Well, perhaps some of them were frightened. The maids were quite frankly ogling Lord Pecus; who, bare-chested and barefoot, was as magnificent a picture as one could hope for. His green eyes, struggling to stay open, fell on me, and an unfettered expression of relief fell on his beast-face. I had expected that, and expected to feel badly about it.
I did.
What I did not expect was for Lord Pecus to surge across the hall and gather me up in a crushing bear-hug. I gave a squeak that didn’t manage to sound at all offended, much to my chagrin, and found myself clasped to a bare, hairy chest with my feet dangling indecently short of the ground.
“Put me down at once, Alexander!” I demanded, in a muffled voice. He was still staggering sufficiently for me to fear he would pitch us both lengthways on the hall, which would be as undignified as it was indecorous. I had no intention of presenting such a picture, even if most of the servants had melted away quietly at my arrival. The head footman stopped briefly to enquire if either Lord Pecus or I required anything, and upon Alexander’s shaking his head and loosening his arms enough for me to indicate my negative, he left us alone.
“Your servants are remarkably tactful,” I remarked, straightening my bodice and skirts with a dignity I didn’t quite feel. “Alexander, no! If you attempt to seize me again, I shall be forced to kick you in the shins!”
Lord Pecus gave an unsteady laugh and collapsed sideways into a hall-chair that miraculously managed to hold his massive form on deceptively strong, spindly legs.
“Even, now,” he said, his eyes drooping.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I said firmly. “Up, and to bed with you! I refuse to have you sleeping outside my suite. I’m certain you snore.”
He laughed again, more giddily this time, but allowed himself to be badgered to his feet and accepted my help as far as his chambers, where I left him to stagger to bed as best he could. I supposed, biting back a smile, that at least he need not trouble to undress himself.
Chapter Nine
Trophy came to see me the next day. I found myself sleepily relieved: if Vadim were to be believed, Lord Pecus was still sleeping, and I found myself a trifle nervous as to his state of mind when he awoke. Trophy was a pleasant distraction, and had the added advantage of being a good-natured buffer between Lord Pecus and I- always assuming, of course, that Lord Pecus did not peremptorily send him away whenever he appeared. I had been reading the Book of Interesting Excerpts quietly to myself in the garden, accessing the scrolling guest list from the night of the Ambassadorial Masque in an attempt to map out a consistent graph of individuals at the scene of each murder. It was a task made inherently difficult by the fact that the murderer needed only to touch his victims to murder them. Some of the murders – Raoul’s, for example – had clearly been performed on the spot: others had been murdered with a delayed touch of black magic threading back to the murderer. It was a near-to-impossible task, despite the magical and all inclusive nature of scrolling guest lists, and I wasn’t sorry to be interrupted by Trophy’s arrival: particularly since he had brought chocolates with him.
“No exciting matters of the constabulary, Trophy? I should have imagined you to be pursuing wrongdoers with great zeal in Lord Pecus’ absence!”
He grinned. “No, they’re pretty quiet at the moment; I rather think the murderer has them all on the hop. Are you keeping busy, Isabella?”
“Always, Trophy, always! I’ve enjoyed a scintillating morning of reading in the sun.”
“You don’t look scintillated,” remarked Trophy frankly. “You look half asleep.”
“One of the disadvantages of trying to trace the whereabouts of a murderer by the use of a magical book and scrolling guest lists, I’m afraid.”
Trophy threw me a look of heartfelt sympathy. “Alexander had me trying to do the same thing, but there were so many difficulties that I started to think that it would be more useful to know where he wasn’t! I’ve never had so much trouble establishing a clear chain of events. You know, I don’t know why Alexander doesn’t just sign you up to the Watch, Isabella: after all, we haven’t come up with an idea that you haven’t had, too.”
“I think you may just have done so, dear boy,” I said thoughtfully, eyeing him in wonder. “Trophy, you’re a brilliant specimen of Watchman! Of course we should be concentrating on where he wasn’t! Book, reference the guest list again to give me a comprehensive list of guests present physically at the Ambassadorial Masque five minutes before Raoul’s murder. Cross-reference with a comprehensive list of those physically present ten minutes after the murder, and remove all names that appear in both lists.”
The Book put up an unusually polite notice of: Extrapolating, please wait . . . probably for the benefit of Lieutenant Holt, who was gaping alternately at myself and it.
“Can it do that?”
“I certainly hope so,” I said, curling my fingers around the corners of the book. If only I had thought of this before Daubney, and the washing-water woman! I wondered how many people had died in the meantime, and felt a little ill.
“But why? How will it help to know who wasn’t there?”
“I’ve recently gained a little information about our murderer that suggests he was able to steal another person’s body for a time,” I told him. “However, instead of simply inhabiting the other body, it seems that he creates another identical but connected to, the host body. What happens to the created body-”
“Happens to the real body,” nodded Trophy. “Convenient for your father, Belle.”
I raised my brows at him, but his tone was rueful rather than snide. “I know. There will have to be more evidence before it will clear Papa.”
“It’s finished!” Lieutenant Holt leaned forward eagerly, his head almost colliding with mine. “Oh, very good, Isabella! Only four names!”
Without my noticing, black ink had scrawled out:
Lady Carlisle
Lord Topher
Sargent Ffolkes
Earl of Horn
Below that, in smaller writing, the Book of Interesting Excerpts had added: The Earl was on both lists, but there were two of him before the murder, so I thought you might like to know anyway.
“Indeed I did!” I said warmly. That confirmed the information that the Earl’s body had been used by the murderer, as did the earl’s moving pictures. Only the list, however, proved conclusively that Papa was not the one who had used it. I felt a sudden lightness.
“Well done, Book! Well, Trophy, what now?”
“Narrow the parameters,” suggested a young, boyish voice.
“Good heavens! Lord Topher!”
I wondered blankly what the head footman thought he had been about. Lord Pecus had been very clear on the fact that I was to receive a single visitor, once a day; and although the stricture had annoyed me at the time, I was very willing for it to be enforced when it came to Lord Topher. Hadn’t anyone had the decency to tell the poor boy about his young wife? His servants at least must have done so, I thought impatiently, and then blinked. Of course they had done so: they could do nothing else. And Lord Topher had most assuredly been home, if his tidy cravat and unwrinkled coat were any testament. He certainly didn’t appear to be sorrowing, however: in fact, if I were not very much mistaken, there was a light of mischief dancing in his eyes that became more unsettling the more I became aware of it. I began to remember a night when I had seen him like this: the night of the masque, darting back through the door with great wet patches on his waistcoat from the rain, a bright, excited look to his face. Only, it had stopped raining much earlier . . .
“Lieutenant, I think it’s about time for you to go,” I said lightly, curling my fingers around the Book of Interesting Excerpts and drawing it fractionally back towards myself. Good heavens, how could I have been so blind? Blood on his waistcoat, and I had thought it was rain!
“Oh no! He can stay!” said Lord Topher brightly. “We’re going to have such fun! You should narrow the parameters, Lady Farrah; I’m
sure you’ll find it interesting.”
Lieutenant Holt, who was far too well bred to ignore a dismissal from a lady, looked faintly puzzled but bowed from the shoulders and rose to his feet as if to leave, much to my relief. Lord Topher, smiling brilliantly, put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“I’d like you to stay,” he said. Trophy sat down, his face suddenly white, and Lord Topher’s brilliant eyes flickered toward me again. “Narrow the parameters, Lady Farrah. You know what I mean.”
“Compile a list of guests who went home between those two times,” I told the Book, with one eye on Lieutenant Holt, who was as pale as a decently tanned Glausian could possibly be.
His eyes were fixed on his own shoulder, his neck stiff, and I thought I knew what he could see, even without magic. There would be a thread of black magic there, connecting the Lieutenant to Lord Topher.
I slipped my hand around his and squeezed gently. “Cross-reference with the list of exceptions and remove all names appearing on both,” I said to the Book. I was torn between hope that Alexander would come down to the garden in search of me, and dread that he would do so. After all, he hadn’t been so very successful against the killing touch the first time: if it hadn’t been for Keenan’s little safety spell, it was doubtful he would have come through. I liked Trophy very much, but I would much rather he die than Lord Pecus.
The Book of Interesting Excerpts blossomed with the words: Sorry about this, and three names melted away, leaving only Lord Topher’s.
“I was sure you’d guessed!” said Lord Topher. “You’re so clever: that’s why I liked you so much!”
“I guessed a little while ago,” I nodded. My fingers were very cold where I grasped The Book of Interesting Excerpts, stiffly bent around the heavy front cover, and the hand that curled around Trophy’s was as icy as his was hot.
“What brings you to visit me today, Lord Topher? It’s not that I don’t appreciate the visit, you understand, but I am very busy.”
He giggled, and then as quickly scowled. “You can’t marry that man, Isabella. It’s such a waste! Do you really mean it, or were you only trying to lure me out?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he only shrugged and continued talking, as though to himself. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter: I won’t let it happen. I can stop you, you know. I can do whatever I want.”
“I know,” I said calmly, crossing one leg over the other to support the Book without making it obvious that I was wriggling. “You saved Vadim’s life that time.”
He looked pleased. “I did, didn’t I? It wasn’t easy, you know: I really wanted to do her. She would have popped like a little grapefruit, all warm and salty and everywhere. Red suits you.”
“Is that so?”
A memory flashed through my mind: the warm, wet shower of blood and brain on my face as poor young Daubney exploded. Lord Topher must have been nearer than I imagined.
“I’ve never thought so, but I suppose I’m a little biased. Blue goes so much better with red hair.”
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you? I like it when you tease me. I knew as soon as I saw you that you were the one I wanted to play the game. That’s why I picked that big guardsman to begin with, I knew it would get your attention.”
“It certainly did,” I agreed lightly, wondering a little hazily if I were going to disgrace myself by losing my breakfast on the walkway. Poor Raoul! His death deserved to mean more than a whim on the part of a madman.
“What about your wife, Lord Topher?”
A frown began in the centre of his forehead. “You should call me Wilfred, you know, if we’re to be married. I told you when I called your commlink that we’d be so happy: I think I’ve been very patient, Isabella.”
“Very right and proper, Wilfred,” I said, bestowing a sparkling smile on him.
My stomach was doing nasty little flip-flops in an attempt to convince my breakfast to, as it were, abandon ship; but I didn’t dare allow such a travesty to occur when Lieutenant Trophimus’ life as well as my own depended on presenting the necessary façade.
“Now, I think I should like to know about Emily.”
“Oh, that was only for the money,” said Lord Topher breezily; “You told me to do it, Isabella; don’t you remember?”
I thought faintly, Good heavens, I caused that poor child’s death! but I knew it was nonsense. Only a madman would construe the suggestion of a good match as a command to marry a child for her money.
“Only she was getting so boring, and then someone said you were marrying Lord Pecus, so I thought I’d better get rid of her and find out what you were up to. What were you up to, Isabella?”
“Oh, just the usual tricks. I’m more interested in knowing what you’ve been up to.”
“If you guess some of it right, I’ll tell you the rest,” he said invitingly.
“Very well, I accept your challenge!” I said at once, and he chortled, eyes sparkling.
“Oh, I knew you’d be more fun than the others! Start from the start. No, start from the end! It’s more fun if you start from the end.”
“Very well. I assume that we will not be beginning with today, and proceed to yesterday’s debacle.”
He nodded, challenging me with a grin. He looked young and joyous and not at all dangerous, with the light of mischief in his eyes. He was holding the madness in check, but for how much longer could he do so?
“You found Susan last night as she was waiting for me. Disguised as Emmett, you tried to kill her, but I think you hadn’t bargained for the earl’s interference.”
“Was that him? How did he do that? He’s a minor magic user, nothing more.” He gave me a disarming grin. “It knocked me sideways, I can tell you!”
I nodded. “I thought you were drunk, at first. It wasn’t magic, though: the earl specialises in dynamos and gadgets. Well, before that it was Lady Topher: you were one of the servants for a brief time, I believe. That must have been very convenient for you.”
He gave a stifled giggle. “She was so surprised! She looked very pretty when I finished, though; all red and gold like you.”
His eyes dwelt meditatively on me and I suppressed a shiver, because I knew he was thinking of me in the same way, my brains and blood scattered in a pulpy mess around my shoulders as I lay prone.
I added quickly, in hopes of distracting his thoughts: “Putting something from every suspect in the washerwoman’s room was very clever. I don’t think you ever caught up with the drifter, though, did you? It was a good joke.”
A slight frown pinched his brows together. “I didn’t expect him to leave that quickly. We might have to find him, Isabella; I think someone warned him.”
“Well, he can wait for the honeymoon,” I said, with a cheerfulness that brought a sick smile to Lieutenant Trophimus’ lips. “Right now we’re talking. Why did you frame the Earl of Horn, by the way? I’ve always been a little curious about that.”
Lord Topher shrugged. “He had fingers in so many pies; lots of secrets to come tumbling out if he was investigated in just the right way. I made sure he was investigated in the right way. I knew you wouldn’t believe it for a moment, but that only made the game more fun.”
“And my little Papa?” I had to work very hard to keep the anger from my voice. “I understand that Delysia’s little adventure had something to do with you, but why did you use Papa?”
“Because I had to move quickly,” said Lord Topher, scowling. “Did you know that your Watchman asked for your hand that night? I soon put a stop to that.”
The scowl melted, giving way to a reminiscent, mischievous curl of the lips.
“He tried to stop me but I was too strong for him: silly fool thought that he could catch me with a skin mark!”
He laughed, and I echoed the sound.
“That was foolish, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” agreed Lord Topher, but his mobile face was already darkening with an expression of misuse. “I didn’t expect him to imprison you here, though.�
�
There was a flutter of movement over Lord Topher’s head, through the door opening onto my balcony. Vadim, if that shade of blue was any indication. I hoped, fiercely, that she would not come down to find me.
Another, quicker shadow passed into my line of sight, suggesting that Keenan had popped up for a look and been hastily pulled away by an unseen hand. Now, how had they known that I was in peril? It was to be hoped that they knew better than to try and mount a rescue attempt themselves.
“I must admit that it never occurred to me, either,” I remarked, flicking my eyes back to Lord Topher’s face with a candid smile. “However, he did warn me, and it has been quite useful to be so near to the investigation. Tell me, was that your scheme, to attack Delysia?”
He pouted. “It wasn’t meant to be her. I left the rose ’specially for you, Isabella: why was she wearing it?”
I had a moment of clear recall, Keenan choosing between the two roses. So Delysia’s unfortunate incident could be laid at my door also? I would never hear the end of it.
“Those idiots from the Sinkhole couldn’t tell the difference between one woman and another,” muttered Lord Topher vengefully, without waiting for an answer.
His tongue ran unconsciously across his top lip, briefly giving him the look of a satisfied cat, and I had the feeling that there were a few bodies that the Watchmen of Glause had yet to discover.
“But what I principally wish to know,” I pursued, hoping that it wasn’t Lord Pecus’ huge form I had caught a glimpse of behind one of the hedges; “Is how you found me the day that Raoul’s revolutionary contacts tried to kill me.”
“Oh, that was easy! You found the dark threads, or you wouldn’t have been able to trace me, but I laid two more traces on you the night of the masque so that I’d be able to find you whenever I wanted to.”
“How convenient!” I managed to say. “Your arrival really was most propitious for me: I could have found myself in a rather unpleasant situation otherwise.”
Masque (The Two Monarchies Sequence) Page 32
