Lord of Darkness (Maiden Lane #5)(13)

Godric said, “Did you kill the wrong man?”

“No.” Makepeace’s look was grim. “Seymour was quite proud of his crime, believe me. He boasted of it before I ended his life. Either someone else has started up an entirely different operation or—”

“Or Seymour wasn’t the only one in the original business,” Godric murmured.

“Either way, someone must find out who is behind the lassie snatchers and stop them. I’m out of the business since my marriage.” Makepeace paused delicately. “I assume that you’re still operating. Although, with your wife now in town—”

“She won’t be for long,” Godric said crisply.

Makepeace arched an eyebrow but was far too discreet to inquire further.

Godric’s lips thinned. “What about the other?”

Makepeace shook his head. “He hunts only one thing in St. Giles; you know that. He’s been monomaniacal for years now.”

Godric nodded. They were all loners, but the third of their bizarre trilogy was near obsessive. He would be no help in this matter.

“It’s up to you alone, I’m afraid,” Makepeace said.

“Very well.” Godric thought a moment. “If Seymour did have a partner, do you have any idea who it might be?”

“It could be anyone, but were I you, I’d begin with Seymour’s friends: Viscount d’Arque and the Earl of Kershaw. All three were as thick as thieves before Seymour’s death.” Makepeace paused and looked at him intently. “But, St. John?”

Godric raised his brows.

Makepeace’s face was grim. “You also need to find this workshop. Last time, some of the girls nearly didn’t make it out alive.”

Chapter Three

One moonless night, the Hellequin came upon the soul of a young man lying in the crossroads, dying in the arms of his beloved. The woman was lovely, her face both innocent and good, and for a moment the Hellequin paused, staring at her. There are those who whisper that the Hellequin was not always in the Devil’s service. Once, they say, the Hellequin was a man like any other. If this tale is true, perhaps the girl’s face sparked some human memory, wandering lost, deep in the Hellequin’s mind. …

—From The Legend of the Hellequin

Megs perched on a settee in the home’s cozy sitting room and sipped from her dish of tea as she glanced around at the other ladies in the Syndicate. The membership hadn’t changed, it seemed, in her absence. Her sister-in-law, Lady Hero Reading, one of the two founding members, sat beside her on the settee, her hair nearly the same color as the fireplace flames. Next to Hero was her younger sister, Lady Phoebe Batten, a pleasant girl with a plump figure who smiled rather vaguely at nothing in particular.

Megs knit her brows in worry. The girl’s eyesight had been very poor when last she’d seen her—had Phoebe gone entirely blind in the intervening years? Beside Phoebe was Lady Penelope Chadwicke, rumored to be one of the wealthiest heiresses in England—and with her pansy-purple eyes and black hair, certainly one of the most beautiful. Lady Penelope was nearly always accompanied by her lady’s companion, Miss Artemis Greaves, a retiring but pleasant lady. On the far side of Miss Greaves was the other founding patroness, the daunting, silver-haired Lady Caire. Next to Lady Caire sat her daughter-in-law, Temperance Huntington, Lady Caire, and next to Temperance was her brother’s wife, the former Lady Beckinhall—Isabel Makepeace.

The membership may not’ve changed, but there were other differences since last she’d attended a meeting. This room, for instance. When last Megs had seen it, the sitting room had been clean and neat but far from homey. Now, thanks to what she suspected was the new Mrs. Makepeace’s intervention, the room boasted a lovely landscape over the fireplace and a series of amusing knickknacks on the mantel: an odd little green and white Chinese bowl, a gilt clock held aloft by cupids, and a blue statuette of a stork and what appeared to be a salamander.

Megs squinted. Surely it couldn’t be a salamander?

“I’m so glad that you decided to come back to town, sister, dear,” Lady Hero interrupted her thoughts. Hero had acquired the rather sweet habit of calling Megs sister since marrying Megs’s brother Griffin.

“Did you miss me at the meetings?” Megs asked lightly.

“Yes, of course.” Hero gave her a faintly chiding look. “But you know Griffin has missed you, and I have as well. We don’t see you nearly as much as I’d like.”

Megs wrinkled her nose, feeling guilty, and reached for a biscuit from the plate sitting on the table beside her. “I’m sorry. I did mean to come up for Christmas, but the weather was so bad. …” She trailed off. Her excuse sounded weak even to her own ears. It was just that ever since Griffin had intervened on her behalf with Godric—had found a way to save her from her own folly—she hadn’t known how to face him. Wasn’t even sure what she could say.

Hero folded her hands in her lap. “All that matters is that you’re here now. Have you seen Thomas and Lavinia yet?”

“Er …” Megs took a hasty sip of tea.

Hero’s eyes narrowed. “Thomas does know you’re in town?”

Actually, Megs hadn’t informed her eldest brother—otherwise known as the Marquess of Mandeville—of her arrival.

Hero, with her usual quiet perception, seemed to realize that Megs hadn’t told anyone of her trip. But instead of badgering Megs with questions, she merely sighed. “Well, your visit will be a fine excuse to have everyone over for dinner. And perhaps you can come early to see my sweet William. He’s bigger than Annalise now, you know.”