feelings on the subject abundantly clear. You were nothing short of rude to Howard."
She swept into the small study, went directly behind her desk, and sat down. For some odd reason that she had yet to fathom, it was always easier to discuss unpleasant topics with Tobias when she put the large block of mahogany between them.
She refused to admit to herself that he could be intimidating, but there was no getting around the fact that he was quite capable of exhibiting a formidable strength of will and a certain forcefulness of mind that would make any prudent person cautious.
Here in her study, enthroned behind the big desk, she was in command, she told herself. Most of the time.
"I will be blunt." He gripped the edge of the mantel and used it to lower himself down into a crouch in front of the hearth. "I don't trust Hudson."
She watched him light the fire, aware that he always favored his left leg, even on good days, when he undertook the small task. She opened her mouth to inquire about the old wound but managed to swallow the words before they could escape. He would not thank her for the sympathy, especially not while he was in this mood.
She folded her hands on top of the desk. "You have allowed your negative feelings concerning mesmerists in general to influence your opinion of Howard. It is really very closed-minded of you, sir."
He concentrated on the flames he had coaxed forth. "Hudson did not tell us the whole truth."
She raised her eyes to the ceiling in silent entreaty. There was no help from above, however.
"Yes, yes," she said, not bothering to conceal her impatience. "I am very well aware that, in your professional opinion, the client always lies, but I do not see why you should apply that narrow and somewhat misguided theory to Howard. He is obviously a desperate and distraught man whose only wish is to find his wife's killer."
"I do not think that we can assume for one moment that he wants her murderer found."
She stared at him, shocked. "What on earth do you mean? Of course he wants the villain discovered."
"I think it is far more likely that what Hudson wants is the missing bracelet."
Her first thought was that she had not heard him aright. " I beg your pardon? Are you saying that you do not believe that Howard wants his wife's killer found?"
"I do not doubt but that he wants us to find her lover." Tobias tightened his grip on the mantel and levered himself upright. "Because he believes that the lover has the bracelet."
"Tobias, you are not making sense. The lover is also the murderer."
"Not necessarily."
He went to the window and stood looking into the tiny garden behind the house. "In my professional opinion, I believe that it is quite likely that Dr. Howard Hudson is the person who murdered Celeste."
She was stunned by the certainty of his words. It took her a few seconds to find her voice.
"Are you mad, sir?" she finally managed in a whisper.
"I know that you consider him an old friend of the family. But put aside your personal feelings and consider another possible version of events."
"What version is that?"
"Mine." Tobias did not turn around. "It goes like this. Hudson learns that his much younger and extremely attractive wife has betrayed him with another man. He cannot rest until he knows the identity of her lover. One evening he makes an excuse to attend a demonstration of mesmerism given by a competitor, but he leaves early. He returns to the house and follows his wife to her rendezvous. He finds her alone, perhaps waiting for her lover. In a rage, he confronts her. There is a terrible quarrel. He strangles her with his own cravat."
She drew a deep breath. "What of the lover?"
Tobias shrugged. "Perhaps he arrives at the scene in the midst of the quarrel, realizes that something has gone wrong, and flees before Hudson sees him. Perhaps he never shows up at all."
"But why would Howard murder Celeste? He loved her."
"We both know that love can turn to hate in a crucible that is
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