Page 96 of Never a Duchess
Mr Daventry stopped at a door. “I’m told this is the office.” He reached into the leather satchel draped across his muscular body and removed various metal implements. “I need Swithin to keep guard,” he said, answering a question she had not thought to ask.
He tripped the lock with ease.
Then he removed a candle and a tiny metal box. “Walker’s new invention saves time as long as one keeps the tapers dry.” He drew a wooden splint, striking the sulphur tip against the folded sandpaper to generate a flame.
Dounreay took the lit candle, and they crept into the dark room.
“What are we looking for?” she whispered.
“Something to link Baudelaire to O’Malley.” Mr Daventry rounded the cluttered desk to inspect the ledgers lining the bookshelf. “Documents confirming he imported the poison. Most likely seeds from India or Ceylon. Letters to suggest Baudelaire has threatened Valmary. Anything to confirm our suspicions.”
“We’ll search the desk.” Dounreay ran his hand beneath the locked drawers and rummaged inside empty ink pots before finding a small brass key. “A man doesnae need four pots on his desk.”
Wax dripped down the candle. Mr Daventry suggested wrapping a handkerchief around the base rather than using the empty brass holder on the desk. “We don’t want Baudelaire to know we’ve been here.”
Dounreay did as suggested, handing her the candle while he rifled through the first drawer. “There’s nothing here but legal documents, gaming debts and loose coins.”
Mr Daventry squinted as he read the entries in a ledger. “There’s nothing unusual here, either. Though I suspect only a fool would record purchasing poison.”
“Perhaps it’s listed in his household accounts.” Such things were often used to kill rats and other vermin, and would not draw suspicion. “We could question his housekeeper or maid.”
Mr Daventry returned the ledger to the shelf and took another. “We’ll keep looking. Arrogant men often leave a clue to their nefarious deeds.” He turned to Dounreay. “Have you found anything?”
Dounreay snorted. “Aye. A paper on how to use bear grease to preserve a head of hair. And a diary listing all the ingredients used in his perfumes. But nae the letter we need.”
Lillian raised the candle aloft and scanned the contents in the next drawer Dounreay opened. “What’s in that metal box?” She moved to take it, but Dounreay snatched it first, removing the lid as if it were home to a deadly spider.
“It’s powder.”
“Don’t breathe it in.” Mr Daventry moved to examine the finding. “It could be anything, though it looks like snuff. We need to take a sample.” He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and used a quill to scrape a small amount of powder onto the linen. Then he folded it carefully and slipped it inside his satchel.
Dounreay replaced the lid and returned the tin to the drawer, wiping his hands vigorously on his trousers lest a speck had touched his skin.
“There’s another notebook.” Lillian pointed to the small leather item hidden amongst more papers. It looked old, the brown leather worn, the pages tatty around the edges.
Dounreay opened it, skipping to the last entry. He frowned, jerking his head before paying closer attention and cursing in Gaelic. “Why, I’ll strap that devil to the obelisk and whip him with a birch.”
“What is it?” Judging by his reaction, it was something shocking.
“’Tis a record of Baudelaire’s games with Valmary. The man lists each conquest as if it were a game of piquet. Yer name is the last one entered.”
“Mine?” She put her hand to her throat like she had already inhaled the toxin. Had already been violated by two deranged men. “What did he write? Has he mentioned Mr Valmary’s gift?”
“Aye.”
“What gift?” Mr Daventry snapped.
“He sent me perfume, sir.”
“Why the hell didn’t you mention it before?”
“Because we’ve not had a moment to catch our breaths.” And she had been so obsessed with Dounreay, she had not considered the threat. “Surely only an imbecile would target the person hired to find the poisoner.”
“Based on recent events, Baudelaire may be capable of murder.”
“They score points,” Dounreay said with a measure of disgust, flipping to the previous pages. “They take it in turns to play a hand. Valmary was the first to give Madame Delafont perfume, but both men threw down their cards and folded in the second round.”
Keen to think of something other than being a pawn in Mr Valmary’s game, Lillian focused on gathering evidence. “How strange. Has that ever happened before?”
