into this. I dislike to have my friends treated in this manner. Don’t tell me you think he's guilty too?"
"Of course not." She gave a quick, apologetic glance at Luten. "But what is the harm in proving it?"
Luten said no more, but he noticed that Byron had already stirred up dissension in the ranks. Luten was annoyed with Prance for questioning his decision, and with Corinne at so quickly proclaiming she believed the poet innocent. If he didn't quash the rebellion in the beginning, he'd end up losing his Brigade—and possibly his fiancée.
"Your objection has been noted, Prance. I stand by my decision." He waited for an answer. When Prance didn't storm out but only pouted, he turned to Corinne. "It's late, my dear. We'll let you get to bed now."
"I'm just leaving," Prance said. He bowed to Corinne and headed for the door.
Luten turned a questioning gaze on his fiancée. His eyes toured from her black curls down over her plain black bombazine gown to her walking shoes. "Have I told you how charming you look in black, Countess?" he asked, but there was no flattery in his accent. Luten only called her Countess when he was annoyed with her. His knowing eyes held knowledge and–was that a twinkle of amusement? It was all right, then. He knew she had followed them, and didn't mind.
He took his leave of her and hurried after Prance, who had already crossed the street. Knowing he wouldn't sleep, Luten read the news in the journal until he heard the sounds of a carriage in the street, then he went to the door and called Coffen inside. "Did he go straight home?" he asked.
"No, but he didn't call on Lady Callwood either. He went to his club–Alfred's. I waited half an hour, then came home. I think, myself, he's all right, Luten."
"Very likely, but better safe than sorry."
"There was one curious thing. Danby was at the club as well. He left shortly after Byron arrived. His excuse for being at Newman's stable t'other day was that he was hiring a rig. He'd had an accident with his. But he was still using a hackney cab tonight. Of course he may not have found anything to suit him at Newman's. A bit of a coincidence the way he keeps turning up.”
“He's too rich to bother with such petty pilfering as this."
"So he says. You could look into it, eh? Mean to say, ask around at the House if anyone knows what he's doing with his blunt. He wouldn't leave it in Consols at small interest. Fellows with that kind of money usually do things with it. Business things."
Luten listened with interest, "How long after Byron arrived did Danby leave?"
"About ten minutes. Plenty long enough for them to have had a word, if that's what you're getting at, that they'd arranged to meet there."
"I'll make a few enquiries about Danby tomorrow. Meanwhile, Coffen, it might be best if you delay your trip to Brighton and keep an eye on Danby."
"What about Byron?"
Luten's nostrils flared. "I fancy Prance will be holding his hand."
"There's a few more things we ought to be looking into as well. Find out more about all the victims' servants, that sort of thing."
"Corinne might be of some help there. She could ask the ladies to tea and quiz them discreetly."
"Yes, you don't want to leave her out entirely or she'll end up getting herself into mischief. Not that that old black gown she was wearing–"
"I noticed the black gown and walking shoes. I hope she had the sense to take Black with her tonight."
"He'd not let her go alone. A good man, Black, even if his name does start with a B."
Luten smiled at this irrelevancy, then said, "I wonder where the man who killed Queen Mab got those dozen or so bees he sprinkled over the corpse. If Lady Callwood was telling the truth, I mean."
"A good question. Bees don't grow on trees. A fellow might get one or two in a park, though I haven't seen any about in this season. But a dozen? Sounds like a beekeeper. I'll bear it in mind."
The investigation went forward the next day. Coffen undertook to question the
"Of course not." She gave a quick, apologetic glance at Luten. "But what is the harm in proving it?"
Luten said no more, but he noticed that Byron had already stirred up dissension in the ranks. Luten was annoyed with Prance for questioning his decision, and with Corinne at so quickly proclaiming she believed the poet innocent. If he didn't quash the rebellion in the beginning, he'd end up losing his Brigade—and possibly his fiancée.
"Your objection has been noted, Prance. I stand by my decision." He waited for an answer. When Prance didn't storm out but only pouted, he turned to Corinne. "It's late, my dear. We'll let you get to bed now."
"I'm just leaving," Prance said. He bowed to Corinne and headed for the door.
Luten turned a questioning gaze on his fiancée. His eyes toured from her black curls down over her plain black bombazine gown to her walking shoes. "Have I told you how charming you look in black, Countess?" he asked, but there was no flattery in his accent. Luten only called her Countess when he was annoyed with her. His knowing eyes held knowledge and–was that a twinkle of amusement? It was all right, then. He knew she had followed them, and didn't mind.
He took his leave of her and hurried after Prance, who had already crossed the street. Knowing he wouldn't sleep, Luten read the news in the journal until he heard the sounds of a carriage in the street, then he went to the door and called Coffen inside. "Did he go straight home?" he asked.
"No, but he didn't call on Lady Callwood either. He went to his club–Alfred's. I waited half an hour, then came home. I think, myself, he's all right, Luten."
"Very likely, but better safe than sorry."
"There was one curious thing. Danby was at the club as well. He left shortly after Byron arrived. His excuse for being at Newman's stable t'other day was that he was hiring a rig. He'd had an accident with his. But he was still using a hackney cab tonight. Of course he may not have found anything to suit him at Newman's. A bit of a coincidence the way he keeps turning up.”
“He's too rich to bother with such petty pilfering as this."
"So he says. You could look into it, eh? Mean to say, ask around at the House if anyone knows what he's doing with his blunt. He wouldn't leave it in Consols at small interest. Fellows with that kind of money usually do things with it. Business things."
Luten listened with interest, "How long after Byron arrived did Danby leave?"
"About ten minutes. Plenty long enough for them to have had a word, if that's what you're getting at, that they'd arranged to meet there."
"I'll make a few enquiries about Danby tomorrow. Meanwhile, Coffen, it might be best if you delay your trip to Brighton and keep an eye on Danby."
"What about Byron?"
Luten's nostrils flared. "I fancy Prance will be holding his hand."
"There's a few more things we ought to be looking into as well. Find out more about all the victims' servants, that sort of thing."
"Corinne might be of some help there. She could ask the ladies to tea and quiz them discreetly."
"Yes, you don't want to leave her out entirely or she'll end up getting herself into mischief. Not that that old black gown she was wearing–"
"I noticed the black gown and walking shoes. I hope she had the sense to take Black with her tonight."
"He'd not let her go alone. A good man, Black, even if his name does start with a B."
Luten smiled at this irrelevancy, then said, "I wonder where the man who killed Queen Mab got those dozen or so bees he sprinkled over the corpse. If Lady Callwood was telling the truth, I mean."
"A good question. Bees don't grow on trees. A fellow might get one or two in a park, though I haven't seen any about in this season. But a dozen? Sounds like a beekeeper. I'll bear it in mind."
The investigation went forward the next day. Coffen undertook to question the
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