Leo did not like the way she said that. He frowned at her, but she ignored him to smile at Saltmarsh.
"Was it my association with Monkcrest that aroused your interest in me, Mr. Saltmarsh?"
Aroused indeed, Leo thought. Under the circumstances, he considered Beatrice's choice of words particularly unfortunate. He reminded himself that he was supposed to be questioning Saltmarsh, not contemplating a dawn appointment with him. He forced himself to unclench his jaw and pay close attention to the man's response.
"Until I saw that you were acquainted with Monkcrest, I had believed that your uncle had died knowing no more than I about the Rings." Saltmarsh looked at Beatrice. "At that point I did not know that you were my muse, Mrs. York. I saw no reason to contact you until the Mad Monk appeared and showed an interest in this household."
"His lordship is the sixth Earl of Monkcrest," Beatrice said with the first hint of steel she had displayed thus far. "He is a friend of the family. In this household, we do not refer to him by that ridiculous epithet."
"Yes, yes, of course. My apologies." Saltmarsh flushed a deep red. His glass jerked in his hand as he scrambled to make amends. "No offense intended, Monkcrest. Heard the nickname in antiquities circles for years, you know. Everyone uses it. I fear it just sort of slipped out. Won't happen again, I assure you."
Leo ignored him. His attention was riveted on Beatrice. A curious warmth infused his insides. She had leaped instantly to his defense. It was quite touching, he thought, but he probably ought not to read too much into it.
If Beatrice was aware of his intense, narrow-eyed scrutiny, she did not show it. Her gaze was still focused on Saltmarsh.
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"You were saying, sir?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, indeed." He cleared his throat. "As I indicated, I had very nearly abandoned my quest. But the fact that the Mad-I mean, the fact that such a noted authority as Monkcrest had chosen to involve himself with you gave me pause.-
"In what way?" Beatrice asked.
"I wondered if Glassonby had learned more than I had realized and perhaps left some clues that would be helpful.' Leo switched his gaze to Saltmarsh. "In other words,
you wondered if Mrs. Poole was in possession of any useful information."
Saltmarsh nodded, abashed. "I confess, it renewed my zeal for the quest. But as it happens, I had been pursuing another line of inquiry at the same time. A few months ago I had set out to discover the true identity of the authoress who had inspired me with a passion to write.'
"I see." Beatrice did not look at Leo.
"I had finally hit upon the notion of bribing the printer's apprentice." Saltmarsh smiled ruefully. "Imagine my astonishment when I learned that my esteemed Mrs. York was also Lord Glassonby's relation Mrs. Poole.'
"Indeed." Leo set his brandy glass down very deliberately on the mantel.
"I took it as a sign that fate had intervened." Saltmarsh gazed earnestly at Beatrice. "But I was not certain that you would welcome my interference. Especially as you had already established a connection with the Mad, uh, with Monkcrest. I decided to approach you indirectly so as not to arouse your irritation."
That bloody word arouse again, Leo thought. He wondered why it was that neither Beatrice nor Saltmarsh appeared capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation without it.
"I quite understand." Beatrice smiled beatifically. "You
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introduced yourself to me the other day in Hook's bookshop and mentioned Trull's Museum to see how I reacted."
"I assumed that your uncle had left some record of his researches. Otherwise, why would Monkcrest be involved?" "Why, indeed," Beatrice murmured.
"And since Lord Glassonby had paid another visit to Trull's on the day he died-"
"You wanted to see if I displayed an interest in Trull's myself," Beatrice concluded. "Perfectly logical, sir."
"Thank you." Saltmarsh shook his head. "'But you seemed entirely unaware of the museum. And Monkcrest made it clear he thought the establishment was filled with frauds and fakes. I did not know what to make of it all. I wondered if I had been mistaken in assuming that you were searching for the Rings."
"So you went back to your quest, as you call it, alone," Beatrice murmured.
"Actually," Saltmarsh said wryly, "I conceived of what seemed at the time to be an especially brilliant scheme." Leo turned on him. "What scheme was that?" Saltmarsh bowed his head. "I vowed that I would com-
plete the quest and lay the Forbidden Rings of Aphrodite and, just possibly, the alchemist's statue itself at my muse's feet. They were to be tokens of my great admiration."
Leo raised his eyes to the heavens and silently pleaded for patience. The prayer went unanswered.
"You intended to find the artifacts and give them to me?" Beatrice's smile was nothing short of dazzling. "Why, Mr. Saltmarsh, I do not know what to say. I am deeply honored."
Saltmarsh raised his head, blushing furiously. "It seemed like something one of the heroes in your novels might do for one of your extraordinary heroines."
Leo exerted every ounce of his well-honed willpower to refrain from picking Saltmarsh up by the scruff of his neck
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and tossing him out into the street. He had a hunch that Beatrice would not look approvingly on such an action.
"Let us get back to the matter of this afternoon's events, Saltmarsh," he said instead. "What exactly happened to you at Trull's Museum today?"
"I wish I could tell you more than I already have," Saltmarsh said. "I visited the place frequently during the past few weeks because I was convinced that Lord Glassonby discovered something of importance there. The only difference today was that the churlish porter offered me a cup of tea and I made the mistake of drinking it."
"That is all you remember?" Beatrice asked.
"Yes." He gave her an adoring look. "I can only add that when I first opened my eyes to find you kneeling over me, it crossed my mind that I was having a metaphysical experience. I cannot begin to describe the sensations that were aroused in me by the sight of my muse at the moment."
Leo wondered why the mantel did not fracture beneath his clenched fingers. "'And then, of course, you realized that you were locked in an underground storage room with Mrs. Poole. A situation that could have compromised her and ruined her career as the authoress Mrs. York."
Saltmarsh squared his shoulders. "I assure you, I feel the full weight of my responsibility in this matter. When I consider what might have happened if we had been obliged to spend the night in that place-" He broke off and briefly closed his eyes. "Well, I am certain you can imagine the degree of dread the thought arouses-"
"Fortunately," Leo interrupted, "we need not waste any time on those unpleasant imaginings."
"Thanks to you, Mrs. Poole." Saltmarsh regarded her with glowing admiration. "You were a beacon of feminine spirit and courage. A veritable goddess. I vow, you outshone all of your own heroines."
Beatrice waved her hand in a modest gesture of dismissal. "Please, Mr. Saltmarsh, that is quite enough."
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Leo was disgusted to see the delicate blush on her cheeks. Last night she had made love with him in a whore's bedchamber, yet today she could blush when a fawning sycophant flattered her shamelessly.
"It's more than enough," he announced. "We have other matters to discuss here. Saltmarsh, this affair has become something other than a silly game."
"'It was never a game, sir." Saltmarsh looked deeply offended. "I told you, I envisioned my search for the Rings as a quest."
"Bloody hell," Leo muttered. "You wanted to find them for the same reason everyone else does. You're after the treasure."
"That may have been true at first. But after I learned of Mrs. York's connection to the affair, I was aroused to pursue a far more noble goal."
"Indeed." Leo smiled at him.
Saltmarsh flinched. "But I quite agree that the matter has assumed a more sinister aspect," he added hastily. "I could hardly be blind to that after what transpired today."
Beatrice studied him. "What are your conclusions about today's events, Mr. Saltmarsh?"
"There is only one obvious conclusion, is there not?" His mouth tightened. "It is clear that someone else is after the Rings."
"Yes," Leo said. "And I believe that today that person delivered a warning to both of you."
Beatrice met his eyes. "Do you think that is what it was all about?"
"In truth, it may have been intended to be something more than that," Leo said quietly.
Saltmarsh scowled. "What do you mean?"
Leo forced himself to focus on the various possibilities. "I think we must assume that the person who locked you in that chamber knows that Mrs. Poole is also Mrs. York. The villain probably intended that her identity as the famous
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authoress would be revealed when the two of you were discovered in the morning."
Saltmarsh stiffened. "The resulting scandal would have made it extremely difficult if not impossible for her to pursue her inquiries into the matter of the Rings. Why, she would no doubt have been obliged to retire to the countryside for an extended stay just as Byron was forced to leave England when the gossip about him became too great. And 1, of course, would have been utterly devastated to know the great harm I had wrought."
"You'd have been a bit more than devastated after I finished with you," Leo said.
"Monkcrest." Beatrice gave him a quelling look. "That is quite enough. There is no call to threaten poor Mr. Saltmarsh."
"But as no scandal ensued, we need not go into the particulars," Leo concluded politely.
"I cannot argue with your deductions." Saltmarsh was clearly chastened. "It was a near thing indeed."
"Mr. Saltmarsh," Beatrice said carefully, "may I ask what prompted your visit to Trull's today of all days?" "What?' He looked briefly bemused. "Oh, I received a
message to the effect that there was a new exhibit of Greek antiquities. I went to see if by any chance it might include an Aphrodite. What about you, Mrs. Poole?"
"I also received a message," Beatrice said vaguely. "We were both duped." Saltmarsh's eyes narrowed. "The question is, what do we do now?"
Leo looked at him. "As of this moment, you will cease your investigations." He held up a hand as Saltmarsh opened his mouth to protest. "To pursue any other course of action is to put Mrs. Poole's reputation at risk. I am certain you would not wish to do that."
"Of course not," Saltmarsh said. "But I feel that I can be of some service."
"Mrs. Poole has requested my assistance in this affair,"
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R i n g
Leo said. "I have agreed to give it because I have some interest in legends and antiquities."
"I understand," Saltmarsh said. "But surely-"
"I cannot pursue my inquiries if you insist on muddying the waters with your amateurish investigations." Saltmarsh slumped. "I see."
Beatrice glowered at Leo. "Really, Monkcrest, you are being much too harsh. Mr. Saltmarsh was merely offering to assist us. He has every right to pursue his own inquiries."
Saltmarsh shook his head. "I would do nothing that would put you in any more jeopardy, Mrs. Poole. Perhaps Monkcrest is right. It might be best if I did not interfere any further."
"It would most assuredly be best," Leo said.
A speculative look appeared in Beatrice's eyes. She smiled at Saltmarsh. "It occurs to me, sir, that you could assist us with some inquiries in a manner that would likely not arouse any suspicions."
A pathetically grateful expression leaped into Saltmarsh's eyes. "Anything, Mrs. Poole. You have only to name it."
Leo scowled at Beatrice. "What sort of assistance did you have in mind?"
"The porter at Trull's Museum mentioned something that I found rather interesting," she said slowly. "He told me that Mr. Trull died a few months ago. The new owner has never visited the place. All of the porter's instructions come through bankers."
Leo frowned. "Trull is dead?"
"Killed in a carriage accident, I understand." Saltmarsh looked at Beatrice with lively curiosity. "Why do you find that fact interesting, Mrs. Poole?"
"Does it not strike either of you gentlemen as rather odd that the death of the former proprietor of Trull's Museum took place at about the same time that Uncle Reggie took a keen interest in the establishment?'
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"Bloody hell." Leo wondered if incipient jealousy always sabotaged a man's brain. He should have seen the significance of her observation at once. "Another coincidence, is it not? You're right. It would not hurt to discover the identity of the new owner of Trull's."
Saltmarsh leaped to his feet, fairly quivering with renewed enthusiasm. "I do not know what good it will do, but never fear, Mrs. Poole, I shall discover the answer to that question for you."
"You will be discreet, Mr. Saltmarsh," Beatrice said urgently.
"Absolutely discreet." He bent gallantly over her hand. "You have my word on it. My passion for the quest has been aroused once more, madam. As always, my muse inspires me."
Leo noted the way the light gleamed on Saltmarsh's somewhat dusty but still golden head. It occurred to him that it would be extremely satisfying to wrap his fingers around the young man's throat.
He waited until he heard the front hall door close behind Saltmarsh. Then he stepped away from the mantel, crossed the short distance to where Beatrice sat in her chair, and hauled her to her feet.
Her eyes widened. "Leo. For heaven's sake, my lord." He seized her around the waist, lifted her off her feet, and brought her face very close to his own.
"What in the name of every bloody devil in hell did you think you were about today?"
"Really, Leo, there is no need-"
"Do you have any notion of how I felt when I arrived here this afternoon and discovered that you'd gone to Trull"s damned museum? Do you think that we are playing a child's game the way that idiot, Saltmarsh, apparently does? Do you have any conception of what could have happened to you?"