He followed Barkley down the corridor, and after the butler announced him, entered the room. Charles Rayburn, the magistrate, rose from his chair next to the fire. Daniel judged the tall, robust man to be in his mid-forties. He noted that Rayburn's sharp green eyes took in every detail of his appearance.

"Good morning, my lord," Rayburn said. "My apologies for the early morning call." He nodded toward the other man, who stood near the fireplace.

"This is Mr. Gideon Mayne. Mr. Mayne is a Bow Street Runner."

Daniel's initial impression of Mr. Mayne was that he was very tall, very muscular, and very solemn. His face, which sported a nose that had clearly been broken at one time, looked as if it were hewn from stone. Clearly this was not a social call.

After nodding to both men, he indicated the chairs set around the hearth and asked, "Shall we sit?"

Mr. Mayne looked as if sitting was the last thing he wished to do, but he offered no objection. After they were all settled, Daniel asked, "What is the purpose of this visit?"

"It concerns Lady Walsh's masquerade last evening, my lord," Rayburn said.

Daniel allowed only his surprise-and none of his relief-to show. Obviously this wasn't about Samuel. "What about it?"

"You were costumed as a highwayman, were you not?"

"I was."

Rayburn and Mayne exchanged a quick glance. "You were seen in the company of a particular lady last evening, my lord."

An image of Carolyn instantly materialized in his mind. "What of it?"

"I'm afraid, my lord, that lady's been murdered."

Chapter Five

I'd always believed myself a modest person, and, looking back, at the beginning of our liaison, I was. But as our relationship deepened, my mantle of modesty disintegrated. I became bold. Filled with passions and needs I'd never before imagined. I craved him, his touch, his kiss, the feel of his skin, as I imagine one would a drug.

Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady


Everything inside Daniel froze. An icy wind seemed to blow through the hole the magistrate's words punched through him. A silent No! screamed through his mind, one he surely would have roared aloud had he been able to draw a breath. An unbearable weight crushed his chest, seemingly collapsing his lungs, shattering his heart. Carolyn… dear God, not Carolyn.

"Lady Crawford's body was discovered just before dawn in the mews behind Lady Walsh's town house," Rayburn said.

The magistrate's words slowly filtered through the numb shock engulfing him like a black fog. He frowned. Then blinked. "Did… did you say Lady Crawford?"

"Yes, my lord. Appears she was bludgeoned to death. Still wore her party costume. Some sort of damsel in distress ensemble. She hadn't been dead long when a rat catcher found her."

His profound relief that the victim wasn't Carolyn rendered him nearly light-headed. Then the ramifications of the magistrate's news about Blythe, Lady Crawford, sank in. "Good God," he said, dragging his hands down his face. "Have you captured the person responsible?"

"No, my lord. Indeed, we've only just begun making inquiries."

Daniel looked at Mr. Mayne. "You're assisting?"

"I've been hired by Lady Crawford's family. Mr. Rayburn has kindly allowed me to be present during his inquiries." He regarded Daniel steadily through eyes so dark it was impossible to discern the pupil from the iris. "You were acquainted with Lady Crawford."

"Yes."

"Intimately acquainted."

It was a statement rather than a question. Daniel kept his expression impassive and studied Gideon Mayne. With his stark features, slightly rumpled clothes, and dark hair that needed a trim, no on would ever accuse him of being classically handsome, although he wasn't unattractive. But he possessed an intimidating air, the sort that suggested he wouldn't hesitate to put his considerable size and strength to use if necessary. Indeed, he looked as if he'd just finished pummeling a dozen or so men into the dirt and wouldn't mind doing so again. Starting with him.

"I'm not in the habit of kissing and telling, Mr. Mayne."

"This is a murder investigation, Lord Surbrooke," said the Runner without the slightest change in his forbidding expression. "Not a digging expedition for gossip fodder."

Not caring for the man's manner, Daniel deliberately waited to the mental count of ten before replying. "Blythe and I are-were-longtime friends." God, it simply wasn't possible that she was dead.

"Just how friendly were you?" Mayne persisted.

"I hardly see how that matters," Daniel said, "unless…" He lifted a single brow and shifted his gaze to Rayburn. "… I'm a suspect."

Mayne didn't deny it, and Rayburn shot the Runner a quick scowl. "We're asking the same questions of everyone who attended last night's party, hoping that maybe someone saw something that will lead us to the killer." Rayburn withdrew a notebook from inside his jacket then asked, "Did you see anything or anyone that might be considered suspicious?"

Daniel considered for several seconds, then shook his head. "No. The party was the usual crush. I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Do you have reason to believe the culprit was a guest?"

"No reason to believe anything at this point except we've got a dead woman on our hands," Mayne broke in. "We've a witness who says you spoke to Lady Crawford last night."

"I did. We exchanged a few words."

"On the terrace?" asked Rayburn.

"Yes." After Carolyn had departed, he remained outdoors for nearly half an hour, lost in his thoughts. Blythe had stepped outside and approached him, pulling him from his solitary musings.

"What did you talk about?"

"Nothing of consequence. The weather. The party. A musicale we're both invited to next week."

"How long were you together?"

"No more than five minutes. The air was damp and chilly and she grew cold. I escorted her back inside then left the party."

"What time did you depart?"

"I'm not absolutely certain, as I didn't consult my watch, but I'd guess it was approaching two a.m."

"And where did you go?"

Daniel raised his brows. "Here. I came home."

"Can anyone verify that?" Mayne broke in. "Your coachman or house servants perhaps?"

"I'm afraid not. I dismissed my carriage and driver after arriving at the party and therefore walked home. My staff was asleep when I arrived."

"Even your butler and valet?"

"I'm afraid so. Barkley and Redmond are not young men. I do not require them to wait for me to arrive home."

Rayburn made notations in his small notebook then looked up. "Do you know of anyone who might wish Lady Crawford harm?"

"No. She was a lovely, personable woman. Surely her death is the result of footpads."

"Perhaps," Rayburn said, "although 'tis clear robbery was not the motive."

"Why do you say that?" Daniel asked.

"Because Lady Crawford's jewelry was intact. She wore a very distinctive pearl choker."

An image of a triple strand of perfectly matched pearls flickered through Daniel's mind. "Did the choker have a diamond and ruby clasp?"

Interest flickered in Rayburn's eyes. "Yes. How did you know?"

As he had nothing to hide and they could easily find out anyway from a number of sources, including the jeweler, he said, "It sounds like a piece I gave Blythe."

"Quite an expensive bauble to give a mere friend," Mayne remarked. "When did you give it to her?"

"Late last year. And yes, it was quite valuable. Perhaps the killer meant to steal it but was frightened off before he could do so."

"Perhaps," Rayburn said, jotting another notation in his notebook. "Do you know if Lady Crawford was currently… involved with anyone?"

He'd heard a vague rumor that Lord Warwick-whom he neither liked nor admired-was Blythe's latest conquest, but since it wasn't his habit to repeat unsubstantiated gossip, he said, "I'm not certain. I just arrived in Town yesterday afternoon after an extended stay in the country. I can only tell you that she wasn't involved with me."

"Currently," Mayne said.

Daniel shifted his attention to the Runner and offered him nothing more than a cold stare. He wouldn't lie, but he'd be damned if he would say anything that might sully a dead woman's memory. Especially to this brusque Runner who was glaring at him as if he'd committed the crime. His affair with Blythe had lasted less than two months-a torrid few weeks that had flared quickly then burned out. He'd soon realized that beneath her stunning beauty lurked a vain, selfish, and not particularly nice woman. It was quite possible she had enemies, although who they might be, he didn't know. Regardless, she didn't deserve the horrible end she'd come to.

"Is there anything else?" Daniel asked.

"Your costume," said Rayburn, "Can you describe it?"

"It was quite plain-black shirt, breeches, boots and mask, and a long black cape."

"The rat catcher saw someone wearing a black cape leaving the mews just as he entered."

Daniel's brows rose. "I'm hardly the only guest who wore a black cape. Perhaps this rat catcher is the fiend you're looking for."

"Perhaps," Mayne said, but in a tone that made it clear he didn't think so. Indeed, everything in the man's demeanor indicated that he considered Daniel a suspect.

"That's all, my lord," said Rayburn.

"For now," added Mayne.

Daniel rose and led the way to the foyer. "Thank you for your time, my lord," said Rayburn at the door.

"You're welcome. Please let me know if I can be of any further assistance."

"We will," Mayne said, accepting his hat from Barkley. He then gave Daniel a curt nod and departed, with Rayburn on his heels. The instant the door closed behind them, Samuel entered the foyer.