The Viscount Always Knocks Twice (Heart of Enquiry Book 4)

by Grace Callaway

  Richard raised his brows. “And for you?”

  “I do it for fun,” the little baggage said impudently.

  “That is what I adore about you, Miss Kent,” Lady Blackwood said, smiling. “You view the world through your own unique lens. One unclouded by mindless convention. It allows you to see opportunities that others miss.”

  Violet went very still; her lush lashes swept upward.

  Frowning, Richard said, “Is something wrong?”

  “I hope my words didn’t offend, my dear,” Lady Blackwood said hastily. “I meant them as the highest compliment.”

  “Oh no, I’m not offended. You just made me think of something… that’s all.”

  Vi smiled and returned to dealing the cards. Properly this time.

  But Richard saw the excited tremble of her hands and wondered what it meant.

  After the game, he cornered her by the sideboard, where a cold collation had been laid out. She was busily filling her plate with some of everything. Lord help him, but he even found her appetite adorable.

  “What’s going on?” he said without preamble.

  “I’ll tell you—but only if you give me your word to keep it a secret.”

  Devil and damn. He had a bad feeling about this. “All right.”

  “Well, this question has been running round and round in my head: what was Monique doing in the library that night?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Mine might be better, actually. You see, ever since I was a girl, I’ve been trying to emulate Madame Monique. She’s been my idol for ages, and I’ve trained myself to act like her, think like her. And it occurred to me that to solve the mystery of her death, we need to retrace her steps and see the world through her lens—and I think I’m the one to do it.”

  “To do what, exactly?”

  “I’m going to take a look at Monique’s bedchamber tonight.”

  “The hell you are.” Seeing her stiffen, he added swiftly, “Your brother already searched it. He told you to stay out of there.”

  “And I always do what people tell me to.” She rolled her eyes. “My intuition is telling me that there are clues in her room, Richard—clues that I’ll pick up because I can think like Monique. Even Jeanne, her maid, remarked upon it.”

  There was no mistaking the stubborn glint in her eyes. In the past, he might have tried to stop her… but he was learning that locking horns with her was futile. It wouldn’t win him any points in the courtship arena—and she’d go ahead and do what she intended anyway. Only a Bedlamite would attempt the same strategy and expect different results.

  Besides, he’d promised her that they would work together. He would just have to find a way to protect her from her own reckless, pell-mell ways. Because if anything happened to her… he felt an acute and foreign spasm in his chest. He would not allow such a possibility. He’d guard his future viscountess, whatever it took.

  “Just what are you planning to do?” he said, his voice low.

  “After everyone’s asleep, I’m going in to see if I can find clues that others may have missed.” Her chin lifted, a sure sign of defiance. “And you’re not going to stop me.”

  In a second, he made his decision.

  “Quite right,” he said. “I’m going with you.”

  He snagged a piece of ham from her plate and ate it, enjoying her dumbfounded look.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Richard knew he’d made the right decision when, even in the dimly lit hallway, he could see Violet’s brilliant smile. It was after two in the morning, and she was waiting for him outside Monique’s bedchamber, still dressed in her pink evening gown. The light from her lamp licked the tempting mounds framed by her neckline, highlighting the shadowed crevice between.

  “I wasn’t sure you would show,” she said in a whisper.

  “And let you have all the fun? I think not.”

  “I take back everything I ever said about you being stodgy.” Lips curved, she handed him the lamp and reached up to pluck a pair of hairpins from her coiffure. “The door is locked, but I think I can open it with this.”

  “Seeing as you’re a disciple of your brother Harry, I don’t doubt your skill. But this might be easier.” He removed the master key from his pocket.

  “By Golly, where did you get that?”

  “I may have borrowed it when I wandered into the butler’s pantry by accident.” If he was to engage in an adventure, he liked to go prepared.

  “You filched it?” She took the key from him as reverently as another miss might accept a jeweler’s box. “Jolly well done!”

  He stifled a grin at her compliment.

  Taking a swift look around the empty hallway, she slid the key in, turning the lock. They went inside and closed the door behind them. Richard didn’t think of himself as a fanciful sort, but an eerie stillness shrouded the room. The moonlight seeping in from a gap in the drapery was cold and sterile, adding to the tomb-like ambience.

  Violet shivered.

  Placing an arm around her shoulders, he said quietly, “Are you certain you want to do this?”

  “We’re out of leads. I must.” In the moonlight, her profile was resolute. “I’ll start with the bed and work clockwise. Why don’t you go in the opposite direction?”

  It was a sound plan, and they set off.

  Several minutes passed in which they didn’t speak, absorbed in their respective tasks. He heard Violet mutter the occasional gadzooks and crumpets to herself, which added a certain lightheartedness to an otherwise grim undertaking. As he examined the assorted trifles in a desk drawer, he had a flash of recognition: life with Violet would always be this way, infused with buoyancy and humor no matter what burdens they faced.

  And, by Jove, he wanted that future.

  “Carlisle, I think I found something!”

  Her excited whisper brought him over to where she stood before a bow-fronted wardrobe. The curved doors were open, its innards of silk and lace spilling out. She was on tiptoe, craning her neck this way and that.

  She pointed to the high shelf, which was crammed with millinery. “I think I see something there, behind that bonnet, at the very back. But I can’t reach it.”

  Richard removed the impeding headwear. Reaching in, his hands closed around a heavy rectangular object. He pulled it down.

  It was a mahogany box, the lid inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

  “It’s too big to be a jewelry chest,” Violet said eagerly. “I wonder what’s inside?”

  The bed was closest, so he placed the chest on its surface.

  “You do the honors,” he told her.

  Her features vivid with expectation, she lifted the lid of the box, letting it fall back on its hinges. Nestled in the top tray was a green Chinoiserie silk pouch and what appeared to be a delicate gold chain. She picked up the latter, and sudden heat prickled beneath Richard’s collar.

  Brow pleating, Violet held up the chain between thumb and index finger. There was a small, bejeweled clamp on each end, and they swung like twin pendulums.

  “This is the strangest necklace I’ve ever seen,” she said.

  He didn’t think it was a necklace. “Er, why don’t you put that back…”

  She was too busy fiddling with the clamps to listen to him. “Maybe it’s broken? This is the oddest clasp. The ends don’t fit together at all.”

  “Uh, Violet…”

  She tossed the chain onto the bedspread and pulled out the Chinoiserie pouch. “This is heavy. I wonder what’s inside.”

  Before he could stop her, she emptied the contents into her palm.

  “Now what do you think these are?” She held up the two golden balls, which rolled together sensuously in her palm.

  He swallowed. Twice.

  “Oh, I know.” Her eyes widened.

  “You, er, do?”

  “It must be for a performance. Juggling or some such thing. Although they’d be dashed difficult to manage given how small they are.”
She wriggled them around in her hand. “And they have the strangest weight to them…”

  “You might want to stop handling those.”

  “Why? Maybe I could learn to use them as Monique did.”

  Christ. Try as he might, he couldn’t block the image from forming in his mind. He went rock-hard.

  “Oh, look. There’s another tray beneath this one.” Idly jiggling the pleasure balls in one hand, Violet stuck the other in the box. “More circus equipment, perhaps? This one feels oddly shaped…”

  She yanked out a jade dildo.

  Richard’s every nerve caught fire. Lust paralyzed him as he saw her gaze travel over the large carved phallus clasped within her slim fingers, from its bulbous tip down its vein-girdled shaft, all the way to the smooth bulging balls. Recognition dawned across her expressive features—which he might have found comical had he any blood left in his brain. Every last ounce of it had plummeted to his groin, his erection throbbing with agonizing intensity.

  Violet let out a gasp, instinctively flinging the dildo away from her. It bounced onto the bed. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten the balls in her other hand and lost her grip on them. They dropped to the floor, hitting the boards with dangerously loud thuds and rolling beneath the bed.

  “Gadzooks, I—I have to get those!” Her eyes were panicked.

  She dove after them, sweeping her arm beneath the bed, and he had to close his eyes against the unholy temptation of her delicate ankles, her shapely stockinged legs, her pert and wriggling bottom.

  “Crumpets, I can’t reach them…” She crawled halfway beneath the bed, her skirts bunching up, revealing a flash of her garter, the bare skin just above.

  He was concentrating on not unmanning himself when she gave a hushed exclamation.

  “Carlisle… I think I found something else!”

  Perhaps this was God’s way of testing his self-control. “What is it?”

  “I accidentally pressed down on one of the floorboards, and it came loose. There’s a piece of paper hidden beneath…”

  She backed out from under the bed, clutching a folded piece of paper. He helped her to her feet, and they went over to the table with the lamp, spreading the paper on its surface. Together, they peered at the drawing.

  He stared at the detailed architectural rendering. “It’s a map of the house.”

  “What was Monique doing with this?” Violet said.

  He oriented himself to the various rooms on the map. “Look, that’s the library. And something’s circled there in red ink.”

  Violet leaned closer. “I think that’s the hearth. What are those two smudged red shapes in the margin next to it? They look like little clouds or something…”

  “I don’t know. But look here.” He traced a blunt fingertip along the red line that started from the hearth and ended…

  “That can’t be right.” A notch formed between her brows. “That line passes through the wall between the library and study, and I don’t recall there being a door between the two rooms.”

  Understanding sliced through him. “There isn’t. But I think this map is telling us that there might be another way in.”

  “You mean… a hidden passageway?” Her eyes were huge. “Oh, Richard, what do you think Monique was doing with this map? What was she planning?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” he said grimly.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A feeling of déjà vu pervaded Violet as she entered the dimly lit library, Richard ahead of her. As he strode off to make sure the room was unoccupied, her gaze was drawn to the bookshelves where they’d found Monique, and her stomach quivered. While she wanted desperately to find the true killer, her anticipation was tempered with disquiet: in retracing Monique’s footsteps, what were they going to discover?

  Her grip tightened on the map she’d found beneath the acrobat’s bed.

  Richard returned. “We’re alone for now. Let’s get started.”

  They went over to the ancient fireplace. Vi’s gaze travelled over the protruding ledge, and she shivered, even though the blood had been scrubbed from the stone. The majestic header swirled with flora and fauna, the plinths supporting the ledge ornately carved with blossoming roses.

  Richard was already running his hands over the mantelpiece. “Look for any hidden openings in the nearby walls,” he said.

  Setting down the map, Vi examined the dark paneled walls to the right and left of the fireplace. She smoothed her palms over the wood moldings and detected no secret entrance. Evidently, Richard had the same lack of results for he picked up the map again.

  “We’re missing something,” he muttered.

  She went to look at the plan with him. Something about the smudged red shapes in the margin continued to niggle at her. Pointing, she said, “What are those?”

  “They might just be inkblots.”

  “I don’t think so.” Squinting, she said, “The ink is smudged, but I see a rounded edge here and another there. It’s a drawing. Of a cloud or a…”

  “Flower.” They said it at the same time, their gazes colliding.

  “The roses on the plinth,” she breathed.

  He went to the plinth on the right side, she to the left. With care, she examined the stone roses: there were three, one facing forward, the other to the sides. She ran her fingers over the cold petals. Nothing special about the center rose… nor the one facing left. As she scrutinized the one facing inward toward the hearth, she noticed a thin fissure, nearly invisible, around one of the petals.

  The wear of time… or something else?

  “I’ve nothing on my side.” Richard’s voice came from behind her. “You?”

  She pushed on the petal, tried to jiggle it; it didn’t budge. “It’s probably nothing, but there’s a crack here…”

  “Let me have a look.”

  She moved aside to give him space.

  “I see what you mean.” He pushed on the petal, and nothing happened. Crouching, he looked at the underside of the flower. “Interesting. There’s another crack here, too, around a different petal…”

  He studied the flower, then he pushed down on the two petals simultaneously.

  Violet’s breath held as the stone sections depressed at his touch. A faint click… and the large panel to the left of the fireplace swung open.

  She rushed over. “By Golly, you found it! A hidden corridor.”

  He raised the lamp. Its flickering illumination revealed a narrow tunnel. “It looks like the corridor goes behind the walls, toward the study.”

  “Let’s find out—” She froze at the sound of laughter outside.

  “Christ. Get in the tunnel. Now.”

  “Wait. The map.” She dashed back to snatch the paper, which they’d left by the hearth. She ran back toward the tunnel, Richard pushing her inside and following her, closing the panel shut behind them… and just in time.

  She heard the door open to the library, the voices growing louder. The female tones she recognized as Mrs. Sumner’s. The male voice… she couldn’t be sure, but the cultured accents did not belong to Tobias Price. Apparently, the widow liked variety in her company. A flush heated Violet’s skin as conversation turned predictably into another sort of activity.

  Richard whispered in her ear, “They’re going to be at it for a while. We might as well see if the tunnel is true to the map and takes us to the study.”

  Collecting herself, Vi nodded. She led the way forward. She was keenly aware of Richard’s presence behind her, solid and reassuring.

  Turning to him, she said in hushed tones, “How far do you think this passageway goes?”

  “I have no idea.” He ducked his head to avoid hitting the ceiling, which had dropped even lower. “By Jove,” he muttered, “they could have made this a might roomier.”

  “Obviously whoever built this had little priests in mind. They weren’t planning for a man of your size.”

  “You have a problem with my size, Miss Kent?”

&nb
sp; At the gleam in his eyes, warmth stirred in her belly, her awareness of him humming through her veins. The musty air suddenly turned quite humid. She faced forward so he wouldn’t see her looking flustered. “Don’t go fishing for compliments. We have more important oof—”

  Her slipper caught on something that clanked, and she pitched forward, the ground coming up at her with terrifying speed. Richard caught her, yanking her back. He held her against his rock-hard physique.

  “Have a care, lass,” he murmured against her ear.

  Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs. “I—I tripped on something.”

  He raised the lamp, illuminating a dark bag that lay on the ground a few feet away. She retrieved it, her fingers closing around supple leather wrapped around some hard objects. Her mind flew back to the contents of the box she’d found in Monique’s room. Although she didn’t fully understand the function of those objects—why would anyone want a statue of a man’s thingamabob?—she had an inkling that their purpose was salacious.

  She thrust the pouch at Richard. “You open it,” she blurted.

  His mouth twitched. Wordlessly, he exchanged the lamp for the bag and released the drawstring, drawing out the contents. She stared at the thin metal rods he held, each with a uniquely shaped head.

  “Lock picks,” he said tersely.

  His assessment confirmed her own. “Where do you think they came from?”

  “My guess is that Monique left them here.” His voice was grim. “She got what she wanted and ditched her incriminating tools.”

  “What was it that she wanted?” Vi said.

  He gestured ahead; she saw that they’d reached the end of the corridor, and there was a panel similar to the one they’d entered through in the library.

  “We’re at the study, so my guess is that she was after something in there. Something that you would use these,”—his hand closed on the lock picks—“to access.”

  Understanding hit her. “You think there’s an iron box in the study?”

  “That we’ll have to find out from Billings—”

  A door suddenly slammed, the walls of the corridor vibrating. Men’s muffled voices came from the other side of the panel. Violet’s heart drummed in her ears.