Page 46 of The Last Chance
“What would you have me do?”
“Sit in a dark room and imagine you’re at The Burnished Jade on the night of the murder. Retrace your steps. Search your mind’s eye and tell Mr Chance everything you see, particularly when the maid is singing. He will make notes. Do it the moment you wake and just before bed when your eyelids are heavy.”
What the blazes?
There wasn’t a chance in hell Aaron would enter her chamber.
“I guarantee you will see results,” Daventry continued. “A minor fact your conscious mind has overlooked.”
Miss Lovelace gave a curious smile. “I will try.”
Daventry looked at Aaron and spoke in a cautionary tone. “As to the other point I must mention.” He paused, pressing hislips into a thin line. “An accusation of theft has been made against your brother’s wife, Isabella. Made by someone on the British Museum’s Board of Trustees. Unaware there is a conflict of interest, the Board hired my agent to investigate the theft of an Egyptian artefact.”
Aaron might have flown out of the chair and sent the damn thing tumbling, but Miss Lovelace clutched his arm.
“What can we do to stall the investigation?” she said on Aaron’s behalf. “These timely attacks on Mr Chance’s family are a ploy to hinder our enquiries.”
Daventry nodded. “Agreed. I’ve put Evan Sloane on the case but asked him to investigate the Board, not the theft.” He looked at Aaron. “You must warn your family to be on their guard.”
“I have.” Guilt slithered in Aaron’s chest when he considered this new dilemma. “But I can’t tell them about these personal allegations. They will take matters into their own hands. I suspect that’s what the fiend wants.”
“Which is why you will refrain from going after Berridge.”
With burning reluctance, Aaron nodded.
Daventry closed his notebook and returned his pen to the inkstand. “I’ll visit Mrs Flavell today. The lady is in my debt. I’ll arrange for four invitations to her soiree tomorrow evening. I’m told the regular event is called Temptation Tuesday. I think we all know what to expect.”
Aaron inwardly groaned. “Four invitations?”
A slow smile curled Daventry’s lips. “You’ll both go. You can break curfew. I’ll arrange it with the magistrate. Sybil and I will accompany you. A woman with child cannot attend social gatherings. My wife will relish the prospect of wearing a costume and enticing me to visit dark corners of the garden.”
Not giving a fig for Daventry’s romantic pastimes, Aaron said, “Should we men not go alone? The demimonde is not the place for an unmarried woman, certainly not one with Miss Lovelace’s allure.”
Every licentious devil would seek an audience, a means to seduce her with fake words and false promises. Society’s polite rules did not apply. There was no such thing as personal space.
The heat of the lady’s gaze warmed his face. “You consider me attractive, Mr Chance?”
She was teasing him. Surely the way he devoured her mouth said he found her irresistible.
“I’m stubborn, madam, not blind.”
Daventry considered them both. “Finding Venus will give us the answers to many questions. Let’s make that our priority. You’ll need a costume for tomorrow, Miss Lovelace. Might I suggest something verging on indecent?”
The lady shifted in her seat. “Indecent?”
“Bare your shoulders. The lower the neckline, the better.”
Bloody hell!
A string of silent curses bombarded Aaron’s mind. “I doubt she will find something at such short notice.”
Daventry eyed her figure merely as a matter of course. “I’ll have Sybil send you a suitable gown. Make any necessary adjustments.” He paused as if conflicted. The reason quickly became apparent. “Until my carriage calls for you tomorrow night, you’re not to leave the house. Your safety is paramount. We’re being played like puppets, dancing while a devil pulls the strings.”
Aaron sat forward. “We don’t have time to waste. I’ll not sit like a craven fool, afraid of his own shadow.” He would slip out in the dead of night, steal into suspects’ houses and terrify them into confessing.
Miss Lovelace sided with Daventry. “The villain is one step ahead. He’s been planning this for months. It’s like he has written the script and is directing us from behind the scenes. We must do the opposite of what he expects. My friends are on the case and will make contact if they discover anything important.”
Aaron felt like a lion in an ever-shrinking cage. He wanted toroar and bare his teeth, not hide like a helpless cub in the dark. He was the King of Clubs, the ruler of his domain.
