The Mystery Woman (Ladies of Lantern Str - By Amanda Quick Page 0,90

there was every hope. He began conducting terrible experiments.”

“Mr. Gage told me about that aspect of the affair.”

“When my daughter discovered what was going on she was horrified. She confronted him and, well, I’m sure Josh told you the rest.”

“Yes.”

Victor shook his head, mouth tightening. “It is difficult enough to comprehend that Lancing actually survived the explosion. The possibility that he may have my daughter’s body preserved in a chemical bath is shocking beyond belief. All these months . . .”

“I can only imagine how upsetting that notion must be for you.”

“Joshua never took Lancing’s and Emma’s work on the Egyptian Water seriously because he doesn’t believe in the paranormal.”

“Yes, he has made that quite clear.”

Victor’s mouth twisted faintly. “We all have our blind spots. With Josh it is his great desire to live by cold logic and reason. He has always feared that to do otherwise means risking his sense of control.”

“You know him well, sir. But then, that is no surprise. I understand that you guided him at a crucial juncture of his life.”

“I did what I could,” Victor said. “I am very fond of Joshua. What happened nearly a year ago caused both of us great pain. I know that each of us has been grieving this past year. In hindsight, we should have talked more.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s going to be a very long night.”

Another flutter of anxiety shifted through her. The faint, panicky sensation brought her to her feet. She suddenly wanted to be out of the funereal room, out of the mausoleum of a mansion. The sad, seething energy of the house was taking a toll on her nerves.

“Would you mind very much if I went upstairs to my room to wait for Joshua?” she asked.

Victor frowned. “Are you all right, my dear? You look unwell.”

“I am quite tense. I’m afraid I’m not good company at the moment.”

“Yes, of course.” Victor studied her with deep concern. “I see you did not drink your coffee and brandy. Would you care for a glass of the brandy alone? It will help calm your nerves.”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. Please call me the instant Joshua comes back.”

“You have my word on it.”

Victor opened the door for her. She hurried out into the hall and walked swiftly toward the grand staircase. The relief she experienced upon escaping the library proved short-lived. Another wave of fear crashed through her when she climbed the stairs. By the time she reached her bedroom she was in a state of near-panic. She was suddenly desperate for a breath of crisp night air.

She had to get out of the house. Perhaps a few minutes in the gardens would ease her tight breathing.

She opened the door of her bedroom, collected her cloak and a candlestick, and let herself quietly back out into the hall. The long carpet runner muffled her footsteps. She did not want to alarm Victor. She knew he would be worried if he realized that she was going outside alone at such a late hour.

The house was very silent. The household’s small staff had gone downstairs some time ago.

The servants’ stairs at the end of the hall were the closest route to the gardens. She opened the door to the stairwell, trying to make as little noise as possible.

She heard Victor’s footsteps on the main staircase just as she shut the door. She lit the candle and started down. The close confines of the back stairs caused her heart to beat faster. The need for fresh air was overwhelming. It was as if the house was trying to suffocate her.

There was no logical reason for the sparks of raw panic that shot through her, but she had survived on her intuition far too long to ignore the sensation.

She reached the ground floor and paused to blow out the candle. The wall sconces had been turned down low but there was sufficient light to reveal a door that looked as if it served as the tradesmen’s entrance.

There was a muffled squeak of floorboards overhead. Victor was moving down the hall toward the master bedroom. The faint groans of the boards should not have terrified her, but they did. The memories of the night she had stood beside Roland as he lay dying and listened to his killer returning to the scene of the crime slammed across her senses. The choking fear welled up inside.

But it had not been Victor Hazelton who had killed Roland, she thought. Why was she