Tenfold More Wicked by Viola Carr Page B

over. “I must account for every moment? I met Penny and Sheridan later, at the coffee house. They will tell you.”
    Penny rolled her eyes. “You’d make a terrible criminal. I vote for a steamy tryst with a mysterious high-born lady to account for your missing hours.”
    Zanotti grinned tightly. “Why did I not think of this? Immediately I shall seduce a duchess to lie for me.”
    â€œOr a baronet’s wife,” murmured Penny with a cruel smile. “I say, there’s Mr. Paxton from the North-Western Railway. Carmine, you must convince him to look at my Abélard and Héloïse . Excuse us, won’t you?” And she steered hapless Zanotti away.
    â€œWell,” said Eliza expectantly. “That was interesting.”
    Lafayette brushed a fleck of Penny’s cigarette ash from his sleeve. “Astonish me with your insight, then.”
    Eliza considered. “Penny, voluble but genuine. Her confidence seemed honest. I rather envy her. Carmine, refreshingly shy but a bad liar. Sheridan, drunk and rude, but grieving. Desperately jealous of Carmine.”
    â€œOf his talent, surely, but of his success? Where Dalziel leads, society follows. Sheridan was set up for life.”
    â€œThen a better artist passed over might find motive for murder?”
    â€œIf Carmine’s guilty, I’d have expected a better alibi. Still, I gather those two came to blows. Our scorned genius has a problem with his temper.”
    â€œConveniently self-incriminating, but we don’t know who started it. Perhaps Lightwood provoked him.”
    Lafayette laughed. “Do you think so? Handsome, rich, famous, no more talented than the next man? Allow me to illuminate the jealous male mind: no one’s more annoying than a mediocrity who gets more girls than you. I assure you, Lightwood provokes merely by existing.”
    â€œHow prehistoric,” she remarked. “Is that why gentlemen don’t like you?”
    A wink. “And to think I still haven’t won the lady I want.”
    â€œStill, it doesn’t prove either of them killed Dalziel. We yet have no clear motive. Despite that odd remark of Penny’s about Carmine and Lady Fleet. Perhaps he does have an alibi, but he can’t reveal it.”
    â€œSee, I knew you’d want this case. It’s better than an opera. We must interrogate this slighted swain at once, before the fun wears off.” Lafayette laughed more. Sweat glistened in his hair, and his eyes glittered, overly bright.
    Eliza smiled, uneasy. He was behaving oddly. Recklessly, as if he’d abandoned caution. Could the approaching full moon be affecting him?
    â€œSpeaking of theater,” he added, still laughing to himself, “have you observed Lady Fleet’s little melodrama?”
    â€œI could hardly miss it.” The widow wore black satin fishtail skirts and dabbed a handkerchief prettily at her face. An entourage of fashionable young things fawned around her. “How tragic. All those gentlemen, dying to offer their condolences. The woman’s a force of nature.”
    â€œWealthy fellows, all. Viscount what’s-his-name, Sir William something-or-other. That fat one’s an earl’s son, if I recall. Mean anything to you?”
    Lord and Lady Havisham, Lord Montrose, Sir Wm Thorne . . . “I don’t suppose we’re looking at the guest list for Dalziel’s infamous party?”
    â€œApplause all round.” Lafayette watched the scene dryly. “For a lady who killed her husband, she’s certainly thick with his friends. I’d introduce you, but I doubt their lordships would remember me.”
    She smiled sweetly. “How deflating for you.”
    â€œAu contraire,” said Lafayette cheerfully. “An advantage of the badge and the uniform: no one looks closely at my face. This white tie is a strangely impenetrable disguise. My brother knows these sort of people,” he