Lady Killer (49 page)
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, rising from the desk and smiling as she bundled them out the door. Then she used her special key on the clock in her bedroom and disappeared.
Without pausing, she ascended the stairs. She passed through an inconspicuous looking door and entered a recently expanded room that, despite the absence of windows, was filled with fight. All twelve desks appeared to be occupied by young men dressed in the yellow and gold livery of the Dearbourns, until closer examination revealed that five of the young men were actually women.
When the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece pointed to four, it meant that the Special Commissioner for the Security of London, the fourth person behind the queen in charge of England’s security, was urgently needed. Since she had finished hearing all the testimony in the Vampire of London case the week before—all but Inigo’s of course, which had to be sent in written form from Venice where he was staying with Tristan and Sebastian—she could not imagine what the urgent need was. Then she spotted it, lounging in the doorway of his office at the back of the large room. He had a devilish smile on his face and for a moment, Clio had to stop and just stare at him. The fact that he was her husband still took her breath away.
Miles crooked his finger toward her and motioned her into his office.
“Did you do that?” she asked, pointing to the cords on the wall that controlled what the clock in their apartment said.
Miles nodded solemnly as he led her into his office and closed the door. “I have very important business with the commissioner.”
“Really? What?”
“Secret. Close your eyes.” Miles gathered Clio into his arms, carried her up a new flight of stairs and out onto the terrace, depositing her gently in the middle of the bed. The sides of the silver gray tent had been pulled up, so that the sunlight streamed across it. Off to one side, a plate of hazelnut cakes glistened with sugar icing.
“I am going to tell Two on you,” Clio said, playing with the golden brown hairs that curled around the throat of his shirt as he lay down next to her.
Miles cupped her chin in his hand. “You don’t know who Two is.”
“Neither do you, but I will find out and then I will tell. Luring the Special Commissioner from her duties must be a grave crime.”
“Luring? Who said anything about luring? Surely you have an insoluble problem that I can assist you in sorting out.”
Clio looked at him. “Actually, I do.”
“I knew it,” Miles said happily.
“Is this why you wanted me to be the special commissioner?” Clio asked.
“As you are aware, I had no say in the matter. It was Elwood who put your name in. Someone had to take over once the previous commissioner started his interesting job as the London dogcatcher.”
“Assistant dogcatcher,” Clio corrected.
“Right. Everyone said you were the best candidate. Who was I to disagree?”
He kissed her lushly and settled her on the bed. With the sun setting around them and the fireflies dancing in the bushes, they made love. Afterward, they lay together lazily and watched the stars begin to twinkle in the pinkish-blue night sky.
“Do you know how proud I am of you?” Miles asked in a dozy voice as they held each other.
“Mmmmemslffff,” Clio replied.
“Yes,” Miles agreed, drifting off to sleep. “That about sums it—”
Clio’s eyes snapped open. “Seven,” she announced all at once. “Three plus four. That is it.”
Miles did not open his eyes. “Ah. You solved your problem.”
“Yes,” Clio said, and he could feel that she was looking at him expectantly.
He opened his eyes and formed the now familiar words.
“What does it mean,
amore?
” He noticed that her eyes were very, very purple.
Clio raised herself on both elbows. “Seven. What she should be called.”
He was never able to guess what she would say, and this time her response was even more cryptic than usual, but something about it made his heart skip. “Who?”
Clio took the hand of her husband—her husband, the man she had loved so long, the man she now loved more than ever—and placed it on her stomach. “Her.”
It took Miles a moment to understand. When he did, he was filled with a pleasure and joy he had never imagined existed. He smiled at her so radiantly that the stars dimmed in comparison and said, “Impossible.”
“Actually, Miles, I read in a book once that when a man and a woman—”
The rest of her words were lost in his kiss.
The solar eclipse of 1590 was not predicted by any astrologer, and still cannot be scientifically accounted for.
Nor can the wild success of the play, written in honor of Clio and Miles’s wedding, called
A Midsommer Night’s Dreame,
unless you believe—as eventually Masters Williams, Hakesly, and Pearl came to—that it was the work of the divine through the drunk printer’s apprentice, who jumbled their names together on the playbill so they read “William Shakes-Pear.”
More from Michele Jaffe
The midnight shadows of Renaissance Venice conceal intrigue, romance…and murder.
Bianca Salva’s love of science has led her to defy the conventions of her day and illicitly practice medicine among the poor of Venice. She’s managed to keep her pass time a secret—until she is discovered over the lifeless body of a young courtesan, by the last person she’d ever want to see.
Ian Foscari, Conte d’Aosto, is known for being rich, handsome…and heartless. Finding Bianca over the dead body, he concludes she’s the murderer. Yet for reasons he cannot explain, her protests move him. He offers to give her one week to prove her innocence, but she’ll have to move into his house and be his prisoner. Her other option: the authorities and certain death.
Bianca has no choice but to agree to his maddening terms. She’s furious at having to cede her hard won freedom, and unprepared for the effect of his presence on her, for the longings he awakes in parts of her body she’s only studied in books. As Bianca struggles to focus on finding the killer, Ian fights his own battle between the undeniable attraction he feels for her and the painful scars of his past.
When their mutual attraction blazes to life, they are both dazzled by it’s force. Passion burns through their reserves, teaching them both to trust again. Love again. But this fragile alliance is soon tested. Lured into a web of scheming and betrayal, Bianca and Ian find themselves in a race against the clock to save their lives, their hearts, and the city of Venice itself.
In Renaissance England, love is the most dangerous gamble.
Crispin Foscari, one of Queen Elizabeth’s most trusted spies, leaves nothing to chance. So he’s surprised when he’s informed he has two weeks to clear his name of an accusation of treason, or face the executioner’s noose.
Sophie Champion is a hero to women of London, dedicating her seemingly endless resources to helping free them from bondage to men. But when her investigation into the death of her beloved godfather brings her to the attention of Crispin Foscari, known as “The Earl of Scandal”, under precarious circumstances, she is suddenly the one who needs liberating.
Even as his mind warns him to stay away from the the seductive siren, Crispin proposes a wager. Working together they pit their wits against a calculating enemy by day, and fight their searing attraction at night. As they inch closer to identifying the killer they grow closer to one another. Until finally their passion explodes—with deadly consequences.
She’s got murder in mind.
Lady Tuesday Arlington has always used her painting as a refuge from the nightmares that plague her sleep. When her husband is murdered in a setting that uncannily resembles one of Tuesday’s paintings, the young widow becomes the prime suspect.
Lawrence Pickering, the Earl of Arden and an investigator in service of Queen Elizabeth I, begins to follow Tuesday’s every move, certain of her guilt—until Tuesday becomes a target herself. Intrigued by her knowledge of the crime scenes as well as her stunning beauty, Lawrence vows to protect her. But how can he stop a killer who appears capable of the impossible—invading Tuesday’s mind?
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