“Yes.” He glanced at the pot and the small packets on a nearby shelf. “I did notice that I felt better after a cup or two. But as soon as I picked up the journal again, I was plunged back into the obsession.”
“Every time you opened the book you gave yourself another dose of poison.” Lucinda smiled. “Congratulations on solving the case, Mr. Jones.”
“No,” he said. “You solved it. I do not know how to thank you, Lucinda. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her tone was suddenly quite brusque. She clasped her hands together very tightly in her lap and gazed steadily at the burning book. “You do not owe me anything.”
“Lucinda—”
She turned her head and fixed him with a cool, unreadable expression. “I did no more for you than you did for me when you solved the Fairburn case. I believe the score is even, sir.”
“I did not know we were keeping score.” He was starting to get irritated again. “The thing is, it strikes me that we make a good team.”
“I agree. We both appear to take great satisfaction from the process of solving crimes. When this affair of the fern is over, I would be quite happy to consult on future cases for the Jones agency.”
He steepled his fingertips. “Actually, I was thinking of a somewhat more formal alliance.”
“Were you?” Her brows rose. “Well, I suppose we could draw up a contract but it hardly seems necessary to involve lawyers. I think we will do very well together if we keep things more informal, don’t you?”
“Damn it, Lucinda, I’m talking about us. You and me. We just agreed that we make a very good team.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes.”
He allowed himself to relax. “Well then, why not make it legal?”
Excitement brightened her expression in a very satisfactory manner. She glowed.
“What a wonderful notion,” she said enthusiastically. “I will have to think about it, of course.”
“You always seemed the decisive sort to me.”
“Yes, but this decision is so binding. So formal. So legal.”
“Well, yes. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
“But I’m almost certain I can promise you that my answer will be yes.”
He allowed himself to relax a little. “Good.”
“After all, the chance to be a full partner in your agency is simply too thrilling to pass up.”
“What?”
“I can see it now.” She held up both hands, framing an invisible image. “Bromley and Jones.”
He sat forward, unable to believe what he had just heard. “What the hell?”
“I understand, you would prefer Jones and Bromley. You did found the firm, after all. But one must consider the marketing aspects of these arrangements. Bromley and Jones has a certain ring to it. It is somehow more rhythmic.”
“If you think for one minute that I’m going to call this firm Bromley and Jones, you can damn well think again. That is not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
“Oh, very well, if you’re going to be difficult about it, Jones and Bromley it is. But that is my last offer.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid we will have to continue these negotiations some other time.” She rose quickly. “It is getting late. I must go home.”
“Damn it, Lucinda—”
“There is the Wrothmere ball tonight. So many details to see to. I believe Victoria said the hairdresser would arrive at two.” She gave him a vivid smile. “Don’t worry, I’m certain that once you grow accustomed to the sound of Bromley and Jones, you will like it.”
“The thing is, Miss Patricia is such an intelligent woman,” Edmund said. Seething frustration underlined every word. “Why can’t she see for herself that none of that bunch of fawning dandies is right for her? Half are only after her inheritance, and the other half are dazzled by her looks. Not one of them is truly in love with her.”
“If you’re asking me to explain what a woman wants in a husband and why she wants it, you’ve got the wrong man.” Caleb splashed some sherry into a glass. “Ask me something simple such as the probability that a deranged scientist named Basil Hulsey is at this very moment working on a new version of the founder’s formula. I’m good at things like that.”
He braced himself to drink some of the sherry. He disliked sherry intensely, especially the cloyingly sweet sort that Lucinda evidently preferred. But his choice of beverage was limited. He and Edmund were in Lucinda’s library and sherry was the only option available. Lucinda and Patricia were upstairs dressing for the ball. Victoria was with them, supervising the last-minute details.
Edmund had been prowling the room. He paused, momentarily distracted. “Have you had any luck at all in tracking Hulsey?”
“Some.” Caleb lounged on the side of Lucinda’s desk. “But not nearly enough.” He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “I’m hoping for a little more tonight.”
“What do you expect to learn this evening?”
“I have an appointment with the second kidnapper.”
“You found him?” Excitement briefly replaced the simmering irritation in Edmund’s eyes. “He agreed to meet with you?”
“Not exactly. Young Kit came to see me an hour ago. He said the man has been seen in a certain tavern drinking himself into a stupor every night since his associate died. My plan, such as it is, is to confront him this evening. I’m hoping that the element of surprise will work in my favor.”
Edmund frowned. “You should not go alone. Take me with you.”
“No. I need you to keep watch over Patricia and Lucinda.”
“Then take someone else along. One of your cousins, perhaps.”
“According to Kit, the man is a nervous wreck, as it is. Evidently the experience of watching his partner die has greatly unnerved him. Having two strangers approach him would very likely send him fleeing into the night and then I’d have to track him down all over again. No, this kind of situation is best handled with a degree of delicacy.”
“If you say so.” Edmund was not entirely satisfied but he did not pursue the issue. He resumed his pacing. “Do you really believe that Lady Milden knows what she’s about with her matchmaking?”
“I have no notion.” He drank a little more of the bad sherry and then gave up on it altogether. He set the glass aside. “She’s only been in the business for a very short time. There hasn’t been time to judge her skill.”
“It could take years to find out if she actually does have a talent for it. In the meantime, Miss Patricia might very well find herself wed to a brute or a fortune hunter. Her life will be ruined. Riverton, especially, strikes me as a nasty piece of work. I doubt he’d stop at anything to marry an heiress.”
Caleb thought about that for a couple of minutes while he watched Edmund wear a path in the carpet.
“Miss Patricia is not exactly an heiress,” he said neutrally. “My understanding is that she will inherit a comfortable income but certainly not a great fortune.”
“All I know is that her income, whatever it is, looks very enticing to Riverton. I swear, if I have to listen to him tell her one more time how passionate he is about archaeology I will make him disappear out the nearest window.”
“You seem to be very concerned with Miss Patricia’s future happiness,” Caleb observed. “I was under the impression that you thought her approach to marriage was rather cold-blooded.”
Edmund’s expression darkened. “That’s just it, Miss Patricia is not a cold woman. Quite the opposite, in fact. I fear that in her anxiety not to be misled by her emotions, she is going against her own warm-hearted nature. This so-called scientific approach to finding a suitable husband is nonsense. Have you seen that damned list of requirements she gave Lady Milden?”
“I believe she did mention her criteria, yes.” He narrowed his eyes, thinking about it. “Evidently she got the idea from Miss Bromley.”
Bromley & Jones. How in blazes had Lucinda come up with that? She was far too intelligent to have misunderstood his offer this afternoon. If she did not want to marry him, why not come right out and say so? Why all that silly chatter about becoming a partner in his firm?
Unless she had misunderstood him. Good Lord. Was it possible that he had not been clear?
“The man she is looking for does not exist,” Edmund announced.
“What?” Caleb forced himself to pay attention to Edmund. “Right. The list. Evidently Lady Milden had no trouble collecting a sizable number of suitable suitors.”
“But they are all wrong for Miss Patricia, every last one of them,” Edmund insisted.
“You’re certain of that?”
“Positive. I feel it is my duty to save Miss Patricia but she will not listen to me. I swear, she treats me as though I were a guard dog. She is forever either giving me orders or patting me on the head.”
“She pats you on the head?”
“Figuratively speaking.”
“I see,” Caleb said.
He got the uneasy feeling he was supposed to come up with something mature and helpful in the way of masculine advice but nothing sprang to mind. Possibly because he was still trying to come up with some good advice for himself on the same subject.
Bromley & Jones.
Perhaps that damned list was the real problem. He was willing to concede that he did not meet all of Lucinda’s requirements in a husband but she had admitted that they made an excellent team. She certainly appeared to be physically attracted to him, as well.
Was it possible those factors were not enough to convince her to compromise? Did he have to exhibit every single damned characteristic she had enumerated on that bloody list? Devil take it, was he going to have to develop a cheerful and positive temperament? Some things were beyond the grasp of even the most powerful talent.
An affair was all very well in the short term but he did not care for the element of uncertainty in such a relationship. What if a man who met Lucinda’s precise specifications showed up someday and swept her off her feet with seductive talk of the mysteries of fern reproduction or the sensual aspects of pistils and pollination?
Victoria swept into the room, Lucinda and Patricia in her wake.
“We are ready, gentlemen,” she announced with the air of a commander about to order troops into battle.
Caleb automatically straightened away from the desk. He was vaguely aware of Edmund coming to an abrupt halt and turning to face the women.
There was a short period of stark silence while both of them gazed at the ladies.
Lucinda frowned. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Jones?”
He realized he was staring. He could not help it. She was enthralling in a deep violet gown trimmed with velvet ribbons and discreetly placed crystals that caught the light. Long, snug-fitting gloves emphasized the graceful shape of her arms. A velvet band at her throat was trimmed with more of the brilliant crystals.
He knew then that he was destined to feel this thrill of energy and intimacy whenever she entered the room for the rest of his life. This is right. You belong with me. To hell with your perfect husband. If he is ever foolish enough to show up, I’ll make certain he disappears.
Good Lord, he was starting to sound like Fletcher. But he meant every word. This was probably not the right time to say as much aloud, however.
When in doubt, fall back on good manners.
He pulled himself together, crossed the room, took Lucinda’s gloved hand and bowed.
“No,” he said. “There is nothing wrong. I was momentarily stunned, that’s all. You and Miss Patricia look quite spectacular this evening. Don’t you agree, Fletcher?”
Edmund gave a small start as though he, too, had just recovered from a trance. He went forward to take Patricia’s hand and managed a formal bow.
“Lovely,” he said. He sounded as though his throat had suddenly become tight. “You look like a fairy-tale princess in that aqua gown.”
Patricia blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Fletcher.”
Victoria cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Mr. Fletcher, you will accompany Patricia and me in my carriage. Mr. Jones will escort Lucinda in her vehicle. In the wake of that recent piece in the Flying Intelligencer, it is critical that he is seen conducting Lucinda into the ballroom tonight.”
Lucinda made a face. “Really, I don’t think this is necessary.”
“Never argue with an expert,” Caleb said. He used his grip on her hand to tuck her arm under his.
They went into the front hall where Mrs. Shute opened the door. The two carriages waited in the street. Caleb followed Lucinda into the shadowy interior of her small vehicle and sat down across from her.
“What has happened?” Lucinda asked immediately.
“What?”
“I can tell that something has occurred,” she said. “There is a new kind of tension in your aura. You did take another cup or two of the tisane this evening as I instructed, did you not?”
“I fear your tisane, remarkable though it is, will have little effect on the current source of my tension.”
“But you told me you found it soothing.”
“It certainly is when it comes to dealing with poison. What I am feeling now, however, has nothing to do with that damned notebook.”
“What is it, then? Perhaps I have another remedy.”
He smiled. “As it happens, you do. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to take more than a small dose.”
He leaned forward and kissed her; a fast, hard, possessive kiss.
“That will have to do for now,” he said, sitting back before she could even begin to respond. “I have some news.”
He told her about the message from Kit and his intention to meet with the kidnapper. She was immediately alarmed.
“You must not go to see him alone,” she said. “Take Mr. Fletcher with you.”
“He made the same suggestion. I will tell you the same thing I told him. His job is to watch over you and Miss Patricia. I will be fine on my own.”
“Are you armed?”
“Yes. But I’m sure there will be no need to resort to a weapon. Don’t worry about me. I will escort you into the ballroom. We will take a turn on the floor so that everyone can see us, and then I will slip away for an hour or so. I’ll be back in plenty of time to take you home.”
“You are dressed for the ballroom, not for meeting a villain in a dockside tavern.”
“Believe it or not, I gave that matter some thought,” he said. “I have an overcoat and a hat that will conceal my formal clothes.”