A Study in Silks

fatal injury angled a tiny bit downward from left to right, seeming to trail away at the end. Did that mean the killer was right-handed? She was too inexperienced to be certain, but one thing was clear. Whoever had done this had strength. The wound was so deep that it had cut clear through the trachea.

“Evelina? What the blazes is going on here?”

She whirled to face the door. Tobias Roth, Imogen’s brother, leaned against the wall, his posture as bonelessly indolent as usual. He was handsome, golden-haired, and dissolutely rumpled, as if he’d redressed himself while leaping out a paramour’s window. Even from where she stood, she could smell tobacco, brandy, and sweat. He’d been out at the clubs again and was probably half drunk. He’d also been in a fight, judging by one eye that was starting to purple and the tears in his waistcoat and trousers. His jacket was gone.

Nevertheless, Tobias still looked like the Archangel Gabriel. And even here, the sight of him made her breath hitch, betraying a weakness she refused to surrender to. Angels weren’t always as advertised, and Tobias would definitely be of the fallen variety.

But now he stiffened, his face turning pale as he gazed at the corpse in naked horror. “Dear God, that’s Grace Child.”

“What?” Shocked, Evelina looked at the corpse again, this time seeing past the dreadful wounds. Gingerly, she pushed back the lock of hair that had fallen over the top part of the face. She hadn’t recognized Grace out of her maid’s uniform and away from the pots and pans. No wonder Maisie and Dora were so upset.

And death had made a strange mask of the features, robbing them of expression. The hazel eyes were mere slits, the mouth slack, the cheeks splattered with blood. She was barely more than a girl.

“You wouldn’t know her to look at her, would you? She was so.…” Tobias trailed off.

Evelina said nothing, still astonished by how different the girl looked.

“Who would do something like this? And why?” His voice had gone quiet, a thread of anger giving it a darker edge.

“I don’t know.” Evelina shook her head. Despite the fact that she was suddenly cold enough to shiver, sweat trickled under her arms and between her breasts. She swallowed hard for the fortieth time, forcing her stomach back down her gullet. “But I think I know how they did it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone hit her over the head, most likely when her back was turned. That would have made sure she didn’t cry out. Then he cut her open while she was down. You can see her hairpins have been pulled out. If I’m right, the murderer grabbed her jaw to hold her head steady.”

Tobias went utterly still. “Bloody hell.”

Evelina could see it in her mind’s eye—but what about what came next? Or before? “Someone must have seen who came and went from the house tonight. There has to have been a witness.”

Tobias was silent. Then he seemed to pull himself together. His silvery gray gaze lifted to search Evelina, taking in her unbound hair and torn hem. “Are you all right? How did you come to be part of this?” He stepped into the cloakroom, coming far too close.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly, all too aware of his nearness. “I came to see if I could help.” As if to prove it, she drew close enough to bend over the body, to touch it. She would never, ever play the vulnerable woman with Tobias. That was a trap she might never have the will to escape.

But, oh, it was hard. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, his collar gone. She could see the smooth pale arc of his throat. Beneath the scent of brandy, she could smell smoke, as if he’d been standing next to a steam engine. What had he been doing? The question dissolved—one detail too many to absorb.

He crouched next to her. He was so near, she could feel the heat of his body, and it was all she could do not to lean even closer. And if Tobias is a fallen angel, what does that make Nick? A handsome creature of the shadow world, come to tempt me with visions of lost love? Both men were desirable, and both were dangerous.

“What happened to you?” He frowned at the grimy stains on her clothes.

Evelina looked away. “What happened to you? You look a fright.”

He made a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Touche. Nothing happened. The commotion woke me, so I came down to see what was the matter.”

Evelina looked up. Tobias met her eyes, as if defying her to contradict him. And yet there he stood, with the black eye and rumpled clothes, the very picture of a rake fresh from his late-night carousing. The question crept into her mind like some hideous subterranean beetle: Did he have anything to do with Grace’s death?

No, I don’t believe it. I don’t want to. She lowered her eyes, wondering if it would have been easier if he were guilty. Anything would be simpler than the hopeless longing she felt whenever he was close.

He must have read her expression. “I can promise you on everything I hold sacred that I had nothing to do with this. I might be a rascal, but I’m not evil.” His tone was gentle, almost apologetic, but she saw a flash of anger flit under the surface of his gaze.

It took every ounce of strength to keep her own voice level. “I know.”

“Thank you.”

How many women, she wondered, had been tempted to reform Tobias Roth? “You startled me in the upstairs hall,” she said.

“When?” His white, drawn face didn’t change.

“Never mind.”

If it hadn’t been Nick, or Tobias, then whom? Her stomach lurched. Dear Lord.

“Do you know what to look for?” he asked, jerking his chin at the body.

“Are you asking me to name the murderer by looking at the body?”

“Why not?” His eyes were bright with emotion. “If anyone could do it, you could. You’re smart enough.”

There was his redeeming grace. He didn’t treat her like a fool.

Evelina shook her head. “I’m not a consulting detective like my uncle. And be careful. You’re nearly standing in the blood.”

Tobias drew back with a sharp oath, then noticed the footprint. “Is that yours?”

“No. And I can’t be certain it’s Grace’s. Maybe it belongs to the girl who found her. I need to look more closely.”

“Well, I would suggest that you be quick about it. The police are on their way. They couldn’t find their backsides with an ordinance survey, but you can be sure they’ll toss everyone else out of the room.”

“Someone called the constables already?”

Tobias spoke low, through gritted teeth. “Bigelow did, before my father could stop him.”

“Stop him?”

“Someone crept into our house and committed murder. The scandal will be ferocious if it reaches the papers, so you can be sure the event will be buried faster than a plague victim.”

His words stalled Evelina’s brain. “How can you say that?” And then she realized that she was being naive.

Tobias made an impatient sound. “You know my father. Best to get on with your work.”

What work? What am I looking for? And why?

There was no good answer, outside the fact that it was impossible not to look. Partially it was curiosity. Partially it was respect. This woman had died. She deserved attention.

Carefully, she ran a hand down Grace Child’s arm, feeling for broken bones but not finding any. The limbs were still loose and slightly warm, the blood tacky enough to stick to Evelina’s fingers. She shuddered, wondering if it would be bad form to wipe herself clean on the victim’s skirts.

A small cross hung at Grace’s neck, the gold paint chipped. A purse with tattered fringes still held a few pence. Not robbery then—though any thief in this house would be after a bigger prize. Mended stockings. A hem and boots with fresh mud.

Grace had been out before this had happened. Errand? Assignation? Just a night off work to visit with friends? Evelina sniffed near Grace’s mouth. No telltale stench of gin. No scent of cheap perfume. Just a burned