Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) Read Online Free Page A
years of his life. In a locked room, the child waited, not once hearing the sound of a voice, or feeling the touch of human skin. And then, on his twelfth birthday, he began to teach the boy violence. He brought him live animals and—and you can imagine what he did! You see, Malcom is not like other men. He was born in the dark. He knows only violence. He has taught himself to read and write, but he is not a person like me or you. His father died, thank God, but the son lives on. I suspect—” Her voice dropped lower. Wilbert was forced to lean in. “I suspect that Malcolm killed his father.”
Lady Lavery rubbed her eyes. Tears slid down her cheeks. “So you see,” she said, “that we are dealing with a wild man.”
“I see,” Wilbert said. “Then we must ask ourselves a question. How does one catch a wild man?”
“Oh, that is simple,” Lucia said, stepping into the light. “There is one thing that wild things cannot resist. Bait.”
“Bait?” Lady Lavery said softly.
“Yes, my lady,” Lucia said, without a hint of emotion in her voice. “You must present yourself as bait to your son. There is no other choice. Come, Wilbert, it is time for us to leave. He will not strike until the morrow.”
“You would leave me!” Lady Lavery cried.
“Lucia—”
She waved a hand, cutting short his protestation. “We will wait in the woods on the outskirts of the estate,” Lucia said. “One does not fear sleeping in the mud, does one?”
“One does not,” Wilbert muttered.
“And we will watch,” Lucia said. “When he approaches…” She clapped her hands. “The game is won!”
Wilbert leaned into Lucia and whispered into her ear: “Is this likely to result in the lady’s death?”
“Not if we are fast,” Lucia said. “Only if we are slow. I can assure you one thing. We will catch him if we follow this plan.” Lucia did something strange then; she hugged him. Then she leaned back. “Now, leave us, Wilbert. Lady Lavery and I must discuss something in private.”
Wilbert, bemused, left the room.
But he trusted Lucia. She had never left him down before.
She was, after all, the smart one.
*****
They returned to London, slept, and in the morning took a carriage back to the Lavery homestead. They arrived at the woods at about ten o’clock. Wilbert fear that the lady may already be dead. Perhaps the Viking had been lying in his note. But the Viking proved as honest as ever, and the lady admitted them with a wan smile. “I merely wished to make sure you were well, my lady,” Wilbert said. “We cannot stay here, now. We must retreat to the woods, and wait.”
She nodded, seeming not to care either way.
Wilbert and Lucia crouched down in the woods, looking toward the house. They were as out of sight as it was possible to see, almost buried in leaves. Lucia was close to Wilbert’s arm. He could feel her there. Her presence seemed to reach out and bring him in, drawing him toward her. There was something magnetic in Lucia, something dangerous. One found it impossible to ignore her aura. At length, Wilbert turned and regarded her, and saw that she was regarding him.
“Is there something wrong?” Wilbert said.
“No,” Lucia said. “Not wrong, precisely. I am at war with myself; that is the truth of it. I know I should be focusing on the case, and yet I cannot stop looking at you, Wilbert.”
Wilbert blushed. He felt as though he had just been complemented by a goddess. A foolish thought, of course; Lucia was flesh and bone and imperfections and perfections. But his feeling was sincere. “Why is that?” Wilbert said, his voice naught more than a croak.
“Perhaps I am looking back over our time together. We’ve had some adventures, have we not? I am looking back to that time with the cat, thought. Do you remember when you nursed that cat back to health?”
Wilbert remembered all too well. His landlord despised cats, so Wilbert had had to hide the poor thing in his coat every
Lady Lavery rubbed her eyes. Tears slid down her cheeks. “So you see,” she said, “that we are dealing with a wild man.”
“I see,” Wilbert said. “Then we must ask ourselves a question. How does one catch a wild man?”
“Oh, that is simple,” Lucia said, stepping into the light. “There is one thing that wild things cannot resist. Bait.”
“Bait?” Lady Lavery said softly.
“Yes, my lady,” Lucia said, without a hint of emotion in her voice. “You must present yourself as bait to your son. There is no other choice. Come, Wilbert, it is time for us to leave. He will not strike until the morrow.”
“You would leave me!” Lady Lavery cried.
“Lucia—”
She waved a hand, cutting short his protestation. “We will wait in the woods on the outskirts of the estate,” Lucia said. “One does not fear sleeping in the mud, does one?”
“One does not,” Wilbert muttered.
“And we will watch,” Lucia said. “When he approaches…” She clapped her hands. “The game is won!”
Wilbert leaned into Lucia and whispered into her ear: “Is this likely to result in the lady’s death?”
“Not if we are fast,” Lucia said. “Only if we are slow. I can assure you one thing. We will catch him if we follow this plan.” Lucia did something strange then; she hugged him. Then she leaned back. “Now, leave us, Wilbert. Lady Lavery and I must discuss something in private.”
Wilbert, bemused, left the room.
But he trusted Lucia. She had never left him down before.
She was, after all, the smart one.
*****
They returned to London, slept, and in the morning took a carriage back to the Lavery homestead. They arrived at the woods at about ten o’clock. Wilbert fear that the lady may already be dead. Perhaps the Viking had been lying in his note. But the Viking proved as honest as ever, and the lady admitted them with a wan smile. “I merely wished to make sure you were well, my lady,” Wilbert said. “We cannot stay here, now. We must retreat to the woods, and wait.”
She nodded, seeming not to care either way.
Wilbert and Lucia crouched down in the woods, looking toward the house. They were as out of sight as it was possible to see, almost buried in leaves. Lucia was close to Wilbert’s arm. He could feel her there. Her presence seemed to reach out and bring him in, drawing him toward her. There was something magnetic in Lucia, something dangerous. One found it impossible to ignore her aura. At length, Wilbert turned and regarded her, and saw that she was regarding him.
“Is there something wrong?” Wilbert said.
“No,” Lucia said. “Not wrong, precisely. I am at war with myself; that is the truth of it. I know I should be focusing on the case, and yet I cannot stop looking at you, Wilbert.”
Wilbert blushed. He felt as though he had just been complemented by a goddess. A foolish thought, of course; Lucia was flesh and bone and imperfections and perfections. But his feeling was sincere. “Why is that?” Wilbert said, his voice naught more than a croak.
“Perhaps I am looking back over our time together. We’ve had some adventures, have we not? I am looking back to that time with the cat, thought. Do you remember when you nursed that cat back to health?”
Wilbert remembered all too well. His landlord despised cats, so Wilbert had had to hide the poor thing in his coat every
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