Late For The Wedding

Fourteen

Dominic angled the burning lens to catch and focus the rays of the morning sun. The day was perfect for this demonstration, he thought, cloudless and warm. The little heap of papers he had put into the iron pot should flare up nicely. It was a silly sort of project, but people always responded with exclamations of excitement when the contents of the pot burst into flames.

Following the tour of his laboratory and several suitably spectacular demonstrations with the electrical machine, he had chosen the small park near his lodgings to show the power of his burning lens.

His little audience gathered around him expectantly. Mrs. Lake, Emeline, and Priscilla had made no secret of their interest in the earlier exhibits. Even Anthony, who had arrived stone-faced and barely civil, had eventually revealed a degree of reluctant curiosity in the equipment and apparatus.

At that instant, the papers in the pot caught fire under the intensely focused sunlight. Right on schedule, Dominic thought, satisfied.

“Good heavens.” Mrs. Lake watched the flames leap. “That is really quite amazing, Mr. Hood.”

She had appeared distracted and a bit impatient when she arrived with Emeline and Priscilla an hour ago. Somewhat apologetically, Emeline had explained that, with the exception of Priscilla, they were all involved in a new investigation and could not spend much time viewing the experiments.

But as the demonstrations had become more complicated and elaborate, Mrs. Lake had begun to take a lively interest.

“Clever enough, I suppose,” Anthony allowed offhandedly. “But I fail to see any useful purpose for a burning lens.”

“It enables one to conduct experiments that require intense heat,”

Priscilla said eagerly. She gazed at the instrument with an enraptured expression. “I wish I had one. But Mama would never allow it.”

For some reason, her fascination with the burning lens irritated Dominic. He found himself wondering what it would be like to have her look at him with that same degree of admiration. He reminded himself that she was not important. Emeline was his target. He had hoped to gain her attention with the flashy experiments earlier, and he had succeeded in part.

But it was Priscilla who had responded most favorably to his painstakingly prepared explosions and exhibits. She was the one who had understood the deeper implications and foresaw variations and possibilities.

He had been startled by the depths of her knowledge. With her sun-bright hair and sky-blue eyes, she looked as though she would have nothing in her head but air and fluff. Instead, she quoted Newton and Boyle with a casual facility that unsettled him. Her questions had been persistent and endless. What’s more, she had taken voluminous notes.

Emeline had not been nearly as enthralled.

“Well, that was really most educational,” Mrs. Lake said when the small blaze burned itself out in the pot. Thank you, Mr. Hood.” She checked the dainty watch she wore pinned to her walking dress and gave Dominic a warm smile. “Unfortunately, we must be on our way.

“Come along, Emeline and Priscilla.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Lake.” Priscilla was reluctant to leave, but she did her best to conceal her disappointment. “I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to come with us this morning to see Mr. Hood’s laboratory. Knowing you would be here was the only reason Mama allowed me to come today.”

“My pleasure.” Mrs. Lake paused to glance past Dominic’s shoulder. “Ah, here is Mr. March. I told him that we would be finished by ten o’clock. He must have grown impatient and decided to seek us out.”

“He does not appear to be in a pleasant temper,” Emeline observed.

“He has not been in a good mood since Beaumont Castle,” Anthony muttered.

Dominic turned to follow their gazes. A small chill went through him at the sight of the hard-faced man walking toward them.

March had cut across the small park to shorten the distance.

Against the field of verdant greens and flowery pastels, he was a dark, resolute force of nature. There was a slight hitch in his long stride. Dominic wondered if he had been injured at some time in the past. The faint limp should have implied weakness, but instead it gave March the appearance of a battle-scarred soldier who would be far more dangerous than any young, untried recruit.

Dominic gripped the burning-lens stand tightly in one hand.

He must be very, very careful around this man, he reminded himself.

“Mr. March,” Mrs. Lake said, “have you met Mr. Hood?”

March came to a halt and gave Dominic an assessing look. He inclined his head an inch. “Hood.”

“Sir.”

“What a pity that you were not able to join us sooner, Mr. March,”

Priscilla said. “Mr. Hood has just finished conducting the most interesting experiments.”

“Some other time, perhaps.” He switched his attention to Mrs. Lake. “Madam, if you are quite finished here, I would remind you that we have pressing matters to attend to.” He looked at Anthony.

“As do you and Miss Emeline.”

“Yes, sir,” Anthony said, obviously eager to leave the park.

“Emeline and I will see Priscilla home and then we will continue our inquiries.”

“There is no need to be concerned, sir,” Mrs. Lake said, adjusting her gloves. “The wig shops and antiquities dealers have only just opened for the day. We have not lost any time.”

Dominic told himself he should remain silent, but his curiosity got the better of him. “May I ask what your inquiries are about?”

“We are searching for a man who has made a profession of murder,” Mrs. Lake explained. “He takes commissions, if you can imagine. Mr. March is quite rightly concerned that he will kill again soon if we do not find him and stop him.”

“You hunt a murderer?” Dominic glanced at Anthony and then quickly looked away. “I would have thought that was a job for Bow Street.”

“This killer is far too clever for the Runners,” Anthony said. “So clever, in fact, that he leaves no evidence of a crime.” He gave Emeline his arm. “Let us be off.”

Emeline smiled at Dominic. “Thank you again for a most instructive morning, Mr. Hood.”

“It was all quite fascinating.” Priscilla gave him a brilliant smile.

“My pleasure,” Dominic said brusquely.

Anthony did not bother with a polite farewell. He escorted Emeline and Priscilla away across the park.

March put a hand on Mrs. Lake’s elbow. “Good day to you, Hood.”

“The same to you, sir.” Dominic bowed to Mrs. Lake. “And to you, madam. Thank you for accompanying Miss Emeline and Miss Priscilla this morning. I am well-aware that the dictates of propriety would have made it impossible for them to enter my lodgings without you in attendance.”

“I enjoyed myself immensely,” she assured him. “I trust we will meet up again, Mr. Hood, perhaps when we have more time.”

Dominic stood alone and watched them all walk away from him.

He hated to admit it, but he was envious of Anthony. Tracking a murderer sounded like exciting work. He reminded himself that he had his own important task to carry out.

He knew now that he would have to come up with another strategy to achieve his goal. The plan he had devised to lure Emeline away from Anthony was not working.

A faint breeze stirred the nearby foliage. He thought he heard his mother’s whisper in it, reminding him that his course had been set and must not be altered. He was the only one who could avenge her, he thought. There was no one else left to do it.

The small group had reached the far side of the park. They separated, Mr. March and Mrs. Lake heading to the left, Anthony with his two companions turning right.

He waited, trying to keep his attention on Anthony until the very last moment. He must not lose his concentration, he told himself. He must not allow himself to be distracted. But for some reason it was Priscilla’s bright blond ringlets peeking out from beneath the edge of her pink straw bonnet that held his gaze until they all vanished around a corner.

After a while he reached down to pick up the iron pot. He stared for a long time at the charred remains of the papers he had set afire.

Revenge was a harsh taskmaster. He was beginning to wonder if, in the end, all he would have to show for it would be a handful of ashes.