Page 65 of Lady Gambit
Mrs Haggert had lied.
Davey hadn’t stumbled upon Delphine in Green Park. Mrs Haggert had dragged the child from her hiding place. But who was her sinister male companion? Who was the faceless man with the ruby-topped walking stick?
Nora Adkins’ words flitted through Dorian’s mind as he waited for Chabert to bring Delphine out of her trance. Mention of the unusual accessory proved Nora wasn’t completely mad. She may have spouted nonsense, but she had described the man who kept her a prisoner in Bethlem.
Big black hat. Big shiny shoes. One ruby eye on a stick.
It had to be the man who collected Delphine from Green Park.
But what was his connection to Mrs Haggert?
Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.
“When you open your eyes, you will remember events with renewed clarity.” Chabert’s words were a little firmer now, though still highly persuasive. “Memories, they will begin toappear from the shadows. But you will not be afraid. You will welcome them into your heart like long-lost relatives.”
He met Dorian’s gaze.
A silent caution not to force her to remember.
“On the count of five, you will become aware of Flynn’s hands on your shoulders, and you will know you are safe.”
The comment caused a quickening in Dorian’s core. He recalled how delicate she felt in his arms, how fragile and vulnerable she was during moments of self-doubt. She was the beauty amid the chaos. A reason to make plans for the future. Just as her inner strength had helped to tear down his barricades, he would spend his life helping her to cope with her painful past.
“Three … four.” Chabert paused before reaching five. He clicked his fingers as the last number left his lips. “You may feel tired,” he said, lifting Delphine’s chin and gazing deeply into her eyes. Whatever he saw, he seemed satisfied. “Or you may have an unusual burst of vigour. Either way, your mind will be calm, madame, your thoughts like gentle ripples on the water.”
“Thank you, monsieur,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
Dorian rounded the chair, his hands slipping off her shoulders. She looked dazed and blinked like she had just woken from a peaceful slumber.
“Do you still remember me, Delphine?”
He would never forget her.
He would never forget the warmth of her smile, the flame of passion in her eyes, and the arousing cadence of her voice as she writhed beneath him, urging him to claim her virtue.
A knot of dread tightened in his throat. Now he knew why Aaron kept her within arm’s reach. Love came with the fear of loss. And there was no question Dorian was in love with her.
Her eyes met his. He could drown in those hypnotic brown pools.
“You’re not the kind of man a woman forgets,” she said. “The space reserved in my mind for you, Dorian, is too sacred for a mere mortal to erase.” The sultry edge to her voice had his blood pooling in his loins. “Making more memories will ensure you’re never far from my thoughts.”
The desire to slake a physical need had him whispering, “I’ll give you a memory you’ll never forget. I’ll be the last thing you think about in bed tonight. The first thing on your mind in the morning.”
The hitch in her breath said she wanted him just as badly. She glanced at Chabert, who was busy making notes at his escritoire. “There’s a pretty orangery in your garden. It’s the perfect place for a secret rendezvous. We might meet there tonight.”
“I shall bring the champagne.”
Dorian might have kissed her quickly had Chabert not crossed the room and thrust a note into his hand. “I remember talk of a fellow skilled in mind manipulation. A technique he had learned in Vienna. His name was Tobias Trigg. I mention him because he carried a silver cane with a round ruby encrusted in the handle.”
Disturbed by the coincidence, Dorian stood and read the note, shocked to find Tobias Trigg had premises in Seven Dials.
Damn Mrs Haggert. The fabulist had stared them in the eye and invented an elaborate tale. But one did not enter the hen house and cast aspersions, not without evidence. First, they needed to learn everything they could about Tobias Trigg.
“You saywaslike Mr Trigg no longer exists,” Delphine said.
“Some say he is alive, but I fear he is dead, madame,” Chabert replied, putting paid to Dorian’s plan. “I have not seen or heard of him in years. But there may be a record of him at Bow Street. Complaints were filed against him for his irregular methods.”
They didn’t press the mesmerist for more details because he mentioned his next appointment and began tidying the room. While Dorian helped Delphine from the chair, Chabert dabbed cologne on his wrists and combed his hair.
