My jaw tightened. “You knew we went to the auction.”
“I knew Dorian went there,” he corrected. “And was caught embracing some mysterious woman that may have been you. I will admit that some of my actions tonight were in part designed to determine exactly what kind of relationship you have. But Dorian here has made that very clear.”
I turned away, unable to hold the odious man’s gaze.
“So what did Charles have on you, then?” Mr. Dorian prompted.
“Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
I glanced up to find him giving me a hard look. “My father told him something about your activities in Greece.”
Lord Linden’s eyes flashed with surprise. “That’s all you know?” Then he let out a laugh. “My God, I was sure you knew the whole of it. Your husband never told you?” I sucked in a breath at the disbelief in his gaze. Then he shook his head. “Oliver always acted like he was some great champion of the Greeks. He would go on and on about how important it was for the country to keep their heritage. Never mind that there was an entire economy thriving around the export of artifacts. But then, in the end, he succumbed to greed, just like the rest of us.”
I closed my eyes for a moment as his words hit me like a blow. “He was your contact at the embassy,” I said softly.
“Actually, I didn’t know it was him until Charles told me,” Lord Linden said with a dry laugh. “There was growing pressure from the government at the time to tighten the existing antiquities law and a lot of grumbling about diplomatic ties, so I wasn’t entirely surprised when our contact seemed to vanish out of thin air. It was a terrible shame, really, and a great deal of money was lost. And then, years later, Charles comes round boasting about some big secret he’s learned from some addled old man. That I was named as the leader of an illegal antiques ring uncovered by none other than my oldfriendOliver Harper. Then he brought you to my home to taunt me, and I knew I couldn’t let this continue.”
“So you went and killed him?” Mr. Dorian supplied. “Why not just pay him the money?”
“Because that is not how blackmailers operate,” he said slowly, as if we were both very thick. “The extortion never truly ends, as he would have just kept digging for more information. And while being exposed as the leader of a now disbanded black market antiquities ring would have been an inconvenience, I have far more interesting skeletons in my closet that I need to keep hidden.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone bone-dry. “Then you did it for insurance.”
Lord Linden considered this. “Yes, I suppose that is one way to put it. And everything would have worked out beautifully if you hadn’t gone poking around into things you shouldn’t have,” he said, giving me an arch look.
“That was why you pretended to take an interest in me.”
“I wanted to see what you knew, and who you might have told,” he explained. “And then decide what to do. Unfortunately, I fear now that decision has been made for me. Butrather than simply kill you both and give the police more to investigate, I’ll have to make this look like a murder-suicide.”
“No one will believe that,” I spat out.
But the baron merely raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I’ve heard enough rumors about the two of you to make the idea plausible.” Then he gave me an assessing look. “What do you think, Dorian? You’re the writer. Is it too far-fetched to think anyone would kill for a woman like her?”
“Go to hell,” he growled.
The baron laughed. “Settle down, old man. Now that delectable former wife of yours I could understand, but—”
Something in Mr. Dorian seemed to snap then, and he barreled towards Lord Linden. I immediately thrust myself in front of him in an attempt to block his way, just as the baron raised his gun at us and aimed. Mr. Dorian wrapped me in his arms, and I felt both of us brace against the shot as a loud bang filled the room. I let out a little whimper against his chest and then … nothing.
I looked up to find the baron standing stock-still before us with a dazed expression. Then he slowly looked down at his chest, where a spot of scarlet had begun to bloom just below his collar.
He touched the wet spot and stared at his blood-smeared fingertips, then turned to us in shock. “I’ve been shot.” Then he fainted dead away, revealing Miles standing in the doorway behind him, still holding a smoking gun.
“About time you showed up!” Mr. Dorian bellowed.
“That’s a funny way of saying thank you for saving my life,” the inspector quipped as he moved into the room, accompanied by two officers in uniform. “We were delayed by an upturned omnibus in Picadilly. Then I needed to hear him confess to something,” he explained. “The man did go on, rather.”
I rushed over to Lord Linden’s side as the two officers approached him, but he didn’t move. “Is he dead?” I asked.
“Better for him if he is,” the inspector said. “Otherwise, it will be a trip to the gallows.”
“Come,” Mr. Dorian said, gripping my arm and pulling me away. “You don’t need to see this.”
I regret to say that my recollection of the next hour or so was rather disjointed. Mr. Dorian mentioned that I was in shock, and I am inclined to agree. I had a vague memory of watching him argue with his brother, because he wanted to discuss the situation with us in detail, and then being told that I could not stay the night, as the house was now a crime scene. At some point, Mr. Dorian bundled me into his carriage, and the next thing I knew, Morris was ushering us into the drawing room of my parents’ house, where my mother, Delia, and, unfortunately, Jack were all gathered. While Mr. Dorian explained what happened to my increasingly irate brother, my mother guided me over to the sofa and draped a blanket over my shoulders, while Delia brought me tea, port, and a nerve tonic, in that order. But I waved it all away. I looked around the room, but Mr. Dorian and Jack had disappeared.
“Where … where is Mr. Dorian?” I asked, craning my neck trying to look past my mother.
“He went to speak with Jack privately,” Delia explained, taking the seat beside me. “Here. You should take this.” She pressed a sherry glass into my hand. I took a sip, if only to keep them from offering me things, barely noticing the bitter taste as I swallowed. That must have been Mother’s nerve tonic. I settled back against the sofa, and Delia nestled beside me, taking my arm in hers, while Mother took a chair. As I stared at the crackling fire in the hearth, a warm sense of calm slowly lapped over me. The nerve tonic worked rather quickly.
