?”

Shrugging, Black brushed back the golden hair that had come loose from her coiffure to reveal her throat. Issy and Lucy both gasped. “I can’t make it out. It’s a mark of some sort, but the impression is fading.”

Stealing a glance at Lucy, to see how she was faring in this sordid scene, Sussex was shocked to see her brows arched in…annoyance before she swept past him, her hem rustling against the floor.

“My lord, may I?” Lucy demanded.

Black looked over his shoulder, seeking counsel. As if Sussex could stop Lucy from doing what she damned well pleased. He shrugged then nodded, watching Lucy studying Anastasia’s body.

“We met last night. She informed me then of her plans. She was wearing the same gown. I must assume she was taken shortly after.” He shuddered, thinking of Lucy on that very same street only minutes later. And the note he held in his hand.
It might have been the redhead.

“You’re correct about that, Sussex,” Black said. “The coins make it certain that it was Orpheus, or someone involved with him. This was not a random murder. No footpad would be so inept as to leave the diamonds. It was Orpheus.”

Lucy stopped what she was doing and glared at him. “Your grace—” she started to say, bent no doubt on
extolling the merits and saintly virtues of her ex-lover, a lover, he might add, that by all accounts had been a rather poor one, but one who Lucy still felt the need to protect.

“Lucy,” he pleaded, his head pounding. “Don’t start. Christ,” he growled. “I didn’t want this for her, to get mixed up in our business.”

“It sounds like she wanted to be of use, brother,” Lizzy said. “She understood the risks.”

“My father was a hard, intolerable man, and used Anastasia for his own goods, barely ever sparing her a thought. He didn’t take care of her like a man of good breeding and fortune should, so when she died, I bought her a house, and gave her a pension. She claimed it was her way of repaying me.”

“She knew him.” Black’s gaze darkened. “He killed her because she knew something.”

Ana had known many things that, if brought to light, would ruin him. For some reason, this Orpheus killed her, and brought her to him. He had either seen her with Adrian, which meant he was being followed, or he knew more—secrets from the past, his deeper connection to Ana. And that was far more worrisome than being followed.

“When she came to me last night, telling me that she had met a man who was high up in the club—he’d given her a coin, a token to gain entrance into the club.” They exchanged a look, him telling Lucy that he had not forgotten she was out last evening because she was supposed to be meeting the man he suspected was Orpheus, or that she, too, possessed a coin. Her hand flew
to her reticule, and he knew that she still had it, tucked safely away.

“How did she even know about this club, and Orpheus?” Alynwick questioned. Lucy decided then to turn her gaze upon him.

“I sought her out one evening to ask if she knew anything about the club. Ana was born in the East End and was familiar with the area, the people, and we needed a clue. We had nothing. She came to me last night to tell me that she had a way in. She showed me the coin and informed me that there is to be a meeting in the next few days. Orpheus will be there, and she was certain that she would be able to ferret out information for us. I told her it was too dangerous, but she was insistent. She left immediately afterward. I assumed she went back to her lodging, but…” He pointed to her form. “I cannot be sure. She has not been gone long,” he commented, “for she is just now growing cold.”

“Damn it, this is the last bloody thing we need,” Alynwick said. “Christ, a dead body that most of the staff have been witness to. How the hell are we going to cover this mess up? The police cannot be called. It would not only implicate you, but perhaps Black and myself. Normally I wouldn’t give a damn, but the gossip mongers might decide to investigate us, and that will not do.”

“An actress,” Lucy said suddenly as she bent to study Ana’s neck once more. “Cast aside by the duke. In a fit of melodrama, she ended her life because the duke would not continue their affair.”

Alynwick gazed at her with appreciation. “Yes…that might work. Go on.”

“I will not have myself implicated in an affair,” Adrian growled. “It would cast aspersions upon you, Lucy, since I’ve made my interest in you quite clear, and rather public.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on him, except for those of Lucy, who waved off his comment.

“Tell the staff it was a lover’s quarrel,” Lizzy added. “They’re faithful to you, Adrian, and would not breathe a word, especially when they learn that she’s fallen.”

“It doesn’t matter what sort of woman she is, for God’s sake! She’s innocent, and I’ll not make up such a story to save my own reputation! She suffered enough in her life at the hands of our father. I will not have her death marked by lies.”

No one seemed to be listening to him, it seemed.

“The wounds are not apparent,” Lucy continued, “but he could suggest to the housekeeper that once the body was moved, the source of her death was revealed. I imagine that women—especially actresses and mistresses—must do themselves in all the time when their aristocratic lovers will not have them.”

It was the only way, and he loathed it. There was more to think of here than his pride. Protection for the Brethren, for Lizzy and Lucy, were paramount in this matter; he curled his lips in disgust anyway. “Not a mistress. I’d rather keep my
priggish
reputation, thank you. Make her an actress, but make it so that I would have nothing to do with her, and that was the reason she ‘did herself in,’ as you say.”

“Yes, the staff will buy that. They certainly won’t question it as much,” Black murmured. “Tell them
you’re taking her body to her family, that the police are not needed in this matter.”

“Black and I will bury her,” Alynwick stated.

“Not a pauper’s grave, but someplace pleasant,” he heard himself say. “Someplace fitting, for she was…important. My father’s mistress, but she didn’t deserve this.”

“Aye,” Alynwick replied. “We’ll find a place, and when we’re done, we’ll search her room. Sussex, you’re to have nothing to do with investigating her death, or what evidence she might have left behind—we needn’t have her connected to you in any way.”

“Agreed.”

“She was strangled,” Lucy said, her voice cutting through the quiet. “The murderer is a Freemason.”

There was a ripple of excitement in the room before Alynwick asked, “On what grounds do you think this?”

Lucy pointed to the mark a few inches below Ana’s ear, and just above the bruising. “Made by an impression—a Masonic ring. I can see the compass and square quite clearly.”

“Impossible,” Alynwick scoffed. “Even if the villain came at her from behind, a ring would leave no such mark.”

“I assure you. Here, allow me to demonstrate. Which of you are wearing your ring?” They all were; on the little finger of their right hands as was the Templar tradition.

“It doesn’t mean a Freemason murdered the lass,” Alynwick insisted. “Anyone could have set it up as such.”

“A cowan?” she questioned. “Possible, but I doubt
it. It is a Freemason’s greatest possession, is it not, an instrument used in your rites? You’re to keep and protect it at all costs. No, I doubt an intruder into the lodge would be able to acquire such a thing. And he wouldn’t have borrowed one, either.”

“You know much about Freemasonry,” Sussex assessed. “Did your father tell you?”

“Not its secrets, the things that are to be kept private between members, but some things, yes. Such as the story of Hiram Abiff, how he was King Solomon’s chief architect, and held a secret of the craft. When he would not tell three of his apprentices that secret, they set upon him, murdering him. It’s symbolic, Hiram’s death, and this woman’s, linked only by Freemasonry.”

“I still can’t fathom it,” Alynwick grunted. “There’s no possible—”

Sussex froze as Lucy reached for Alynwick’s hand, the ring turned so that the insignia faced toward his palm, and placed his fingers around her throat. “Press,” she ordered.

“Like hell!” Lunging forward, Adrian pulled Alynwick away from her then wheeled on Lucy. “Have you lost your bloody mind?”

“I am only trying to show you that the someone who murdered this woman was a Freemason.”

With a huff, she reached for his hand, repeated the same actions as she had with Alynwick, only this time when she placed his palm on her throat, she held him there, her hand pressing against her delicate skin.

“Don’t,” he whispered, aware of the tone in the room. It was unbearably intimate, and he saw how Black and Isabella, and Alynwick, too, looked away
from them. “Lucy,” he whispered as he stepped closer to her, her hand still holding tightly against his. “Don’t.”

Their gazes locked, and finally she moved away, and his hand fell to his side.

“Well?” Tipping her head to the side, she allowed him to touch her throat with the tip of his fingers.

“Yes, the impression is there, faint, but present.”

“You weren’t trying to strangle me. It was just a slight press of your hand. Imagine what might be left behind if you had taken my throat in your hands with the intention of harming me.”

“Good God, the chit’s right!”

Sussex growled, “Get away from her, Alynwick.”

The marquis shot him a knowing smile. “Easy, your grace.”

He was not in the mood to be placated. “So we do search for a fourth,” he announced. “Or at least someone who wants us to believe that the legend of the fourth Templar wronged by our ancestors is true.”

“I say we find Miss Lockwood her final resting place, and then we may discuss matters in more details,” Black announced. “Now that the furor has settled, I am afraid staff might become…curious.”

“A Lord Stonebrook, your grace,” the butler announced from the door. “I don’t believe I can put him off, he’s looking for his daughter.”

Black and Alynwick immediately placed themselves in front of Anastasia’s body, concealing her from the marquis’s gaze.

“What is the meaning of this?” her father demanded as he barged into the salon, waving a note. “I received this not more than fifteen minutes ago, telling me to
arrive here, where I would find my daughter in a most compromising position.”

“Good morning, Lord Stonebrook,” Lizzy announced as she slowly made her way to the door to greet the marquis. “Such a lovely day, is it not? I can feel the sun shining through the windows.”

Stonebrook watched Adrian’s sister warily. “Indeed, Lady Elizabeth, it is. However, I have not come to discuss—”

“Oh, dear me!” Elizabeth shrieked as she tripped over her gown. Stonebrook reached for her, clasping her hand hard within his grip.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “There, now, you’re right steady on your feet.”

“Thank you, my lord. Why, that would have been positively mortifying to fall at your feet. You might get the wrong impression of me!”

He chuckled, but Adrian saw the way his gaze jumped over every soul present in the room.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucy’s father repeated, more calmly this time. “I was just on my way to the lodge. Meeting Fenshaw and Nigel Lasseter for coffee.”