“Enough.” Tobias took his fingers off the victim’s throat. “For better or worse, you did receive the message.” He gripped the edge of the sarcophagus lid again and shoved hard to angle it farther out of the way. “From Tredlow’s point of view, it is just as well that you got here when you did.”

“Why do you say that?” Anthony asked.

“Because he is still alive.”

Tobias strode into the parlor later that evening, bringing with him the essence of the fog and the night. He came to a halt at the foot of the sofa and surveyed Lavinia with an assessing expression.

She lay propped against a stack of fringed pillows, covered from head to toe by the pile of warm blankets that Emeline had arranged. The large pot of very hot, very strong tea that Mrs. Chilton had brewed sat on the table beside her.

She gave Tobias a wan smile.

He turned directly to Emeline.

“How is she?” he asked.

Emeline looked up from the cup of tea she had just poured. “Somewhat better, I think. Her nerves are still quite overwrought, of course. Lavinia has great difficulty with small, enclosed spaces, you know. They make her very anxious. And she was in that dreadful little room for a long while.”

“Yes, I know.” Tobias shifted his attention back to Lavinia. “But she will soon return to normal, will she not?”

“Oh, yes,” Emeline assured him. “What she needs now is peace and rest. She is certainly in no condition to withstand any more sharp shocks at the moment.”

“How is Mr. Tredlow?” Lavinia asked softly.

“Whitby is looking after him,” Tobias said. “He’ll stay with him tonight. Says that Tredlow will no doubt recover, but he warned me that blows to the head are unpredictable. Tredlow may not remember anything of what occurred in the moments prior to his encounter with the intruder.”

“I see.” Lavinia closed her eyes. “In other words, we may learn nothing useful from him when we do manage to interview him.”

“We can only hope that he will at least recall why he sent the message to you,” Tobias said.

“Yes.” She lifted her lashes very slowly. “Well, we must worry about that tomorrow. There is nothing more we can do tonight. I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me from that horrid chamber.”

“Are you certain that you’re all right, Lavinia?” he asked.

“Yes.” She closed her eyes again and reclined weakly against the stack of pillows. “But I must admit I am more weary and shaken than I had first realized. Perhaps I shall ask Mrs. Chilton to prepare a vinaigrette.”

“I shall call at breakfast to see how you are getting along,” Tobias said.

She nodded without opening her eyes.

He hesitated a moment longer at the foot of the sofa. She sensed him looming there and knew that he was reluctant to take his leave.

“See to it that she gets a good night’s sleep,” he said to Emeline.

“I will,” Emeline promised.

“Very well.” He still lingered at the foot of the sofa. “I will bid you both good night.”

“Good night, sir,” Emeline said.

“Good night,” Lavinia whispered, eyes still closed.

She heard him turn and walk away toward the parlor door. He stepped out into the hall and spoke to Mrs. Chilton in low, muffled tones. The front door opened and closed.

Lavinia breathed a sigh of relief. She snapped open her eyes, shoved aside the heavy blankets, sat up, and swung her feet to the floor.

“Really, I had begun to fear that he would never leave,” she said. “Where’s that sherry I was drinking before he arrived?”

“I’ve got it right here.”

Emeline went to the mantel and raised the top of the decorative urn that stood on the far end. She reached inside and removed the glass of sherry Lavinia had ordered her to conceal moments ago when she had spotted Tobias coming up the steps.

“Thank you.” Lavinia took the glass and swallowed a goodly portion of the contents. She waited for the warmth of the spirits to hit her and then she exhaled deeply. “I think I handled that rather well, don’t you?”

“Your acting was nothing short of professional,” Emeline said.

“Yes, I thought so. I must say, I am quite grateful to Mr. March. He is excellent in a crisis, and I was exceedingly happy to see him earlier when he opened the door of that dreadful little chamber.”

Emeline shuddered. “I do not doubt that.”

“Unfortunately he cannot resist the urge to deliver exceedingly tiresome lectures after the dramatic moment has passed.” Lavinia made a face. “I knew when I saw him coming up the steps that he had come back to see if I was in any condition to listen to one.”

“I suspect you are right. Luckily you managed to appear far too delicate to engage in one of your more spirited discussions with him.”

“I wouldn’t be the least surprised to discover that he has drawn up a new list of rules for me.”

“How did you guess, madam?” Tobias asked from the parlor doorway.

“Tobias.” She started, very nearly spilling the remaining sherry, and turned quickly about on the sofa.

He lounged in the opening, arms crossed, shoulder propped against the wooden jamb, and regarded her with cool consideration.

“As it happens, I have taken the trouble to make up just such a list,” he said. “I think you will find it very handy. I am delighted to see that you have made such a swift recovery. No need to wait until morning after all. We can go over the new rules this very evening.”

“Bloody hell.” She consoled herself with the last of the sherry.

Emeline went briskly toward the door. “If you will both excuse me, I believe I shall retire for the evening. I find I am really quite exhausted from all the excitement.”

“I understand,” Tobias said. “Delicate sensibilities do appear to run in your family.” He straightened, moved aside, and inclined his head gracefully as she swept past him into the hall. “Good night again, Miss Emeline.”

“Good night, Mr. March.”

Lavinia watched warily as Tobias closed the door very deliberately behind Emeline.

“What made you come back?” she asked.

“I believe it was the line about asking Mrs. Chilton to prepare a vinaigrette.”

“I thought it was a nice touch.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “It was a bit much.”

He was still simmering the next morning when he and Lavinia walked into Edmund Tredlow’s tiny upstairs parlor. But he was so relieved to see that his partner appeared none the worse for her ordeal that he decided to forgo further lectures.

He consoled himself with the thought that he’d succeeded in extracting the one vital concession he wanted most from her last night: She had reluctantly promised to keep her household informed of her whereabouts when she went out. That would do for now, he thought. With Lavinia, one had to be content with small victories.

Whitby looked up from the pot of porridge he was preparing. Even garbed in an apron with a dish towel draped over one shoulder, he somehow managed to look quite dapper, Tobias thought with just a touch of envy.

Whitby gave Lavinia a bow that would have made any dandy proud.

“Good morning, madam.” He straightened and nodded at Tobias. “Sir.”

“Whitby,” Tobias said. “How is your patient today?”

“I think you will find him well on the road to recovery, although he will no doubt suffer the headache for a while.” Whitby set aside the pot, wiped his hands on a drying cloth, and led the way toward the bedchamber. “But I warn you, he cannot recall much of what occurred. I fear that is only to be expected after such a blow to the head.”

They followed him into the invalid’s room and found Tredlow, dressed in an aging, badly yellowed nightshirt, propped up in bed. A large white bandage covered a good portion of his head. He put down the cup of chocolate he had been drinking and peered at Lavinia through his spectacles.