A Curious Beginning

“Now, now. I am not a murderess. Furthermore, I think you know it.”


“It did occur to me that you might have slipped out of my workshop when I was sleeping and done the deed yourself. Why are you so certain I am convinced of your innocence?”

“It would take an excessively stupid man to put himself in so vulnerable a position as yours with a woman he thinks capable of killing in cold blood,” I pointed out reasonably as I put out a fingertip to touch his calf. He jumped, shaking the caravan again. Heaven only knew what the rest of the camp must have thought—no doubt they attributed the movements of the caravan to connubial exuberance.

He exhaled heavily. “Very well. You did not kill Max. But that does not mean you are entirely free of culpability.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Your vacillations are enough to make a dervish dizzy. One moment you are willing to be reasonable, and the next you have persuaded yourself I am a villainess. But I understand your doubts. You do not know me well enough to understand that I am precisely what I appear to be. I am a lepidopterist with a penchant for handsome men and an otherwise entirely unremarkable life. What I present is no more and no less than exactly what I am. I have no protective coloration, Mr. Stoker. And you must believe me when I say I will do everything in my power to clear my name.”

He groaned again. “That is what I am afraid of.”

We were silent for a little while, and from a distance I heard the soft hooting of an owl.

“I am very sorry about the baron.”

He grunted. “Go to sleep, Veronica. And if you snore, I shall tie a bell to your neck and throw you out like a meddlesome cat.”

“I shan’t snore,” I promised him, but he made no reply. Sleep had crept in, and after a little while, she came for me too.





CHAPTER TEN


I awoke with a startlingly foul odor in my nostrils. It required little imagination to deduce the source. I opened my eyes to find Mr. Stoker turned on his side away from me, his feet resting on my pillow, a scant inch from my face.

I pinched his toe hard, eliciting a howl of outrage.

“What the devil was that for?” he demanded, coming instantly awake and sitting bolt upright. The bedclothes slipped to his waist, and I deliberately permitted my gaze to linger upon his bare torso, tracing a path from the anchor on one biceps to the serpent-twined staff upon the opposite forearm and everything in between. It was a delectable sight and the perfect compensation for having his malodorous feet inflicted upon me. After all, I might not intend to use him for a plaything, but I could still appreciate looking through the toy-shop window.

“Your feet. Were on my pillow,” I informed him. “Kindly move them so I may rise and complete my morning ablutions.”

“I am coming with you,” he said, throwing back the covers to reveal he had slept in his trousers. I sat up and made no attempt to cover myself, entirely aware that my chemise was thoroughly transparent in the strong morning light. He colored to the bottom of his beard and looked sharply away.

“You will not. I have put up with quite enough of your high-handed behavior, but I will draw the line precisely here, Mr. Stoker. I have never shared ablutions with a man, and I have no intention of beginning today. A lady ought to be able to wash herself in peace. Now, I shall take only what I require for this morning’s toilette and leave the rest of my possessions in your care as a pledge of my good faith. Otherwise, I will scream this camp down and inform everyone that you have abducted me against my will.”

“They would never believe you,” he said, but his voice was shaded with doubt and I pressed home my advantage.

“But they might wonder. And in their wonder, the professor might well decide you are too much bother and turn us out. Where will you go then? You told me this was your only refuge.”

He dropped his head into his hands. “Why must you argue before I have even had my tea? So many words.”

Taking advantage of his inertia, I hopped nimbly over him and gathered up my things. I took a toothbrush, soap, and flannel, as well as a few other miscellaneous items and my clothes. I made an elaborate show of leaving behind the rest of my well-curated bag and wrapped myself in a quilt before stepping out of the caravan into the pink light of morning. It seemed impossible that so short a time had passed since my arrival in London with the baron. And equally impossible that the dear old gentleman was now dead, I reflected grimly.