Page 44 of The Last Chance
“When the temperature plummets to minus five?”
“Indeed.”
Silence ensued.
“You were wrong about the painting.” He promised himself this was the last time he would refer to their kiss. “You’re nothing like the others on display. Like a true masterpiece, you command a room of your own, leaving everything else waning in your shadow.”
The remark had her clasping her chest, but not from the compliment. “Please,” she said, her voice raw with emotion, “you mustn’t say such things. Not when we’re trying to forget it happened. Can we abide by our promise and not discuss it again? It’s in the past now. Let us focus on trying to find the devil who killed Lord Howard.”
It was a sensible request. He ought to say a silent prayer of thanks, but the urge to kiss her was like a relentless addiction, an irresistible tug deep in his gut.
Daventry returned. “Forgive the delay. I wished to put my wife’s mind at ease. My agents were assisting in an operation to catch river pirates last night. I went to check their progress and became embroiled in the fight. I only left the Limehouse Basin an hour ago.”
While Aaron wished to throttle Daventry on occasion, there wasn’t a man outside his family he respected more.
“It’s why I could never marry,” Aaron said, keen to put paidto Daventry’s matchmaking plans. “I couldn’t let my wife lie awake at night fearing I was dead.”
“Yet you and your brothers live with that constant fear every day. A man must balance his business ambitions with his personal desires. To deny oneself either is to live a life unfulfilled.”
Before last night, Aaron would have disagreed. But now he had a hole in his chest that only Joanna Lovelace could fill.
“Might we discuss the reason we’re here?” she said, keen to avoid the topic of marriage and personal desires. “Time is of the essence. We have a few days remaining until we’re hauled to the Thames Police Office for questioning.”
Daventry gestured for her to continue. “Let me hear what you’ve discovered, and then I shall inform you of the new developments.”
Aaron straightened. There were new developments?
Might their worries be over in hours, not days?
Might Miss Lovelace return home tonight?
The rush of relief was short-lived. There’d be no more late-night experiments on the landing. No clever traps to tie him in knots. No forbidden kisses.
Miss Lovelace told Daventry about their visit to the pawnbroker’s and their interviews with her friends and Thomas Parker.
“It’s fair to assume Venus is the woman who persuaded Lord Howard to buy the watch,” she said, “and that they met at one of Mrs Flavell’s gatherings.”
Daventry agreed. “It’s obvious she had Parker make a scene at your club so the murderer could enter unnoticed. Or did Parker invent the story because he killed Howard in a fit of jealous rage?”
“Both are possible,” Aaron said, though it didn’t explain the missing list. “I checked Parker’s alibi. The landlord at The Cock Inn remembers a toff with a broken nose but was vagueon the timing. As for Venus, based on the pawnbroker’s description, she bears an uncanny likeness to Miss Stowe’s maid soprano.”
Miss Lovelace was quick to defend the maid. “Lucia is not Venus. She’s far too innocent to entice men with her womanly wiles.”
Unlike you, Aaron wanted to say.
You had me wrapped around your finger last night.
Daventry made a note in his book. “Does she have an alibi for the time of the murder?”
“I sent Sigmund to question Miss Stowe’s coachman.” Aaron trusted his man to uncover the truth. “He states the maid remained in the carriage until summoned for an encore.”
“A woman capable of pitting two men against each other could easily seduce the coachman into lying,” Daventry said.
Miss Lovelace’s mocking chuckle said the notion was ludicrous. “Oh, please. Lucia is not Venus.”
“Why is she so desperate to return to Naples?” Aaron countered. Could they trust any information the maid provided? “With her talent and beauty, she could secure a wealthy patron in London.”
“You, of all people, should understand the importance of family. She has no one here and misses her homeland. And a patron will expect her to perform more than a stirring aria.”
