Authors: Amanda Quick
Sebastian opened the door and walked into the small shop. The aroma of the well-aged tobacco stored in glass cases and in wooden barrels engulfed him. Clay pipes were prominently displayed on one counter. On another counter a selection of small snuffboxes was arranged. Sebastian took a closer look at them but saw none as fine as the one he was investigating.
“How may I serve you, sir?” inquired a raspy voice.
Sebastian looked around and saw a plump, white-haired, heavily whiskered man wearing a green apron and a pair of gold spectacles. The shopkeeper’s pudgy fingers were stained yellow from years of handling tobacco.
“I’m trying to discover the name of this particular blend of snuff.” Sebastian plucked the snuffbox out of the pocket of his greatcoat and held it out to the shopkeeper. “An acquaintance gave me enough to fill this box, but I shall soon run out and would like to order more. It’s quite distinctive. Do you happen to recognize it?”
The shopkeeper examined Sebastian’s gleaming boots and elegantly tailored clothes as he opened the box. He sniffed cautiously at the snuff, careful not to inhale it. “I certainly do recognize it, my lord. I created this blend myself.”
The familiar thrill of discovery flashed through Sebastian. Until Prudence had entered his life, he reflected, he had been forced to rely on these rare moments of fleeting excitement to keep the cold at bay.
Sebastian schooled his features to a mask of polite interest. “It seems I am in luck, then. I suppose it is a popular blend?”
“Might be if I sold it to all and sundry, but the gentleman I make it up for has stipulated that he be the only one who gets it. He makes it worth my while to keep the blend special for him.”
“It’s not for sale to the general public, then?” Sebastian frowned with what he hoped passed for disappointment. His luck was holding, he thought. He would not have to investigate a long list of snuff purchasers. All he needed was the name of the one who had commissioned this special mixture for himself.
“Afraid not.” The snuff dealer eyed him with a shopkeeper’s assessing look. He was obviously reluctant to lose the trade. “Mayhap I can blend a special batch for you, m’lord. Something with a bit of Turkish in it, perhaps? Just got a nice shipment of fine tobacco from America. Very mild, it is. I can do you a most distinctive blend that will be the envy of your friends.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I very much wanted a supply of this particular blend. I am prepared to pay well for it.”
The snuff dealer sighed with regret. “I cannot risk offending my client, sir. I’m sure you understand.”
“Your client?” Sebastian prompted carefully.
“Mr. Fleetwood would be only too likely to take his patronage elsewhere if I didn’t honor my agreement with him.”
Sebastian stared at the dealer, hoping his mouth wasn’t hanging open in astonishment. “Fleetwood?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Jeremy Fleetwood.” The snuff dealer frowned. “You must know him, sir, if he gave you a sample of his snuff.”
“We met in passing at a boxing match,” Sebastian said, thinking swiftly. “Afraid I didn’t catch his name. You know how the crowd is at a mill.”
“Right you are, sir. Attended an interesting match just last week. Crowd nearly rioted when Iron Jones lost. He was the favorite, you know. Lost a packet on him, m’self.”
“I heard the outcome of the match was extremely disappointing,” Sebastian said as he walked toward the door. “Thank you for Mr. Fleetwood’s name. I shall look him up at once. Perhaps I can prevail upon him to allow you to make up a supply of this blend for me.”
“Bui, sir, if I might suggest another blend—”
Sebastian closed the shop door and walked the short distance to where his groom waited with the phaeton.
What in the name of hell did Jeremy have to do with any of this? Sebastian wondered as he vaulted up onto the seat and took the reins.
Prudence was going to be as startled by this bit of information as he was. He was suddenly impatient to discuss the new twist in the case with her.
“What do you mean, she’s not here, Flowers? Where the devil is she?” Sebastian had hurried straight home in order to share with Prudence the details of the singular new development in the investigation. It was extremely irritating to learn that she was not waiting eagerly to applaud his brilliance.
“I believe Lady Angelstone has gone out, my lord.”
Sebastian made a bid for his fraying patience. “Where did she go, Flowers?”
Flowers gave a small, discreet cough. “To the home of the Misses Singleton in Wellwood Street, sir.”
“Who the devil are the Misses Singleton?”
“Lady Angelstone described them as clients.” Flowers looked deeply pained. “A message arrived from them shortly after you left. They apparently wished to consult with her ladyship about a matter of spectral phenomena. Her ladyship set out almost immediately.”
“So she’s pursuing an investigation, is she?”
Flowers gave him a woeful look. “Something was said about an electricity machine, my lord.”
Sebastian frowned. “Electricity machine?”
“I have reason to believe her ladyship has borrowed one from a Mr. Matthew Hornsby and intends to use it in the course of her investigation today.”
Sebastian was momentarily distracted from his own case. “That might prove interesting.”
Flowers drew himself up. “I would like to inquire, my lord, whether staff should accustom itself to this sort of behavior on the part of her ladyship?”
“Yes, Flowers, I think you had all better get used to the notion that this will never be a completely normal household.”
“You say the strange moaning sounds seem to come from this section of the garret?” Prudence pushed the electricity machine into place in the center of the small dark room directly beneath the roof of the narrow house.
“I think that is about right.” Evangeline Singleton, a stout, forthright woman of indeterminate years, frowned thoughtfully. She turned to her sister for confirmation. “Don’t you think that is about right, Iphigenia?”
“I suppose so,” Iphigenia, small, frail, and fluttery, eyed the electricity machine with deep dread. “I hear the sounds downstairs in my bedchamber, so they must be coming from
somewhere around here. But I really do not know if we should be attempting to find the ghost, Evangeline.”
“We cannot allow the thing to continue moaning at all hours of the night,” Evangeline said. “You need your rest.” She turned back to Prudence. “Now, then, Lady Angelstone, how is this machine going to force our ghost to appear?”
“According to my new theory,” Prudence said, “spectral phenomena utilize electricity in the atmosphere in order to render themselves visible. I believe that the chief reason they are only rarely seen is because it is uncommon for them to have access to sufficient electricity.”
Iphigenia’s eyes widened in alarm. “You intend to provide our ghost with the electricity it needs to make itself visible?”
“Precisely.” Prudence straightened and surveyed the machine she had borrowed from Trevor’s friend, Matthew Hornsby.
It was a simple arrangement involving a glass cylinder, a hand crank, a leather pad, and a jar. Matthew had assured her there was no danger involved in the operation of the machine.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Angelstone, but does your husband approve of you carrying out these investigations?” Iphigenia asked cautiously.
“Oh, yes.” Prudence bustled around the machine, making certain everything was ready. “Angelstone has a very intellectual nature. He is quite interested in my work.”
“I see.” Iphigenia gave her a strange glance. “One hears that Angelstone is a rather unusual man.”
“I suppose he is.” Prudence tested the hand crank. It turned easily. The glass cylinder started to rotate beneath the feather pad. “I certainly do not know any other man quite like him.”
Iphigenia traded a silent glance with her sister. “One hears that he is somewhat dangerous.”
“Not in the least.” The cylinder began to rotate faster as
Prudence worked the crank. “Would one of you put out the lamp? I doubt we shall be able to see anything if there is too much light.”
“Lady Angelstone,” Iphigenia began uneasily, “I really do not think this is such a good idea. There are no windows up here and it will be quite dark if we put out the lamp.”
“Really, Iphigenia, you must not be so timid.” Evangeline went briskly over to the lamp and turned it off.
The room was plunged into complete darkness.
“Excellent,” Prudence said. “If there is a ghost up here we shall make him visible in no time.” She cranked the handle of the electricity machine as rapidly as possible.
“But I do not actually want to see the thing,” Iphigenia whimpered. “I just want you to get rid of it.”
“Get hold of yourself,” Evangeline ordered crisply. “Lady Angelstone knows what she is about, don’t you, madam?”
“Certainly,” Prudence called above the noise of the whirling cylinder. “I have great confidence in my latest theory. We should produce sufficient electricity for a ghost very soon now.”
“Oh, dear,” Iphigenia said forlornly. “I really do wish we had consulted another sort of expert, Evangeline. This whole experience is unsettling my nerves.”
“You can take a dose of laudanum when it is over,” Evangeline said. “Now do stop fussing. You might scare off the ghost.”
Prudence turned the crank faster and faster. “Creating electricity is a bit more difficult than I had thought it would be,” she said breathlessly.
Light flashed suddenly in a white-hot arc that illuminated the room for a few brief seconds. Prudence heard Iphigenia’s horrified gasp.
“Dear heavens, Evangeline, we’ve raised the devil himself.”
“What in the world?” Prudence looked around just in time to see Sebastian’s face rendered in harsh, demonic relief
by the brilliant spark of electricity. His golden eyes burned in the glare of the unnatural light.
An instant later he was gone.
Iphigenia moaned weakly as the room was once more enveloped in complete darkness.
“My goodness.” Evangeline’s voice shook. “What on earth was that, Lady Angelstone?”
Prudence scowled into the gloom. “Angelstone? Is that you?”
“Sorry, my dear.” There was a scratching noise and then a candle flared. Sebastian smiled faintly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your investigation. The housekeeper said you were all up here, so I decided to join you.”
“Good lord,” Evangeline said, sounding extremely relieved. “You gave me quite a start, sir. I do believe my sister has fainted.”
“Oh, dear.” Prudence glanced down and saw Iphigenia lying on the floor. “So she has. Angelstone, next time you decide to observe my investigation techniques, kindly announce yourself in the proper fashion.”
“Forgive me, my dear,” he said humbly. “I was trying to be unobtrusive.”
“You are not the unobtrusive sort, my lord. Look what you did to my client. You have quite terrified her out of her wits.” Prudence sighed. “I suppose we shall have to start all over again now.”
“It was Lucifer himself. I saw him.” Iphigenia’s eyelashes fluttered but did not open. “No more. I beg of you, Lady Angelstone. Please stop the investigation.”
Prudence frowned. “But we were just getting started.”
“Quite right,” Evangeline said as she held a vinaigrette bottle under her sister’s nose. “We cannot stop now. But perhaps it would be best if Angelstone did not participate in the investigation. No offense, your lordship. It’s just that my sister’s nerves are easily overset.”
“I’m afraid she’s right.” Prudence looked at Sebastian. “I
think you had better leave, sir. I cannot have you alarming my clients.”
Sebastian frowned. “I wished to speak with you, Prue.”
“Later, my lord.” She shooed him out of the garret with a sweeping movement of her hands. “As you can see, I am quite busy at the moment. Run along, if you please.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “Very well, madam. I shall see you later.”
“Yes, yes of course.” Prudence turned back to the electricity machine and started to work the crank. “Good-bye, my lord.”
Sebastian disappeared through the door by which he had entered a few minutes earlier.
Evangeline stared after him. “I do not believe it.”
“What don’t you believe, Miss Singleton?” Prudence took a deep breath and bore down on her task. She could feel perspiration gathering between her shoulder blades.
“That you just told Angelstone to
run along
. And he did so.”
“Serves him right.” Prudence cranked harder. “He did not allow me to assist him today.”
“I see.” Evangeline gave her an odd look. “It would seem that you do, indeed, have a talent for dealing with spectral phenomena, madam. You appear to be able to banish the devil himself.”
By the time Sebastian stalked into Lady Arlington’s ballroom in search of Prudence, he was not in a good mood. He heard the ripple of anticipation that went through the crowded room as he walked through it and his temper did not improve. The
ton
was hoping for a scene tonight. He was in just the right frame of mind to provide one.
He located Prudence from halfway across the glittering room. She was the center of a cluster of people and she glanced up as he forged a path in her direction. The lenses of her spectacles glittered cheerfully in the light of the chandeliers.
Her smile was more brilliant than all the massed candles overhead.
She was wearing a demure muslin gown that was a weak shade of blue. The neckline was cut far higher than that of any other lady’s in the room. Sebastian heartily approved of the modest style. As far as he was concerned, Prudence’s unfashionable clothes served very nicely to veil her from the eyes of other men. Only he knew how soft and graceful her breasts were. Only he knew how her nipples responded to his touch. Only he knew how she arched beneath his mouth, how she clung to him.
Sebastian stifled a groan as he realized he was growing hard and heavy right there in the middle of the ballroom.
He wondered ruefully what had happened to the well-honed self-control that he had taken for granted for years. He realized that he had begun to lose his iron grip on his passions the night that Prudence had leaped from the wardrobe to save him from Thornbridge’s pistol. Sebastian knew of no one else who would have gone out of his or her way to save his neck.