I shrugged. “As you said before, a rather tacky souvenir of my husband’s distasteful adventures.”
He placed it carefully on the table. “It was designed to hold condoms—contraceptive sheaths.”
I stared at the pretty, tawdry little box. “You mean that that actually—”
“Held the murder weapon. Yes. At least I am as certain as I can be. I intend to have Mordecai test it eventually. Perhaps traces of the poison remain.”
The sweet cachou turned sour in my mouth. “Put it away. For God’s sake.”
He did, slipping it into his pocket.
“How did you persuade Jasper to get it from Magda?”
“I offered him money.”
I lifted a brow at him. “Is that really all it took?”
“She had given it to him to pawn. It saved him a trip. My greatest trouble was persuading him that I only wanted the box. I almost had to take those bloody candlesticks as well.”
I looked up at him and he was almost smiling. He knew I would not take offense at his language, and I think he was trying in some small way to put things right between us. I was still miserable, but not as bleakly so as I had been a moment before.
“I am sorry, you know. Clearly you meant to keep your Gypsy blood private and I blundered in where I had no right to be.”
He waved an indifferent hand. “Perhaps I did not mean to keep it so private as I thought I did.” He paused, canting his head at my incredulity. “You’re blinking at me like a rather curious owl.”
“Forgive me. You seemed angry enough at me last night for discovering your secret.”
“I was angry…for a variety of reasons. Not the least because I distrusted your motives. I thought you meant to take the box before I could retrieve it.”
“Oh. Well, I hope you understand now that that was not my intention.”
“I do.” His gaze was firm and clear, no shadow of a headache, I thought now. “But you are quite correct. I told you where I intended to be. I opened myself to the possibility that you would find me speaking Romany.”
“Quite fluently, I should say.” I caught my breath, comprehension beginning to dawn. “Magda knew, didn’t she? The first time she met you, she spoke Romany because she intended you to know that she had discovered your secret. She called you a posh rat.”
Brisbane’s eyes gleamed. “The word isposhrat,”he corrected me, giving it the same inflection Magda had used. “It means half-breed. And yes, she knew me well enough for what I was. My mother’s people all bear a strong resemblance to one another.” His mouth twisted into a bitter little smile. “You will note that I do not resemble His Grace of Aberdour in any respect.”
“Thank God for that! Is that why he looked at you so viciously when you played the violin?”
He nodded. “It reminds him too much of the wild little half-breed he took in. Especially when I play Romany music.”
I felt my heart quicken. “The second piece?”
“Yes. Did you like it?”
“I did.” I swallowed thickly. “I had never heard it before, but I should have known it for what it was. I heard enough Gypsy music as a child.”
He waved a lazy hand. “So, you see? I must not have intended to keep my secret from you for very long.”
His gaze narrowed and focused now, tightly upon my face, my eyes, and I began to feel flustered. I have seen the terrible excitement of chickens when a fox comes creeping too near the hen yard. I felt my feathers beginning to ruffle.
I cleared my throat primly. “You may be certain that I shall keep it.”
“It does not matter. One of these days my great-uncle will get too old or too tipsy and that particular cat will come streaking out of the bag. And I will be finished in society.”
“You do not know that.” I felt suddenly argumentative. I did not like him like this, quiet and acquiescent. Combative and difficult was his normal manner. I had grown accustomed to it. “Many Jewish men are accepted in society. Why not a Roma?”
“The Jewish men in society all have a great deal of money that they are happy to lend to their impoverished peers.”
