She suppressed her smile for she, too, had wanted more.
“Mrs. Weatheringham said something that struck me as strange,” he added.
“What was that, sir?”
“She said she has known Daniel Trenton for years. If so, she must also know you.” His gaze speared hers. “Yet, when I questioned her, she prevaricated, and said I should ask you about the connection.”
“I only recently met Mrs. Weatheringham, Miss Wood, and Daniel. However, I have come to the conclusion that they have my best interests at heart.”
“This association grows ever wider and more complicated, Ben.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“You were a friend of Mrs. Helen Beaumont. Rose is the main suspect in that woman’s murder, and she is a friend of Mrs. Weatheringham and Daniel, as are you. Which begs the question, what drew all of you to Mrs. Beaumont?”
Phillip came close to discovering the truth. How much longer could she keep him from uncovering the Rue Alliance’s connection? Working at cross-purposes seemed such a waste.
Phillip placed his forearms on the table and leaned toward her. “If you know about Rose’s role in this mystery, please tell me. Her life is of paramount importance to me, Ben. She does not trust me enough yet. Will you?”
Rose thoughtfully followed a jagged line on the scarred and cracked tabletop with her forefinger, debating how much she could safely reveal of the Rue Alliance’s secrets. The alliance members’ greatest fear was discovery. But if she wanted Phillip to trust Ben, she must show him that Ben trusted Phillip. “Helen was a friend to us all. She had a kind heart and a lively mind. She had traveled widely and told many fascinating tales.”
Phillip was listening intently.
“When she died, sir, Mrs. Weatheringham contacted Lady Roselyn.”
“Through Miss Wood in the park,” Phillip said, proving not much slipped past this man.
How long would it be before he uncovered all of her secrets? Including her ability to change her shape. And once he did, could he still love her? Or would he see her as a monster?
“She was not a friend of Rose’s grandmother as she stated, was she?” he asked.
“No.” His net was closing around her. A part of Rose welcomed it. She wanted to drop Ben’s guise right this minute and reveal herself to this man. Because, as much as Phillip professed to love her, she adored him and wanted no more secrets between them. As there had been no physical barriers between them last night. “It was Miss Wood and Lady Roselyn’s first meeting. Miss Wood came on behalf of her employer, Mrs. Weatheringham, who was worried for Lady Roselyn’s safety. She wanted Daniel to act as her watchman.”
“How do you fit into this mismatched group?”
Rose broke eye contact, her head dropping in defeat. Wishes were not permissions. And other people’s safety was on the line here. She could no more put someone else in danger than she could stop loving Phillip. “I cannot tell you that, sir.”
Phillip sat back with a heavy sigh.
“I am sorry. All I can say is that we are all on the same quest. To find Helen’s killer.”
Worry steeped into Phillip’s brown eyes.
“I mean your lady no harm, sir.” Rose glanced back up in heartfelt entreaty. “I promise you that.”
A crooked smile played about Phillip’s lips and was reflected in his eyes. “Heaven help me, Ben, I believe you. I cannot imagine why. Perhaps it is your innocent countenance or that inexhaustible courage you show when dealing with matters you have no experience in. At moments like this, you remind me of my cousin Rufus. He, too, often foolishly endangered himself in a bid to protect me. And nothing I could say or do would persuade him to act otherwise.”
Phillip’s expression turned serious as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “You are as important to me as Rufus. In fact, I feel as if you are as much a part of my family.”
She bit her bottom lip to still its trembling.
“Enough of this maudlin talk,” Phillip said. “We have work to do.”
“Work, sir?”
“I have an appointment onboard the Lady Tourville.”
“Why?”
“Word came this morning from her captain that a body was discovered buried inside a barrel of salt in the cargo hold. Seems one of his crewmen had been killed and preserved there for several weeks. Since the death of Mrs. Beaumont occurred shortly after the Lady Tourville arrived in port, it behooves us to check on this matter to see if there is any connection between the two cases. Also, there was something odd about this dead sailor.”
“What, sir? And why did the vessel crew not notice one of their men missing during their voyage?” Rose asked.
“Exactly the question that crossed my mind. You are becoming quite the investigator, Ben Turner. Only it turns out that the man had not been missing at all. He had been on the voyage with them from France.”
“How can that be?” she asked, shocked.
Phillip’s brow creased. “Someone impersonated him, of course. But how could this imposter fool the dead man’s comrades so well?”
Rose sucked in her breath, for only one answer came immediately to mind. A shifter could easily have taken the place of the dead seaman. Though holding a shift for weeks was an incredible feat. Rose grew tired after a few hours of being Ben. It would have to be someone very strong. And the strongest shifter she knew was Eve. But Eve was dead. Could there be another who was as powerful? She shivered.
“What is it?” Phillip said. “Do you know something?”
She avoided his gaze.
“Ben, do you recall what I said last night about a possible shape-shifter in London?” At her nod, he added, “This story of the dead sailor might be the evidence you said we need to prove my far-fetched theory right.”
He waited a moment, as if for her to argue with him. When she did not, he said, “If you thought my last theory ludicrous, I have another one that tops it.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “What could be more startling than people who can shape-shift?”
“I begin to suspect that Evelyn Ravenstock, Lady Roselyn’s thought to be deceased sister, is still alive and back in London. And that she is our shape-shifter.”
At her shocked silence, Phillip stood. “Come, let us be off. I wish to question as many sailors as we can before Lady Tourville leaves port. It is due to sail back to France tonight. If there is a sensible solution to this mystery, I vow I will discover it before this day is done.”
Rose’s mind was awhirl as they set off back to Wapping. Eve? Alive? As swiftly as her heart warmed at the possibility her sister had returned to her, it cooled as she remembered the manner of Helen’s brutal death.
She took off her top hat and wiped at her perspiring forehead. Her head throbbed as her terrible suspicion built that Eve was still alive. That she was here, in London. That she had impersonated Rose and killed Helen.
Phillip suddenly stopped and pried her hat from her clenched fists. It was mangled almost beyond redemption. Once he straightened the hat, he looked inside it at the paper stuffed up its brim to keep it from sliding down her forehead and then handed the creased contraption back to her. “What is the matter?”
Eve might be alive! She held the hat in her trembling hold, and muttered, “Nothing, sir.”
“You will have to confide in me sooner or later,” he said in a soft voice. “When you do, you will find that I will not let you down.”
Was Eve capable of killing Helen? And that sailor? Had she planned to kill her, too, at the Lockhart’s masque? No. The woman there had ordered her henchman to carry Rose out of the house. Eve loved her. Her sister would never hurt her. Of that, at least, Rose was certain. But she could not swear that Eve was incapable of hurting other people.
Rose trailed after
Phillip to the ship and listened to his conversations with the sailors in a semi daze, while the idea that Eve was back leached into her like a slow-acting poison.
Chapter Thirteen
ROSE ARRIVED home in a carriage with Phillip, who then planned to carry on to his mother’s home, comforted that Ben would watch over his beloved. She had not seen Daniel since leaving the tavern. She assumed he was on his way back.
Stony let her in. Before he could speak, she hurried across the foyer to the library.
“I must speak with Miss Wood,” she said over her shoulder. “See that we are not disturbed.”
Drained from the emotional shock she received at contemplating a world with Eve in it, she allowed her face to drift back to her normal looks. It was safe enough to do so here. Everyone in this house knew about her ability, even Hannah. Rose entered the library. “Miss Wood?”
The room seemed brighter with the windows opened, and the air smelled lemony fresh. Several shelves were packed with volumes while the floor was littered with open, half-filled boxes of books.
The young librarian’s head appeared over the top of a tall shelf. “Lady Roselyn, you are home.” She descended the wooden rungs of the ladder in a clatter of steps. “I purchased the most divine ribbons for your gown. Mary is working with it. The gown should be ready for this evening’s festivities.” She wove her way between the boxes to halt in front of Rose and smiled warmly. “Did your visit with Sir Phillip go well?”
“Before we discuss that, I have a promise to uphold.” Rose pulled off her necklace. “This is the amulet I mentioned that can detect someone who has shifted.”
“The Cimaruta.” Miss Wood’s normally studious face was wreathed with interest as she adjusted her spectacles. “I was hoping you would show it to me soon.”
Rose held the medallion out. “It is a sprig of rue inlaid in silver with symbols at the end of each branch.”
“Beautiful,” Miss Wood said in a gush of breath. “Rue is known as the ‘herb of grace.’ The plant has long been thought to possess magical properties.”
Rose gestured for the librarian to sit in an armchair and took a seat nearby. “This amulet, and another similar to it, were given to my sister Eve and myself when we first manifested our talents.” Eve might be alive. That phrase had replayed in her mind all the way home, while her emotions rocked between joy and despair.
“How does it work?”
“It warms to the touch. Try it. I am too weary to shift into Ben, but you could adjust your sight.”
Miss Wood laid her spectacles on her lap. She held the amulet at arm’s length while her eyes changed shape. Her squint disappeared and her gaze seemed to focus with acuity on the Cimaruta. Then, with a cry, she dropped the amulet. “It burns.”
Rose retrieved the Cimaruta by its string.
Miss Wood was clutching her head, her eyes scrunched.
“Are you all right?” Rose asked, worried the amulet had harmed her.
“Yes, it is just my talent. I always cringe when I use it.”
“It strengthens your sight,” Rose said gently, remembering how Miss Wood had called her ability a curse. “I would have thought you would find that a blessing.”
The librarian opened her eyes and looked at the amulet. Though she still squinted as if her head pained her, a light of interest was back in her eyes. “I wonder what activates it, the silver or the rue.”
Rose hid her smile. A rat on the hunt for cheese, indeed. Phillip had branded her accurately. The lady was a born researcher with an inquisitive mind, seeking to form connections where another might see naught but a random link of metal and plant. “Could the two elements be working together? Rue grows in my back garden. The plant has been there as far back as I remember. My grandmother said that the European bride of my great-great-grandfather brought it with her as a reminder of her heritage.” She turned the amulet over in her hands. It was cool again. “It is possible the plant plays the stronger role.”
“I wonder if that is why Helen chose the name Rue Alliance for us?”
“Could she have possessed an amulet like mine?”
“Helen did have an uncanny way of knowing when someone had shifted,” Miss Wood said. “But she never showed me anything like this. Lady Roselyn, may I study it?”
Rose clutched it, the amulet’s hard edges pressing into her palm. “Now, more than ever, I should keep this close, so that when the rogue shifter approaches, I will be warned.” Even if it was Eve.
“I understand,” Miss Wood said with a pensive look. “How about if I study it only while you are safe within this house? The moment you need to leave, I shall return it.”
The suggestion was reasonable. Rose wanted to learn more about the amulet and its powers. Then maybe it could be replicated for the other alliance members.
Miss Wood put on her spectacles. “It would help to have it with me for comparison against any drawings I find.”
Rose shook her head, reluctant to release it so soon after being attacked. “I am sorry, but I would like to keep this with me for a little while longer.”
The librarian nodded in understanding, though she appeared acutely disappointed.
Guilt flooded her and Rose relented. Partially. “You may trace it. That should not take long.”
Though she was massaging the side of her temple as if it ached, the lady’s eyes widened with enthusiasm. “I am a fair hand at sketching.”
“I must change out of Ben’s clothes.” Rose forced herself to hand over the amulet. For the last time, she silently vowed. “Would you be finished by the time I return downstairs?”
Miss Wood agreed to work fast. “And thank you for confiding in us about the amulet.”
“I decided today that these killings must stop. If uncovering the secret of the amulet will help us do that, so be it.”
“Killings?” Miss Wood asked. “There has been another death?”
“A sailor on a vessel docked near where Helen was killed. Phillip believes the two incidents might be related. I go to discuss the matter with Mrs. Weatheringham now.”
She bid the young librarian goodbye and hurried out the door. If Eve had survived . . . and was behind this murder and mayhem, Rose needed to decide what she was going to do.
Upstairs, she discovered that Mrs. Weatheringham had retired for a short sleep. Disappointed, Rose changed into a gown and returned to collect her amulet, only to find a note from Miss Wood in the library saying that she had gone upstairs for a quick lie-down as her megrim had grown worse. But she promised to work on the drawing and have the amulet back to Rose within the hour.
A knock on the library door announced Stony.
“My lady,” he said on entering. “You have a visitor. I told ’er you were busy, but she would not listen. Said she would wait for you.”
“Who is it?”
“Name of Rochester. Since Mr. Daniel is not back yet and Mrs. Weatheringham is resting, I placed ’er in the drawin’ room. She has been in there for twenty minutes. Did I do all right, my lady?”
“Yes,” Rose said with a sigh. Being back in society had its pitfalls. People were eager to encourage her acquaintance. “Stony,” she said as he walked with her to the drawing room door.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Stay close.”
“Yes, my lady.” He positioned himself beside the drawing room door.
Upon entering that room, she immediately noticed the amount of care that had gone into making it respectable. She must remember to thank Pollard. Rose’s home now looked bright and cheerful. The ceiling carvings had been dusted of cobwebs and wiped clean to reveal colorful murals. Portraits and pictures adorned all the walls, except for above the fireplace mantel. That remained empty. A framed picture rested against the fireplace, its back to the room. Perhaps awaiting her approval
on the choice of portrait.
“Your house has undergone a remarkable transformation,” Mrs. Rochester said.
Rose swung around to find her guest standing by the window. “Good afternoon. I had not expected to see you so soon after the ball. Does Miss Warwick keep well?”
Mrs. Rochester’s gaze traveled from Rose’s bound hair to her silk slippers and the woman’s lips curled in disdain. “Your manner of dress is still out of fashion, my dear. No doubt, in time, you will visit a seamstress to procure the latest cut in gowns and accessories.”
Rose self-consciously touched her dress. And then her head rose in defiance. She had not invited this upstart into her home. And she was perfectly presentable, if not fashionably attired. But even if she was wearing a burlap dress, how dare this woman criticize her in her own home?
She wanted to tell her to leave. But with effort, she silenced that wish and instead politely explained, “It has been a while since I have been out in society. As you say, it will take some time before I become acquainted with current fashion.”
“You have the brass to order all that you desire. Your grandmother left you her wealth, did she not?”
An angry flush heated Rose’s cheeks. She glanced at the refreshments on the center table sitting untouched, the tea cooling. She and her staff had done all that was polite and yet this woman had the audacity to berate her. About to order Stony to escort this intruder out, Rose hesitated. She had never warmed to Mrs. Rochester or Miss Warwick.
She remembered Phillip saying that Miss Warwick could not be the woman who attacked Rose at the ball. So that left only one other choice. Fear scurried up her spine and she inched toward the door.
Her uninvited guest’s intense focus was directed outside the window, into Rose’s back garden.
Could this be the shape-shifter?
A Devilish Slumber Page 21
