Page 99 of No One's Bride
“I said we suspect the symbols are a secret language, and Lord Denton has taken the book home to study.”
The thought chilled her to the bone. Fear pricked her heart like the sharp point of a blade. She pictured a gruesome scene. The man she loved shackled to his desk, the heart that had so recently thawed, ripped from his chest.
Love was beautiful.
The loss of it proved frightening.
Hence why her emotions wavered between pleasure and pain.
“Mangold will have received a letter stating the same,” Mr Daventry said, “but explaining the grimoire will be given to the Alien Office tomorrow.” He pulled his watch from his pocket, inspecting the time beneath the lamplight. “I’ve a man watching Mivart’s Hotel in case Mr Murden leaves. Another following Kirkwood.”
Might Mr Kirkwood be involved in espionage?
Would he not have come looking for Michael’s grimoire sooner?
“Why would a spy sell the book at auction?” Mr Chance said. “Why not just meet in a secluded place and trade secrets?”
Mr Daventry shrugged. “I suspect Hibbet had the book and sold it as part of his plan to expose his colleagues.”
That explained why there was no record of the seller.
Mr Hibbet had secretly included it in the auction.
Mr Murden had contacted Professor Mangold and told him of the sale, as he always did when any unusual curiosities arrived for auction.
Did that not mean both men were innocent?
Was it foolish to make assumptions?
After taking a detour to waste time, they arrived in Broad Street. They entered Chadwick’s Auction House and left the door unlocked.
“Smith has a man watching the premises. Let’s pray we catch the murderer before the spymaster seizes the evidence.”
They mounted the stone staircase and entered the apartment.
Impatient to get the job done, Mr Chance pulled a book from the shelf and flicked through the pages. “How are we supposed to conduct a thorough search in the dark?”
“We’ll search the apartment once the murderer is in custody. We won’t have long to wait.”
“You’ll owe me for this,” Mr Chance warned.
“And I plan to repay you in ways you can’t begin to imagine.” The thread of amusement in Mr Daventry’s voice was unmistakable. “Trust me. You’ll thank me for taking the time to include you.”
While the men wandered around the apartment, Ailsa crept to the hall and listened for the clip of footsteps on the stairs.
Many minutes passed.
Long excruciating minutes where all she could think about was Sebastian being tortured by a spy. That said, he was not alone. Christian Chance and Mr Gibbs were hiding in the wings, ready to confront the devil who came for the grimoire. And if he came for the list first, they would apprehend him before he visited Grosvenor Street.
What could go wrong?
There wasn’t time to consider the matter further.
The slam of a door downstairs preceded the swift patter of footsteps.
Ailsa hurried to the drawing room and warned both men they had company.
Mr Chance disappeared into the bedchamber while Mr Daventry pulled the chair from the desk and made himself comfortable.
