Late for the Wedding by Amanda Quick Page B

the shop. The wig may have been commissioned somewhere other than London. A great many fashionable ladies and gentlemen obtain their wigs in Paris. There is also the possibility that the false hair was stolen from a theater or taken from an actor’s trunk. A search for the particular wig-maker who created the killer’s false hair could well prove to be a complete waste of time.”
    “Nevertheless, the blond wig is a clue, and at the moment it is one of the few in our possession.”
    She did not quarrel with that conclusion, but her brows knitted in thought. “Tobias, is it merely the fact that the killer may have worn false hair that makes you believe we are dealing with a man? Because I really do not think we should depend too heavily upon that. We might overlook valuable evidence if we ignore the possibility that it was a woman I saw with Fullerton tonight.”
    He gripped the door frame tightly. “There is more to it than the business with the wig.”
    “Is it so difficult for you to imagine a woman as a professional murderess?”
    “Not entirely. It is the matter of the memento-mori ring that convinces me we are hunting a man,” he said quietly. “The signature is far too deliberately reminiscent of Zachary Elland’s work.”
    “What of it? A woman might wish to emulate him.”
    He shook his head, uncertain how to shore up with logic what he intuitively felt had to be true. “It seems more likely that a man would seek to compare himself to another man.”
    “Ah, yes,” she said with a wise air. “I have noticed that men are inclined to be intensely competitive. They do love their horse races and boxing matches and wagers, do they not?”
    He raised a brow at that. “Pray do not try to tell me that women lack the competitive instinct. I have seen the gentle warfare that is conducted in the ballrooms of the polite world during the Season. It is no secret that a matchmaking mama is capable of a degree of plotting and strategy that would incite awe and admiration in Wellington himself.”
    To his surprise she did not smile. Instead, she inclined her head in somber acknowledgment of that observation.
    “The business of marriage warrants extreme attention and sober planning. After all, a woman’s entire future as well as the future of whatever children she may bear is at stake.”
    “Huh. I suppose I had not thought of it in quite such dramatic terms.”
    “In my experience, men rarely do contemplate marriage in such
dramatic
terms.”
    He frowned, aware from her tone that he might have missed something, but before he could demand further explanations, Lavinia raised a hand to pat a tiny yawn.
    “I really do not think that I can give this case the serious contemplation it requires tonight,” she said. “I suggest we save this discussion for the morrow. It is a long drive back to town. We will have a great deal of time to talk.”
    “Do not remind me.” He gazed thoughtfully down the long hall.
    “Good night, Tobias.”
    “One question before I leave.”
    “Yes?”
    “Is it the fashion among hairdressers to wear their shirts half unfastened in front of respectable ladies?”
    Lavinia chuckled. “Hairdressers are artists, sir. They are entitled to set their own fashion.”
    “Huh.”
    She stepped back and started to ease the door closed. Her eyes gleamed with amusement in the shadows. “You need not concern yourself with the delicate sensibilities of either Miss Richards or Miss Gilway. Although the vision of Mr. Pierce in dishabille was no doubt one of the most stimulating sights they have seen in years, I must point out that you yourself gave them a great deal to admire as well.”
    He realized she was gazing pointedly at his chest.
    “What the devil?”
    He glanced down and was startled to see that his shirt was unfastened several inches. It had no doubt come undone in the course of the few minutes he and Lavinia spent together before Fullerton so dramatically interrupted their tryst. He now