Page 23 of No One's Bride
Daventry nodded before turning his attention to Miss MacTavish. “Is there a reason you keep glancing at the box as if there’s a hissing cobra inside?”
She gulped. “I dinnae care if this sounds like the ramblings of a mad woman, but the spell book has a power beyond all rhyme and reason.”
“A power?” Recognition dawned, and Daventry said, “Ah! You’re referring to the mystic’s prediction at the Bartholomew Fair.”
“Aye, which is why ye should take the book as part of yer investigation into the assistant’s murder. Though ye’ve still not told us how he died.”
The deep furrow marring Daventry’s brow conveyed the disturbing nature of the scene. “You might not wish to hear this, madam. The images may return to haunt you at night.”
“Like my father, I have a hardy constitution, sir.”
Sebastian stole a furtive glance at the woman he’d once considered his nemesis. She had a backbone of steel, but she was soft and feminine in all the right places.
“Very well,” Daventry said. The man was easily persuaded and enjoyed discussing the macabre. “Someone stretched Mr Hibbet’s body until his bones snapped. His heart is missing. The symbol carved into his forehead looks to be a druid marking.”
Miss MacTavish plastered her hand to her mouth.
“Are you suggesting some sort of ritual?” Sebastian scoured his mind. There had been strange images and markings in the spell book found in his brother’s quarters aboardThe Perseus.
“That’s what it would seem, though I cannot help but feel the villain staged the scene. A smoke and mirrors effect to hide the true motive.”
Sebastian’s pulse raced. Was there a retribution spell in the ancient tome? Was fate conspiring to lead him down a path that might shed light on Michael’s untimely death?
“Perhaps I might accompany you during your investigation,” he said, quickly enough for Daventry to arch a brow. The man was short of agents, and Sebastian needed something to distract his mind.
“Catching criminals is a dangerous business, Denton.”
“I’m not afraid to die for a worthy cause.” Now Helen had married, he had no one to care for. “I can fight as well as any Whitechapel thug.” Like Daventry, inside he harboured Satan’s savagery.
Daventry pursed his lips, seeming to consider the prospect. Sebastian wouldn’t be the first peer to work for the master of the Order. Not that he would do something so uncouth as to accept payment for his services.
“I’m struggling to understand your motivation, Denton.”
“Does it matter?”
“Most definitely.”
Damnation! If he wished to learn more about the power of ancient spell books, he would have to reveal his darkest secret.
“My brother died aboardThe Perseus. Amongst his possessions was an old grimoire. I’m keen to learn what drew a sane man to read such rubbish.”
Sebastian could feel the heat of Miss MacTavish’s gaze. Now she knew why he’d tried to stop her bidding on the book.
Daventry fell silent for a time, his gaze moving between Sebastian and the Scottish temptress. “Very well. You can escort Miss MacTavish to Chadwick’s tomorrow. Find out what happened to the copy ofUtopiaand how she became the custodian of a magician’s textbook.”
Every muscle in Sebastian’s body tensed. “I’ll not have the lady embroiled in this dangerous business.” And he had no intention of spending an inordinate amount of time in her company.
Miss MacTavish appeared equally disturbed. “I’m quite capable of visiting the auction house alone, sir. Ye may give his lordship another task. It will save time.”
“Denton is the only person who can identify the intruder. You’re the only one who can identify the delivery man. You bought the book, but you’ll need someone powerful to bring the auctioneer to heel. No. You’ll visit Chadwick’s together.”
That was not the only disagreement of the evening.
Daventry demanded Miss MacTavish spend the night with the St Clairs. Despite explaining that she needed to keep a watchful eye on her sick butler, Daventry agreed to have his own physician attend to the servant within the hour.
“Verra well,” she conceded, “but I shall return tomorrow.”
Daventry nodded. “Send word to me in Hart Street once you have information on the grimoire.” He motioned to the wooden casket on the desk. “Might you hand me the book, Miss MacTavish? I must inspect it before I leave.”
