The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,34

from the view of passersby. From her vantage point she could watch the elegant guests through a veil of palm fronds. With the exception of Hannah, most of Alverstoke’s guests appeared unaware of the heavily charged atmosphere, at least not consciously aware. They chatted with one another and drank their host’s expensive champagne while they marveled at the antiquities.

But it seemed to Beatrice that much of the laughter was off-key and the conversations a bit too loud. There was a nervous undercurrent in the room.

She was concentrating intently on trying to keep an eye on Hannah—not an easy task in the crowded chamber—when another kind of awareness feathered her senses.

She turned quickly and saw an elderly, thickly bearded gentleman emerge from a dark passage behind her. He wore gold-framed spectacles. His evening coat and trousers were sadly out of date. He leaned heavily on a familiar ebony-and-steel cane.

“Alverstoke’s decorator appears to have gone mad with the Egyptian motif,” Joshua said.

“Good heavens, sir, you gave me a start.” Beatrice glared at him. “Kindly refrain from sneaking up on me like that. It is very hard on the nerves.”

“Something tells me that your nerves are strong enough to withstand the occasional surprise.” He peered through the palm fronds at the entrance to the reception hall. “Where is my sister?”

“The last time I saw her she was near the large statue of Osiris talking to a gentleman.” Beatrice turned back to search the crowd. “There she is in the blue gown.”

“I see her. She is chatting with Ryeford. They are old friends.” Joshua paused to examine a dagger with a gilded hilt that was on display in a nearby glass-topped case. “I assume that there has not been any communication from the extortionist?”

“No, but it’s about time you showed up,” Beatrice said. “Where have you been? I was starting to wonder if something had happened to you. We have not discussed the method I am to use to contact you if we do receive the villain’s instructions.”

“When,” Joshua said. He spoke in an absent tone, his attention on the dagger.

Beatrice went blank. “What?”

“I said when you receive the villain’s instructions, not if. He will make his move here, quite possibly tonight. Tomorrow night at the latest.”

“How can you be certain?” she asked, curious. He sounded so sure of himself.

“It’s a logical conclusion. The house party lasts only three nights. The blackmailer will want to take advantage of the crowd.” Joshua raised the lid of the case. “This is a very interesting blade. I wonder if it is genuine.”

He reached into the case.

“Do not touch that,” Beatrice snapped before she could stop herself.

He glanced back at her. “Why not?”

“Because it is, indeed, genuine.” She regained her composure. “It was used to kill on more than one occasion, and it is stained with some very unpleasant energy.”

He studied her intently. “You’re telling me that you can detect such details with your paranormal senses?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe in the powers of a lively imagination,” he said politely.

She sniffed. “Why do I bother? You are quite right, sir, go ahead, pick up the dagger. It’s no concern of mine.”

He gave her a thoughtful look and then, very deliberately, he closed his fingers around the gilded hilt. The false beard and bushy brows concealed his expression but she could have sworn that she saw his eyes heat a little when his fingers came in contact with the ancient blade. She was quite certain he had experienced a small, psychical jolt. She also knew that he would never admit it.

She waited, expecting that he would put the blade down and close the lid of the case. Instead he held the dagger up to the light of a wall sconce to examine it more closely.

“Interesting,” he said.

He admired the dagger a moment longer and then put it back into the case with some reluctance. She knew then that he had, indeed, received a paranormal shock of some sort from the relic, but not the kind that sent chills of dread down the spine. Holding the dagger had quite the opposite effect on him. He had experienced a flash of excitement.

Joshua closed the lid of the case and made his way to the banquette. He lowered himself onto the velvet cushions and stacked his hands on the handle of his cane.

“Where are your rooms?” he asked.

“Your sister and I are in the east wing on the floor above. Mrs. Trafford was given the bedroom at the far end. My room