It was only a block from the public house, and she wondered…would Corvindale have gone in there? It seemed a place that would interest him.
That little prickling of instinct bothered her along her forearms, and when Tren returned moments later, she opened the carriage door and made the suggestion.
“Indeed, my lady, that is the place I took him first,” the groom told her. “But he gave orders to meet at the Fiery Grate and he isn’t there. No’ne has seen him.”
Maia gathered up her skirts. “Perhaps he’s in the shop and has lost track of time. If you like, I’ll go in and look.”
The poor groom’s face was so relieved Maia smiled. She could imagine his reluctance to enter a shop dressed as plainly as he was, and in an unfamiliar place. Aside of that, she thought there might be items of interest in Mr. Reginald’s place.
Inside she found the place strangely quiet and deserted. It wasn’t all that uncommon to enter a shop and need to wait for the proprietor to come from the back, but the place was so silent that Maia sensed immediately that something was wrong.
“Hello? Mr. Reginald?” she called, leaning on the counter to see if she could peer into the back room. The door was ajar and she smelled something that wafted over the commonplace aromas of dust and age that often accompanied antiques.
Something was amiss. The smell on the air…it boded no well.
Maia started toward the back of the shop, then hesitated. She should ask Tren to come with her. What kind of fool would she be, walking into somewhere alone?
Yet, he’d have to find a place to tie the horses….
“Hello?” she called again, skirting carefully around the counter, looking for something that she might use as a weapon. Settling on a long, heavy cane in one of the display cases, she pulled it out and tiptoed toward the ajar door. Heart pounding in her throat, she raised the cane up in front of her shoulder, and stepped into the back room.
The first thing she noticed was the dark pool on the floor, and immediately attributed the strange scent she’d smelled to it. Blood. Lots of it.
But the space was silent, and she stepped in farther, lifting her skirt out of the way. The place was a mess, and appeared as if some sort of battle had accompanied the puddle of blood. Something gleamed on the floor and Maia glanced around nervously before stooping to pick it up.
Her heart gave an odd little kick when she recognized it. Corvindale’s button; unmistakeable because it was stamped with the earl’s crest.
So he had been here. That odd feeling settled into something less pleasant and Maia glanced toward the window, which was dark with dirt. If she had more light, she could see…
“Miss?” came a voice from the front.
Tren. Maia turned and hurried back to the half-open door. “Call the constable,” she said. “I think something’s gone wrong.” She came back, snatching up a lamp, and crouched on the floor, searching for something else that might prove that the earl had been there.
When she saw the hairpin, Maia’s heart kicked up again as she reached for it. This was no ordinary hairpin, but one studded with tiny…rubies.
Rubies.
Corvindale hated rubies. They infuriated him.
Maia shook her head. No. Something was wrong. She remembered how he’d been so odd in the carriage when Angelica had been abducted, when they both had been wearing ruby earbobs. It wasn’t that he simply hated them…it was that they had some sort of ill effect on him.
The prickling of certainty, her instinct, lifted the fine hairs on her arms.
With a flash, she recalled the night of the masquerade, and Mirabella’s description of the fight. There was a necklace of rubies on him.
A hairpin with rubies on it. Corvindale’s button. Blood, and signs of struggle.
Maia went cold. It was no coincidence. Something had happened to the earl.
She looked down at the hairpin, recognition tickling the back of her mind. She’d seen this accessory somewhere before. Someone had been wearing it, or something like it. She frowned, concentrating, trying to pull up a picture of her in her mind.
Someone she’d seen recently.
Someone she didn’t know.
But someone she was going to find.
Dimitri smelled, listened, felt…then opened his eyes.
He was in a chair, a large, upholstered one, sprawled as if dumped therein.
His body was still heavy—his arms, legs, nothing moved properly—yet he wasn’t restrained. So to speak.
She was standing over him, wearing rubies, looking down with satisfaction. She appeared exactly the same as she had that night in Vienna. Tall and slender, thick dark hair, lush red lips and cheekbones that cut like right angles. Still lovely, but now there was a flash of permanent anger in her eyes.
“Lerina,” he managed to say, looking around the chamber. It appeared to be some sort of parlor. Not particularly well-kept; it was dusty and some of the furnishings were covered with sheets. The windows were draped and the light was dim. Her scent filled his nostrils, along with other ones: blood, old fabric, dust, worn leather, water. Saltwater. Fish.
They were near the Thames, possibly the wharf.
“Have you missed me, darling?” she asked, lunging closer to pat him on the cheek. The rubies swung and shifted toward him. “We have so much to catch up on.”
He closed his eyes as a wave of pain swept him, then ebbed slightly as she pulled back. “Moldavi, I presume?”
Lerina smiled, showing her fangs. “You are a smart one, Dimitri.”
“Whose body did I find? Wearing…your gown?” he asked, trying to control his unsteady breathing. Now he knew how the secret of his Asthenia had become known.
Being his mistress, Lerina must somehow have figured it out; for he certainly had never told her. Or she and Moldavi together had done so.
She shrugged and the rubies danced. “I haven’t any idea.
Cezar took care of that. Some mortal, most likely. The whole point was to make you believe I’d died in the fire.”
Dimitri pulled himself upright in the chair. Every movement felt as if he were weighted down with leaden pipes while slogging upriver through a heavy current. The pain from his Mark had melded with that from the rubies, stealing his breath and burning his skin. Yet, when he could lift himself above the physical discomfort, his mind worked like an oiled machine. And it was working now.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” Lerina said, leaning close again.
Her scent filled his nose, along with a renewed rush of pain from the rubies. Dimitri didn’t flinch or blink, holding her gaze steady with his own. “You’ll tell me. Although I’m also…quite certain I already know.”