The Perils of Presumption (The Conclave Series Book 1) Read online

  The Lesson in Superiority

  Ben locked his hands behind his back and stared at the ticking clock above the mantelpiece. It was a gorgeous clock, certainly, but it did not get more beautiful upon closer inspection, and he had been told by the brusque housekeeper that he should 'stay in the sitting room and admire the mantel' while she fetched tea.

  That had been... Yes, one hour and thirty minutes ago. He was beginning to suspect the housekeeper had been trying to communicate some secret message. Perhaps there was a portal to another world hidden in the clock. He had read a book about that once. Or maybe--

  No. He had been spending too much time training the new initiates lately. They were always coming to him with grand new theories and ideas, and he was forced to tell them that it simply wasn't possible. And it simply wasn't possible to have a portal in a clock.

  Was it?

  He reached out and placed his palm on the clock, sensing for any sort of magical hum, when he heard the rustle of skirts and a familiar voice.

  "Lord Winters?"

  He turned and blinked to take in the sight of Lady Charlotte. It had been nearly three months since he'd last seen her, and she was looking exceedingly well; her cheeks flushed, hair tousled from the wind, and skin browned from the sun. A smile touched her lips, and her green eyes fixed upon him in a way he found foolishly intoxicating. This. This was why he had been putting off this visit.

  "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lady Charlotte prompted. Her skirts rustled again when she moved forward to stand with him near the mantel.

  Ben swallowed against his dry tongue. She made him feel like a damned schoolboy, when he was the head of the London Conclave. "This clock. Is it enchanted?" he blurted at last.

  She turned her eyes towards the clock and for a moment he could breathe again. "No, 'tis just a clock. Though the time isn't terribly true. I'm sure if you compared it to your watch you would find it fast by at least twelve minutes. Why are we speaking of clocks?"

  "Right." Ben crossed his arms. He was considerably larger and more important than this woman, it was time to get hold of himself. "I've come to check in with you regarding the progress of your brother's case."

  "The progress? So, you're saying there has been any at all?" Lady Charlotte raised her brows.

  Before Ben could respond indignantly, the sitting room door was filled with the ample figure of the housekeeper. She bustled forward, all friendly smiles when she had been cold and dignified before. She was clutching a tray overflowing with small cakes and sandwiches, and a large pot of steaming tea.

  "Here you are, milady, a nice warm cup to freshen you up after your journey. After two days away you must be fit to drop." Darting a meaningful glance at Ben, the housekeeper planted the tray down on the side table.

  "Thank you, Agatha," Lady Charlotte replied, seeming oblivious to the housekeeper's evil eye. "Stephen is helping to brush Arkle down. He must be nearly finished if you'd like to greet him."

  The housekeeper was clearly reluctant to leave, but even a servant so audacious as she couldn't ignore such a thinly veiled order from her mistress. She heaved a sigh and bobbed a half-courtesy to Ben, then took herself out the door, taking care to leave it wide open.

  This room was pretty, Ben found himself noting again, and wished his home had more wide windows like this, with these delicate ruffled curtain things. He enjoyed how the sunlight streamed through the glass over the pale honey wood of the floors and furnishings and caught on Charlotte's hair when she bent to pour two cups of tea.

  Ben found himself watching her wrists twist and move as her capable hands spooned sugar into the cups, stirred and tapped the spoon to the side of the cup with a soft chime. There was something mesmerizing in the quiet rustle of her dress moving across the carpet once more, but he was forced to blink out of his reverie and stop standing there staring like an idiot in order to take his teacup.

  He sipped it absently, then his eyebrows shot up. It was just how he liked it, a little too sweet for everyone else. "It's good," he remarked.

  "Don't sound so surprised," Charlotte answered with a twist of her mouth; one of those inscrutable expressions which could be amusement, or annoyance, or what? "I ought to know how you take your tea. It is, after all, a year today since we first met. We are practically old friends."

  "Indeed." Ben cleared his throat. "In which case you must think me a very poor friend, to be absent so long with no word."

  Charlotte shook her head while he spoke, lifting one hand to forestall his words. "I trust, had you word to share, you would have come sooner."

  "Indeed." Ben was repeating himself, as usual. "Apologies for arriving when you were away from home. I had no idea you were away. From home."

  Again, Charlotte waved away his attempt to be gentlemanly. "You had no way of knowing, sir, we are not in regular correspondence, nor are you my keeper. And on that note, please, get on with what you're here for if you don't mind. I've had a tiring day of it."

  Ben pinned her with a glance. She was usually not so brisk with him. What had gotten into her? "Perhaps you should sit down, then," he mused, pacing forward to set his teacup on the table.

  "It is all right; I don't anticipate you being here long. You never are."

  Ben sent her another sharp glance, but her face was still set in a placid smile, the green eyes that met his dancing with some inside joke. "Very well. As you know, we have been pursuing Avery's case for a year now with no success."

  "Yes, I am well aware," Charlotte murmured.

  "I am here to inform you that the Conclave is closing the investigation. The resources are needed elsewhere, and as there is not likely to be any strides in the case, and we have gone over all available evidence, there is no justification for them to continue investigating." He stepped closer, ready to take Charlotte's anger, or tears, or whatever she was about to throw at him. "But you have my personal assurances that I will not give up."

  Charlotte stared at him for a long moment, then blinked. "Is that all?"

  Ben frowned. "No. Er, yes. That is, I've also returned Avery's notebooks. The ones we've been studying. I left the crate with your housekeeper."

  "Lovely, thank you. I had been thinking it would be nice to have those back." Charlotte took another unperturbed sip of tea.

  Ben glared at her for another moment. "Why are you acting so odd?"

  "Odd? I'm acting perfectly calm and rational." She sent him a quizzical smile and set down her own teacup.

  "Exactly."

  "Would you have me in hysterics? Nothing is going to change from yesterday to today. The Conclave clearly has never cared, and in fact, I'm still not certain his killer isn't in your ranks." Charlotte's voice bit off at the last word, and her throat worked to swallow, clearly suppressing a further tirade.

  Ben scowled and crossed his arms. "The police stopped investigating the day of his murder. At least we tried."

  Charlotte nodded as if he were getting through to her. "You're right. And trying is all that matters when it comes to murderers."

  Ben strode over to pick up his cane where it leaned against the mantel. "Forgive me for taking time out of my schedule to inform you in person. You might be more grateful, Lady Whitcomb."

  "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I'm sure you have a full day of mixing up love potions for wealthy madams ahead of you." Charlotte sniffed, eyes flicking away, already dismissing him.

  Ben couldn't help himself. It was like she reached into his chest and dragged words out he'd never meant to say, every time. "As it happens, there's been a rash of crimes in London, crimes related to black magic. If we devoted our resources to a long dead case, we wouldn't have a chance with these new ones."

  "It seems to me you haven't much of a chance anyway," Charlotte responded with a careless lift of one shoulder. "At any rate, thank you for the warning. I shall be extra cautious upon my coming trip to London."

  He jerked around at that. "You? Coming to London? For what purpose?"

  "Well, B
en." A little thrill went through him at her use of his Christian name. "Someone must find my brother's killer if it won't be you. I will call upon you in town to go over any details I may be missing."

  Oh, no. This could not be supported. The thought of fresh, sharp, wonderful Charlotte being thrust into the middle of the vipers of London... While investigating a murder? By herself?

  "There is no bloody way I'm allowing that to happen," Ben snapped, slinging his satchel over his shoulders.

  "I beg your pardon? You seem to think you have some sort of authority over me. Had you been appointed my guardian, I am sure I would remember it."

  "I'm saying this as your friend. It isn't safe in London."

  "If you can manage it, I'm certain I can too."

  How could she remain so cursed calm while making him see red? Ben pointed his cane at her, jabbing it forward with each word. "Stay. Home. You. Bloody. Woman."

  Charlotte smiled and took another sip of tea. "Or what, Lord Winters? You'll set the hounds after me?"

  Ben was speechless. Or rather, the words he wanted to say were even less gentlemanly than the ones he'd already allowed to escape. So, he clicked his heels together, offered a stiff, formal bow, and turned to make a break for it.

  As he exited the sitting room, Charlotte's light, husky tones followed him down the hall. "Oh, and give dear Lord Stoneworth my regards!"

  Ben suppressed the urge to growl once he burst out into the sunlight. "You and 'Lord Stoneworth' can both go to the devil," he muttered under his breath.

  There was no way on God's green earth he was going to be able to stop the stubborn woman from getting herself killed.

  Chapter Six

  The Uncommonly Longwinded Letter

  Charlotte stared at the empty doorway through which Ben had disappeared. She had a strange feeling that she ought to go after him and apologize. She hadn't truly intended to be so short with him. It was just today, the anniversary of Avery's death, and seeing Ben's face again. It brought the memories of that night rushing back.

  This sitting room had hosted its share of pleasant moments through the years. When her parents were still alive, they had spent many an evening playing chess against one another while allowing Charlotte and Avery to frolic with their toys on the floor. But now, when she looked past the intricate carpet design and the polished pine, all she saw were flashes of blood, of Avery's figure sprawled stiff and still on the carpet.

  She couldn't stay here anymore. There were things to accomplish, at any rate, and not much time in which to accomplish them. Shaking off her melancholy, Charlotte strode back out of the sitting room towards her brother's office.

  Since his death, she had taken over his space, perusing the books there; some terrible novels about mad barons, some ancient tomes she didn't comprehend. None of them helped her understand Avery's death. Understand why he was gone. It was simply an empty chasm within her, and sometimes she felt like only the strong sprouting vine of her magic was holding her together.

  "'Allo, milady."

  Charlotte blinked and glanced up just in time to stop herself from colliding into Marie. The tiny slip of a woman was enveloped in a huge apron that wrapped around her waist several times, and her bright blue eyes sparkled up at Charlotte. A huge smile rounded her rosy cheeks, and her light brown curls slipped out from under her maid's bonnet to bob up and down with each movement.

  "Hello Marie. How do you fare?" Charlotte stopped to face the chipper little French woman. The poor girl had been ruined and forced to flee home, but Charlotte had taken her in, and it seemed as if Marie hadn't stopped smiling since.

  "Very well, thank you." Marie's accent was getting less and less thick with each passing year. It was only the 'h' sound she struggled with now. "You will be going to London, milady?"

  "Yes, indeed. A bit of an impulsive decision, but I am looking forward to it."

  "I wish you a safe journey, milady," Marie said, and her already rosy cheeks took on a red hue.

  "Was there something you wished to say, Marie?" Charlotte asked, amused.

  "Well, milady, you remember Teddy Baker?"

  "Of course." The lad had been just a teenager when he had moved to London, but Charlotte couldn't forget his shock of bright orange hair and liberal scattering of freckles. They had been friends, or as close of friends as any unmarried female and male could be.

  "It's just, we 'ave been writing letters for some time. I taught 'im to write and read myself, milady. And I was 'oping you could bring 'im a gift for me when you are in London."

  Charlotte glanced down at her blushing, stammering maid. "Why Marie, have you a fling going with Teddy Baker, of all people?"

  Marie's eyes widened and she shook her head. "No, milady. That is, yes, but we wish to marry. When he 'as enough saved. 'E asked me in 'is last letter, to promise to wait for 'im. And I've said yes."

  "Oh! That's wonderful." Charlotte clasped Marie in an embrace too familiar for mistress and servant, but who was here to judge? "Congratulations to you both. No matter what happens, you must promise to keep in contact with me. And I know that Agatha will miss you terribly."

  "It won't be for a few years yet, milady," Marie said with a muffled giggle, but she wrapped her arms around Charlotte and squeezed. Then she pulled back and fumbled in the pockets of her apron. "But 'ere is the gift. It is only to celebrate."

  In her hand was a little pouch, lined with silk and embroidered with a fleur de lis. "A tobacco pouch?" Charlotte guessed, taking it and rubbing her thumb against the material. "It's beautiful. Where is Teddy Baker living, or working? I shall need to know where to send it."

  "I was 'oping you would bring it to 'im in person, milady. To give him this." Marie kissed Charlotte's cheek impertinently and pulled back. "But also, I do not want it getting lost. Please, milady. I wish you to see with your own eyes that 'e is well. 'E is working at the Earl of Denby's town'ouse, in the stables."

  Charlotte chuckled and cradled the delicate pouch in her palms. "I understand, Marie. I will give the pouch to him, though I'm sure you would prefer I not give him the kiss. Thank you for telling me. I am incredibly happy for you both. I shall look forward to seeing Teddy again."

  "Thank you, milady, so much. You are as ever, too generous for this world." Marie pulled her in for another kiss to her other cheek.

  "Nonsense. As I said, I look forward to seeing him." Charlotte smiled and gave Marie's hand another squeeze. "I do hope he is able to come visit you soon."

  "From your lips to God's ears, milady," Marie said with a short courtesy. Then she turned and bustled off down the hallway towards the kitchen.

  Charlotte loved Marie's positive energy. It felt as if it replenished her nearly as much as the sunshine. Now fortified, she entered her brother's quiet office, dim despite the bright daylight outside. She lit a few candles throughout the room before settling down behind the desk in the brown leather chair and rubbing her temples. There was a large pile of mail on the desk, most of which was correspondence to do with the running of the estate. Charlotte had taken over after Avery's death, though she was beginning to suspect she needed to hire a steward, as she was running herself ragged these days.

  Pushing through the tedious letters, Charlotte's fingers paused on one that had been sent on pretty stationary and scented with a familiar perfume. Her closest friend, Lady Sophie Kenward, had finally responded to her latest missive. Charlotte used the carved silver owl letter opener to pry open the sealing wax and scanned through the elegant cursive.

  My dearest Lottie,

  I find myself shocked, taken aback, overcome with joy at the thought of seeing you here, in town, in my home! Never think you are a burden or a chore. If you say such things again, I shall become terribly angry, and when I am angry, I am tempted to prank you abominably. If you do not wish to wake up with various styles of mustachios painted on your upper lip every morn, then accept that you are my dear one, like family, and welcome to visit any time.

  I will state, h
owever, that I have never known you to show any sort of inclination for a husband. I am astonished you have expressed a desire to come to town for a season. We will be delighted to present you at all the necessary parties and balls, of course, but I must ask... From whence does this change of heart originate? I hope you haven't allowed Agatha to badger you into anything you are not ready for. I trust, if there is more to the story, I will hear it upon your arrival. I will not stand for any less!

  There is only one thing more I must say, as I know I am uncommonly long-winded in my letters. I know, 'tis a bad habit and one I am attempting to break! See, even those words were unnecessary. At any rate, where was I? Yes, uncommonly long-winded. However, I must warn you that there have been some strange things afoot in London. There is some sort of murderous savage on a rampage, there has been a new dead body popping up in the headlines every other week, it seems. There is precious little detail about any of the crimes, meaning none of us are exactly sure what to be careful of, so I will just say - be careful of everyone and everything! Make certain you have Stephen or one of the footmen escorting you the whole time, until you are deposited safely upon my doorstep.

  Until then I do remain ever yours,

  Most devotedly,

  Sophie

  P.S. Please bring some of Agatha's treacle tart! Nobody in town makes it the same way. I think it may be the ungodly amount of butter she uses. At any rate, bring it, and do not eat any along the way! I shall know by the sticky crumbs on your luggage!

  Charlotte's lips twisted up into a smile, then she tilted her head back and laughed. Sophie always brought her joy. So impetuous and passionate about everything, even something as small as a treacle tart.

  She would've gone even if Sophie had been unable to accommodate her, but having a friend to introduce her around would make everything so much easier. She wanted to start her investigation with the Conclave. Perhaps she shouldn't have told Ben she was planning to investigate the murder, but he'd just made her so angry, it had popped out. Hopefully he wouldn't warn his other Conclave cronies away from her, and she would be able to meet the members socially and begin to make connections. She might even gain an invitation to one of their homes and find a way to snoop around. They were all upstanding members of society, after all, and most of them were nobility.