Truth about Leo

by Katie MacAlister

  “Well, that proves that something is wrong,” Gillian said, her brow wrinkled with thought. “Who would seal a coffin in such a way unless he had something to hide? The question is, what exactly is that something? Surely there can’t be anything amiss with the body of his sister?”

  “I think, my dear, Leo is hinting that perhaps what’s amiss is the lack of a body,” Noble said thoughtfully.

  Leo nodded. “That is exactly what I’ve come to suspect.”

  “But where is it then?” Plum asked, looking confused. “What did Philip do with her?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Plum’s expression was almost comically shocked. “You don’t mean he just dumped her out in the wilds for the animals to scavenge?”

  “No, I mean there wasn’t a body to be disposed of.”

  “Leo,” Plum said firmly, giving him a sympathetic look. “There is a body. You saw it. Dagmar saw it. For heaven’s sake, you witnessed the poor woman’s murder! How can you say there isn’t a body when there must be?”

  “Because what we saw was a cleverly planned, and exquisitely performed, farce.” Leo smiled at Dagmar and let a little of his lustful thoughts show in his eyes, enough so that she suddenly sat up straight and blushed adorably.

  “Louisa Hayes isn’t dead?” Thom asked, clearly drawn into the conversation despite her better intentions. “Why did she pretend to be so?”

  “That is something I have yet to understand,” Leo admitted. “But given what Dagmar’s companion said, and the fact that Philip Dalton must have come close to straining a muscle getting to the room where Dagmar and I were closeted with the coffin as quickly as he did, as well as the fact that the coffin itself is sealed against any and all prying eyes, leads me to believe that what we witnessed was one giant, elaborate hoax. For some yet unknown reason, Philip Dalton and his sister wanted to make us believe that she was killed by Dagmar’s companion.”

  “That makes even less sense than Mrs. Deworthy wanting to kill her,” Plum protested. Dagmar looked thoughtful and opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated and frowned at her hands instead.

  “Why would they do that? What would they have to gain by such a conspiracy?” Harry asked.

  “They must have had a reason for doing so,” Gillian said, glancing at her husband. “But I will admit to being a few steps behind everyone else and confused about just how they pulled this wool over your eyes. Dagmar was very detailed when she told us about the events, and it seemed quite clear that Mrs. Hayes was dead.”

  “She looked dead,” Dagmar agreed.

  “Ah, but looks can be deceiving. And if you recall, Dalton made very certain that neither you or I were allowed to get close to her.”

  “That’s true,” Dagmar said, her lips pursing. Leo had to fight with the urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her off to bed where he would sate himself upon her lovely body until they were both exhausted…but then he remembered his bad arm, which forced him to amend the urge to simply sweeping her along with one arm, but even that idea was fraught with difficulties, because Dagmar was sure to insist on seeing to his wound before he could get down to the sating, and might even refuse to let him do all the things that he planned to do because it might hurt his shoulder. He smiled at her again, trying to indicate the fact that he was simultaneously warmed by the thought that she put his welfare so high, and confident that he knew his own limitations and wouldn’t push past them on his quest to make her the most sexually satisfied woman who had ever lived. He put all of that and more into his smile.

  “Leo, are you feeling all right? You look as if you’re about to have a fit,” was the response to all that effort. Dagmar rose and came to his side, placing one cool hand on the back of his neck. “Is your fever back?”

  “No, and I am not about to have a fit. Really, woman! That is not the sort of thing a man likes to have said in front of his friends. Besides, I’m not the sort of person to have a fit. I’ve never had a fit. I never will have a fit. And stop feeling my head. I don’t have a fever either. Go sit down and await the satiation to come.”

  She blinked, cocked her head to the side, and said, “Did you just chastise me in front of my friends?”

  “Yes. We’re even—my humiliation for your chastisement. Sit.” He leaned over and kissed her loudly, adding in a softer voice, “Please.”

  “You’re a very odd man sometimes, Leo. I find that I like that about you.” She patted him on the cheek, beamed at the interested audience, and resumed her seat.

  “My German goatherd will never chastise me in front of others,” Thom said to no one.

  Nick growled to himself, then suddenly leaped to his feet, stomped over to where Thom was sitting in an armless chair, pulled her to her feet, gave her a kiss almost identical in audible levels to the one Leo had just bestowed in Dagmar, then sat down, pulling Thom onto his lap.

  Leo decided to ignore them and continued on with his summation of the situation. “Dagmar and I have come to the agreement that it would be wise to look in that coffin. I believe that the proof we seek will be in there—or rather, not in there. To that end, I propose that a small group of us do something quite reprehensible.”

  “Excellent!” Harry said, rubbing his hands, his eyes alight behind his spectacles. “I am at your service.”

  “You don’t know what it is Leo wishes to do,” Plum pointed out.

  “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t done anything reprehensible in a very long time.”

  “I will be available for assistance, as well,” Noble offered. “I assume Nick will be happy to lend his aid too, which he’d probably tell you except he’s busy kissing my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”

  “I’m your man,” Nick managed to say before Thom grabbed his ears and kissed him for all she was worth.

  “Very good,” Dagmar said, standing and brushing her skirts. “I’m sure the other ladies will be just as thrilled to join you as I am. Eight people makes a good number for the breaking in of coffins, don’t you think?”

  “No!” Leo was filled with a desperate knowledge that Dagmar would forever leave him feeling as if the floor had suddenly dropped out from under him. “Eight is far, far too many. Four is good. Four is the right number for breaking into a coffin. Isn’t it, Nick? Er…Harry?”

  “It is, it is indeed the requisite number,” Harry said, nodding. Plum pinched him. “Plum, you’re going to leave a bruise if you continue with that sort of behavior. And if you do that, I won’t be able to perform Conquistador in Sandstorm Seeking Shelter as you demanded I do this evening.”

  Plum turned bright red and smacked him on the arm. “There are times, Harry, when I see exactly where your boys get their manners. Stop deliberately embarrassing me and help Leo come to the point where he graciously agrees that we will accompany him.”

  “You know full well that we’re not going to let you men go off and have adventures without us,” Gillian said, patting Noble on the leg. He gave her a long, slow look that had her cheeks turning a little pink too.

  “That’s right. Leo said I was his partner in covert activities, and if there is anything more covert than breaking into a man’s home and rifling through his coffin, I don’t know what is.” Dagmar gave him a look that warmed him like the sun in the middle of an August day.

  Leo made a few more protests, but in his heart, he knew the cause was a lost one. He could no more deny Dagmar a desire than he could cut off his own arm, and besides, he had a plan in mind that would guarantee the safety of the ladies.

  “If we’re going to do this,” he said after a moment’s thought and mental shrug at his lack of common sense, “we might as well do it in the proper style. Nick, if you could tear yourself away from your bride-to-be for a short while, I’d like your company. Harry, I have a job for you too. Dagmar, my darling, if I asked you to stay here while I left you for an hour or two at most, wou
ld you do so?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  “He’s going to go peek in that coffin!” Gillian exclaimed.

  “No, he isn’t,” Dagmar told her. “He knows that we all want to help. He must have some other task in mind that we can’t help with, and so, yes, I will stay here with the ladies. I trust you, Leo.”

  He honestly couldn’t love her more than he did at that moment in time. She was everything he could ever have wanted in a woman—large breasts, a slightly warped sense of wit, a fine appreciation of pornographic literature, and most of all, a brain that worked day and night to keep him on his toes. He loved that brain. “Quite right, my adorable one. We will be back as soon as possible. In the meantime, you ladies can do a few things to help ensure that our visit to Chez Dalton is the success we hope it to be.”

  Sixteen

  It is important for a princess to remember that she is held to higher standards than other women, and in particular, her dealing with people; she must endeavor with all her being to be gracious to everyone, no matter how trying she believes they are. It need not be mentioned that a gracious princess is not a princess who puts an irritating powder into her cousin’s wigs and clothing, and then tells his entire court that he has leprosy.

  —Princess Christian of Sonderburg-Beck’s Guide for Her Daughter’s Illumination and Betterment

  Sometime later, three black closed carriages came to a stop a block away from Philip Dalton’s house. Two of the carriages disgorged the conspirators from Plum and Harry’s library, while the third unburdened itself of two large men, and one shrinking, small woman who gave a muffled shriek of happiness as soon as her feet touched the ground.

  “Oh, my dearest, my most dearest Princess Dagmar! You have worked a miracle, a veritable miracle! I cannot ever hope to make you understand just how happy I am to see you and how grateful I am that you have made the authorities see reason at long last.”

  Dagmar was as pleased to see her friend as the latter was to be released. She met Julia’s hug with a tight one of her own. “And we are delighted to see you too, although all the gratitude must go to Leo since it was he who went to Lord Salter and had the governor persuaded that you would be safe enough in our care until you have to return to gaol.”

  Julia jerked in her embrace and turned her face away, but not before Dagmar caught a look of fury in her friend’s eyes. Before she could point out that an outright release, rather than the parole Leo had arranged, was out of the question without proof of just who did kill Louisa Hayes—assuming she was actually dead—Julia’s expression was back to her normal vapid look, and she was gushing her thanks to Leo.

  It was all very curious and made her feel uneasy. Was Julia just distressed by her recent incarceration, and thus annoyed that she hadn’t been released outright as she evidently believed, or was there a more sinister explanation? Dagmar pulled her cloak tighter, trying to convince herself that it was nothing but the moody environment around them.

  Moody, she decided a moment later while glancing around them, was an understatement. Downright eerie worked better as a description. The street was silent now that two of the three coaches had moved off, the clip-clopping echoes of the horses’ hooves on cobblestone fading into nothing. A few torn bits of paper whispered along the street, driven by the odd eddy of wind, but Dagmar could almost imagine a ghostly hand lifting and tossing the paper about.

  Gas lighting had reached this section of town, but the lampposts were scarce, and their light, a sickly yellow, did little to chase away the darkness.

  Dagmar shook her head at her fancies, taking Leo’s good hand and huddling next to him with the others while he gave explanations.

  “Mrs. Deworthy and the two Runners will stay here at the carriages. If all goes as we think it will, we’ll send for you once we are ready to confront Dalton.”

  “Please don’t part me from my dearest princess,” Julia begged, tugging at his sleeve. “Can you not see your way clear to including me in your party? I will be as quiet as a church mouse and will behave in no way that would justify the hire of these two men.”

  Dagmar glanced at the two Bow Street Runners that Lord Salter had insisted Leo engage to watch over Julia. Both men looked bored, and she couldn’t blame them.

  Leo hesitated. Dagmar leaned into him and said softly, “I appreciate the fact that you are merely complying with Lord Salter’s terms for Julia’s release to our custody, but I don’t think those gentlemen are needed. She’s not going to run away, if that’s what he fears, and will certainly be safe enough with all of us.”

  Leo continued to hesitate, his eyes moving from her to Julia before he agreed, gesturing the two Runners to the side for a brief consultation. The men nodded and returned to the carriage, leaving them in the silent darkness of the wee hours of the morning.

  “Thank you,” Julia said breathily and clutched at Dagmar’s free arm.

  “Does everyone understand what they are to do?” Leo asked in a whisper. The street was as silent as a tomb, and even the whisper seemed to skitter along it, gathering volume. Dagmar shivered, more from nerves and excitement than from the cold, and pressed closer to her husband. What a nice man she had found. When she considered that anyone could have turned up in her back garden, she was doubly thankful that it was Leo who had found his way there. She smiled at him, causing him to check in mid-sentence and give her a warning look that was more than a little tinged with desire.

  “As you know,” he continued, squeezing her hand in acknowledgment of the little skitter of attraction between them, “stealth is going to be uppermost in importance. I don’t even want to contemplate what I would say should Dalton discover us in his sitting room tampering with his sister’s coffin, so above all else, be quiet. Do not speak unless necessary. Do you all have your candles?”

  There was a rustle of clothing as several hands were pushed into pockets to pull out various candles and small lamps.

  “Very well. Nick and I have our tinderboxes, and we’ll light the candles once we get into the room. You all know your parts, yes?”

  “Plum and I are guards,” Gillian said softly. “We will be stationed at the door leading into the house, listening for sounds of any approach.”

  “I am to hold the tools and pass them out as needed,” Dagmar said with a little fillip of pride that Leo had chosen her to assist him, rather than the more mundane task of waiting by the door. She held up a small cloth sack that thunked suggestively until she put a controlling hand on its body.

  “Thom and I will help cut off the seals,” Nick said.

  “And Noble and I will lift off the lid and examine the remains, assuming there is something to see,” Harry finished. “We are also ready to engage in fisticuffs, should the need arise.”

  Plum stared at him. “Why would you need to do so?”

  Harry shrugged. “It’s been my experience that just when you think you have a good, solid grip on life, it goes off down a path you didn’t anticipate. Fisticuffs fixes many of the problems that arise when that happens.”

  “Personal philosophy aside, I doubt we’ll have need for you and Noble to engage in battle, but your offer is duly noted. Mrs. Deworthy, I have your word that you will remain in the background?”

  “Oh, yes, yes you do, you most certainly do,” Julia said eagerly, her eyes bright with excitement. Dagmar felt foolish for imagining that Julia could be anything but the woman she had always been.

  “Very well, then we will proceed. Nick, if you would bring up the rear, we’ll go in single file, with the ladies in the middle. Remember! Stealth is key.”

  Getting to the window that opened into the sitting room where the coffin resided was no trouble. They were as stealthy as their number of people could be, with only tiny little outbreaks of stifled giggles that ended as soon as Leo manipulated the large multipaned window to swing open; however, the sight of th
e coffin glinting in the light of the lantern that Nick held up sobered them all. One by one, the ladies were lifted over the windowsill, the men following until they all huddled together in a corner of the sitting room, their faces white and strained in the dim light of Nick’s lamp.

  Dagmar had only a vague memory of the room, since most of her attention had been focused on the casket during her visit there earlier in the day. But she had a sketchy memory of the coffin being supported by two small octagonal tables, flanked by a couple chairs and a sofa in gold-and-green brocade, and two medium-sized Chinese vases on wooden plinths stationed on either side of the marble fireplace. As Leo lit his candle from Nick’s lamp, he lifted it to cast light on the room. The shadows from the bulky vases were thick and impenetrable. Dagmar shivered again, wondering if it was possible for someone to hide in those shadows, remaining unseen until an unwary person stepped within reach.

  Then there was the coffin. She’d never been one to be afraid of the dead, but at that moment, she eyed the solid, hulking mass of the coffin with the perfect memory of every horrific gothic novel she’d ever read. What would she do if the lid slowly opened and a skeletal hand darted out to clutch at her? What if the body of Louisa, bloody and rotting, suddenly sat up and shrieked? What if some unnamed terror lurked within, just waiting for them to release it?

  “Right,” Leo said, taking a deep breath and luckily breaking the spell of terror that Dagmar was quickly wrapping around herself. His voice sounded as if it had been stretched thin, but Dagmar greeted it with a shaky laugh to herself. “Light your candles, and then to your posts.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” Gillian said from the doorway, giving Leo a brief salute.

  “Gillian!” Plum said, outrage evident in her whisper. A sniffing noise followed. “You’ve been drinking!”

  “No I haven’t.”

  “I can smell it on you!”

  “Oh, that. It was just a little nip from Noble’s flask. I was chilly.”

  “You’re inebriated!”