“Oh God, it’s Legg and a paramour,” Sabine gasped, pulling Stoker behind a ceramic vase on a thick pedestal.
“Where?”
“Leaving the ballroom.”
They watched in alarm as the couple danced in a fumbling sort of embrace, kissing hungrily. When they reached the curled staircase bannister, they fell against it and plunged into another kiss.
“He seems to have made the acquaintance of another... friend,” Sabine said.
“He is insatiable,” said Stoker.
Behind them the ballroom music crescendoed to a rallying final note and then fell silent. The new quiet was followed by a spike in voices, and Mr. Legg scowled in the direction of the ballroom. The woman reared up, yanking on her bodice. They whispered for a moment and then Legg kissed her again, dragged her to him, and they embarked up the stairs at a fast clip.
“They would not,” said Stoker, pushing off the wall.
“I believe they would,” said Sabine. “But let us—”
He started toward the stairs. “This is Bryson and Elisabeth’s home,” he said. “They have children here—”
“I thought their boys were in school.”
“This is not a winter-solstice bacchanal in bloody Portsmouth,” Stoker ground out, ignoring her, walking on. “This is a family home, one of the finest in London.”
Sabine darted after him. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Legg and his friend had disappeared into the shadows of the landing.
“Stoker,”she warned. “This is not wise.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not wise.” He began stomping up the stairs.
“It’s not prudent for the two of us to roust them. You are meant to be my bodyguard, remember?”
“Crass, ungrateful, salacious...” He was halfway up.
“Let us summon a footman,” she said, two steps behind. “Or alert Bryson if you are so bothered. I don’t think—”
“Which way?” He reached the top step and looked right and left. Dim, doorway-lined corridors stretched on either side. The couple seemed to have vanished into the shadows. Stoker chose left and stalked down the landing. “They are trespassing,” he said. “What if every guest stole away to bedrooms when the bloody orchestra takes a break?”
Sabine called to him again, whispering now, but he didn’t hear. His tirade continued, all hope of coherency lost. He was angry and hurt and likely in pain, and he’d not liked Phineas Legg on sight.
Sabine hurried after him, still hoping to drag him away before Phineas saw, but he came to a door standing halfway ajar and shoved it open.
Sabine closed her eyes.
“Empty,”she heard him scoff from inside. She said a silent prayer and hurried after him.
“Stoker,” she said, imbuing her voice with authority. “You must stop. You’re behaving like a man possessed. We’ve had quite a shock, you especially, and there is much to consider. You are tired, I am tired, but listen to me. We cannot challenge Legg in a bedroom of Denby House like a... like a rogue chaperone. He mustn’t see me again—this was your own proclamation. I must turn in my uncle and his lot anonymously in case something goes wrong. None of them must ever know I was behind the investigation.For my own safety. I cannot have Phineas Legg learn another thing about me or who I really am. Be reasonable, please.”
Stoker had come to stop by a giant bed. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out.
She went to him. “Remember how you chased me away from Mr. Legg after we’d learned of the gunpowder? We are finished with him.”
He made a growling noise and walked in a circle.
“We’re going home,” she said.
“Yes. You’re right. I’ve lost my mind.” He looked at her guiltily. “Forgive me. I’m—This house is—My friends.”
“Legg is ridiculous and I owe Bryson and Elisabeth a very great apology, especially now that he is roaming freely with his... er, new friend. But we cannot risk—”
