“Long story, but since eighteenisthe first number, may I assume the last number is three?”
“I haven’t committed the entire combination to my safe to memory, but it might be.”
Adelaide turned to Gideon, her excitement almost palpable. “It appears we’ve just discovered what those numbers were for that were hidden in the cipher.” She redirected her attention to Sophia. “May I presume that when Lottie worked as your dresser, she asked questions about your impressive jewelry collection, one you would undoubtedly store in this almost-impossible-to-open safe?”
“As I said, I only keep items of reasonable worth in my safe. My jewelry is outrageously expensive, which is why I keep the majority of my collection in a safe-deposit box at my bank, using one of my personal guards to switch out pieces according to my whims. But to answer your question, Lottie might have remarked on a few of the pieces I wore on any given night, but that’s not unusual, given the extravagant nature of the jewels my many admirers have lavished on me over the years.”
“Did she ever make a point of asking you where your safe is hidden?”
“I don’t recall speaking about my safe, but I don’t believe it would take a genius to realize it’s located in the suite of rooms I keep at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.”
“If you didn’t spend your time speaking about your jewels, and don’t recall Lottie broaching the matter of your safe, what did you usually talk about?”
Sophia shrugged. “The usual—fashion, the weather, but most of all, books.” She began fiddling with a button on her glove. “I thought we’d formed a bond over our shared literary preferences, but I was certainly wrong about that.”
“Did you tell Lottie about any rare books you own?”
“I don’t own any rare books because my tastes run more to Jane Austen or Charlotte Brontë.” Sophia tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Foolish as this seems to me now, even though there was a part of me that knew Lottie hadn’t left my employ because of an ill mother, I was hoping I was wrong and that she would return to me because she promised to help me with a project she suggested I take on.”
“Project?” Adelaide pressed.
“Lottie thought I could make a fortune—not that I’m ever short of funds—if I were to write my life story and get it into print.”
Adelaide settled back against the seat. “Did she question you a lot about your life experiences?”
“Not really. She suggested I begin jotting down the adventures I’d experienced ever since becoming an opera singer.” Sophia smoothed a hand against the sable lapel of her overcoat. “I told her there was no need for me to do that because I’ve been keeping journals for years and make a habit of writing in them daily.”
“Did you share any of your journals with Lottie?”
“Absolutely not. The contents of my journals are far too personal to share with anyone because I’ve written down my dreams, my thoughts, and my time spent with my many admirers. And before you ask, because of the sensitive material I’ve written down in them, I keep them locked in my safe, except for whatever journal I’m currently writing in, but that also goes into the safe every night.”
Adelaide glanced out the window, traced a finger through the frost that was marring the glass, then turned her head, hergaze sharpening on Sophia. “I find myself reluctant to ask this, but it may bear significant importance to your case. Is there a possibility you’ve included information about those admirers in your journals that could, hypothetically, of course, be used to persuade them to lavish all those jewels on you?”
Sophia’s eyes flashed with temper. “That almost sounds as if you’re accusing me of blackmail.”
“I believe I used the wordpersuade, but your indignation suggests I’m not off the mark.”
“You’re not nearly as darling as I thought you were,” Sophia grumbled before she crossed her arms over her chest. “But since I get the distinct impression you’re annoyingly persistent when you set your mind to it, know that Imayhave persuaded a few gentlemen to purchase me trinkets after reminding them of certain delicate matters they mentioned to me over candlelit dinners.”
“Which would be considered blackmail.”
“That’s your opinion, but increasing the size of my jewelry collection isn’t the only reason I’ve scribbled information about gentlemen into my journals. A woman in my position must have means of protection, especially when some gentlemen want to further their acquaintance with me and I’m not receptive to their overtures.”
“Perfectly understandable, but how often do you write about gentlemen?”
“I uncover secrets and scandals on a nightly basis and go through at least a half-dozen journals a year.”
Adelaide shot a look to Gideon. “I believe we’re finally getting to the bottom of why Lottie took up a post as Sophia’s dresser.” She leaned closer to Sophia. “Do you imagine that your journals may have been why Frank Fitzsimmons wanted to speak privately with you at the Nelson event a few months back?”
Sophia shifted on the seat. “That notion did cross my mindafter learning Frank tried to murder Gideon—to no avail, of course, because . . .” She fluttered her lashes Gideon’s way. “You are certainly a gentleman who knows how to take care of a murderous villain, something I, for one, find incredibly compelling.”
“Of course gentlemen like Gideon are compelling, but getting back to the real issue here,” Adelaide said through what seemed to be clenched teeth, something that left Gideon’s lips quirking, “are you certain that you never mentioned to Lottie that you keep these journals in your safe?”
“I suppose I might have mentioned that in passing, but I can’t be certain.”
“Could you have also disclosed that you make a habit of writing about your gentlemen admirers?”
“I would never be so careless as to do that, although...” Sophia frowned. “I have a tendency to speak out loud as I write in my journals. Lottie might have been in my dressing room when I was writing a particularly delicious tidbit I’d learned about one of the recent additions to the opera scene—a Mr. Marshall Wilson. He graciously took me to Delmonico’s after a performance and was quite the talker.”
