Not Quite a Baroness: A Sweet Victorian Gothic Historical Romance (The Boston Heiresses Book 2)

by Ava Rose

  His heart beat faster. A proper lead at last. “Yes, we certainly should. Perhaps his information will give us more material that I can take to the police.”

  She nodded contemplatively. “I’ll get my cloak.”

  “Are you not going to wear your black dress?” he teased.

  She made a face. “It needs to be cleaned. Besides, I don’t think I want to be wearing it anymore. I don’t need to hide.”

  He studied her face. She was definitely confident. “What brought on that realization?”

  “Being caught by you, believe it or not.” An embarrassed smile curved her soft lips. “I should get my cloak.”

  “Of course.”

  Moments after Libby left him, Lady Mary walked in with a brown cat dogging her steps.

  “Detective.” She inclined her head in greeting.

  He rose to his feet and smiled down at her.

  “This is my cat, Treacle,” she introduced. “He has quite the attitude, but once he is familiar with you, you will find him very sweet.”

  Just then, the cat rubbed itself against Henry’s legs and looked up at him, purring.

  “Oh, he already likes you!”

  Henry grinned. “Was that a test, Lady Mary?”

  She sat on the sofa opposite him and Treacle jumped onto her lap. “Perhaps. But it is not for you. It is for Treacle. You see, we once had a maid and he never liked her. Whenever he saw her, he hissed. One day, the maid was caught searching Libby’s room for something. She was dismissed immediately but we never got to figure out what she had been looking for and why.”

  “Ah, so you believe the cat can sense dishonest people?”

  She stroked Treacle’s fur. “Maybe. And maybe it is just a coincidence.”

  “I have heard some animals have stronger senses than ours so it could be possible. A feline, after all, is a hunter. Even a domesticated one.”

  She was studying him and he was uncertain why. Much like Libby, Mary was obviously a very curious soul and he could sense a hankering for adventure in her.

  “How many murder cases have you successfully solved, Detective?”

  Henry chuckled. “You have not forgotten about your question.”

  “You owe me an answer.”

  “I have been a detective for five years and I have successfully solved seven murder cases in that time,” he replied.

  Henry’s career in crime-solving had begun when he was twenty-seven and he had come a long way since then. He was proud of himself and what he had achieved.

  “That is impressive!” Her dark eyes gleamed with curiosity and excitement. “Do you think I could do that too?”

  Ah, there it was! Her reason for asking all those questions.

  “Or are you like most men who think it is not appropriate for a woman to solve crimes?”

  He answered truthfully. “Libby is helping me solve her own case, and she is doing even better than I am. I don’t see any reason why a woman should not solve crimes. You are every bit as capable as a man. Perhaps even better.”

  “Will you coach me?”

  He had been wanting to hire an assistant, most likely an apprentice, and Lady Mary was giving him the opportunity to select her. He chuckled, thinking of what society would say of a genteel lady becoming a detective.

  It was brilliant!

  “If you obtain your mother and brother’s permission, we can discuss it further.”

  She leapt from her chair, scaring the cat who had begun sleeping. It yelped and ran out of the room. “Thank you, Detective! Oh, thank you!”

  The sound of a throat being cleared had both of them turning toward the doorway. Libby stood there, with her cloak, gloves and hat, ready to go.

  “Detective DeHavillend has agreed to take me on as an apprentice,” Lady Mary announced excitedly.

  Libby looked slowly from Henry to her sister, causing nerves to rise.

  “I didn’t know you wanted to go into crime-solving,” she said to her sister.

  “I didn’t know I wanted to, either. Until you disappeared weeks ago. I was left sitting here at home while Anna and Pen went out to look for you. Libby, I felt so helpless.”

  Libby’s expression turned soft and she went to her sister, taking her hands.

  “I want to be able to help people,” Lady Mary added, and Libby’s eyes misted. They hugged.

  Either Henry was becoming emotional, or there was something wrong with him. Being emotional counted as wrong in his experience. Ever since he’d walked into this house today, he had been feeling things, and not just his growing feelings for Libby. He had a yearning for inclusion. He did not realize how starved he had been until now.

  His heart twisted and he had to remind himself that he was not a dreamer. He woke every morning and stared reality in the face. Men like him should not reach for things they could not have. It would not end well.

  “Shall we?” He held his arm out to Libby. To Libby’s sister he said, “Not without your mother and brother’s permission, my lady. Remember that.”

  “Call me Mary, please.”

  “Then call me Henry.”

  “See you later, Henry.”

  ***

  Libby was moved by Henry’s actions. She had heard him telling Mary that women were just as capable of solving crimes as men. Perhaps even better. She was developing respect for him before now, and that stepped things up a notch.

  “It was nice what you agreed to do for Mary,” she said quietly, once they were in his carriage.

  He smiled without saying anything. They sat in comfortable silence for almost half the ride. Libby felt like she had known him for a very long time and appreciated his company. She was not sure if he felt the same, but after seeing how well he fit in at the family lunch, she wanted him to.

  She also wanted to be fine if he didn’t feel the same. It would be hard to accept, and she wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as she could. Once the case was over, he would be out of her life, and although he might be working with her sister—if Pen would allow it—he would be so busy with work they would likely slip back into being strangers.

  It was a painful thought.

  But she had to be strong. It was the only way she could get her life back to a semblance of its former state.

  “You are very quiet,” came his deep voice. It spread through the darkened carriage to reach her. “Is something the matter?”

  Yes, there was, but she couldn’t tell him.

  “I am tired,” she lied.

  “The excuse every woman gives when she does not want to talk,” he drawled.

  “And how would you know that?”

  “You may be tired, but it never stops you from expressing yourself, Libby.”

  He was coming to know her rather well. She remembered when Anna and Pen had come to rescue her from the chapel crypts. The first thing she had said to them was, “Took you long enough,” and “Do you know how dark and lonely this place is?”

  “You can talk to me, Elizabeth,” he prodded, using her full name for once.

  That made her smile. “I like being called Libby, but Elizabeth sounds quite nice when you say it.”

  He grinned rakishly. “Would you like me to continue, then?”

  A little laugh escaped. “No, because then it might lose its charm.”

  “True.” He leaned back and regarded her with his electric silver eyes. “You have successfully evaded my question and even changed the subject.” She opened her mouth to speak but before she could say anything, he shook his head. “I am not going to push you. If you want to tell me, you will tell me when you are ready.”

  Libby smiled again. Her heart might be aching, but at least her face was smiling.

  “A witness came forward today and gave the police a statement,” Henry said at last. “She—”

  “She?” Libby interrupted.

  “Yes, it was a female, but the police will not disclose her identity. They keep some things from me in order to try to convince me to
join them.”

  “How very petty. And they are foolish to think withholding information is good leverage with you. You can always find out yourself.”

  His eyes turned admiring. “Perhaps you should join me in crime-solving, too. You have the spirit and intelligence for it.”

  “You cannot handle Mary and me at the same time,” she pointed out.

  “You may be right. The two of you might just be the death of me.”

  Libby got an idea. She could take up crime-solving as a hobby in order to keep him in her life. She saved the idea in a box in her mind to be examined and expanded upon at a later time.

  Now, back to the witness.

  “What did the witness say?”

  “She described a woman like you carrying out the murder…”

  Libby felt irritation and anger crawling inside her at the unfairness of everything. Someone was trying very hard to frame her.

  “The witness was correct about the crime scene, but the bit about you doing the deed could not be further from the truth.”

  At least he believed her.

  “We need to find this woman, Henry,” she said.

  “Yes, we do,” he agreed as she felt the carriage slow down. “We will get to Lewis first, and then the woman. If he leads us to her, that would be great.”

  The carriage stopped and they disembarked. The streets of Roxbury were even darker now as the faded light called in the night and Libby was glad Henry was there with her.

  But not even his presence could chase away the shadow that crept up on her once more. She felt it again, that ominous presence that had her utterly disoriented earlier. Libby hated to think about what would have happened to her had Mrs. Dawson not come to her rescue.

  “Henry,” she whispered, “you might think me paranoid, but I feel like we are being followed.”

  Henry continued walking, looking straight ahead as though he had not heard her. Was she truly imagining things?

  “I know,” he said at last.

  Relief washed through her. “I am not imagining things, then.”

  “I saw someone following you on two occasions,” he said in a very low voice. “But unfortunately, they disappeared before I could identify them. Come.” He steered her into the first shop they found. It was a jewelry store with a middle-aged man behind the counter.

  When he saw them, he came round to greet them.

  “Good evening, Sir, Madam. How may I help you?”

  “Err…” Libby began.

  Henry took over. “We would like to check your wares, please.”

  The jeweler’s face brightened at the prospect of patronage. Libby felt guilty. They were not here to purchase jewelry. They were hiding from a stalker.

  The man moved behind the counter and waved for them to join him. “What would you like?” he asked.

  “A ring, for my fiancée,” Henry supplied, looking down at Libby with a strange little grin.

  Are you out of your mind? she wanted to ask.

  “Oh, my felicitations, Sir, and you too, Madam.”

  Libby smiled tautly and pushed her elbow into Henry’s ribs. He stiffened for a moment but once he recovered, he circled his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The jeweler gave them a knowing look.

  “We are looking for something unique, not the common ring design.”

  “I have just the thing for you.” The jeweler bent and retrieved a folder. He opened it and pointed at the drawing of a ring with a briolette-cut gem.

  Libby liked it instantly. If she were to choose a ring for herself, she would go for exactly this. The pear-shaped cut was complex and the shine was sure to be brilliant. But she already had many jewels and was not in need of a new one. Besides, this was an engagement ring and not something she could ever hope for.

  “Do you like this one, dear heart?” Henry asked, leaning close.

  Libby’s cheeks flamed. She was not enjoying this game because it played with her emotions. Couldn’t they just leave and head to Lewis’s bar?

  “Libby,” he whispered in her ear. “Discretion is important during investigations. We are posing as an engaged couple and it would do us a world of good if you chose a ring. We will not be buying, obviously, but we will keep suspicion at bay.”

  He was right. It was a good plan, but she didn’t have to like it. The jeweler was a stranger, after all.

  “Very well.”

  She feigned a brilliant smile. “We would like this one.” She pointed at the picture of the ring in the folder.

  “Excellent choice, Madam. Do you have a gemstone in mind or shall I recommend?”

  “Emerald and topaz to match her eyes,” Henry said. “They are a delightful combination of green, brown and amber and I doubt any one gem can do them justice.”

  She didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

  The jeweler peered at her. “I agree. The primary gem should be topaz and the emeralds can be the surround.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Henry said like a proud fiancé.

  “I will show you the stones now, please give me a moment.”

  “Please take your time,” Libby said brightly as he disappeared into the back room. Then she turned to Henry. “I don’t like this,” she complained.

  “I know.”

  “We could have just pretended we were lost and left.”

  “Maybe I find playacting fun, Libby.”

  “I don’t find it funny, Henry. This man thinks we are really purchasing a ring from him.” She truly was feeling guilty about this.

  Henry’s hands moved up to her shoulders. “He will make a beautiful ring and if we don’t buy it, he will just place it on display.” He waved toward a display case on the other side of the room with beautiful jewels inside. “We will not be causing him any loss.”

  She sighed.

  “Listen,” he said very gently. “I will return after about a week and tell him you have begged off and we are no longer getting married.”

  “And paint me black?” she exclaimed.

  Henry laughed. The nerve of him! “You will not be painted any color. It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind about the man she is marrying. The main reason I am doing this, Libby, is to keep you safe. We don’t know anything about this jeweler and in case he knows something, we get the upper hand by keeping him from suspecting anything.”

  Oh, Henry. He knew how to make her feel happy and sad at the same time. He was protecting her which equated to happy. But romance was not his intention, despite the picture they were presenting, and that made her sad.

  “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

  He smiled devilishly as the jeweler returned with gemstones on a small silver platter.

  “This is a smoky topaz.” He held up a yellow-brown gemstone to the light. It sparkled beautifully. “This can represent the amber and brown in your eyes, Madam.” He replaced it and picked up an emerald. “This is for the green.”

  “I like them,” she said, meaning her words. “Let’s have it made.”

  The jeweler nodded happily. “Excellent! The ring will be ready in four days.”

  “Let’s discuss price,” Henry said.

  A figure was quoted—a rather large sum, but the ring was worth it—and Libby couldn’t tamp down the guilt that rose.

  “I will have a check sent to you,” Henry said confidently. “May I have your name, Sir?”

  “Edward…Edward Kent.”

  He fished out a small book from his coat pocket and made a show of taking the details. The unsuspecting jeweler beamed, thanking them for their wonderful patronage.

  Libby felt like a fraud.

  “Don’t worry.” Henry patted her hand after they had stepped out of the shop. “I will not leave him empty when I return.”

  That eased her guilt somewhat.

  But now they were out on the street once more she was instantly reminded of the stalker.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Henry surveyed the street for any sign of t
he person who had been stalking them but found nothing.

  “You said you saw them?”

  He looked down at Libby’s panicked face and his insides twisted. She had known all along that she was being stalked, but had braved it out, thinking she was imagining things. The poor girl.

  Henry wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her that no harm would ever come to her. But he did not dare.

  “The person was wearing a black medieval-style cloak. I never got close enough to determine if it is a man or a woman, but the height points to a man if that is anything to go by. We should keep a keen eye. Are you still armed?”

  She quirked a fine dark brow. “What do you think?”

  “Point taken.”

  They began walking up the street with Libby directing them to Lewis’s bar. They had spent more time than they should have in the jewelry store. No matter how fast they worked, they could not find and interrogate Lewis in time to be on their way before the streets were completely deserted. Right now, people were already moving off the streets and out of the cold.

  They walked past the sweet shop Libby had exited earlier. Had that been just this afternoon? It felt longer ago than that.

  “I met a woman here earlier,” Libby said as passed the shop. “Mrs. Dawson. I had something of a panic and she helped me.”

  Henry stopped short and she almost stumbled from the abrupt change of pace. “What happened?” he asked, alarmed.

  “I felt I was being followed and started to run. I bumped into a man and almost fell. Mrs. Dawson found me and took me into her shop where she gave me some tea and warmed me by the fire.”

  “Holy God, Libby!” He pulled her into his arms.

  “I am fine,” she mumbled into his coat.

  “I know.” It was all he could manage for a moment. He was just thankful that no harm had come to her.

  “Now, the bar is just ahead,” she said. “Shall we get this over with so we can go home?” An impish smile curved her lips and shone in her eyes as she looked up at him.