Page 31 of The Paid Companion

“The three remained close for a time, sharing notes on their researches and experiments. But after a while they drifted apart. Uncle George mentioned that one member of the Society died while still in his twenties. He was killed in an explosion in his laboratory. The second man is alive, as far as I know.”

“But your great-uncle is dead,” she said.

“Yes. Murdered in his laboratory only a few weeks ago.”

Her brows came together in a gentle frown. “You’re certain that he was killed? It was not an accident?”

Arthur looked at her. “He was shot twice in the chest.”

“Dear heaven.” Elenora drew a breath. “I see.”

He watched the waters splash in the fountain. “I was very fond of my great-uncle.”

“My condolences, sir.”

The sympathy in her voice was genuine. He was oddly touched by it.

He roused himself from the moody reverie and returned to his story.

“The Runner I employed to investigate the crime was useless. He concluded that my uncle had been murdered either by a burglar whom he surprised in his laboratory, or, more likely, by the young man who assisted him in his experiments.”

“Have you talked to the assistant?”

He set his jaw. “Unfortunately, John Watt fled the night of the murder. I have not been able to find him.”

“Forgive me, but you must admit that his disappearance adds credence to the Runner’s theory.”

“I am well acquainted with Watt, and I am convinced that he would never have committed murder.”

“What of the other theory?” she asked. “The one concerning a burglar?”

“There was a burglar, right enough, but he was no random footpad. I searched my great-uncle’s house quite carefully after his death. TheBook of Stoneswas nowhere to be found.” He tightened his hand into a fist on his thigh. “And his snuffbox, the one set with the red stone, was also gone. Nothing else of value was missing.”

She contemplated that. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely certain. I believe that my great-uncle was murdered by someone who was after the lapidary and the snuffbox. Indeed, I am convinced that those three snuffboxes are important clues. If I can find the two that belonged to my great-uncle’s old friends, I may learn something useful. It is in that direction that I have been focusing most of my efforts lately.”

“Have you had any luck?”

“Some,” he said. “Tonight, I finally managed to discover the address of an elderly gentleman who may be able to tell me about one of the snuffboxes. I have not yet been able to speak with him, but I plan to do so soon.”

There was a short silence. He was aware of the music and the laughter from the ballroom, but both seemed to come from far away. Here beside the fountain there was a sensation of privacy that bordered on the intimate. The flowery scent of Elenora’s perfume tugged at his senses and tightened the muscles in his belly. He realized that he was becoming aroused.

Control yourself, man. The last thing you need now is that sort of complication.

“You say you have disregarded the Runner’s conclusions,” Elenora continued after a moment. “Have you formulated some conjecture of your own regarding the identity of your great-uncle’s killer?”

“Not precisely.” He hesitated. “At least, not one that makes any sense.”

“You are a man of logic and reason, sir. If you are considering a theory, however bizarre, I suspect there is some serious foundation for it.”

“Not in this case. But I will admit that I find myself reflecting again and again upon a remark my great-uncle made when he told me about his three friends and the Society that they had formed.”

“What was it?” she asked.

“He mentioned that one of the three members of the Society, the one who called himself Mercury, never truly overcame his fascination with alchemy, although he pretended to do so. My uncle said that Mercury was the most brilliant of the trio. Indeed, there was a time when they all believed that he would someday be hailed as England’s second Newton.”

“What became of him?”

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