Page 32 of No One's Bride
The auctioneer arrived, scurrying along the hall at such speed he was liable to trip over his feet. “My lord, forgive the delay. We expected to remain closed this morning. It’s been a terrible strain on all those involved.” He peered at the customers crammed into the hall, all waiting to be summoned to the auction room. “Let us continue this conversation in my office, away from prying eyes.”
They followed the gentleman to a room at the end of the corridor and instructed Gladys to wait outside the door. The mound of papers on the desk suggested a heavy workload. The green bottle must have contained liquor because the auctioneer snatched it away and hid it in a cluttered cupboard.
“Please, sit down.” Mr Murden motioned to the chairs flanking his desk before staring at Miss MacTavish through dirty spectacles. “Madam, perhaps you would rather remain outside. I fear your delicate sensibilities would crumble beneath the weight of this dreadful burden.”
Clearly, the man had never met an assertive Highland lass.
Miss MacTavish smiled. “When one lives amid the wilds of Scotland, one cannae afford to be delicate. Be assured, sir, I’ll nae swoon at the first mention of blood.”
Murden seemed too agitated to debate the subject. “Mr Daventry said I must afford you every courtesy. I’m told you’re assisting the Metropolitan Police Force but have a pressing issue of your own.”
Sebastian placed the ebony casket on top of the papers. “This does not contain Thomas More’sUtopia. Miss MacTavish took delivery late last night. The devil roused her from her bed.”
“It was most inconvenient.” Being sharp-witted, she added, “I didnae have time to inspect the box before the fellow jumped into a hackney and charged off into the night.”
Murden straightened his spectacles. “If you did not take receipt ofUtopia, what’s in the box?”
“The grimoire,” Miss MacTavish stated. “The anonymous bidder must have my copy of Thomas More’s book. We seek to make an exchange.”
A sudden apprehension coiled in Sebastian’s gut. What if the intruder had come for the grimoire? What if he’d killed the assistant to gain information? Either way, was the lady’s life in danger?
“We want answers,” he demanded, knowing Miss MacTavish would object to his next proposal. “We need to know how the mistake occurred and be sure it had nothing to do with your assistant’s murder. Only then can we part with the grimoire.”
Miss MacTavish’s head shot in his direction. “What? We want rid of the spell book today. I’ll nae take it home.”
“I’ll take it home.” He’d love nothing more than to pummel the blackguard who’d terrified the lady. And it meant he could examine the pages at length.
“I think ye’re missing the point,” she said, wagging her brows.
“Murden, we need to question your delivery man,” he said. Now was not the time to argue about spells. “We need the name of the fellow who won the grimoire. I advise you to send someone to his property to ascertain if he has More’s book.”
Murden flapped his hands. Could the man not sit down? “Yes, yes. I should see to that right away. This business has taken its toll. Do you know how long I’ve worked with Mr Hibbet? Nigh on fifteen years.”
“I pray you weren’t first on the scene.” Such a gruesome discovery would plague one’s mind for years. “I’ll have questions about alibis later, but for now—”
“Alibis!” Murden clutched his chest. “Surely you don’t think a colleague had anything to do with the murder. Why would anyone want to hurt such a gentle soul?”
“That is what we mean to establish. In the meantime, we need you to fetch the delivery man, and we need the name of the person who bought the grimoire.”
The auctioneer nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, I shall find Woodbury. He’ll be able to sort out the mistake with the tomes. I shall be back shortly.”
As soon as Murden left the office and closed the door, Miss MacTavish was on her feet. “What were ye thinking?”
Sebastian stood. “Be specific, and I’ll tell you.”
“We must get rid of that thing.” She jabbed her finger at the box.
“Though I loathe sounding like a parrot, we cannot hand over a book that may have been the motive for a murder.” And he needed to compare it with Michael’s book. He could only do that if he took it home.
“We cannae keep it.”
“We need to keep it until we determine what happened. The intruder will try to steal it again. We’ll lay a trap and catch him in the act. The matter will be resolved in a few days.”
It was simple enough for an intelligent woman to understand.
“In a few days!” She threw her hands in the air and began pacing. “We almost kissed last night. What do ye think will happen if this drags on for days?”
Would they have kissed?
