Page 52 of One Wicked Secret
Elsa looked at Daniel, silently pleading with him to accept the agent’s help. If they hoped to survive this, they needed his expertise.
“Perhaps you require a little more convincing.” Taking a card from his pocket, Mr Daventry placed it on the table, his move as certain as a cardsharp with a winning hand. “This was hidden in Lord Grafton’s shoe.”
Elsa sat forward. Like Daniel, she didn’t need to hold the card to read the stark warning. With each word underscored, Lord Grafton had written:
Save Elsa Tyler.
Chapter Ten
James & F. Green, Purveyors of Fine Perfumes & Colognes
The Strand
James & F. Green occupied a narrow but elegant shopfront on The Strand, its bow window displaying an extravagant array of perfume bottles that shone like cut crystal in the afternoon sun.
As Daniel escorted Elsa inside and the overhead bell tinkled, an eager assistant in a crisp white shirt and gold waistcoat hurried to greet them.
“Good day, sir, madam. Welcome to James & F. Green. Might I assist you in selecting a fragrance? We have something to suit every taste.”
Daniel had no patience for overzealous assistants and would have told him so, were they not desperate for answers. Besides, the smell of exotic oils helped to ease his troubled mind.
Elsa smiled for the first time since reading Lord Grafton’s dire warning a little over an hour ago. “Your insight would be greatly appreciated. I have your card, given by a friend who cannot remember the name of her husband’s cologne.”
“Come this way, madam, and I will do my best to assist you.” He directed them to a counter, the wood gleaming like his polished black shoes.
Elsa took the card from her reticule and read the list of ingredients. “The fragrance has the citrus notes of orange, bergamot, and neroli, and a touch of amber and musk.”
The attendant’s broad grin stretched from ear to ear. “Ah, you speak of Greenwood’s No.7. Such a crisp, clean scent. Perfect for a man who exudes an air of authority.”
Daniel had met Carver a handful of times before he found him dead in bed. The man was a golden-haired Adonis but lacked the rugged masculinity some women preferred.
“May I smell the cologne?” he said, confident he would remember the aroma that had made his nose itch.
“Certainly.” The assistant reached into a drawer and flicked imagined dust from a square of burgundy velvet before laying it out on the counter. “The lady might notice a slight variation in the blend, sir.” He took a flacon of cologne from the oak shelf behind him, cradling it in both hands as if it were a rare bottle of burgundy. “We often add a signature note to personalise the scent.”
The fellow removed the stopper and dipped a gold-plated dropper into the bottle, placing the tiniest amount on a silk sample.
Daniel took the silk, wafting it before his nose. One long inhale sent horrid images of that night crashing over him. Even in death, Carver looked like an angel—but was he incompetent or as devious as the devil?
“You’ll agree it’s a fragrance for a discerning gentleman, sir.”
“How much is this fine fragrance?” He could afford to purchase the entire stock, but could Carver? Despite his modest salary, Carver had expensive tastes.
“Greenwood’s No.7 evokes a sense of elegance and exclusivity, sir.”
“Spare me the theatrics. What will it cost me?”
The man winced like he’d stood in something foul. “I assure you, it will be the best one pound and three shillings ever spent.”
One pound three shillings to smell like the back room of a brothel?
Elsa took the sample, frowning as she inhaled. “There’s something missing. I can’t quite place the absent ingredient. Might it be rosemary?”
Rosemary was an ingredient written on the card.
“Greenwood’s No.7 is a premier blend. We keep records of every bottle sold. If you give me your friend’s name, madam, I may be able to identify the missing note.”
“Mr Carver,” she said, keeping her composure.
