Page 10
Chapter Ten
James & F. Green, Purveyors of Fine Perfumes & Colognes
The Strand
James & F. Green occupied a narrow but elegant shopfront on The Strand, its bow window displaying an extravagant array of perfume bottles that shone like cut crystal in the afternoon sun.
As Daniel escorted Elsa inside and the overhead bell tinkled, an eager assistant in a crisp white shirt and gold waistcoat hurried to greet them.
“Good day, sir, madam. Welcome to James & F. Green. Might I assist you in selecting a fragrance? We have something to suit every taste.”
Daniel had no patience for overzealous assistants and would have told him so, were they not desperate for answers. Besides, the smell of exotic oils helped to ease his troubled mind .
Elsa smiled for the first time since reading Lord Grafton’s dire warning a little over an hour ago. “Your insight would be greatly appreciated. I have your card, given by a friend who cannot remember the name of her husband’s cologne.”
“Come this way, madam, and I will do my best to assist you.” He directed them to a counter, the wood gleaming like his polished black shoes.
Elsa took the card from her reticule and read the list of ingredients. “The fragrance has the citrus notes of orange, bergamot, and neroli, and a touch of amber and musk.”
The attendant’s broad grin stretched from ear to ear. “Ah, you speak of Greenwood’s No.7. Such a crisp, clean scent. Perfect for a man who exudes an air of authority.”
Daniel had met Carver a handful of times before he found him dead in bed. The man was a golden-haired Adonis but lacked the rugged masculinity some women preferred.
“May I smell the cologne?” he said, confident he would remember the aroma that had made his nose itch.
“Certainly.” The assistant reached into a drawer and flicked imagined dust from a square of burgundy velvet before laying it out on the counter. “The lady might notice a slight variation in the blend, sir.” He took a flacon of cologne from the oak shelf behind him, cradling it in both hands as if it were a rare bottle of burgundy. “We often add a signature note to personalise the scent.”
The fellow removed the stopper and dipped a gold-plated dropper into the bottle, placing the tiniest amount on a silk sample.
Daniel took the silk, wafting it before his nose. One long inhale sent horrid images of that night crashing over him. Even in death, Carver looked like an angel—but was he incompetent or as devious as the devil ?
“You’ll agree it’s a fragrance for a discerning gentleman, sir.”
“How much is this fine fragrance?” He could afford to purchase the entire stock, but could Carver? Despite his modest salary, Carver had expensive tastes.
“Greenwood’s No.7 evokes a sense of elegance and exclusivity, sir.”
“Spare me the theatrics. What will it cost me?”
The man winced like he’d stood in something foul. “I assure you, it will be the best one pound and three shillings ever spent.”
One pound three shillings to smell like the back room of a brothel?
Elsa took the sample, frowning as she inhaled. “There’s something missing. I can’t quite place the absent ingredient. Might it be rosemary?”
Rosemary was an ingredient written on the card.
“Greenwood’s No.7 is a premier blend. We keep records of every bottle sold. If you give me your friend’s name, madam, I may be able to identify the missing note.”
“Mr Carver,” she said, keeping her composure.
The fellow produced a plate of chocolate truffles and invited them to indulge themselves while waiting. Elsa tore off her glove and took one.
Daniel watched her bite into the truffle and lick chocolate dusting from her lips. “I’d pay a hundred pounds to see you devouring a sweet treat.”
Her eyes held a mischievous shimmer. “What would you pay to share one without using our fingers?”
“The privilege of being wickedly indulgent with you is worth any price.”
“Do you have a clean handkerchief? ”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“Then steal a few for our next picnic. I have room in my reticule.”
While the assistant was busy flicking through a drawer of cards, he placed two chocolate treats in his handkerchief and slipped the package into her reticule. “We’ll share them tonight. When we’ve finished our list of errands for the day.” Daventry was a hard taskmaster. After hearing their confession, he insisted they waste no time searching for answers.
A blush touched her cheeks. “It will be good to think about something other than Lord Grafton’s warning.”
He stepped closer, laying his hand on her waist, the warmth of arousal already coursing through his veins. “We won’t be thinking.”
“We won’t?”
“Rational thought abandons me when we kiss.” This woman was blissfully unaware she had him by the ballocks. “The moment our mouths meet, we’ll forget about the chocolate.”
Despite their troubles, her eyes shone like they had the first night she escaped from her bedchamber when they’d walked in the dark for hours.
“I hope we’ll forget about other things, too.”
She alluded to whatever had happened in Carver’s cottage.
Indeed, her smile suddenly faded. “We mustn’t forget to send word to Mr Daventry with our findings. Are you sure we can trust him, Daniel? Now that he knows the truth, he holds our lives in his hands.”
“Daventry despises injustice.” And Daniel would rather have a man with Daventry’s pugilistic skills by his side when they visited the dockside alehouse tomorrow night. “Trust me. We’d be behind iron bars if he thought we were guilty of murder.”
Hopefully, Daventry’s help would prove invaluable. The moment Daniel saw the note saying ‘Save Elsa Tyler’ he knew the shot fired in the mews was meant to harm her, not frighten them into leaving.
But what had she done to deserve the villain’s wrath?
Were there more secrets to uncover?
Things Magnus hadn’t mentioned?
The assistant returned, gripping a pristine white card, followed by a colleague with friendly eyes and a beaming smile.
“Miss Tyler?” the younger fellow said, squinting to determine if he did know the woman at the counter. “Welcome back to James & F. Green.”
Elsa frowned. “It’s Mrs Dalton,” she corrected.
“Oh!” His shoulders slumped. “Forgive me. My colleague mentioned you were seeking the name of the cologne you purchased for Mr Carver. I’m the assistant who served you that day. We agreed adding rosemary made the perfect blend.”
Elsa shot Daniel a confused look before addressing the man. “I’m sorry, but this is my first time visiting your establishment.”
“Oh! I must be mistaken.” The man’s cheeks turned beetroot red as he struggled to make an excuse. “There must be an error on the card. Such things happen from time to time.”
“Can I see the customer’s card?” Daniel fixed the assistant with a hard stare, daring him to refuse. “It’s not a request.”
With a shaky hand, the first assistant complied. The card had Carver’s name written clearly at the top, though Elsa was listed as the purchaser along with her Chippenham address.
Time seemed to stop for a moment.
He studied her, noting the flicker of fear beneath her sincere expression. Was he a fool to trust her? Had she killed Carver, and he was being played by a master manipulator?
No!
He refused to believe she was anything but the woman who’d picnicked with him in the meadow. The woman who kissed him like they were the only two people in the world. The innocent woman suffering for her father’s mistakes.
“Are you saying the woman who bought the cologne for Mr Carver resembles my wife?” he said, sounding like a cuckold.
“No. No. She was young and looked vaguely similar. But I serve many people, sir. I’m sure it’s my mistake.”
“Was she alone when she bought the cologne?”
The man shrugged. “The woman I served was alone. As I said, there must be a problem with our filing system. These things happen from time to time.”
Daniel glanced at the card. The transaction was dated seven months ago. Magnus made no mention of a visit to London.
“I’m keeping this card,” he said, his tone darker than the devil’s as he slipped the evidence into his pocket. “Mr Carver is dead. No one will be buying cologne for him again.”
He didn’t bother bidding the men good day.
Once outside, Elsa’s composure faltered. “Daniel. I did not buy cologne for Mr Carver. I haven’t been to London in years and only came recently because I was searching for you. Heavens! This looks terrible.”
He wrapped his arm around her, guiding her away from those peering over the perfume bottles, watching them from the shop window.
“Elsa, I know it wasn’t you. It’s obvious the culprit tried to frame you for murder, so Magnus would be forced to give him the journal.”
Yet the information in the journal wasn’t that damning. Jacob Tyler’s role in the failed schemes could be attributed to incompetence. Perhaps they had missed a vital clue.
“Be prepared,” he said, bolstering his own defences too. “I suspect the porter at The Raven will have a similar story to tell.”
Elsa cradled her left arm, which should be in a sling. “It’s so humiliating. It looks like you’ve caught me having an adulterous affair.”
The villain hadn’t staged the ruse for that reason. How could he have? The cologne was purchased weeks before their wedding.
“It’s meant to look like you were intimate with Carver. I can visit The Raven alone to save you any embarrassment.” Though it would kill him to hear evidence of her supposed love affair. “You can wait in the carriage.”
“No. I know you find it hard to trust me. Anyone would when presented with the evidence. But I refuse to cower in the corner.”
He did trust her, though he had every reason not to.
This was certainly a test of his resolve.
“All that matters is we’re honest with each other,” he said, guiding her through the crowded Strand towards their carriage.
She exhaled deeply. “Will we survive this? Mistrust destroys marriages.”
He might have reassured her, but they were accosted by a mature woman carrying a fluffy white Pomeranian, the creature yapping and bearing its tiny pincer-like teeth.
“Miss Tyler? Good grief, it is you! How good of you to crawl out of your hiding place.” The matron’s pinched lips and sharp eyes rang with disapproval. “I was told you were in Paris with your brother on one of his poetic pilgrimages. I would have expected a note to inform me you were in town.”
Elsa paled. “Lady Denby. You look well.” Unsure what else to say, she opened her mouth and closed it again.
The matron surveyed Daniel with cool disdain. “Playing nursemaid to your neighbours, Mr Dalton? I trust Miss Tyler’s brother is in the tobacconist. Doubtless he inherited his father’s weakness for expensive cigars.”
Daniel inclined his head. “I haven’t seen Magnus for months.”
The pigeon-faced creature was fishing for information. Perhaps she’d heard about the incident at the countess’ ball and knew they were married.
“He cannot hide forever. We intend to serve papers the moment he steps on English soil.”
“Papers?” Elsa said, feigning ignorance.
“Yes, for failing to abide by the contract between my late husband and your father. As your guardian, your brother is legally obliged to ensure you comply. My son won’t wait forever.”
As if taking his cue, Lord Denby exited the tobacconist and came to a crashing halt. He was tall and dark with a strong patrician nose far too large for his face.
He sneered at Daniel. “Dalton.”
“Denby.”
He turned to Elsa and bowed. “Miss Tyler. What a pleasant surprise.” His unreadable gaze swept over her turquoise pelisse. “When did you arrive in town?”
“Fairly recently.”
“Did you receive my letters? Your silence suggests not.”
No letters were found at Edenberry.
“I’ve been away from home these last six months.”
“Rumour is you accompanied your brother on a Grand Tour. I would have intervened had I known. The mere idea is preposterous.”
Daniel didn’t inject because the more these pompous fools spoke, the more information they revealed.
“Ignoring a solicitor’s letter carries serious penalties,” Lady Denby said over her dog’s incessant yapping. “I trust your grieving period is over, and you’re able to meet your obligation to my son. Indeed, we must insist you return with us to Denby House. It’s the only way to save your brother from debtors’ prison.”
Denby scanned the street, his eyes narrowing. “Where is your maid, Miss Tyler? Surely, you’re not out shopping unchaperoned.”
Elsa was saved by the arrival of Denby’s spirited sister, Miss Denby, her breathless maid scuttling behind.
“Mama, you simply must come. I’ve found the most exquisite bonnet in the prettiest pink you’ve ever seen. It has the most wonderful silk ribbons and a brooch that sparkles like a dozen tiny stars.”
“Not now, Madeline,” her mother snapped.
Miss Denby glanced at Daniel with eager interest. She didn’t wait for an introduction. “It’s Mr Dalton, is it not? You watched The Merchant of Venice at The Alexandria from the Marquess of Rothley’s private box.”
Daniel bowed. “I did. ”
Miss Denby fluttered her long, dark lashes. “Is the marquess with you today? I would very much like to meet him.”
“I’m afraid not.” Rothley would eat this chit alive. It didn’t matter that Miss Denby was pretty. If Venus emerged naked from the sea foam, Rothley would appear indifferent.
“Oh, how disappointing.”
Deciding to move his knight into an attacking position, he said, “I’m shopping with my wife. Allow me to present Mrs Dalton.”
While Miss Denby curtsied, her mother had kittens.
“What! What nonsense is this? Sir, this is no time to jest. This is a serious legal matter. Miss Tyler is contractually obliged to marry my son.” When the dog barked, she cried, “Be quiet, Foofoo. I’m in no mood for your tantrums.”
Denby straightened, keen to appear intimidating. “I fail to find your joke amusing, Dalton. As her brother’s friend, I’m sure you know Miss Tyler is betrothed to me. Indeed, I demand to know why the devil she’s parading about town without a chaperone.”
“We never announced our betrothal,” Elsa countered. “I understand my brother found a glaring error in the contract.”
“Error?” Denby barked. “What error?”
“I don’t know. You will have to speak to Magnus.”
“I would if I could find the devil.”
“As it stands,” Daniel began sternly, for he was tired of listening to their drivel, “my father’s contract with Mr Tyler negates yours. Elsa is my wife. Search the register in St Andrew’s Church in Chippenham if you require proof.”
While Miss Denby watched with the fascination of someone in the front row at Astley’s Amphitheatre, her mother turned as white as her restless Pomeranian .
“This is outrageous.” Lady Denby gripped her dog, visibly shaking. “My son did the respectable thing and honoured the mourning period, and this is how you repay him.”
Denby looked equally irate. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Dalton, but you’ll rue the day you crossed me.”
Daniel’s caustic laugh drew the attention of a few passersby. “I could silence you with one hand tied behind my back. I suggest you refrain from pestering my wife. If I hear the smallest whisper of gossip, you’ll find yourself at a dawn appointment.”
“Will the Marquess of Rothley be your second?” Miss Denby asked. “I hear he’s an excellent marksman himself. Quite unmatched with a pistol.” She gave a coy smile, adding, “Such a man would make a most desirable match.”
“Do be quiet, Madeline. I’m prepared to overlook the fact Rothley keeps a harem of women at Studland Park,” Lady Denby said, believing the ridiculous gossip, “but that hound of his eats small dogs. I won’t have it savaging my darling Foofoo.”
Miss Denby sighed. “I would make him get rid of the dog.”
Daniel wished he could be party to that conversation.
This one had tested his patience to its limit.
“Excuse us.” He slid a protective arm around Elsa’s waist. “We have an appointment across town.”
“You’ll be hearing from my solicitor,” the lord growled.
“Don’t just stand there gaping,” his mother complained. “Do something. You can’t let her leave with that odious man.”
An argument between the family ensued .
Daniel quickened his step, releasing a tight breath when they reached the carriage. “The Raven Hotel, Hollen Street.” It was but a short ride.
“I don’t understand,” Elsa said once they were seated inside the vehicle. “I thought Magnus told Lord Denby I had refused his offer of marriage.”
“He did, before he left for Geneva. At least that’s what he said.” Maybe Magnus had taken the coward’s way out. Maybe Lord Denby lied to save face in front of his mother. “Lady Denby thought you were stalling. Why else would she threaten to serve papers?”
“I assume you lied about the contract your father made?”
“Yes, to buy us some time.” He would have married her two years ago if such a contract existed. “A sympathetic judge might hear the case against Magnus and force him to pay an obligatory fine.”
“Assuming we see my brother again.”
“When I wrote to him, I advised him to return home.” Now that Elsa had taken the bold step of coming to London, there was no sense in Magnus hiding.
Elsa held his gaze, worry lines etched on her brow. “What do you think Mr Daventry will do about Mr Carver’s body?”
Daventry hadn’t called them fools for hoping the truth would never surface. He had listened intently, his only comment being, ‘One does what one must in times of crisis’.
“I hope he helps us to catch Carver’s killer—and sees him blamed for burying the body.” Assuming no one saw them committing the wicked deed that night.
“I pray you’re right.”
He forced a smile as the conveyance stopped outside the hotel on Hollen Street. The Raven sat nestled between a coffeehouse and a quaint bookshop, where guests loitered while waiting for their married lovers.
“Should I go in alone?” he asked.
“No.” Elsa squared her shoulders. “I would like to question the clerk myself.”
The dark decor inside the foyer of The Raven hinted at forbidden secrets. Heavy green curtains kept the daylight out and the mood subdued. The wall sconces were already lit, the candles adding an air of sensual mystery.
A clerk stood behind the narrow desk in the corner,head bent over a ledger. He looked up and greeted them. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”
Elsa smiled. “Sadly, no.”
While Daniel wondered if his wife wanted an evening of passion in a hotel bedchamber, the clerk glanced at their empty hands and asked, “Do you require a room for the night?”
Elsa turned to him. “What do you think, darling?”
What did he think? He thought he would like to carry her upstairs, toss up her skirts, and lose himself in the heat of her body.
“I’m not sure this is the right place for us,” he confessed.
Lust without intimacy was unfulfilling. A marriage based solely on carnal pleasures would wither like a rose deprived of water. He needed to woo his wife and arouse her mind and body. And he planned to enjoy every step of the journey.
“This is the hotel we visited last year.” She glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was waiting behind her. “The Raven is known for its discretion.” She turned to the clerk. “Is that not right?”
The clerk leaned closer. “At The Raven, your business is your own, sir. You may use a fictitious name for the booking, if you’d prefer.”
“We didn’t use our own names last time, though I’m trying to remember what month we came.”
Daniel played along. “Late October. Early November.”
“Yes. But what name did you use?”
“It would have been Carver, but I’m sure we stayed at The Retford.”
Elsa turned on the charm as she spoke to the clerk, sliding a half sovereign across the counter with a knowing smile. “Please assure my husband that you recorded his alias in your register.”
Used to people paying for his silence, the clerk slipped the coin into his pocket and began flipping through the guestbook.
“Here it is, sir,” he said discreetly. “A two-night stay on the 12th of October. Mr and Mrs Carver.” Recognition sparked in his eyes as he tapped a mark beside the entry. “Yes, it appears you left something in the room. Kindly wait here, and I shall fetch it for you.”
The man disappeared through a door behind his desk.
Daniel knew that whatever they’d found in the room would help to identify Elsa. But who wanted to ruin her reputation?
Perhaps Lord Denby needed an excuse not to marry her. Perhaps Magnus persuaded Carver to devise this elaborate lie. A means to force Denby to break the contract. Whatever the reason, Elsa was a pawn in this game.
“It will be something of mine,” she said, forlorn.
“Yes. Something to convince a jury you and Carver were lovers. It gives both you and Magnus a motive for murder. ”
She bowed her head. “I thought finding you would give me peace, not bring us both a wealth of trouble.”
He cupped her elbow, a tender touch, solace amid the chaos. “This is more complicated than either of us imagined.”
If the evidence came to light, he doubted he could save her. Even Rothley, with all his influence, couldn’t shield a suspected criminal.
The clerk returned with a small leather grooming case and placed it on the desk. “We were required to open it and list the items inside. Madam, I must advise, that the glass on your miniature was already cracked. I’ll need you to sign to confirm the case has been returned to you.”
“I’ll sign.” Daniel stepped up to the counter, took the offered quill pen and scribbled his own name, ensuring it was illegible. “We’ll return in a few minutes if we decide to rent a room.”
They left The Raven with the grooming case that didn’t belong to them. Inside the carriage, he sat with it on his lap, staring at it like it contained a deadly snake.
“Open it,” Elsa urged him, worrying her lip.
He hesitated before raising the clasp and lifting the lid.
Carver hadn’t used it to store his shaving implements, comb and bar soap. It was a treasure trove. A place to keep a lover’s mementoes.
Elsa inhaled sharply when he retrieved the miniature painted some years ago. “I did not give that to Mr Carver. He must have stolen it from Edenberry.”
He removed the personal items one by one, every muscle in his gut clenching. A velvet choker and hair comb. A handkerchief embroidered with her monogram that smelled of her because Carver had kept a bottle of her perfume. A simple verse she had signed .
In shadows we meet, where no eyes can see,
A passion forbidden, yet it calls to me.
In every touch, a secret we keep,
A fire so fierce, it burns while I sleep.
“Did you write this verse?” he asked, his throat tight, afraid he was being played for a fool.
She took the paper, hesitated, and gave a stiff shake of her head. “Of course not. It’s an abysmal attempt at romantic poetry.”
“But that looks like your signature,” he said, jealousy writhing in his veins, preventing him from thinking objectively. “Carver was a handsome man. I could see why an impressionable young woman might enjoy a flirtation with him. Especially if she was being forced to marry a man like Lord Denby.”
A blush rose to her cheeks. “Daniel, I didn’t write a love poem for Mr Carver. It’s not hard to forge someone’s signature.”
“I’m not saying you did. I’m simply saying I would understand if you had, given the circumstances.”
Sadness and frustration warred in her eyes. “May I speak plainly?”
“Please do.”
She looked at him keenly. “The kiss we shared earlier should leave no doubt in your mind.” Her gaze softened. “I’ve never been interested in other men. It’s always been you. No one but you.”