Page 26 of Affair

Whatever else could be said about the night’s events, one thing was clear. There was danger afoot and Charlotte was in the midst of it.

In the black and crimson chamber the coals on the brazier burned low. The rich, spicy vapors of the incense had opened his senses. His mind was attuned to the forces of the metaphysical plane. He was ready.

“Read the cards, my love,” he whispered.

The fortune-teller turned over the first card. “The golden griffin.”

“A man.”

“Always.” The fortune-teller looked at him across the low table. “Beware. The griffin would stand in your way.”

“Will he be able to alter my plans?”

She turned over another card, hesitated. “The phoenix.” She reached for the next card, placed it faceup. “The red ring.”

“Well?”

“No. The golden griffin may prove difficult but ultimately you will prevail.”

He smiled. “Yes. Now tell me about the woman.”

The fortune-teller turned over another card. “The lady with the crystal eyes. She searches.”

“But she will not find.”

The fortune-teller shook her head. “No. She will not find what she seeks.”

“She’s only a woman, after all. She will not be a problem.”

And neither would the fortune-teller be a problem when this was finished, he thought. He would dispose of her when the time came. She was useful at the moment, however, and it was a simple matter to hold her in thrall with the bonds of her own passions.

What do you make of this curious design, Ariel?” Charlotte pushed Drusilla Heskett’s watercolor sketchbook across her desk. “You are more conversant with current fashion than I. Have you ever seen anything similar?”

Ariel paused in the act of pouring another cup of tea. She glanced at the sketchbook, which was open to a page near the middle. Her eyes widened as she gazed at the picture of a nude statue that decorated the left side of the paper.

“Uh, no,” Ariel said dryly. “I do not believe that I have ever encountered anything similar to that particular design.”

Charlotte gave her a reproving glare. “Not the picture of the statue. The little drawing in the corner. It appears to be a circle with a triangle inside. And there are little tiny figures around the edges and in the center of the triangle.”

“Yes, I see.” Ariel shook her head. “It bears no resemblance to any of the fashionable motifs I have seen inLa Belle AssembléeorAckermann’s Repository of the Arts. Perhaps one of the other ladies’ magazines contains such a design.”

“Perhaps it is Egyptian or Roman.”

“I do not believe so.” With the tip of one finger, Ariel traced the poorly drawn pattern. “Heaven knows there are any number of decorative designs that have been copied from Egyptian and Roman antiquities. Every modiste and decorator in London uses them. And since ancient Zamar has come into fashion we have seen a great many dolphins and shells. But this design is not familiar to me. Why is it of interest?”

“For some reason Drusilla Heskett saw fit to copy it onto this page in her watercolor sketchbook. A sketchbook she appears to have devoted entirely to pictures of nude statues.”

Ariel glanced up with an inquiring look. “But this is not a watercolor picture. It is a drawing made with pen and ink.”

“Yes. And it is completely unlike all of the other scenes in the sketchbook.”

“Indeed.” Ariel smiled faintly. “I wonder if Mrs. Heskett is typical of the sort of client you hope to attract from the fashionable circles. She appears to have had a lively interest in the male figure.”

“Yes, well, I suppose her tastes are no longer very important. What bothers me is that I cannot help but wonder why she chose to add this extremely strange design to her book.”

“What is that reddish brown stain on the binding?” Ariel asked. “Spilled watercolor paint?”

“Perhaps.” Charlotte touched the stain with her fingertips. “But what if it is dried blood?”

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