He removed the mask and lowered it to the large oak desk flushed against the wall. It took him several minutes to search the room. There he only found a few ledgers, unpaid bills from a society milliner and a notable dressmaker in town, and some letters from one of the Musgroves’ stewards in Hertfordshire. They only discussed some land drainage that the steward considered necessary. There was no hidden panel in the walls or secret compartment in the desk or bookshelves.
Slipping through the door, he made his way to the library. The door was ajar and low, intimate murmuring wafted out to the hall. He waited for several minutes before moving on, listening as the noises became more frenetic and passionate in nature. Whoever occupied that space had no intention of leaving anytime soon. He knew from careful research that there was a larger study a few doors down, and he entered that room after ascertaining no one lingered inside.
Nicolas ensured he clicked the door handle shut so no one could surprise him. A pile of ledgers rested on the surface of a desk and were strewn upon a sofa by the hearth. Those he ignored. People like the Musgroves did not leave their dirty and ruinous secrets in the open. They buried those festering cankers deep where men with purpose like him had to ruthlessly unearth them.
He searched in the blind, not sure what he looked for, only knowing that should he see it, the instincts he had relied on for the last several years would surge to life and guide him. A thorough search of the room—under the Aubusson carpet, bookshelves, wall panels—yielded nothing suspicious.
An irritated hiss slipped from Nicolas, and he reined in the anger stirring to life within. It had taken him almost a year of investigating the pasts of a few noblemen to lead him here. He’d had his investigators study their past travels, their interests, and their secrets.
Crispin Fitzwilliam fit the description of the man Nicolas searched for, however there was nothing here to indicate Lord Crispin could have been involved in the matter of which Nicolas believed him guilty. The ghost of Arianna whispered to Nicolas then as a line from the letter she had left behind, which was seared onto his memory, rose to the forefront.
The black Dahlia is the cruelest. He offered hope then silently watched as they shredded my soul.
Nicolas threw himself into the large wing-back chair by the fire, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. If the information he sought was not here, perhaps he needed to be inside the ballroom, subtly prying information from those close to the young lord. Nicolas wanted to understand who the young viscount was as seen through the lens of others.
A curl of amusement went through him at the thought of crashing the countess’s ball. He couldn’t show up dressed as he was now in unrelenting black. The ton believed him a feckless dandy concerned with wickedness and fashion. He had taken lodgings only a couple miles away, so Nicolas could slip away and be back in as little as an hour. This was a golden opportunity to observe the young lord in his domain.
He shifted, and something crinkled in his pockets. The ashes of his torment wafted away, and dipping his hand inside, he withdrew the paper that had fallen from the girl in the gardens. Nicolas stood, turned up the wick on the lamp, and unfolded the paper.
The first line read,
How wicked does one need to be to achieve the illusion of ruination?
The script was flowing, elegant, and quite feminine. He lowered his gaze to the next line.
Steps on how to lose one’s reputation without truly compromising one’s virtue, freedom, and independence.
-Persuade Mama to invite London’s most debauched lord, Nicholas St. Ives, to one of her balls or entertainments. (I doubt that will be possible. Mama strongly disapproves of him, but I must try.)
-Discover which events the marquess will attend. He is not friends with Crispin, who would not tell me even if I asked, but if I eavesdrop on some of the faster set, perhaps they will mention where the marquess will be.
-If I can get him alone, even briefly, perhaps that will be enough for a rumor to spread about me leading him on.
-Kiss him or allow him to kiss me, but I must make certain someone will witness it, someone who is known to gossip disgracefully.