Free The Clockwork Wolf by Lynn Viehl

thievery, Mr. Akins. Collect your belongings and leave the house at once.”
    â€œBlind me, I wouldn’t steal from you, milady—”
    â€œShe heard everything you told me,” I advised him. “Dunce.”
    â€œI’m owed wages, I am,” Akins whined. “It’s the only reason I stayed long as I have.” He gave Lady Bestly an ugly look. “And I ain’t leaving till I get what’s due me.”
    I coshed him smartly with the empty gin container and watched him pitch forward into a heap. “Is Mr. Akins due anything more, milady?”
    â€œI should think that will suffice, Kittredge.” Lady Bestly gave the unconscious footman a final glance before ringing the bell. When Annie trotted in she ignored the scullery’s wide-eyed gasp and said, “Hartley, please summon a patrolman to remove Akins and his belongings. Oh, and before he is taken away, do see that none of the family silver has fallen into his baggage.”
    â€œRight away, milady.” Annie scurried off.
    Lady Bestly regarded me. “If you would join me in the drawing room, Hartley has kindly prepared tea.”
    â€œThank you, milady.” I put the decanter back on the trolley. “I am a little thirsty.”
    Once in the drawing room I accepted a dainty cup of the blackest tea I’d ever seen, and held it as I surveyed what appeared to be a feast for twenty crammed haphazardly on the serving table. I counted five loaves of bread, seven bowls of fruits and nuts, a quivering gold and pink tower of diced ham in aspic, and more crumpets, scones, and cakes than a busy bakery could sell on a morning before a holiday.
    â€œYou will need a cook, milady,” I said as I stared at one platter containing a cold roast of beef as big as my head that Annie had surrounded with a dozen unpeeled red apples. “Tonight at the very—is this everything in your cold panty?”
    Lady Bestly’s expression was serene as she offered me the cream pot. “I do believe it is.”
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    Once Akins’s baggage had been searched and his person removed by the nobber, I returned to the study to continue my search. I rechecked the decanters of spirits, this time with dippers, but found no trace of poison or drugs. I also went through every paper, letter, and other document in Lord Bestly’s desk, all of which pertained to either his social schedule or his household routine. His lordship had not kept a journal or diary, and reading his brief, dry personal correspondence made me yawn so often I nearly nodded off.
    Bored, I performed a final, methodic search of the furnishings, cabinets, and walls, but once more I found nothing hidden or bespelled. Everything was as it should have been, and it frustrated me. This was not the lair of a lunatic killer; nothing suggested Lord Bestly had been committing atrocities in secret or making a slow descent into madness. Everything indicated he’d lived a proper gentleman’s life occupied by the usual pursuits of his class, one that was so ordinary it seemed colorless.
    â€œWhat life?” I muttered as I paced the room. “The man had no life here. He didn’t sleep in his bed or shave or bathe or—” I stopped in my tracks.
    Lord Bestly hadn’t lived in the house. He’d put on a ruse of it, but he’d been sleeping and bathing elsewhere. But where?
    Rina’s voice echoed in my head. Founded a gent’s club . . . practically lives there . . .
    â€œMiss?” Annie peeked in at me. “Your carri’s waiting outside.”
    â€œThank you, Annie.” Distracted now, I turned to her. “Where is Lady Bestly?”
    â€œMilady went into town to see her physick. She’s been feeling poorly in the mornings.” Annie twisted her hands in her apron. “Sorry about the tea, miss. I didn’t know what to put out from the panty, so I put