You Only Love Once by Caroline Linden Page A

She would have food and drink sent in every day, and Avery and his man were welcome to that; otherwise, they were on their own.
    She had spent some time thinking over his plan to find Dixon. It was a good one, assuming Dixon didn’t have a shady jeweler pry the stones out of the settings and sell them individually; distinctive jewels were easy to trace as long as they remained distinctive. But it was an avenue to pursue, and with far less trouble than trying to guess which kind ofsociety Dixon might move in and have to join it.
    Avery had indicated he would be ready to begin the search as soon as possible, but when she went looking for him, he was not in his room. She knocked twice on the connecting door, then opened it when there was no answer. The room looked much as it had the first day, clean and empty. There were a few personal effects on top of the bureau, and a pair of boots stood by the door, no doubt waiting to be polished. She lingered a moment, considering searching his things to discover more about him, but decided against it. Unless she knew where he was and when he was expected back, it was unwise. Stafford had not told her to view Mr. Avery with suspicion, so there was no pressing reason to do it anyway.
    He was not downstairs, either in the dining room or the parlor. He was not in the house at all, to judge from the quiet. Already she had become accustomed to hearing his laughter as he worked with his man, Mr. Chesterfield, and the rumble of his voice echoing down the stairs. After their luncheon the first day, he had stayed busy with matters of his own and left her to hers, but the sound of his voice seemed to follow her everywhere. Now that she wanted to find him, of course, he was nowhere to be seen.
    She went to the attic to look for him. He and his man had gone up and down the stairs all day yesterday, setting up some sort of laboratory in the large room under the eaves, and she hadn’t ventured up here yet. Lisette had seen it and reported it looked like the den of some crazed scientist. Angelique admitted some mild curiosity about what they were doing. It seemed an odd way to track their man, even though it did have the effect of easing her worries about Mr. Chesterfield’s presence; he rarely left the house, to her knowledge.
    She tapped at the door, and when there was no answer, she turned the knob. It was unlocked, and swung open without a sound. Angelique stepped into the room and then stopped.
    Lisette had been right. Every piece of furniture had been converted into table space; chairs held up wide boards, a mirror had been laid between the old settee and the bed frame, and an old table with a broken leg was propped up by what looked like a powder keg. All that space was filled with scientific equipment: mortars, strange-looking tools, bottles of liquids, and a wide variety of weapons. Even the mantel had been pressed into use, covered with a variety of small jars. A fire roared in the hearth, but the windows were wide open. And there was no sign of Mr. Avery, just Mr. Chesterfield, his close-cropped head barely visible behind a large bottle with steam pouring out the top. He was hunkered down on a stool, attention fixed on an iron pot that sat below the suspended bottle.
    â€œYes, ma’am?” he asked, eyes still trained on his bottle.
    â€œI am looking for Mr. Avery,” she said, raising her voice as a log broke in the fireplace and the flames shot higher. It would be unbearably hot in here, but for the open windows.
    â€œHe is out, ma’am.”
    â€œYes, I see,” she murmured. Now that she had seen it for herself, she thought Lisette understated the matter. It looked like the den of a madman, scientist or not. “Will he return soon?”
    Mr. Chesterfield’s teeth flashed in his dark face.“He did not tell me. But I expect he will. Is there something I may do for you?”
    He still hadn’t moved from his position crouched over the iron pot.