“I know how you must have felt,” Lavinia said quietly.

“I was twenty-five when I met Zachary. I had become a woman of the world. I had taken lovers, but I had never loved. I certainly never imagined for one moment that I could be fooled by a man. But all of my fine plans and convictions flew out the window when I lost my heart to Zachary.”

The dead leaves skittered as though stirred by skeletal fingers.

“I can only imagine what it must have been like for you when you realized that you were engaged to a man who made a career of murder,” Lavinia said. “What caused you to realize his true nature?”

“It was not one single thing that aroused my suspicion. Rather, it was several tiny little events that eventually wove themselves into a pattern I could no longer ignore.”

“What sort of events?”

“There was his obsessive interest in Tobias’s inquiries into the mysterious murders, for one thing. And his comings and goings at odd hours. Zachary always had an excellent, entirely reasonable explanation for his occasional disappearances. But one day, quite by accident, I learned that he had lied to me about where he had been the previous evening. As it happened, it was a night when the Memento-Mori Man had struck.”

“Was that when you realized he might be the killer?”

“No.” Aspasia linked her fingers. “To be honest, I prepared myself for the possibility that Zachary had betrayed me with another woman. I thought my heart would shatter. I had to know the truth.”

“What did you do?”

“He had a safe. I reasoned that if he had any secrets they would be hidden inside. He always kept the key on his person. But one night after we had made love, he fell asleep. I seized the opportunity to make a wax copy of the key. A few evenings later I found an opportunity to go into his study. I opened the safe.” Aspasia grimaced. “I’m sure you can imagine my relief when the first thing I saw was a journal of accounts.”

“What made you realize that the journal was no ordinary record of business transactions?”

“I grew curious when I realized that it was not a journal of household expenses such as many gentlemen keep. Rather, it was a list of dates and fees. It looked like a tradesman’s book of accounts. But that made no sense.”

“Because Zachary Elland was a gentleman?”

“Precisely. He did not operate a business. I told myself that it was a record of his wins at the gaming tables. But I soon realized that the dates of the so-called transactions matched some of the information concerning the deaths that Tobias was investigating.”

“You knew about the details of his inquiries?”

“Of course.” Aspasia sighed. “Tobias sat up many a night discussing the murders with Zachary. I was with them on several of those occasions. I even offered my own opinions. Tobias is one of those rare men who actually listens when a woman has something to say, as I’m sure you know. Zachary shared that trait. It was one of the many things that I loved about him.”

“What happened after you found the journal?”

“I discovered the small casket of memento-mori rings at the back of the safe.” Aspasia’s voice dropped to a tortured whisper. “I could not believe my own eyes. I went straight to Tobias with the journal. I wanted him to tell me that I had got it all wrong. But I think I knew, deep in my heart, that all was lost. When Zachary found the open safe with the journal gone, he realized that his secrets had been stolen.”

“He put a pistol to his head.”

Aspasia’s mouth twisted. “They say it is a gentleman’s way out. I suppose that it is, indeed, a better end than the gallows.”

It was all so dreadfully tragic, Lavinia thought. After years of shielding herself from the pain men had caused her, Aspasia had fallen for a cold-blooded murderer.

“My condolences on your loss,” Lavinia said eventually.

“Forgive me.” Aspasia blinked away the moisture that glittered in her eyes. “I just wanted you to know that Tobias is quite safe from me. Even if I did think to seduce him, it would not be possible. It is obvious that he loves you. As for me, I will never take the risk of giving my heart to any man again.”

Lavinia could think of nothing to say to that, so she held her tongue.

“Good day, Lavinia. I wish you joy with Tobias. He is a fine man.

“I envy you, but not even for him would I trade places with you.”

Aspasia turned and walked swiftly away along the path. Lavinia watched her go out through the iron gates that guarded the entrance to the cemetery.

She stood alone at Zachary Elland’s grave for a time and thought about the twists and turns of fate.

“You certainly did a great deal of damage while you were walking around up here,” she whispered. “Who could possibly have admired you so much that he would wish to emulate you?”

The dead leaves danced a ghostly waltz across the grass.

Nineteen

Smiling Jack waited for him in the alley behind the Gryphon, his massive bulk silhouetted in the rear entrance of the tavern. He was barking orders at two men who were in the process of unloading several large shipping casks from a cart.

“Have a care with that French brandy,” Jack snapped at one of the men. “Cost me a bloody fortune.”

Tobias walked down the alley and came to a halt beside Jack. He studied the casks.

“Brandy, Jack? Isn’t that a bit elegant for the Gryphon? I was under the impression that your clientele prefers ale and gin.”

Jack chuckled, drawing the ghastly scar that ran from his mouth to his ear into a death’s-head grin. “Aye. This is for my own personal use.”

Tobias studied the large casks. “That’s a great deal of brandy for one man to drink.”

“I have a lot of guests.” Jack clapped him on the back. “Take yourself, for instance. I like to be able to entertain gentlemen such as yourself in the manner to which you have become accustomed.”

“Speaking for myself, I appreciate that sentiment,” Tobias said.

He rarely came to the Gryphon during the day. He preferred the cover of night for his visits with Jack. But the boy’s message had sounded urgent, so he had taken extra precautions to conceal his identity. Before making his way to this part of town he had taken the time to put on the work-worn clothes and heavy boots of a dockside laborer. In spite of the warmth of the day, he had added a voluminous, high-collared coat and an oversize wide-brimmed hat that was angled to conceal his features. In addition, he had used the alley entrance deliberately so as to avoid the front room of the tavern.

“I got your message,” he said, keeping his voice very soft so that his educated accents would not be overheard by the workers unloading the cart. “What news do you have for me?”

“It’s only a rumor.” Jack, too, pitched his voice to a low tone. “No way to confirm it yet. But it was as nasty a bit of gossip as I’ve heard in a while, and I thought you’d better know about it as soon as possible.”

“Go on.”

“There’s word going around that a young footpad who goes by the name of Sweet Ned has taken a commission.”

“What sort of commission?”

“Can’t say.” Jack watched him with grim eyes. “My source did not know exactly why Sweet Ned was employed. Something to do with following a particular person about, he believes. I doubt that he’ll be offering to assist the lady across the street.”

Tobias went still. “What lady would that be?”

“Yours.”

After a while Lavinia turned away from Elland’s grave and went back along the path to the iron gates.

The narrow lane that bordered the graveyard was quiet and empty of traffic and passersby. The only person about was a young man who looked like a laborer or a stable lad. He was garbed in a worn, ill-fitting mud-colored coat and battered boots. His cap was pulled down low over his eyes.

There was something feral and hungry-looking about him. He made her think of the cats that survived by preying on rats and mice in alleys and warehouses. He was propped in the heavily shadowed doorway of a shuttered building at the open end of the lane.

The cap and the slouch were disturbingly familiar, she thought.

Her stomach knotted with sudden tension. This was not the first time that she had seen the man today. She was almost certain that she had caught a glimpse of him earlier when she left Claremont Lane. She could have sworn that he had been loitering in the little park at the end of the street.

The fine hairs on the nape of her neck lifted. Her palms went icy cold.

She glanced toward the opposite end of the lane, thinking to leave by that route. But that was impossible. The narrow passage ended at a stone wall.

The man in the cap noticed her hovering between the gates. He straightened indolently and reached into his pocket. Slowly, tauntingly, he withdrew his hand.

Light glittered on the blade of the knife.

The only thing she could do was retreat back into the graveyard, but the surrounding walls and locked church door made it a trap.

The man in the cap started toward her, sauntering as though he had all the time in the world.

She took a step back into the graveyard.

He smiled, evidently pleased by her small show of anxiety.

She had no choice. She whirled and fled back into the cemetery.

Mrs. Chilton wiped her hands on her apron. “Mrs. Lake said something about going out to a little cemetery in Benbow Lane. Said it was just off Wintergrove Street near a park. Mrs. Gray sent a message asking her to meet there.”

“How long ago did she leave?” Tobias asked.