Page 43 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
“Very good, sir,” the guard said. “I will follow behind, if you do not mind. I would not be remiss in my duties. I gave the lady my word.”
“Good enough,” Benedict agreed, raking his fingers through his unkempt hair.
He turned to Roderick. “Get some sleep, man. She would not have summoned me on a whim. There’s no telling how long I’ll be gone.”
Chapter Thirteen
Passing the mirror in her chamber, Alex did not spare it so much as a passing glance. At this late hour, she undoubtedly looked rather a fright. Weariness filled her, and she could well imagine the dark circles under her eyes. At the thought, she reached up and rubbed her forehead, as if that would massage away the tension.
Having no idea what might be considered appropriate attire for meeting a man in the middle of the night to inform him he was included on a rather ominous list, she’d donned a simple cotton day dress. She reached down to pet the purring cat who trailed her steps, then proceeded to the parlor. The men would soon return. She wanted this meeting with Benedict to flow smoothly with no distractions. Nothing so messy as feelings or desire should cloud their interactions. Keeping a tight rein on her traitorous emotions was paramount. She couldn’t afford the luxury of wanting him. The prospect was far too dangerous.
A coded knock at the door signaled the guard’s return. Taking her pistol in hand, she peered through the adjacent window. Sure enough, Inspector Eddington met her look with a faint smile. A pleasant sort, the man nodded for her to unbolt the door.
Benedict stepped through the threshold. He stared down at the Webley revolver in her right hand.
“Hullo, Alexandra. Not exactly the greeting I was expecting.”
She lowered the weapon. “Hullo, Benedict.”
“What have you discovered?”
Alex shot Eddington a glance. “Sir, might I prevail upon you for some privacy?”
“Of course, Miss Quinn,” he said. “I will stand guard at the entry. Call out if you find yourself in need of assistance.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Stone-faced, he turned and headed to the door. Taking his leave, he shot a glance over his shoulder, as if assessing whatever threat Benedict might pose.
“What is going on?” Benedict asked as soon as Eddington closed the door behind his broad back.
“I believe I’ve puzzled out the symbols on the photograph. The man was sending us a warning, even as he lay mortally wounded.” She motioned him to follow her to the study. “Of course, until I confirm the victims’ birthdates and consult a specialized text, I cannot be entirely sure.”
“Their birthdates? Why in blazes would you need those?”
She crossed the room to her desk, with Benedict close behind. “In this case, I believe they are highly relevant. You see, the message blends Egyptian hieroglyphs with Greek symbols for the zodiac.”
“The zodiac?” His brow furrowed, and he leaned over her shoulder to peer down at the image. “You’re referencing astrology?”
“So it would appear.” She pointed to the glyph she’d identified as Capricorn. “Are you familiar with this one?”
He shook his head. “I’d say it’s a horse. Or could it be a camel?”
“Neither,” she said with a little smile. “Benedict, I believe that represents you.”
“Me?” He edged beside her, a flippant doubt coloring his tone. “Am I to deduce this symbol represents an ass? Should I be offended?”
“Not quite,” she said. “I believe it is a goat.”
“A goat? I suppose that’s somehow preferable to an ass.”
“Benedict, have you no knowledge of astrological symbols?”
He shrugged. “I cannot say that was a part of the standard curriculum.”
“Or astronomy, for that matter?”
“My command of that science is elemental at best.”
