Joan eyed the departing ladies. “I cannot say if they are rattled, but they do seem to be quite annoyed.”

“Either way, perhaps they will grow careless and make some move that will provide us with a clue.”

“Assuming they are guilty.”

“Now that I have met them, I am certain they are both quite capable of hiring a killer if they thought it would achieve their ends.”

“It is certainly true that it would be extremely unwise to get between those two and whatever they happened to covet,” Joan agreed.

“I do not doubt that for a moment.” Lavinia turned around to glance at Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring.

The progress of the two women was quite slow, almost stately.

They had not gone far.

Lavinia stared at the backs of the voluminous silver-gray wigs.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Joan followed her gaze, frowning. “Is something amiss?”

“Their chignons.”

Joan peered at the two elegantly styled hairpieces. “They are certainly quite elaborate, are they not? What about them?”

“They’re identical in design. Do you see the little rows of curls at the top of the upper portion and the manner in which the lower section is twisted around a braided coil?”

“Yes, but what of it?”

At that moment the music swelled, the lights in the trees dimmed as though by magic, and a series of crackles and explosions announced the start of the fireworks display.

Sparkling showers of fire filled the night sky. The crowds oohed and aahed. A roar of applause went up.

“The hairdresser,” Lavinia said.

“What?” Joan raised her voice to be heard above the din. “I cannot hear you.”

“The same hairdresser did both wigs,” Lavinia shouted back.

“That is hardly a surprise. It is obvious that the same dressmaker designed both of their gowns. I told you, Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring have been close friends for years. Why would they not share a dressmaker and a hairdresser?”

“You don’t understand,” Lavinia yelled above the uproar. The hairdresser who did those two wigs was the same one who accompanied Mrs. Oakes to Beaumont Castle. He styled her false hair in precisely the same manner for the costume ball. He told me that the row of curls at the top of the chignon and the loop around the coil are his signature.”

“What are you implying?”

“Don’t you see? The hairdresser is the Memento-Mori Man.”

Tobias came down the steps of his town house in two long strides.

The great sweep of the high-collared coat he wore over his dark shirt and trousers gave him the appearance of a thoroughly menacing highwayman.

One of Joan’s liveried footmen hastened to open the door of the maroon carriage. In spite of his bad leg, Tobias did not wait for the step to be lowered. He grabbed the handhold on the side of the opening and hauled himself up into the softly lit interior of the cab. He sat down beside Lavinia and looked first at her and then at Joan.

“What the devil is this about?” he asked. “I was just about to leave to visit Jack at the Gryphon. He thinks he may have found someone who knows something about Zachary Elland.”

“Lavinia is convinced that she has just identified the Memento

“Mori Man,” Joan said.

“Tobias turned his highwayman’s gaze on Lavinia. You mean to say that you actually learned something useful at Vauxhall tonight?”

“You need not sound so astounded, sir.” She drew herself up in the seat. “I told you that it would pay for me to question Lady Huxford and Lady Ferring, and I was right. I believe that the hairdresser who traveled to Beaumont Castle with Lady Oakes may be the murderer-for-hire whom we are seeking.”

To his credit, Tobias did not immediately reject the possibility.

Then again, she reflected, he was desperate for clues.

“Are you referring to that fool who told you red hair was unfashionable?” he asked warily.

“He is one of many who have pointed that out to me recently, but, yes, I am talking about Mr. Pierce. You will recall that he dressed Lady Oakes’s wig with an extremely elaborate chignon.” Lavinia touched the back of her head. “Lots of little curls and a braided coil?”

She used her finger to trace the design in the air. “It was a very unusual creation.”

“I have no recollection whatsoever of Lady Oakes’s headdress.”

“The thing is, Tobias, I got a close look at Lady Huxford’s and Lady Ferring’s chignons this evening when they left the supper box.

“Both were wearing wigs and both of their headdresses were identical to the one Lady Oakes wore at Beaumont Castle.”

“What of it?”

“Really, sir, were you not paying attention when we interviewed the wig-maker, Mr. Cork, and his associate, Mr. Todd? They made it quite clear that a fashionable hairdresser takes great pride in creating his own unique designs. Mr. Todd emphasized that he considered his chignons his signature.”

Tobias looked at Joan as though seeking assistance. She moved one shoulder in an elegant little shrug.

“I tried to tell her that it could, indeed, be a coincidence,” Joan said. “But the more I consider the matter, the less I am inclined to believe that myself. It is, indeed, quite odd that the hairdresser who created coiffeurs for the two women we believe hired the killer was also at Beaumont Castle the night of Fullerton’s death.”

Lavinia watched Tobias’s face closely. She could see that he was not entirely convinced but he was considering the possibilities closely. “It would explain a great deal about this case,” she said persuasively.

“He frowned. You refer to the blond wig?”

“Yes. A hairdresser would be well aware of just how memorable such a shade would be in the event that he was spotted in the course of his crime. If Mr. Pierce is the killer, it would also explain the unusual height of the maid. The hairdresser’s stature was not particularly remarkable for a man, indeed, he was slightly on the short side, but dressed in women’s attire, he would have appeared rather tall.”

Joan adjusted her glove. “It would also explain how three high-ranking ladies of the ton came to meet a professional murderer. A

“hairdresser, after all, is invited directly into the house. Indeed, he often practices his art in a lady’s dressing room or her bed chamber.”

Tobias narrowed his eyes. “If you are correct, it would imply that all three of these wealthy ladies discussed the most personal and confidential matters with their hairdresser.”

“Well, yes,” Lavinia said. “What of it?”

“Do you really expect me to believe that a lady would confide secrets to her hairdresser that she would not discuss with anyone other than her closest friends?”

Lavinia exchanged a glance with Joan.

“You had best tell the poor man the truth,” Joan murmured.

“What truth is that?” Tobias demanded.

“I know this will likely come as a shock to your nerves,” Lavinia said gently, Tbut I must tell you that ladies routinely confide secrets to their hairdressers that they would not think of telling anyone else. There is a certain intimacy about the process of having one’s hair dressed, you see. There you are, alone in your bed chamber with a man who is concerned only with combing and curling your hair. It is really quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant?

“Alone with a man who is only too happy to discuss matters of fashion and style,” Joan added. “A man who brings with him the latest gossip. A man who listens to every word you say. Yes, I think it is entirely possible that a woman might plot murder with just such a man.”

“Hell’s teeth,” Tobias muttered. What an unnerving thought.”

Lavinia met Joan’s eyes again in silent, mutual understanding.

How did one explain the intimacy between hairdresser and client to a man?

“Who in her right mind would trust a hairdresser to know how to carry out a murder without getting caught?” Tobias asked. What if he betrayed her and accused her of commissioning the crime?”

“I very much doubt that anyone in a position of authority would take a hairdresser’s word over that of a high-ranking member of the ton,” Lavinia said. “Also, as you have so frequently pointed out, who would believe that an elderly lady of the ton who has spent her entire life in the most exclusive drawing rooms would know how to go about finding and hiring a professional killer?”

“The clients probably did not realize that they were hiring the hairdresser,” Joan said, sounding thoughtful. “I suspect that they believed he was simply a sort of go-between. I’m sure it was all done with a wink and a nod. Mr. Pierce may have told them that he knew someone who knew someone who could arrange for this sort of thing to be done, as it were. I doubt very much that he billed himself as a murderer-for-hire.”

“What of his fees?” Tobias asked.

Joan moved one hand slightly. “Anonymous payments are easy enough to arrange.”

Lavinia looked at Tobias and knew that he was thinking the same thing she was. As the widow of a man who had run a vast criminal organization, Joan undoubtedly knew a great deal about how such matters were handled.

“Very well,” Tobias said eventually. “I cannot deny that there is a coincidence here, and you know how I feel about coincidences. So let us say for the sake of argument that Mr. Pierce is involved in this affair. I wonder how he persuaded Lady Oakes to take him to Beaumont Castle. Do you think she might have known what he was about that night?”

“Personally, I’m inclined to believe that Lady Oakes had nothing to do with the plot to kill Fullerton,” Joan said firmly. “She is very sweet-natured but she is not known for her sharp intellect, to put it kindly. I do not think it would have been at all difficult for Pierce to convince her that she needed her hairdresser with her the night of the costume ball.”