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This evening however had her rushing to ready herself, for she and Simon Quigley, Lord Peregrim would be attending the same dinner party. Though, they had just parted after having searched the many pubs, Simon having forbidden her to enter any of them, for Tuddles with no luck.  She was eager to see the handsome Lord Peregrim again.

Hypatia had not been blind to the way women coveted Simon. Few if any could take their eyes off him, not that she blamed them. He was by far the handsomest man she had ever met; dark hair that faintly brushed his collar and dark, intriguing eyes with a narrow nose and strong chin and cheekbones that defined his striking features. And he was not of an arrogant manner but intelligent and firm in his opinions.  He was tall and slim though not of slight proportion, his well-tailored clothes fitting his defined muscled structure perfectly.

He was not afraid to speak his mind or defend his opinion and he was ever so patient with her endless chatter, and of course, his interests matched hers.

Her uncle Theodore insisted she consider marriage, she felt herself in no hurry, though at twenty-three most of her friends had several children already. She was not thinking of children, she was thinking of adventure. Children were for the future, at present she wished to explore and Simon could offer her a wealth of adventure.

She hurried out of her clothes and was slipping into a beautiful silk lavender dinner dress that hugged her curvaceous waist nicely when the servant girl Layla who had attended her since her arrival, entered after knocking. Within no time Layla had Hypatia ready for the evening, having fashioned her hair into a high pile of curls on her head with not a stray strand touching her face. It was a dramatic style that highlighted her lovely features.

Hypatia let her know how pleased she was with the results. “You make me beautiful, Layla.”

Layla bobbed her head and smiled as she fastened a stunning amethyst necklace around her neck. “You need no help with beauty, m’lady.”

Hypatia added matching earrings while Layla took a deep purple, velvet cloak from the wardrobe and matching gloves from a traveling chest then left the room.

Hypatia took one last, approving glance in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and smiled at herself. “Sometimes using your womanly wiles can prove beneficial.”

~~~

Most dinner parties were pretentious affairs Hypatia had little patience with and at the moment her patience was rapidly waning. Simon had yet to arrive and they were soon to be seated.  Not one among the twelve invited guests sparked her interest as Simon had and she shuddered at the idea that she would be stuck sitting next to a boring earl who was more concerned with her wealth than with her.

She politely extracted herself from a conversation between Janett Fiddleton, Rowena Horsley and Allaster MaCarly, the young Earl of Kincorth whose intentions he made known was to find a wife and return home to raise a family and tend his land. He was a large man with a practical heart and he was having difficulty finding a woman who would contend with his pragmatic nature and with being removed from the bustle of Edinburgh to the wilds of the Highlands.

Hypatia found her uncle Theodore speaking with Elizabeth Logan, the Earl of Bothwell’s mother and for a moment she considered turning in the opposite direction. However, the pleading look on her uncle’s face forced her to go to his rescue.

Looking at Theodore Thornberry, no one would think the man would ever need rescuing. He was tall with a broad chest, a firm stomach and legs the size of thick tree trunks. Along with turning fifty just a few months ago, his brown hair had sprouted a few gray strands, but his full, round face showed not a sign of a wrinkle. He was aggressive in his business dealings but pleasant in his social manners and completely inept when it came to women, especially Elizabeth Logan.  She was short, barely five feet, but she was a woman who placed importance on social status and appearance and she was always meticulous in dress and manner.

“It is such a shame about Margaret Dirrington’s accident. She was so looking forward to this evening’s dinner party. She and my daughter Emma had been talking about it for weeks now.”

Hypatia stepped forward to save her uncle. “I was sorry to hear about Margaret, Lady Bothwell. I never met her but Emma spoke fondly of her.  It is such a shame.”

“Yes, a terrible shame. She was a beautiful young lady with the potential of finding herself a good solid match.”

Marriage was what all the young women Hypatia had met spoke about, but then it was no different in America. It seemed it was the goal of women everywhere to find husbands of substance.  Not so Hypatia… she had other plans.

“Margaret never should have gone riding alone.” Lady Bothwell sounded as if she scolded the dead woman.

“It was a riding accident?” Theodore asked.

“Sadly to say, yes,” Lady Bothwell said.

Theodore rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “That’s odd. I met Margaret briefly when she stopped by your manor house one day. I heard her mention how she feared riding and would not ride unless absolutely necessary.”

A flurry of giggles and raised voices drew their attention.

“Lord Peregrim is here,” Lady Bothwell said with excitement. “Please excuse me.” She hurried off to grab hold of her daughter Emma and rush her toward the earl who already was surrounded by four young women.

“She fancies the earl as a husband for Emma,” Theodore said quietly.

“It appears that many women fancy him for a husband.”

“He is a handsome fellow and wealthy, a good prospect for a husband.”

Hypatia smiled at her grinning uncle. “And what of the Earl of Bothwell?”

“You don’t seem interested in the man and I’ll not have you marrying for the sake of being married. I want to see you happy, and your eyes sparkled when you caught sight of Lord Peregrim.”

“They most certainly did not,” Hypatia said indignantly and turned her back on the gaggle of women making fools of themselves over an eligible man, to face her uncle.

Her uncle laughed. “They were shining like two huge sapphires and now there’s a faint blush to your cheeks. Hallelujah, finally a man who sparks your interests.” Her uncle rubbed his hands together. “This trip may prove successful after all.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she warned. “I’m not ready for marriage just yet.”

“Really? Why is that, Hypatia?”

Hypatia sent her uncle a scathing look for not making her aware that Simon approached them and tempered her annoyance at her uncle’s grin over Simon referring to her by her given name. She turned around however and greeted Simon with a pleasant smile.

“Good evening, Simon.” Her irritation faded quickly when she caught his reaction to her appearance. She actually thought that he caught his breath for a second and that filled her with delight. If he fancied her it would make it easier for her to get him to agree to teach her about the witch hunting business.

“Good evening,” he said with a slight bow.

Hypatia stepped to her uncle’s side to introduce him. “My uncle Theodore Thornberry. Uncle Theodore, Simon Quigley, Earl of Peregrim.”

Her uncle and Simon simultaneously extended their hands.

“Pleased to meet you,” her uncle said with a strong handshake.

Simon matched his strength. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your niece is an intriguing woman.”

“First time I’ve ever heard her called intriguing, mostly she’s referred to as stubborn, bullheaded, impetuous and—”

Hypatia poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

He coughed. “Charming.  I was going to say charming.”

Simon grinned and returned to his question. “Now why is it that you are not ready for marriage?”

“I’m independent and intend to remain so.” Her smile was adamant.

“Then you would need a man capable of dealing with your strong nature.”

“No, I would need a man who would accept me for who I am and not attempt to change me to fit his needs,” she said, retaining her pleasant smile. “Do you know of any such man?  I personally think such a man a rare breed and not at all easy to find.”

He leaned nearer to her. “Rare, yes, but sometimes the very thing we search for is right under our noses.”

Her uncle hid his laughter beneath a cough and Hypatia knew he was amused by their exchange and already thinking of Simon as a possible candidate for a husband for her.

Dinner was announced and Simon offered her his arm. “May I?”

Hypatia accepted, relieved he had offered to escort her. She had feared being stuck with any one of the boring and wife-hunting gentleman present this evening. At least conversation would not be dull with Simon and they could continue to spar over their conflicting opinions.

Hypatia watched as the men and women paired off, some with smiles others obviously not pleased with their partner. Robert Logan escorted Agnes McDonald into the dining room and Agnes gently shoved Rowena Horsley aside so that she could sit next to Simon who stood beside his chair after sitting Hypatia. Allaster who had escorted Emma made a point of claiming the chair next to Hypatia and so it went with everyone vying for a good spot at the long table set with the finest linens, China, and silverware.

Hypatia looked to see her uncle near the end of the table sandwiched between Elizabeth Logan and Mildred Fiddleton. He didn’t look at all happy and she felt sorry for him. He attended every event with her, without complaint. He truly was a dear man who loved her as much as his brother, her father, had.

Course after succulent course was served to chatting dinner guests.  Hypatia didn’t understand how so much food could be consumed at one meal, but everyone else seemed not to have a problem and ate with gusto.

Crystal glasses were continuously refilled with wine and by the third course of sliced beef with thick carrots in heavy gravy Hypatia had had enough and rested her fork on her plate.

“Hypatia, how was your visit to Madam Rajavek?” Agnes asked sweetly.

“Interesting,” Hypatia answered, amid the snickers. She was aware that many people thought mediums nothing but charlatans and those who went to them fools, but then she never followed common opinion.

“Did she manifest a spirit for you?” Allaster asked on a laugh.

“Ectoplasm, isn’t that how the spirits manifest through a medium?” Emma queried enthusiastically.

“Really, Emma,” her brother Robert said annoyed. “That is all nonsense. There is not a shred of proof that spirits or ghosts exist. Right, Simon?”

“I have found no such evidence to substantiate their existence,” Simon confirmed.

“Witches, Simon, what of witches?” Agnes bubbled with curiosity. “I have heard witches can conjure the devil.”

“Is that possible? Can the devil be conjured by witches?” Emma asked nervously.

“Nonsense, pure nonsense,” Robert said. “Do not worry about it, Emma.”

“Where I live in Glennore stories of witches abound,” Allaster said.  “And to deny their existence is to bring their wrath.”

A sharp crack of thunder suddenly rattled the windows and caused several of the women to jump and a few to screech in alarm.

The gentlemen soothed their upset and it was Robert Logan who insisted that witches and ghosts were not appropriate dinner conversation.

Conversation slowed as the next course of roasted lamb and potatoes was served and Hypatia sat staring at her plate.

“Lost your appetite?” Simon asked.

“With the soup,” she whispered.

“Not the conversation?”

“Not at all. I enjoy the challenge of a good debate especially when it concerns the arcane.”

“You never answered the question posed to you about the medium.”

“No I didn’t,” she said.

Simon nodded. “Perhaps one day you will share your experience with me.”

“Perhaps, but at the moment,” she lowered her voice. “If I feign the need for fresh air will you come to my rescue?”

“I would rescue you from the devil himself, Hypatia.”

His response startled her silent.  She could see from the gleam in his dark eyes that he was serious.  He would be adamant in his defense of her.  The thought sent a thrill rushing over her and she placed a hand to the center of her chest where a strange stirring caused her a brief alarm and she sighed heavily.

“Are you all right, Hypatia?” Simon asked, drawing everyone’s attention.

Hypatia at first appeared befuddled then clearing her head she played her part well. “I need a bit of fresh air.”

Her uncle got to his feet in a flash.

“Allow me, Mr. Thornberry,” Simon said, placing his white linen napkin on the table before assisting Hypatia to stand.

Her uncle took one look at his niece and understood, “Thank you, Lord Peregrim. I’m sure Hypatia is in good hands.”

“The conservatory, down the hall and to the right,” Mildred Fiddleton offered with concern.

Simon nodded and slipped his arm around Hypatia’s slim waist and led her from the room with envious female eyes watching their every step.

They entered a glass-enclosed room overwhelmed with plants and white wicker furniture.  Several candles gave the room its subdued glow though no more were needed. The magnificent view of the night sky caught the attention and made one stare in awe.

Clouds hurried across the dark sky blotting out stars and the partial moon and lightning pierced the darkness not once but twice while the trees with their fresh new spring growth shivered.

“Nature is stunning,” Hypatia said and realized that Simon’s arm remained around her waist.

“Yes, she truly is.”

He stared at her when he spoke and Hypatia saw the heat of passion flare in his eyes.  His arm slipped more snugly around her, his breath sweet with wine whispered across her cheek. And her heart beat with excited anticipation. He was going to kiss her and though it was by no means proper that he do so, she welcomed it.

“Water!”

The sharp voice forced them apart and Agnes McDonald hurried to Hypatia’s side.

“I thought you could use a drink of water,” Agnes said and practically shoved the glass into Hypatia’s hand. “Perhaps you should leave early so you will be well for the group’s morning ride tomorrow. After all you want to be alert and prepared. God forbid you should suffer dear Margaret’s poor fate. The carriage and your uncle await.”

Simon followed Hypatia and Agnes out of the room and to the front door where her uncle waited along with Janett Fiddleton.

Simon took Hypatia’s purple cloak from the servant and draped it over her shoulders as he addressed her uncle. “I would be pleased to see Hypatia home so that you may enjoy the remainder of the evening.”

Janet looked crushed and Agnes annoyed that Lord Peregrim would take his leave early.

Hypatia wished time alone with Simon to discuss their joint venture, but she was also aware that her uncle did not favor the stuffy dinner parties and would be only too relieved to leave early, and so she was surprised at his response.

“Thank you again, Lord Peregrim—”

“Simon, please.”

“My friends call me Theo and I’m glad for the assistance, especially since I hear the desserts this evening are outstanding.”

“Enjoy, Theo,” Simon said. “I will see that Hypatia is well settled at home.”

Simon rushed Hypatia out the door before any more protests could be made and assisted Hypatia into the coach.

Hypatia wasted not a moment. “We now have time to discuss how to proceed with our investigation.”

“First there is something you must know and I must have your solemn oath you will tell no one.”

“You have my word,” she said, leaning closer to him, ready to hear and keep his secret.

“Margaret Dirrington did not die from a riding accident. She was found stabbed to death on a stone altar on her father’s property, which is adjacent to Bothwell land.”

The color drained from Hypatia’s face. “I stumbled upon the murder scene.”

“And there is a good chance the murderer will strike again and I do not intend for you to be his next victim.”

The small room was stacked with furniture and objects that Simon was certain had found their way to the shop by no legal means. Servants often stole from their masters to sell for extra coin, seamen had a thriving black market trade for imported goods and then there were the wealthy who claimed items stolen when they themselves had sold family heirlooms for much needed coins.

“Do you search for anything in particular?” Simon asked.

“Books and objects pertaining to the occult.”

“Books I have,” a raspy voice said from somewhere beyond the stacks of objects.

Suddenly a short, rotund man appeared from between two ornately carved chests. How he managed to squeeze through the confined space was magic, but he did and he welcomed them both with a smile.

He nodded to Simon but approached Hypatia. “I also received a shipment just today that I have yet to open. It contains an authentic witch’s cauldron and broom.”

Simon shook his head. The man had obviously assumed them a married couple of wealth and thought that Simon would indulge his wife’s odd interests.

“Oh how exciting, I would love to see them.” Hypatia glanced back over her shoulder. “Simon, wouldn’t you love to see an authentic witch’s cauldron and broom.”

The chubby-cheeked man grinned and Simon knew he thought he was about to make himself a fine sale, while ridding himself of a useless cauldron and broom.

“I would be thrilled,” he said, not wanting to disappoint her.

“I will unpack them and bring them to you. In the meantime let me show you where I keep my books.”

The man lead them around various objects some appearing as if they were about to topple off precarious perches, to the back of the shop where a four tier, glass and mahogany bookcase sat against a wall. Not a speck of dust or dirt touched the case and the glass shined clean.

“My books are my pride and joy,” the man said.

“I shall handle them with great care and respect,” Hypatia assured him and he disappeared amongst the clutter promising to return shortly.

“Any books in particular you search for?” Simon asked, helping her to lift the glass front to the top tier.

“My interests are wide.”

“These books are mostly in Latin,” Simon said, giving the bindings a quick glance.

Hypatia gently took one out and skimmed the pages before reading aloud a passage on Roman history.

“I am impressed.”

She smiled and replaced the book. “My father indulged my curiosity and my never-ending interests. He hired a brilliant man who tutored me in Latin, Arabic, Spanish and several Native American tongues. He told my father I had extraordinary skills with foreign languages and that I should be encouraged to pursue languages, which I hope to do.  Do you know any of the Gaelic tongues?”

“I do.”

“Good, then you can teach me.” She reached for another book to skim through.

“It takes time to learn a language.”

“You can teach me as we investigate the Bothwell witch.”

“I work alone.”

Hypatia replaced the book. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to also work alone on the investigation.”

“I will see to the matter for you.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do. You see I am determined to learn the witch hunting business and if you refuse to tutor me, then I really have no choice but to learn by trial and error.”

“Your attempt at making me feel guilty will not work.”

Hypatia stepped closer to him and laid a hand to his chest. “Dear, Simon, I have not yet begun to make you feel guilty.”

She turned away from him to gracefully squat down and peruse the bottom shelf. “Have you come across many grimores in your hunting?”

“I have seen books that have claimed to be grimores or more simply put a witch’s spell book, but they have held no validity.  They were but feeble attempts at practicing so-called witchcraft.”  He held his hand out to her and she took it and stood.

“You truly believe witches do not exist?”

“My findings thus far have not produced a single authentic witch, only those who claim to be witches and practice what they claim to be witchcraft. But proof of true witchcraft I have not found.”

“But how does one define true witchcraft?”

“With great care,” Simon said seriously.

“Here it is,” the shopkeeper said, a good-sized cauldron in one hand and a slim twig broom that had seen better days in the other.

Hypatia hurried over to examine the two items.

“I have been told,” the shopkeeper said firmly, “that these two items were removed from the cottage of a known witch, who met a justifiable end for her wicked ways.”

Hypatia handled the broom with care. “What do you think, Simon?”

“I think that witchcraft is illegal,” he said, sending the man a scathing look.

The little man’s full cheeks turned beet red. “Right you are, sir, but many of the nobility like to collect the odd and unusual. They demand and I simply supply and I keep business to myself.”

He was letting Simon know that his purchase would be kept in confidence.

“It depends on your price whether I take both items,” Hypatia said and the man turned to her surprised, though ready to deal.

Simon admired the skillful way Hypatia negotiated with the man and the advantageous price she got him to agree to. She then informed the shopkeeper that someone would come by tomorrow to pick up her purchases.

“One other thing,” Hypatia said when the shopkeeper thought them finished. “Have you ever come across a ring similar to this one?” She held her hand out to show him the gold ring she had found near the altar.

The shopkeeper took the ring and examined it closely. “I am not familiar with its design but it could be Tuddles’s work, though where you can find him is anyone’s guess.  The pubs are a good place to start.”

She took the ring from him, returned it to her reticule and bid him good day.

Once on High Street she turned to Simon. “Do we work together or do I go to the pubs myself?”

“We will not work together and you will not go to the pubs yourself.” He gave a quick glance for his carriage and spotted it and his driver. He summoned him with a snap of his hand.

“You can’t have it both ways. It’s one or the other, Simon. We work together or I investigate myself and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, you can do to stop me.”

She was right. He could not stop her from investigating on her own and with a murderer on the loose she could be in grave danger.  He really had no choice in the matter, none at all.

Hypatia smiled and held out her hand.

He shook it sealing his capitulation. “Partners, but I will not tutor you in witch hunting.”

His coach arrived and the driver climbed down to open the door for them.

Her smile widened as she hoisted up her skirt past her ankles to step up into the carriage without assistance. “We will see about that.”

With his patience eroding rather rapidly Simon stepped out of his carriage and walked up High Street in the old town section of Edinburgh. The bright spring day was lost to him as he turned down one of the many narrow alleys that ran like tentacles off High Street.

He had risen early this morning, had seen to paperwork before enjoying a solid breakfast then late morning he had called on Miss Thornberry at the Bothwell townhouse. He had been told that she and Miss Emma Bothwell had gone to visit with Agnes McDonald.  He arrived at the McDonald townhouse to discover that the three women had left with plans to call on Rowena Horsley.  At the Horsley home he was told that the women had gone to see Janett Fiddleton and when he finally arrived at the Fiddleton’s and heard peals of feminine laughter flowing out of the sitting room he had thought his search over.

However, it had only begun when Agnes sweetly informed him that they had dropped Hypatia off on High Street near the silversmith shop. She had giggled and shook her head, her auburn curls bouncing like fat sausages when she had informed him that Hypatia had gone to visit Madam Rajavek a well-known medium in old town.

“Alone?” he had queried. Women, proper women, did not go wandering the streets of old town alone.

Agnes had assured him that Hypatia had been insistent. She had claimed she had a mission and nothing would stop her. Agnes had also coyly remarked on how American women lacked proper etiquette.

The aristocratic Scottish woman may be familiar with decorum but Hypatia possessed intelligence and ingenuity, which Simon admired and found a challenge.

He hurried his steps along the alley the odor of garbage permeating his nostrils, though it was not as strong as in other areas of town.  The flat and shop owners appeared to maintain this section with care.

Near the end of the alley a brightly painted sign swung from a metal rod reading Madam Rajavek, Medium.  The eye of Ra, the symbol for the ancient Egyptian sun god was painted on her front door and a bell tinkled sharply when he walked in.

He entered a small sitting room. Several armless red velvet chairs sat neatly arranged around the room and an oval wool rug, its red and green colors faded to muted shades covered most of the floor.

“I will be with you in a moment,” a female voice with a thick Russian accent called out.

Simon admired the ceramic bird collection arranged along the mantle while he waited assuming Madam Rajavek was busy with Hypatia.

“She is not here,” Madam Rajavek said emerging from behind the heavy green velvet curtain that separated the rooms.

Simon shook his head. “Excuse me—”

“The woman you look for,” Madam Rajavek confirmed with a smile, “has left.”

Simon nodded admiring the woman’s confidence and deception skills. She was tall and slim with stark white hair drawn back into a single braid that hung over her shoulder. Her bold blue eyes startled and though her few wrinkles affirmed her advanced years she somehow appeared ageless. Her dress was deep green, her shawl bright gold and red and edged with black fringe.

She was adept at her trade, convincing people she knew all and saw all. And Simon was a single man who had arrived just after a single female had departed. It did not take a genius to assume the obvious.

“Do you know where she went?” Simon asked, refusing to acknowledge her ruse.

Madam Rajavek shrugged.

Simon understood and withdrew two coins from his trousers and dropped them into the round silver dish on the nearby table.

“She made mention of exploring High Street.”

“On her own?” he asked incredulously.

“Miss Thornberry possesses an independent spirit that cannot be confined.”

“Independent and foolishness are two different things.” He was annoyed that the woman did not advise Hypatia on the perils of a lone woman walking the unfamiliar streets of Edinburgh.

“She is wiser than people credit her.”

He did not want to hear such nonsense even if he believed it the truth. Hypatia had no business going unchaperoned.

“She is unfamiliar with Edinburgh.”

“She is confident with herself,” Madam Rajavek said with polite firmness.

“Confidence will not protect her.”

“It serves as a forceful shield.”

Simon shook his head and turned to leave, anxious to locate Hypatia before trouble found her.

“She will discover your secret, though it will be safe with her.” Madam Rajavek smiled as Simon turned to face her.  She walked over to the silver bowl and scooped up the two coins. With a poised gait she walked over to Simon and reached for his hand. She placed the two coins in his palm and closed his fingers firmly over them. “I admire your courage. If ever I can be of help, please call on me.”

She turned and disappeared behind the curtain leaving Simon to stare after her.

With a mental shake of his head, he left the shop and made his way quickly out of the alley and turned right on High Street. He had not passed Hypatia when he had entered the alley so he could only assume that she had made her way north toward the castle.

He spotted her, a short distance away, across the street speaking to a man that looked anything but a gentlemen; a seaman perhaps who had seen better days.  He was a full head shorter than Hypatia and thin. They were engaged in what appeared to be a mutual conversation.

She looked stunning amid the clamor of the busy street. She wore a dark blue skirt and matching jacket, the lapels and wide cuffs black velvet, with a high-neck white blouse, a broach at her throat. Her deep blue hat sat dead center on her head, the brim resting upon her forehead with a wisp of black netting reaching her eyebrows. A tall, slim blue feather stuck in the side of her hat swayed in the spring breeze.

Madam Rajavek was right. Hypatia possessed confidence and it could be seen in the way she carried herself, as if she was impervious to all harm.

As Simon crossed the street the thin man nodded to Hypatia and walked off in haste.

“Lord Peregrim!” Hypatia greeted him with an enthusiastic smile.

He had thought she would be perturbed with him for refusing to tutor her in the art and perils of witch hunting.  Her salutation, however, was one of pure delight and he had to admit it warmed his heart considerably.

“Miss Thornberry,” he acknowledged with a nod and was about to offer his assistance to her when without preamble she slipped her arm around his.

“You’re just in time, Lord Peregrim,” she said with excitement. “You see there is a shop I wish to visit and I’ve been advised that it isn’t a place where a proper young woman would go unattended. Would you be so kind as to accompany me? I promise I will not dally and keep you long, though I must be honest and inform you that if it is a treasure trove of interesting objects I may be longer than expected.”

“It would be a pleasure, Miss Thornberry,” he said before she continued on and he had no chance to respond.

“Wonderful.” She gave his arm an appreciative squeeze.

The light pressure of her fingers startled him though he made no show of it.  She had actually set his blood to racing like a young school lad enamored by a lassie.

“Are you familiar with a shop called Treasure Chest?  I was told it was nearby, down one of these narrow alleys, which appear fascinating to explore, though I assume unsafe for a woman alone.”

Her deep blue eyes sparkled with anticipation and ignited his adventurous soul. There was an excitement to Hypatia that was contagious. She was an adventurer like him; a hunter who enjoyed the hunt; a seeker who sought the unknown, a woman who challenged life, a woman of passion.

He tempered his thoughts and calmed his excitement so that he could answer her accordingly. “I know of the shop. It is far from a treasure chest.”

“I would love to see it for myself.”

“It is dusty and dirty.”

“All the more exciting,” she said, giving his arm another squeeze.

He smiled, delighted with her enthusiasm. “Then, Miss Thornberry, I suggest we begin our adventure.”

“Oh, I love adventures, but if we are to be partners then you must call me Hypatia.”

He did not bother to correct her misassumption that they were partners, though he did favor calling her by her given name. It was uncommon and suited her well. “Hypatia. And I would be pleased for you to call me Simon.”

“I would be too,” she said as they began to walk. “Titles can be so confusing and so unfriendly.”

Simon listened as she chatted on about titles and not at all understanding them and really, what purpose did they serve but to separate people. When he could, he interjected his opinions, which she commented on and he soon found himself engaged in an intelligent debate he thoroughly enjoyed…  when he could get a word in.

The shop window was covered with a fine layer of dirt and grime but did not distract from the treasures it displayed. Hypatia looked with wide eyes at the array of objects jammed into the small space, Oriental vases, intricately carved chests, heavily ornate chairs and more.

“We must go in,” she said and let go of Simon’s arm to open the door.

Simon stopped her, his hand covering hers when she reached for the door handle. Their eyes met and held, as if they searched within the other and at that precise moment a strange tingling raced through them and they shivered.

~~~

“Inspector Douglas, do what do I owe this visit?” Simon asked upon entering his study.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Lord Peregrim, but I believe I am in immediate need of your expertise.”

“Sit and tell me how I may be of help.” Simon pointed to a pair of tapestry-covered chairs with thick mahogany arms capped with roaring loin heads that sat angled in front of his desk

The man did not sit until Simon had taken his seat behind the desk. He was acquainted with Inspector Todd Douglas having worked with the man on two occasions.  A short, thin man with a slim moustache and brown hair that he kept fastidiously groomed so that not a single hair touched his narrow lip. He was pragmatic and dedicated to his profession and a staunch believer in the new age of science.

Inspector Douglas sat on the edge of the chair, his manner direct and his tone respectful. “I would be grateful for your assistance in what I believe to be a ritual murder.”

“I would be only too glad to help.”

“I also must request that any information I share with you regarding this investigation be kept in strict confidence.”

“I understand perfectly,” Simon said.

“You are aware of the death yesterday of Lord Dirrington’s daughter Margaret?”

Simon nodded. “An unfortunate riding accident, from what I hear.”

“It was not an accident,” the Inspector said. “His daughter’s body was found sprawled across a stone altar in the woods on his property. She had been stabbed. Lord Dirrington believes it involves witchcraft and insists on a discreet investigation.”

“Understandable.  Witchcraft does contain a social stigma and is legally punishable and I am sure Lord Dirrington wishes to protect his family’s good name.”

“I agree, which is why everyone believes Margaret’s death is due to a riding accident. If in fact witchcraft was involved with her death, particularly a ritual murder, my concern is more may follow.”

“There is a good chance you are correct,” Simon agreed. “Ritual murders often involve a sacrifice to the devil or one of his dominions in exchange for any number of desired things. A coven, composed of a group of people practicing witchcraft, work together in conjuring and performing rituals. It can often take more than one ritual to achieve the desired goal. You must, however, be aware that human sacrifice in witchcraft is rare and only those knowledgeable of the dark side would even consider practicing it. And to leave the body where it could easily be found is not something a practitioner of the dark arts would do.”

“Then I look for a madman who thinks himself a witch?”

“A dabbler perhaps, someone who fancies himself a practicing witch, though actually has little knowledge of the craft.”

“Would he be working with a coven?”

“That is difficult to say for certain,” Simon said. “He could be involved with a coven while dabbling in the dark arts on his own. Until I learn more about the ritual itself, I cannot be sure if it is one person or a coven. What can you tell me about the area where the victim was found?”

“That is a problem in itself,” the Inspector said. “The body was moved and placed in the house before my arrival.”

Simon nodded understanding how difficult it was for the Inspector to deal with titled gentlemen who believed the law did not apply to them and only pertained to the menial class; therefore, they were not obliged to cooperate with him.

“Did you see the altar?”

The Inspector nodded. “A large flat stone resting upon two heavy boulders. Blood stained the middle of the altar and the ground beneath.”

“Footprints?”

“Many and all from the men who helped carry Margaret’s body to the house.”

“Were there ashes near or on the altar?”

“If there were then they were lost to the many footprints and hands that disturbed the area,” the Inspector said.

“I would like to take a look for myself and perhaps speak with the person who found the body. Then I may be able to tell you more.”

“That can be arranged.” Inspector Douglas stood. “I appreciate your help. Your expertise in the occult lends credence to the fact that no true witches exist. And that through careful investigation and establishing motive and facts all crimes can be solved rationally. I look forward to working with you on this case, Lord Peregrim, and I will bother you no more this evening.”

Simon went to the sideboard in front of the tall narrow window after the Inspector left and took hold of the crystal decanter of brandy. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the cobblestone street caught his attention and he watched as the Inspector’s carriage pulled away from his townhouse.

A fine mist hovered around the streetlights and drifted in patches along the cobblestones and he wondered over Miss Thornberry.  Had she made it home safely? And was she truly safe at Bothwell Manor?

He put the decanter back down and paced in front of the window.  As soon as the Inspector had told him where Margaret’s body had been found he knew that Miss Thornberry had stumbled upon the murder scene. Dirrington land sat adjacent to Bothwell land and Miss Thornberry had unknowingly strolled onto Dirrington property. And she had discovered a vital clue, the ring that probably had gone unnoticed in the rush to remove the body.

He considered telling the inspector of the ring but then thought better of it. It would mean involving Miss Thornberry and that he did not think was wise.

With her curiosity overriding her sensibility she was bound to get herself into trouble. She would think the murder proof that the Bothwell family harbored a witch and investigate on her own. And if there was someone in the family who fancied himself a witch, or rather a warlock, one who practiced the dark arts, Miss Thornberry could find herself in a serious situation.

He would need to pay her a visit tomorrow and convince her to leave this matter to him. Her stubborn nature would surely have her protesting but he would persuade with patience and have her agreeing in no time.

I’m going to start it off today with an excerpt from Hypatia’s journal. The entry gives you a bit of insight to her and the journey she is about to embark on.

After reading it you might want to read the prologue and first chapter of The Witch Hunter if you haven’t already done so. You can find both here.

And now enjoy an entry from Hypatia’s journal…

September 8, 1895

Tomorrow I leave for Scotland from the Port of New York. I cannot contain my excitement. It will be a grand adventure for sure. I believe I have packed a sufficient wardrobe considering I have been warned that with numerous society functions to attend I will require at least three costumes a day. Though I see no difference between a walking costume and a calling costume, and then there is the dinner gown and the ball gown.

My poor Uncle Theo teases that I will sink the steamship Campania for sure with my many overly-burdened trunks. He remains under the impression that we undertake this trip to find me a titled husband, while I have an entirely different agenda in mind. My insatiable interest in the occult is why I embark on this journey. I have been advised by close associates, with identical interest, that Europe is where I should now study.

My fondest wish is to gain as much knowledge about the mystical arts as possible with hope of making use of my wisdom in the future. How exactly I will do that, I am not certain, though I have no doubt I will discover the path I should travel, or perhaps forge one where no one else has dared to tread.

I have never been one to deter from my course. Tenacious to the point of being dubbed a difficult woman, I nonetheless stick to my goals. Sadly, something not encouraged in a woman, yet a strength my father cultivated in me.

Fatigue begins to claim me and it is important that I get a good night sleep. Our ship sets sail late morning, though Uncle Theo and I will arrive early, both of us wishing to be settled far in advance of departure. Not that I expect a problem, my father having been a close friend and investor of the Cunard family, I know their vessel is sound and their service exceptional.

It is due to my father’s brilliant investment strategies that allow me to pursue my interests without financial worry. And I am forever grateful to him, and I dearly miss him and my mother.

Until tomorrow then, when no doubt I will be filled with excitement and have much to record.

It’s free at Amazon for your Kindle!

Brick and Helen Sullivan had been a team, onstage and off. When she walked out of their marriage without an explanation, he swore he’d never play another role with her, in the bedroom or otherwise. But Fate brings them together to reprise their roles in The Taming of the Shrew, and the sparks begin to fly. Laugh – and cry – as the famous and lively lovers try to untangle a web of misunderstanding and find their way back to the place where they belong. (Forever Friends, Book 1. Book 2 is Only His Touch).

“Snappy dialogue, sensual reminiscences, and a two-level performance of Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew enliven this delightfully romantic story. Peggy Webb delivers again!” The Paperback Forum

“It’s a pleasure to see a marvelous set of lovers who always meet on equal ground.” Romantic Times

“Peggy Webb is a comic genius.” NYT bestselling author Charlotte Hughes

I’m also trying to learn how to work without a steady schedule. With so much to be done, I have to squeeze time in for this and that, here and there. It’s the reason I’m having my writing room finished first. It will be my oasis, my place to escape to and get lost in my writing. Until then it’s stolen moments, though I ache for more stolen hours to write. Still though, steady does the trick and writing gets done.

I’m happy to  let you know that Renegade Love is nearing completion.

The third book in the Highlander Trilogy is moving along nicely and in the next couple of months title and cover will be revealed.

Book one of the Macinnes Sisters Trilogy is also making strides.

And some new short stories of favorite characters are on the horizon.

Now it’s back to unpacking or is there a quiet nook I can retreat to?

 I’m thrilled to finally reveal the Renegade Love cover.

Book Two of the Rancheros Trilogy… the long awaited story of Esteban & Rosa from Untamed Fire.

Artist: Kim/ The Killion Group Inc.

Release date: end of April.

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 Available on

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If you have already purchased it just click on the update (in your manger section) and you’ll get the new cover.

Available on

Kindle

Nook

Kobo

& at

Smashwords

Available on

Kindle

Nook

Kobo

& at

Smashwords