Oscar showed her one of the books on the library shelf. “I pulled on this and the hidden door opened.”
She picked up a pair of silver earrings inlaid with blue enamel that matched her eyes. “I suppose most of this is worthless, now that magic is no longer a secret. He used to hoard it in the hope the value would rise, but India and Matt’s actions sank it instead.”
“I doubt that was their motive for liberating magicians from persecution,” Oscar said wryly.
Hope cast him a frosty glare that lasted a mere moment before warming. She clasped his arm with both hands and blinked up at him. She was quite beautiful, although I’d heard one of her sisters rejoice that Hope had put on weight during her pregnancy. Oscar showed no sign of discomfort at her flirtation. He was capable of fending off unwanted attentions, and I was quite sure that in this case, they were indeed unwanted. I was glad she focused only on him and ignored me. She was like a tropical jellyfish; beautiful and elegant to the point of mesmerizing, but capable of stinging those who got too close. I’d learned to stay silent in her company and let Oscar do all the talking.
This was the second time Oscar and I had met her in as many weeks. We’d had unpleasant dealings with her before, of course, but those turbulent times were now behind us. We were moving forward, as was the entire country. It was time for magicians like Oscar to come out of the shadows and take advantage of the freedom afforded to them under new legislation that forbade their persecution.
He was precisely the sort of man to take advantage, too. Enthusiastic, enterprising, and forthright, with a thirst for knowledge and adventure. He’d been chomping at the bit for over a year, eager to begin our book-gathering expeditions. Our visit to Lady Coyle was the first such expedition. Since the Coyle townhouse was based in London and the widow eager to sell as many of her late husband’s books as possible, it seemed like the easiest place to start. Besides, we had no other specific destinations in mind yet, just vague notions of visiting the continent.
“Are you interested in buying any of the books, Oscar?” she purred.
Oscar smoothly extricated himself from her grip in such a way that it didn’t appear as though he were rejecting her outright. “We’ve made a collection on the table.” He placed Monsters and Myths of the Central American Tribes on top of the pile. “Is there a footman who can help us with these? And can your butler fetch us a cab?”
“I no longer employ a butler, but my coachman can take you wherever you wish to go.”
A few minutes later, we saw the coachman walking down the main staircase to the entrance hall where we waited. Both Oscar and I stared as he approached, but not entirely because seeing an outside servant inside the house was a rare event. He was indeed a redheaded fellow, just as Oscar had claimed. He was lanky, freckly, and younger than Hope. He also smelled faintly of baby powder. She gave him instructions to bring the carriage around and he hurried to do her bidding. It would seem that, after Lord Coyle, she’d been keen to take a younger, more malleable lover. If the rumors were true, perhaps she hadn’t waited for her husband’s death.
As we drove away from the townhouse where so much drama had occurred last year, Oscar patted the crate of books beside him. “So, what do you think?”
“I think with her looks and the money her son inherited, she’ll find herself another husband quickly, despite her waspish nature. Although I’m not sure she’d want to marry again. I can see her enjoying widowhood and all the benefits that come with being wealthy, clever and attractive.”
Oscar grinned. “Not quite the vague professor you appear to be, are you?”
“Vague?”
“But I wasn’t asking for your thoughts on Lady Coyle. I meant what do you think of our purchases?”
“I’m pleased with our haul. It’s a good beginning.”
“Indeed. May I look at the letters that fell out of the book about monsters?”
“I left them behind,” I said. “I didn’t think we needed them, and we’d only agreed to the books. Taking them would be theft.”
He looked disappointed. “The title of the book owned by Kinloch was long. I can’t remember it. Nor can I recall his address.”
“I’ve memorized both.”
He flashed a smile. “Good man. I knew that prodigious memory of yours would come in handy.”
I didn’t think my memory was all that special, but I liked that he thought it was. “We should speak to the Glasses about funds and check the railway timetable. We can travel to Scotland this week.”
“You mean Lord and lady Rycroft.”
I often forgot the formal titles of the easygoing India and Matthew Glass. Their lack of pretense was what made them such delightful company. “I believe they’re all currently in London.”
“All? As in Lord and Lady Rycroft, the baby, and the members of their entourage?”
“And the newlyweds who live here,” I added. “Do you know, I never thought Willie would go through with it. She doesn’t seem like the marrying kind.”
He chuckled. “Shall we make a wager on how long the marriage will last?”
“Oscar! You can’t do that. Besides, I doubt Detective Inspector Brockwell would divorce her. He seems like a steady fellow who’d follow through on a promise until the end.”
“Who says it will end in divorce? Or that he’ll be the one to end it?”
I pushed my glasses up my nose. “That’s a rather cynical view of things. Willie may be volatile, but I truly believe she loves him.”
