“Whitby would never forgive me if I brought a housekeeper into his domain.”

Emeline chuckled. “Do not concern yourself, Lavinia. I’m sure Mrs. Chilton would never dream of allowing herself to be lured away from your employ.”

“Mmm.” Lavinia lowered her gaze to her newspaper again. She had more misgivings than ever now. Something was wrong.

Mrs. Chilton might be in an unfortunate mood this morning, she thought, but Tobias was certainly in fine spirits for a man with an unsolved murder case on his hands. When he had reappeared on her doorstep an hour ago, he was bathed and freshly shaven. Renewed determination gleamed in his eyes. Evidently a good night’s sleep was just what he had needed.

“Do you know, I am not the least surprised to hear that Mr. Hood is Anthony’s half-brother,” Emeline said, returning to the conversation in which they had all been engaged before the small skirmish between Tobias and Mrs. Chilton. “It certainly explains a few of the similarities I had noted in both gentlemen.”

“Yes, it does,” Tobias said.

“Will you be needing my assistance on this case today, sir?” she asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so, thank you.” He raised a brow when Emeline looked ruefully disappointed. Why?”

“Nothing. It is just that Priscilla sent a note around this morning practically begging me to call upon her this afternoon. I interpret that to mean that her mama has made some dreadfully boring appointnent for her with a dressmaker and she does not want to suffer alone.”

Lavinia tut-tutted. “More pink, I suppose?”

“No doubt. Priscilla says that the only really good reason she can come up with for getting married is that her mama would no longer be able to force her to wear pink.”

“Lavinia looked at Tobias. What of your plans, sir?”

“I must find some evidence of Pierce’s involvement in this affair.

“I’m going to search his lodgings this afternoon when he goes off to pay his calls on his clients.” Tobias’s face tightened. “Assuming he actually does do some legitimate hairdressing.”

“I’m sure he does,” Lavinia said. “He is quite skilled in that profession, as I have told you. He must have any number of regular clients.”

The muffled thud of the front door knocker reverberated throughout the house. Mrs. Chilton’s solid footsteps sounded in the hall.

Emeline put down her napkin. “I wonder who that can be at this early hour. Perhaps a new client, Lavinia.”

“More likely an old client,” Lavinia muttered. “Come to demand to know how the investigation progresses.”

Tobias looked amused. “Clients do like to be kept informed.”

The murmur of voices drifted down the hall. A moment later the door of the breakfast room opened.

“Mrs. Gray to see you and Mr. March, madam,” Mrs. Chilton announced.

“I knew it,” Lavinia said. Well, at least we have some news at last to give her.”

“Indeed.” Tobias took one last swallow of his coffee and got to his feet. “Now all we need is a bit of evidence to go with it.”

At two o’clock that afternoon, Lavinia stood with Tobias in the sitting room of Mr. Pierce’s lodgings. Fortunately, Mrs. Chilton’s predictions of rain had failed to materialize, so they were not obliged to deal with dripping garments and wet shoes when they made their clandestine entrance. The curtains were drawn across the windows, blocking the afternoon sun. Long shadows cloaked the small, neat space.

A short while earlier, the young street urchin Tobias had paid to watch Mr. Pierce during the day arrived, breathless, at the small park where Tobias and Lavinia waited. He told them that he had just seen the hairdresser leave, a large satchel in his hand, and that a maid at one of the houses across the street had told him Pierce went out every afternoon at this time. He was not expected back until five o’clock.

“Why is she so aware of Pierce’s comings and goings?” Tobias asked, digging into his pocket for some silver to pay the small spy.

“I think she’s sweet on him, sir.” The boy pocketed his coins. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch at the corner. If I see him coming back sooner than expected, I’ll toss a couple of stones against the window.”

Lavinia was intensely aware of the fizzing excitement in her stomach and the rapid beat of her pulse. She wondered if professional inquiry agents ever became accustomed to the thrill that came with knowing one was close to finding the answers.

She sensed the subdued, controlled anticipation that emanated from Tobias and knew he was feeling similar emotions. Perhaps heady anticipation was an addictive elixir for those in their line.

“Shall I take the bed chamber?” she asked.

“Yes. Do not forget the wardrobe.” Tobias opened a cupboard. “And be quick about it. I do not like doing this kind of thing during the day.”

“Yes, I am well-aware of your preferences.” She walked into the small room and started to open drawers in the bedside table. “I suppose it would be too much to hope that we will come across a blond wig and some women’s clothing.”

“Who knows? He has to hide that damned wig and the clothing somewhere. It is certainly about time that we had some luck in this case.”

“Very true.” She closed the last drawer and got down on her knees to peer beneath the bed. “Aspasia seemed quite stunned by our conclusions this morning, did she not? I vow, if you had not been there to reassure her, she would have dismissed me on the spot.”

Aspasia had been incredulous when they told her that they believed Mr. Pierce to be the killer. In the end Lavinia knew that she had allowed herself to be persuaded only because Tobias had assured her he was convinced of the hairdresser’s guilt.

“She has every right to be astonished,” Tobias said from the other room. “I am still amazed myself. I have encountered a great many villains in my time, but this is the first hairdresser I have suspected of murder.”

Lavinia rose and went to the wardrobe. She opened the door and surveyed the array of shirts and crisply ironed cravats. “It really is the perfect cover for a professional murderer who wishes to move in Society, is it not? A hairdresser is invited into the most exclusive houses, and no one thinks twice about his entering a lady’s bed chamber or dressing room.”

“It occurs to me that a bloody hairdresser is able to get into your bed chamber far more easily than I can,” Tobias grumbled. “I am obliged to plot and plan and wait about until Emeline decides to call upon Priscilla and Mrs. Chilton has set off on a shopping expedition.”

“It is hardly the same thing, Tobias.”

“It is damned unfair, that’s what it is, not to mention extremely inconvenient. I have been meaning to discuss the matter with you.”

Her fingers froze on the knob of the wardrobe door. She waited, forgetting to breathe.

There was a short pause from the other room.

“Well, well, well,” Tobias murmured.

She took a deep breath. Her fingers relaxed around the knob. She could not say just what it was she experienced in those few seconds.

Relief? Disappointment?

What had she expected? she wondered. Tobias was highly unlikely to raise the subject of marriage in the middle of the search of a murderer’s residence.

She went to the doorway and saw that he had gone down on his good knee and raised a section of a carpet. He studied the floorboards with great attention.

“Find something?” she called softly.

“Perhaps.”

He took one of the lock picks out of its leather sheath and slipped it into the long crack where two boards met.

“I think there may be an opening here in the floor.” He probed gently with the pick. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Elland hid his safe in the boards beneath the carpet in his study. That was where Aspasia found his journal and the rings. Perhaps this new Memento-Mori Man seeks to imitate him in every particular.”