Mistress - Amanda Quick [136]
“Hoyt does not appear to have invested his ill-gotten gains in his living quarters,” Marcus observed.
“No, but he orders his coats from Weston and he recently purchased his own carriage. You know what that costs.” Iphiginia explored the desk quickly. “And there is that building he purchased from the original Dr. Hardstaff. That must have cost a great deal.”
“And that monument he built in Reeding Cemetery.” Marcus opened a drawer in a bureau and saw a stack of freshly laundered and starched cravats.
“It is difficult to credit that a man who is nasty enough to commit murder and blackmail would be the sort to build such a striking memorial to his mother.” Iphiginia sucked in her breath. “Ah-hah.”
“What does ah-hah mean?”
“It means that the desk is unlocked.” Iphiginia began rummaging around in the top drawer.
Marcus moved across the room. “I hate to mention the obvious, but if the desk is not locked, it is no doubt because there is nothing of any great import inside.”
“Nonsense. One cannot conclude that. It simply means that Herbert does not consider the wax and seal dangerous.”
“Then he is not quite as intelligent as I had assumed.” Marcus frowned as Iphiginia opened the wax jack. “Well?”
“Red wax,” she said, disappointed. “But perhaps there is another wax jack about somewhere. And the seal must be here, too.”
But after twenty minutes of diligent searching, neither black wax nor the phoenix seal came to light.
“I do not understand it.” Iphiginia stood in the center of the room and tapped her toe in evident frustration. “They must be here.”
“Not necessarily.” Marcus was impatient to be gone. It was all very well to indulge one’s bride, he thought, but enough was enough. “He may keep them on his person or in a safe that we have not discovered. There are any number of places where one could conceal items as small as a wax jack and seal.”
“I know where he would keep such items.” Iphiginia’s eyes widened with excitement. “Dr. Hardstaff’s Museum of the Goddesses of Manly Vigor.”
Marcus groaned. “I really don’t believe that there is much point searching the museum. What if one of Dr. Hardstaff’s patients is receiving a treatment?”
“It is certainly worth a try.” Iphiginia turned down the lantern and started toward the window. “Don’t dawdle, Marcus. We do not have all night, you know.”
“Thank God.” Marcus glanced quickly around the shadowed room, making certain that they had not left any obvious sign of intrusion. “I would very much like to spend some portion of this night in bed.”
Iphiginia scooped up her cloak and skirts and put one leg over the windowsill. “Must you grumble? We have the rest of our lives to spend in bed.”
Marcus cheered at the notion. The rest of his life with Iphiginia….
The alley behind Number Nineteen Lamb Lane was as shadowed and empty that night as it had been the other evening. The stairs that led up to the back door squeaked and sighed beneath Marcus’s weight. He climbed them ahead of Iphiginia, treading warily.
For some reason he felt now a sense of unease that he had not been aware of earlier in the alley behind the Thurley Street lodgings.
Marcus reached the landing and tried the door. It opened easily, just as it had the other night. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stirred.
“Marcus?” Iphiginia paused on the step and looked up. “Is something wrong?”
“Stay here. I’ll go in first.” Marcus removed his coat and slung it over his shoulder. The night air came straight through the fine lawn of his shirt, but he paid no attention. He had a sudden wish to feel less encumbered. “Let me have the lantern.”
“But Marcus.”
“Wait here, Iphiginia. I mean it.”
To his infinite relief, she obeyed. Marcus lit the lantern and moved into the darkened hall.
The corridor was eerily silent. Apparently none of the Goddesses of Manly Vigor was giving a performance