Don’t Look Back

Chapter Nineteen

His dark mood did not lift when Tobias walked into his own house a short while later and found Anthony sprawled on a chair in the study. On the table beside his brother-in-law sat three quarters of a cold salmon-and-potato pie, which was rapidly disappearing into Anthony’s mouth.

“I trust you are here because you have some useful information for me.” Tobias went around the corner of his desk and lowered himself into the chair. “Did you find the valet?”

“Not yet.” Anthony swallowed a large bite of the pie and put aside the dish and fork. He regarded the tips of his gleaming boots. “One of the neighbors said Fitch has been spending a lot of time in the hells since he was let go from his post. I’ll try again in the morning.”

“Time is of the essence here, in case you haven’t noticed.” Tobias tapped one finger against the blotter. “I want him found as soon as possible.”

“It’s not that easy. He never seems to go home, and I don’t even know what the man looks like.”

“Use some initiative. Ask one of his acquaintances for a description. Make inquiries of the street boys. Discover which hells he favors. Damnation, Tony, you’re the one who demanded to play assistant detective. I suggest you start practicing your new craft.”

“You know I’ve been busy interviewing the prostitutes who work near the inn where Oscar Pelling is staying.”

Tobias frowned. “Any luck there?”

“No.”

“In other words, you haven’t made any progress at all on either front, have you? I suggest you return to your inquiries. It would no doubt be more productive than helping yourself to the contents of Whitby’s pantry.”

“I just stopped by for a quick bite.” Anthony glared at him morosely from the depths of the chair. “What the devil is the matter with you? Have another one of your lively little quarrels with Mrs. Lake?”

“My relationship with Lavinia is none of your bloody business.”

“Of course it isn’t. I don’t know what came over me.”

Tobias slammed the flat of his hand against the blotter. “I walked into her study a short time ago and found her alone with Hudson.”

“Ah.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in particular. Just that I now comprehend the reason for your foul temper.” Anthony raised his brows. “You don’t much care for your client, do you?”

“I do not trust the man. He’s a practicing mesmerist who may well have murdered his own wife. I’m certain that he’s hatching some dark scheme that involves Lavinia. And she refuses to see the danger.”

“Want some advice?”

“No, thank you. Your advice on how to charm a lady with compliments has proven a resounding failure.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “Very well, then, how about giving me some advice?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I came here this afternoon because I wanted to consult with an older, wiser man who has had some experience of the world and who can assist me in resolving a particularly confounding problem that I now find myself confronting.”

“Damnation, you gave me your word you would not go into the hells. If you have got yourself into dun territory, you can bloody well finance your own way out.”

“Calm yourself, sir. I haven’t lost any money at the gaming tables. In the event that it has escaped your attention, I’ve been too busy pursuing inquiries for my new employer to spare any time for cards or dice.”

It dawned on Tobias that he had never heard this particular edge in Anthony’s voice.

“What is it?” he asked quietly.

“Emeline.”

“Damn, I was afraid of this.” Tobias leaned back in his chair, stacked the heels of his boots on the corner of the desk, and steepled his fingers. “Something happened yesterday after you left Banks’s mansion, did knot?”

“Of course something bloody well happened. I told you what occurred.” Anthony shot to his feet and started to stalk the room. “Emeline was very nearly run down by that carriage. She could have been hurt. Perhaps seriously.”

“I got the impression she felt that you and the boy were the ones in danger.”

“She was in peril too, but she seemed oblivious of that fact.”

Tobias contemplated his fingertips. “Thought we agreed that the driver’s intention was to deliver a message, not to murder anyone.”

“How the hell can we be sure of anything, least of all the coachman’s intentions?” Anthony’s jaw was so rigid it could have been forged from steel. “I tell you, Tobias, I’d give a fortune to get my hands on the bastard for even five minutes.”

“I understand.”

“I must confess that it wasn’t until I went to bed last night that the full implications of the incident finally struck me. The possibilities kept me awake almost until dawn. I stared at the ceiling and kept thinking about what might have happened.” Anthony waved one hand. “What if the coachman had lost control of his horses? What if Emeline had panicked the way the boy did? What if she had just stood there, frozen, in the path of the vehicle? She would have been trampled.”

“Luckily Miss Emeline appears to share her aunt’s tendency not to panic at awkward moments.”

“When I did manage to fall asleep last night, I had nightmares,” Anthony muttered. “The dreams all involved scenes in which I could not get to Emeline in time to pull her out of the path of a rushing carriage.”

Tobias thought about the occasional nightmares he had experienced since making Lavinia’s acquaintance. “I’ve had a few unpleasant dreams of that sort myself.”

“This morning while you and Mrs. Lake and Mrs. Dove went to consult with Vale, I had a conversation with Emeline. I told her that I thought she should give up this notion of following in her aunt’s footsteps.”

“Did you, indeed?” Tobias took his boots off the corner of his desk and got to his feet. He went to the small table to inspect the remaining portion of the salmon-and-potato pie. “I expect I can hazard a guess as to the nature of her response to your suggestion.”

“She got very angry with me. Refused to even consider my advice. As good as told me that I had no right to make decisions for her or to interfere with her life.”

“You don’t say?” Tobias picked up the knife and cut himself a hefty wedge of pie. “Now, there’s a stunning surprise.”

Anthony came to a halt and watched with a dark frown as Tobias took a bite of the savory pastry. “Are you mocking me?”

“I assure you, you have my complete sympathy,” Tobias said around the mouthful of pie.

“Bloody hell.” Anthony shoved his ringers through his hair. “I daresay you find my predicament vastly amusing, do you not? No doubt you believe that it is a fitting comeuppance for all the times that I have advised you not to behave in a dictatorial, overbearing manner toward Mrs. Lake.”

Tobias said nothing. He took another bite of pie. Whitby was an excellent cook. But, then, Whitby was good at almost everything. The man who served him as a combination of butler, cook, valet, and occasional doctor even managed to appear more elegant in his clothes than most gentlemen of the ton, including himself, Tobias reflected.

“If it’s any consolation,” Anthony muttered, “I confess that I now possess a much clearer appreciation of the depth of your own sensibilities on the matter of Mrs. Lake’s inclination to take risks.”

“Always nice to know that one’s sensibilities are understood and appreciated.”

“I don’t suppose you have any useful advice for me?”

“Certainly, I have some advice.” Tobias handed him the plate. “Have some more of Whitby’s salmon pie. It is very good. The leeks add a nice touch, I think.

When you have finished you can go back to the business of tracking down Banks’s valet and chatting with streetwalkers.”

Anthony took the plate reluctantly. He looked down at the pie as though it were an alchemist’s crucible. “I’m doomed to be driven mad by Miss Emeline, am I not?”

“Most likely. But I’m certain that you will find it reassuring to know that you are not the only incipient crackbrain in the vicinity. I appear to be doomed to a similar fate, thanks to Mrs. Lake.”

“IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG, EMELINE?”

Lavinia put down her pen and studied her niece’s somber face. “I vow, we are accomplishing very little here. You have been in an exceedingly low mood since yesterday. Was it the incident with the carriage?”

Emeline put aside the paper on which she had been refining her impressions of the responses of the servants whom she and Anthony had interviewed at the Banks mansion. She gave Lavinia a troubled look.

“In a manner of speaking,” she admitted.

“I knew it. You did not sleep well, did you? I noticed at breakfast that you appeared a bit wan.”

Emeline’s mouth curved ruefully. “Is that a polite way of saying that I am not looking my best today?”

“I blame myself. I should have insisted that you take a drop or two of sherry before you went to bed.”

“Anthony called upon me while you and Mrs. Dove and Mr. March interviewed Lord Vale today.”

Lavinia frowned. “Anthony was here? He came into the house? I trust Mrs. Chilton was present?”

“She was here. But as it happens, Anthony did not come into the house. He invited me to walk with him in the park.”

Alarm shot through Lavinia. Visions of what happened on the occasions when Tobias took her for a walk in the park made her blanch.

“How dare that young man even suggest such a thing? What on earth does he think he is about? Is that what has upset you today? I shall demand that Tobias have a stern talk with him.”

Emeline made a face. “You need not concern yourself with the proprieties. We merely took a short stroll in a very public section of the park. We certainly did not disappear for an hour or more the way you and Mr. March are inclined to do when you two take your little walks in the park.”

Lavinia felt herself turning pink now. She cleared her throat. “Mr. March and I have discovered that long walks are extremely invigorating for persons of our age.”

“Indeed.”

Lavinia narrowed her eyes. “What was it about your conversation with Anthony that disturbed you?”

“He is starting to sound altogether too much like Mr. March, if you must know.”

“I beg your pardon? In what way?”

“He told me that, in his opinion, I should reconsider my decision to follow you into the private-inquiries business.”

“I see.” Lavinia pondered that information. “What on earth made him say that, do you suppose? He seems such a sensible, modern-thinking young man.”

“I believe he was somewhat shaken by the incident with the carriage.”

“Interesting. I would not have guessed that he possessed such delicate nerves. Judging from his demeanor yesterday afternoon when you both returned, I would have said that Anthony gave every appearance of being just as cool in a crisis as Tobias.”

“It was not his own brush with danger that unsettled him, although it certainly gave me a terrible jolt,” Emeline said. “Last night he evidently allowed his imagination to get the better of his common sense. He managed to convince himself that I had been in the path of danger and that were it not for a bit of luck I might have been hurt.”

“I see.”

“The entire affair has rattled his nerves and he has concluded that I should, therefore, pursue another career.”

“I see,” Lavinia said again, very neutrally this time.

“I was obliged to endure an extremely tiresome lecture on the subject of how I ought not to put my person in danger. There was also a good bit of boring twaddle on the nature of suitable careers for ladies. In the end I fear I lost my patience and told him exactly what I thought of his overbearing manner. I bid him good afternoon and left him standing there in the middle of the park.”

“I see.” Lavinia planted her hands on the desk and pushed herself to her feet. “What do you say we have a little nip of sherry?”

Emeline frowned. “I expected something more inspirational from such a clever and resourceful lady. You are a woman of the world, after all. You have had some experience of men. Is this the best you can do? A drop of sherry?”

“If it is inspiration you seek, I suggest you consult Shakespeare, Wollstonecraft, or a religious tract. I fear that when it comes to advice on the subject of gentlemen such as Mr. March and Mr. Sinclair, a drop of sherry is the most I can offer.”

“Oh.”

Lavinia opened the sherry cupboard. She removed the decanter, poured two small measures, and handed one of the glasses to Emeline. “They mean well, you know.”

“Yes.” Emeline took a tiny sip of the sherry and immediately assumed a more philosophical air. “Yes, I suppose they do.”

Lavinia sampled the contents of her own glass and sought to organize her thoughts on the subject of men.

“In my experience,” she said slowly, “gentlemen are inclined to become tense and occasionally extremely overwrought whenever they feel that they are not in full control of a situation. This is especially so if the situation involves a lady toward whom they feel a certain responsibility.”

“I understand.”

“They compensate for these attacks of nerves by giving stern lectures, issuing orders, and generally making nuisances of themselves.”

Emeline took a little more sherry and nodded wisely. “It is a most irritating habit.”

“Indeed, but I fear it is the nature of the beast. Perhaps you can now see why I find Mr. March so exasperating on occasion.”

“I confess my eyes have been opened.” Emeline shook her head. “No wonder you are given to frequent quarrels with him. I can already foresee any number of rows with Anthony on the horizon.”

Lavinia raised her glass. “A toast.”

“To what?”

“To exasperating gentlemen. You must admit that they are, at the very least, quite stimulating.”