Nightingale slouched off around the hedge without waiting for a response.
There was a short silence. When he was certain they were alone again, Tobias took Lavinia’s arm and started toward the bright lights of the ballroom.
“There is something I have been meaning to tell you,” Lavinia said quietly.
“A shudder of dread passes through me whenever you say those words, madam.”
“It is about Mrs. Rushton, Banks’s heir.”
“What about her?”
“I suspect that she may be involved in this in some manner.”
He stopped and turned so that he could examine her face in the glow that spilled from the ballroom windows. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“I may have neglected to mention that after we got Banks’s name from Tredlow this afternoon, Emeline and I called at the Banks mansion.”
“Yes, you certainly did neglect to mention that little tidbit,” he said evenly. “Why?”
She made a face. “If you must know, I was saving it for a surprise.”
“Allow me to inform you, Lavinia,” he said, aware of a painful tightness in his jaw, “that there is nothing I hate more than a surprise in the course of an investigation.”
“Yes, well, it was only a small one,” she muttered. “I suppose I wanted to impress you. Or maybe simply make a point.”
“What the devil is your point?”
Irritation flared in her eyes. “My point is that you are forever assuming the role of instructor and expert in our partnership. Always going off to consult your private connections. Connections, I might add, that you refuse to introduce to me.”
“Damn it, Lavinia-”
“I wanted to demonstrate that I was perfectly capable of conducting my share of an investigation.”
He said nothing.
“You need not look at me like that, Tobias. We are equals in this partnership, and I have every right to pursue my own inquiries when the opportunities present themselves.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Calling at the Banks mansion was a perfectly logical thing to do. After all, Mrs. Rushton might be a suspect.”
“A suspect? Mrs. Rushton?”
“You are the one who has pointed out on more than one occasion that heirs sometimes grow impatient.” Triumph blazed in her eyes. “Furthermore, if she is not a suspect, she may well be a potential client. After all, as a victim of theft, she has a great interest in recovering the Medusa. She may be persuaded to pay us a fee to find it for her.”
He could not quarrel with her logic, he thought. But that did nothing to improve his temper.
“Did you speak to Mrs. Rushton?” he asked.
“No. She was out for the afternoon.”
“I see.” He relaxed slightly.
“Taking her weekly mesmeric treatment,” Lavinia added very deliberately. “It seems the lady suffers from delicate nerves.”
He could see that she was extremely pleased with herself. “The news that Mrs. Rushton is taking treatments from a mesmerist is your big surprise?”
Her delight faded to a disgruntled expression. “You must admit that it is a striking connection.”
“Lavinia, half of London takes mesmeric treatments for nerves or rheumatism.”
“Not half.” She glared. “You must admit that there is more than a mere hint of a coincidence here. Our case involves a dead woman who was intimately associated with the practice of mesmerism, and now we have a possible suspect who takes mesmeric treatments. I intend to investigate Mrs. Rushton more closely.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
He gripped the edge of the terrace wall while he contemplated the possibilities.
“I will accompany you,” he said finally.
“Thank you, but that is not necessary.” She gave a disdainful little sniff. “I can handle this by myself.”
“I have no doubt of that, madam.” He smiled coldly. “But I cannot resist the opportunity to watch you at work. Perhaps you are right. I may have been overlooking your contributions to this partnership. It is time I paid attention to see if I can learn a few things from you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lavinia and Tobias were ushered into Lord Banks’s hushed, heavily draped drawing room shortly after two the following afternoon.
The interior of the mansion was even more depressing than the exterior, Lavinia thought. The colors were muddy and dark; the items of furniture, large, heavy, and old-fashioned.
A severe-looking woman of indeterminate years sat reading a book near the window. She was dressed in somber brown bombazine. A handsome, decorative chatelaine, with several keys attached, hung from a cord at her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a tight knot.
“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Rushton said in uninviting tones.
She put down her book and peered first at Lavinia, with a distinct lack of interest. But when she switched her attention to Tobias, her expression brightened immediately.
Rather like a cat that has just spotted a bird in the garden, Lavinia thought.
“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Lavinia said more coldly than she had intended. “We will try not to take too much of your time, but we feel certain you will be interested in what we have to say.”
“Please, sit down.” Mrs. Rushton smiled very warmly at Tobias as she motioned her guests to the brown sofa.
Lavinia seated herself, but Tobias went to take up his favored position at the nearest window, putting what little light seeped into the room behind him, as was his habit.
“I shall come straight to the point,” Lavinia said. “My associate, Mr. March, and I are in the business of conducting private inquiries.”
That information succeeded in distracting Mrs. Rushton briefly from Tobias. She blinked a couple of times at Lavinia. “I don’t understand. I thought Bow Street Runners handled that sort of thing.”
“We are employed by a more exclusive sort of clientele than that which patronizes Bow Street,” Lavinia said.
“I see.” Mrs. Rushton looked blank.
“Persons of quality who insist upon the utmost discretion come to us,” Lavinia added by way of clarification.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tobias’s mouth twitch in that very annoying fashion that made her want to grind her teeth. She paid no attention. It was important to establish the proper impression upon a potential client. She understood such things, even if he did not.
“Indeed.” Mrs. Rushton’s attention drifted back toward Tobias. “How interesting.”
“At the moment,” Lavinia said icily, “we are searching for a killer.”
“Good heavens.” Mrs. Rushton put a hand to her bosom. Her eyes widened. “How very bizarre. I have never heard of ladies pursuing that sort of career.”
“It is rather uncommon,” Lavinia agreed. “But that is neither here nor there. Please allow me to explain our business with you. Mr. March and I have reason to believe that a woman who was murdered recently stole something of considerable value from this household shortly before her death.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Rushton stared at her. “But that is impossible. I assure you that no one has broken into this house.” She looked around quickly. “See for yourself. The silver is still here. Nothing is missing.”
“The object in question is a very old bracelet,” Tobias said.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Rushton said with great authority. “I would most certainly have noticed a bracelet missing from my jewelry box.”
“This was an extremely ancient piece of jewelry known among collectors as the Blue Medusa,” Lavinia said. “Do you know it?”