Sighing, Charlie said, “Then you might as well begin as you mean to go on. Come to the drawing room; we still have a villain to catch.”
The group gathered around a coffee table. Ben and Livy shared a settee, the Willflowers to Livy’s right, Charlie across, and Chen to Ben’s left. As refreshments were passed around, Ben gave an accounting of what he could remember of the night before. Unfortunately, his memories were hazy.
“I wish I knew which of the bastards drugged me,” he said in frustration. “But the drug distorted my senses, and he was wearing a mask. I recall him dangling Arabella’s vinaigrette in front of me, telling me that she had died from taking the contents within. He implied that he was exacting revenge on me for her death…and that of his babe, which she was apparently carrying.”
Livy laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, delicate yet strong. While he would always bear regret for his past mistakes, he realized that those memories could no longer hurt him. Because he had Livy by his side, sharing her light with him, the brightness of their love chasing all shadows away.
“Those facts align with the letter we found in the villain’s hideaway in Limehouse.” With obvious care, Livy asked, “Of the Horsemen, have you any idea whom the duchess might have, um, had a preference for?”
Ben shook his head. “She was friendly with all of them. Her lover could have been Edgecombe, Thorne, or Bollinger.”
“At least that rules out Stamford,” Livy said.
There was a discreet knock; it was the butler.
“Yes, Hawker?” Lady Fayne said.
“I’ve received word from Mrs. Peabody,” Hawker said. “She was monitoring the three suspects at a club, but they caught wind of her. Gave her the slip.”
Lady Fayne frowned. “That is unfortunate. Those scoundrels are undoubtedly up to no good.”
A sudden memory surfaced in Ben’s brain.
“Bollinger said he had a shipment to pick up tonight,” he said tersely. “That he meant to take me with him to do the job.”
“Did he say where?” Livy asked.
“Edgecombe implied that there was a regular route, and I was supposedly going to take over Longmere’s delivery.Devil take it.” Ben drove his fist into his palm. “If only I had had the presence of mind to question the bastards further. We might have been able to intercept a delivery this very eve—and perhaps catch the blackguard behind all of this.”
“Let’s not give up hope,” Livy said. “As Mama likes to say, there is more than one way to cook an egg. We are dealing with a puzzle, and my intuition tells me we have most of the pieces.”
Her face was set in determined lines that, in spite of the situation, Ben found adorable. She had always been clever, and he saw now how well her abilities suited investigative work. His bride-to-be had always marched to the beat of her own drum…and he was proud of her independent spirit. Proud ofher.
“We have yet to thoroughly examine the clues we found in the villain’s hideout,” she went on. “If we put our heads together, perhaps we will come up with answers.”
“How did you manage to find the hideout?” Ben wanted to know.
“Longmere’s painting,” Fiona answered, waving to a small landscape on an easel behind her. “One of his models had it in her possession. Our hypothesis is that Longmere somehow tracked the villain, or the villain’s henchmen, to the lair. He wanted out of the enterprise but lacked the courage to take the final step. Then one night, he did confront the so-called Fong…and paid for it with his life.”
Ben crossed over to look at the painting, Chen doing the same.
Livy followed behind them, pointing out the building at the painting’s center. “While we found some clues there—including the Duchess of Hadleigh’s letter and an odd poem—we did not find the supply of Devil’s Bliss.”
Ben stared at the painting. Cherise’s voice floated from the recesses of his mind.
He said that the Devil had floated in on a Siren’s song, luring him to an inescapable death, but I could still break free…
The answer struck Ben.
“Could the drug be kept on a boat? According to Lady Foxton, Longmere said that the Devil had floated in on a Siren’s song…” Ben tapped his finger against the boat next to the building, which had a figurehead of a mermaid. “And that, I believe, is a Siren.”
“That would explain why we didn’t find evidence of the drug in the house.” Livy’s eyes lit with excitement. “When we were there last night, the dock was empty.”
“The question, then, is how do we find the boat?” Lady Fayne mused. “That sort of figurehead is exceedingly common.”
“We could keep following the Horsemen,” Glory suggested. “The villain will eventually slip up.”
“We could also confront Stamford,” Fiona said. “He is the weakest link in the chain. If we were to tell him that Longmere was killed—and Hadleigh nearly so—by a member of his own group masquerading as Fong, he might tell us everything he knows. Two men out of five targeted for murder: even Stamford will recognize that those are not good odds.”
