“You are barking mad. How could someone possibly introduce poison to a man’s…well, his…personwithout his knowledge?”
He gave me a slit-eyed stare. “Perhaps it was with his knowledge.”
“Are you saying it was suicide? That I find very hard to believe, and I must warn you that if you intend to pursue that particular line of investigation, I will stop this hansom right now and leave you here before I will have my husband’s good name—”
He grabbed at my hand, squeezing hard, then dropped it suddenly, as if remembering himself. “I am suggesting nothing of the sort. I believe Sir Edward was murdered by a person with whom he was intimately connected.”
“Oh, God, you think I did this!” I sagged against the seat, regretting with every atom of my being the day I had engaged him on this case.
“You will have to learn not to take such flying leaps of imagination if you ever hope to make an investigator, my lady,” he said, rubbing at his temples. “I believe it must have been someone who knew his most intimate habits. It is the only way it all makes sense. He must have used a contraceptive machine—a sheath. A condom.”
I was finally beginning to grasp what he was saying.
“And this sheath was poisoned? On the inside?”
“Precisely. It would account for the discoloration of his genitals, while no other part of his body bore traces of poison.”
“What sort of person would do such a thing?Coulddo such a thing?” I murmured.
Brisbane shrugged. “Someone who hated him, that much is obvious. Someone who knew he would possibly use a prophylactic device during his amours. His valet, possibly, but far more likely it was a lover.”
He seemed to have forgotten entirely that I had been Edward’s wife. We were colleagues now, and I was not certain if I minded this or not. “His amours. That is quite a leap, is it not? You assume that he had mistresses, but you have no proof. Your entire theory hangs on the question of my husband’s fidelity.”
Brisbane turned to me, his eyes cool and pitiless. “I do not suppose it, my lady. I have proof. I have had ever since you gave me the inventory of his rooms.”
I returned the cool stare. “Of what are you speaking, Mr. Brisbane?”
“The inventory listed one object that proved your husband had carnal relations with other women.”
“Impossible. What object could possibly reveal that?”
A smile crossed his lips. It was feline, almost cruel, and I knew he was thinking of the case and not of me at all.
“There was a small porcelain box, painted with the image of Pandora, opening her own legendary box, the gift of the gods.”
My lips went dry. “What of it?”
“If it is the one I suspect, I know those boxes. They are made to order for one of London’s most notorious brothels. And they are only given to the most illustrious and profitable of patrons.”
I said nothing. He settled back against the cushion, basking a little in his brilliant deduction. I felt my upper lip begin to grow moist. I blotted it discreetly with my gloved finger and waited for what I knew must come next.
“All we need do now is retrieve Sir Edward’s box from Grey House, and I will use it as entrée to the brothel, where I shall discreetly question the inmates.”
I swallowed hard and steeled my nerve. “Except that the box is not at Grey House.”
He went very still. “Where is it?”
“I gave it to Magda. I knew she did not kill Edward, the very idea was ludicrous, and yet I feared you meant to hang her. I sent her away.”
“With the box.” His even, measured tone was far worse than any shout would have been. He reminded me of a cat that Cook had kept at Bellmont Abbey when I was a child. It would sit for hours, quite still, quite harmless-looking, but always watching with ravenous eyes. The poor, doomed mice never even saw the pounce. I licked my lips.
“And a pair of Sèvres candlesticks. I did not have any cash to hand and I knew she would need money.”
“So,” he said in a dangerous, silky voice, “your Gypsy laundress has taken our single best clue and pawned it, somewhere in a city of five million people.”
I gave him my most abjectly sorry look. “I do apologize. I see that I have made rather a muck of things. But you must understand, I only did it to save Magda. I knew she was innocent, but I heard the way she spoke to you, the way she taunted you. I feared that you would be less than impartial.”
“You mean that you did not trust me,” he said flatly.
