She didn’t want to look at this as an adventure because innocent women were paying the ultimate price with their lives, but when she’d discovered that small box, Aislynn’s heart had begun pounding with excitement. She wanted to say it was completely due to the anticipation of finding the murderer, a fact she would enjoy greatly, but that would be a lie. She could understand the exhilaration that Cordell must feel every time he found an important clue and used it to solve a crime.
Unfortunately, the moment that idea formed, she was reminded of what The Wolf had told her. That seed of doubt was steadily growing and some of her anxiousness to find the man responsible for the deaths of three women was not just because she wanted to see him pay for such heinous acts. She also yearned to be assured that Cordell wasn’t the villain that they were after.
She should have declined to join him now, but she was eager to learn if the handwriting could be identified. And she wasn’t certain if he would actually allow her out of his sight. However, she would have to find some way to go to Spades and speak to Mary on her own, to see if she would tell her the truth that she was suddenly desperate to uncover.
It would take some time before Aislynn could look at Cordell and not wonder if he had intentionally lied to her about his past, or if he had merely omitted it because he hadn’t thought it necessary. But for trust to be fully established, he had to tell her anything that might be important to current events. For Aislynn, learning that he’d spent time in a private asylum was something of note.
The problem that remained was not what The Wolf had told her that morning. It weighed heavily on her, yes, but looking at Cordell all morning and feeling her stomach clench and her heart flutter was much more alarming. Could she really still feel stirrings of desire for him when she should have nothing but abhorrence? Granted, she was trying to keep her thoughts from running completely away with wild conjectures, but it was difficult to do when she was being pulled in another direction by wayward lust. Torn didn’t seem like a strong enough word to describe the tumult of emotions bursting inside of her.
She hoped that she could keep her focus steady on the prospect of discovering the killer’s identity. That would solve most of her current travails and the rest she could surely manage to work out with Cordell. The fact that he intended to remain celibate for the rest of his days did not make sense to her. It seemed unfair not to enjoy what was a natural expression of sexuality. She certainly didn’t intend to remain a virgin for the rest of her days, so why should he? She was certain they could find a way to enjoy each other’s company without the threat of any children. That was something else she intended to ask Mary’s opinion on, although she might not mention that her curiosity centered around Cordell. No doubt the lady would be able to discern that on her own anyway. She seemed rather intuitive.
Determined to put her mind back on track to current events, Aislynn forced her focus on her traveling companion. “Who is it that we are going to visit?”
His dark gaze was piercing as it lit on her. “Lord Findlay Marsh, Viscount Alton.”
Aislynn’s brow rose. “Impressive friend list you have, Mr. Steele.”
He lifted a shoulder in a partial shrug. “He was grateful when I recovered some of his stolen property. When I discovered that he had a list of particular talents, I called upon his expertise several times over the years. He has a brilliant mind when it comes to codes and ciphers.”
“Sounds like an intriguing gentleman.”
“Indeed. You shall soon discover that for yourself.”
He turned his attention out the window, effectively ending their conversation without a word. Aislynn decided to allow the lapse. She didn’t want to chatter like a magpie just to soothe her anxious thoughts and if their exchange went much further, it might very well descend to that point.
The hackney soon deposited them at Grosvenor Square, the very heart of Mayfair and social society. Aislynn’s attention was riveted by the elegance of the whitewashed marble edifices that proclaimed the wealth of those who made their residence inside. She generally avoided this part of town for that very reason, because she knew that no matter how loved she might get to be on stage, she would never ascend to something this marvelous. Not without a proper benefactor, that was, and she refused to debase herself in that fashion. Her pride demanded that much of her.
Cordell gathered the lion’s head knocker and set it against the door in a few short raps. It didn’t take long for his summons to be received and the door opened to reveal an older, sour-faced butler. Aislynn wondered if all the servants for the upper echelon were the same. From what she’d heard in passing, it did seem to be the trend.
“Mr. Steele. Good day.” The servant didn’t even flick a glance in her direction. No doubt her serviceable gown did not endear her as someone of note.
Cordell inclined his head at the stiff greeting. “Miss Aislynn Sims and I would like to speak to the viscount on a matter of business, if he has a moment to spare.”
The butler finally glanced at Aislynn, although his expression did not change as he slowly opened the door wider, as if he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to allow her in the front or demand that she utilize the servants’ entrance. “Of course. Wait here and I will see if the master is receiving.”
They made it as far as the cavernous foyer as the butler’s expensive shoes took him away. Aislynn had no doubt that his pay far exceeded whatever she might garner from the theatre, regardless of whether or not she was the main attraction. It was just how society worked, and she was lucky enough to be a woman who earned her own way without lying on her back with her legs spread wide.
They did not have to wait long before a gentleman in fine attire and a pleasant smile on his face came walking forward. Aislynn was surprised to see that he was young and quite appealing to the eye, with light hair, bright blue eyes, and a lean stature. If her head hadn’t already been turned by his darker counterpart, she might have found herself interested in a deeper acquaintance. If their situations might ever warrant such a thing.
“Cordell. A pleasure as always.” He turned to her. “And Miss Aislynn Sims. I daresay when Evans told me that you were at my front door, you could have knocked me down with a feather in my surprise. I am a fan of your work.”
“Thank you, my lord. I do appreciate that.”
He waved a hand toward the parlor. “Let us chat, shall we?”
Cordell set his hand at the small of Aislynn’s back, whether to guide her to someplace she had not been before, or because he wanted to proclaim his territory, she wasn’t quite sure.
Chapter
Eleven
I’m not a jealous man. Cordell knew that with certainty. He had never had cause to doubt himself before. But then, he had never been as intimate with a woman as he had with Aislynn and he discovered that his fists were clenching toward a man he’d considered a friend as much as any other of his acquaintance. Generally, he never cared what any of his previous lovers did, or who they batted their lashes at. All of Mary’s girls believed they were different from their predecessors, that they would finally be the one to encourage him to share their bed completely and without reservation. Thus far they had all been unsuccessful in their attempts and would continue to be so. Cordell’s past was too littered with ghosts to allow himself any sort of freedom to procreate. It was why he chose to take the path of least resistance, the one which was perfectly foolproof when it came to the threat of any unwanted heirs that might suffer the same tragic circumstances that his father had undergone.
As he settled in the viscount’s parlor with Aislynn beside him on the settee and their host taking a chair across from them, he withdrew the letter from the inside of his vest. “I was hoping that you might help solve a mystery.”
The gentleman smiled broadly. “I would love to see what I could do.” As the paper was handed over, he read the brief missive and then glanced up at Cordell. “Does this have to do with the theatre murders that have been happening recently?”
“The very same.” Cordell pointed toward the letter. “We found this today in the first victim’s dressing room. It had been hidden until now, but Miss Sims is resourceful when it comes to understanding her fellow actresses and fighting for the justice of her friends that met this dark fate.”
