“He didn’t say his name. But he was mighty pleasing on the eye.” She wagged her eyebrows. “By chance, have you gone and found yourself a beau?”
Madison couldn’t stop the snorted laugh that escaped her mouth. That was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. She quickly placed her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “No, I don’t have a beau.”
“That’s too bad.” Ethel frowned. “I told him to call on you again, but he didn’t tell me if he was going to or not.”
Did she know any man that was mighty pleasing on the eye? Immediately, Cameron’s face popped into her head, but she quickly ushered it out. It definitely couldn’t have been him. “Well, thank you for letting me know.”
Ethel nodded. “I’ll go back to the kitchen now.”
“And I shall see you soon for the midday meal.”
As Madison climbed the stairs toward her room, her mind scrambled to think of who could have dropped by. Josephine’s husband was quite a looker, but they were both in North Devon, visiting his family. Other than Cameron, she really didn’t know any man that was handsome.
She unlocked her door, walked inside, and closed the door behind her. Shadows were everywhere because she hadn’t opened her drapes yet. But immediately, the hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm. Someone was here. She could hear them breathing.
Slowly, she reached to the shelf that was nearest to the door. She had a porcelain teapot displayed on the shelf that had been a gift from one of the women she’d helped a few years ago. The object was dear to her heart...but she’d use it to crack someone over the head if they tried to jump her.
As her fingers wrapped around the handle, the floor creaked with footsteps, and a large shadow passed by the wall nearest to the window. Her heartbeat quickened and she grasped the teapot, holding it above her head.
“I know someone is here,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. “Unless you want to make a hospital visit soon, I think it’s best if you show yourself to me.”
The rustle of the drapes had her zero in on her target, trying to steady her shaky hand. Within seconds, the drapes parted and sunlight poured inside the room. She squinted from the sudden brightness, but still tried to adjust her vision on the man who was in the room with her.
“Miss Haywood, it’s me. Cameron Westland.”
As her eyes adjusted to the light, he stood by the side of the window, with his arms folded across his wide chest. Although he wore the same clothes, there was something different about him. His expression no longer held an assured grin, and his chin wasn’t lifted stubbornly. Instead, despair was the expression that coated his handsome features. She’d hoped he had come to apologize for his behavior.
Sighing with relief, she placed the porcelain teapot back on the shelf. “Mr. Westland, what are you doing in my room? If you came to visit, you should have let Mrs. Cummings show you into the sitting room to wait for me.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”
Anger rose inside of her. “Why? Are you embarrassed to be seen with the crazy woman who sees visions?”
“Uh...no.” He stepped toward her and dropped his arms to his sides. “I came seeking your help.”
FIVE
Cameron shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. He wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with the woman the other officers called insane, but mortified to think he’d sunk so low that he’d practically crawled back to Miss Haywood for help. Sadly enough, he was out of options, and she seemed like his only hope.
Her eyes widened before she broke into a loud laugh. “You must be joking.”
Startled, he blinked curiously at her. That was the first time he’d heard her laugh, and although it was meant to be sarcastic, he actually liked the musical lift to her voice. “I’m most serious.”
“Tell me,” she said as her eyes twinkled, “exactly what kind of help are you referring to, Mr. Westland.”
Inwardly, he groaned. She was going to make him say it. Bitterness coated his tongue as confusion clouded his thoughts once again. He’d never been so perplexed in his life, and although he’d solved many crimes in his career, trying to understand—and talk intelligently—with Miss Haywood disturbed him more than any of them.
“You were right about the man you saw in your vision. He was dead,” he said softly.
He still believed she must have known about Mr. Bailey. That was the only thing that made sense to him. And if she knew Mr. Bailey, then was she trying to frame him in some way? He studied her expression closely. The humor on her face quickly left as a frown claimed her face.
“I’m so sorry to hear this.”
His heart twisted. She appeared genuinely saddened, and he wasn’t prepared for the sudden compassion that filled him. He had the sudden compulsion to take her in his arms and comfort her as if the loss of Mr. Bailey had meant a great deal to her. Ridiculous! This didn’t make any sense to him.
How could he be attracted to this woman and have misgivings about her at the same time? He didn’t believe in visions. She must have some way of making it seem so real. She must have a connection with Mr. Bailey. Right now...he needed to know what it was.
“Tell me, Miss Haywood, was there anything else you saw in your vision?” His voice tightened, and he hoped she wouldn’t be able to tell how upset he was.
“No.” She moved toward the window to open the drapes a little wider. “I told you everything. I recall the room was small and dark. I noticed part of the cot with the blanket laying on top, and a candle that was attached to the wall.” She turned and faced him with concern in her eyes. “Was he your friend?”
“No. Just an acquaintance.”
“I’m sad for his loss, nonetheless.” She moved to the only cushioned chair that sat in this small room which was made to look like a sitting room. The only other pieces of furniture were a bookcase filled with books, a tall table, and a small desk. Instead of sitting, she leaned against the chair and ran her fingers across the white-laced doily that hung over the top.
He’d give anything to know her thoughts right now. But there had to be more in her vision...or more that she knew about the deceased. His whole world was crashing down around him and she might be the one with the answers. Frustration built as he searched for the best way to get information out of her. “Why did you have that vision after touching me?”
She arched one of her eyebrows. “I honestly don’t know. I assumed it’s because you had a strong connection to him.”
Anger grew hot and fast inside of him. “Pardon me, Miss Haywood, but it sounds as if you are blaming me for his death.”
She gasped and straightened. “You, sir, are putting words into my mouth. However, now that I think about it, with what has just happened, I do have doubts about your innocence. After all, I don’t even know you.”
He bunched his hands. “Miss Haywood, I uphold the law. For ten years, I have worked as an officer for the Metropolitan Police. I have been an upstanding citizen in my community. I assure you...I did not kill Mr. Bailey.”
“Then tell me,” she folded her arms, “who is he and how are you connected with him? I wouldn’t have been able to see him in my vision unless you were part of his life in some way.”
Fueled by anger, he took four large steps toward Miss Haywood. Her eyes widened as she backed away until she hit the wall. Towering over her, he blocked her from going anywhere and glared. He had years of experience intimidating suspects into spilling their secrets, and he wasn’t going to let this slip of a woman think he was a killer.
“It’s none of your business,” he snapped.
“Actually....it is.” Her voice shook, but she straightened and lifted her chin stubbornly, which brought her a mere breath away from him. “You sneaked into my apartment seeking help, and so far all you have shown me is how you bully women. If that is the kind of man you are, then I can’t help but have reservations about you being an upstanding citizen.”
His h
eartbeat thundered in his ears, blocking out any sounds besides those coming from her and his quick breaths. He had such mixed emotions running amok through his head that he didn’t know what to do or what to say. He could barely handle the frustration filling him right now. With everything happening in his life he didn’t need this stubborn woman to make things worse.
However, she was right. He had shown her a despicable lout, which wasn’t him at all. If he wanted her help, he would have to let her see what kind of man he really was. Since his father died, the stress of caring for his sisters and the household had turned him into a monster. Perhaps it was time to let someone soften his heart.
No better time like the present.
He sighed in defeat and stepped away from her. “Forgive me, Miss Haywood. I’m usually not this forceful with women.”
She kept quiet for a few awkward moments, but the color of her blue eyes darkened. He’d been around upset females for most of his life, but he’d never seen one whose eyes practically shot fiery daggers at him.
A deep growl escaped her throat and she stormed past him, moving toward the other side of the room. In an instant, he couldn’t smell her flowery scent, and he suddenly wanted it back. And he wanted the kind woman she’d been this morning instead of a woman whose face beamed red with anger.
“Oh, Mr. Westland. Do you know how infuriating you are?”
“I have an inkling...” He shrugged.
“Just so you know, I will not be treated this unkindly—not by you, or any man. If you want my help as you have proclaimed, then you will have to tell me what I need to know.”
Inwardly, he groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Once again, I’m sorry for becoming upset. I haven’t been myself lately.” He lifted his head and met her wide eyes. “You see, when I returned to the station and found Mr. Bailey dead, I went to report the murder to my captain. Another officer had arrived before me, and I overheard their conversation. The captain instructed the officer to bring me in for questioning since I am their number one suspect.”
Her eyebrows lifted as her eyes widened. “And...did you kill him?”
“I didn’t.” Cameron threaded his fingers through his hair. “However, I was the one who locked Mr. Bailey in the cell.” He closed his eyes, ashamed of admitting the truth to her. “I shouldn’t have arrested him, but I had a gut feeling he was involved with Rosie’s disappearance.” He looked at Miss Haywood, who thankfully, hadn’t run screaming from her apartment yet.
“Can’t you get in trouble for arresting him without a cause?”
“Yes, which is why I’m a suspect.”
“So, why don’t you talk to him and tell him you didn’t kill the man?”
“Because I don’t have any proof that I’m innocent.” He rubbed his throbbing forehead. “And that is why I came to you.”
Slowly, she shook her head. “Although I want to believe that you’re not the killer, I cannot possibly help you, Mr. Westland.”
He scowled. “And why not?”
“Need I remind you that you don’t believe in my visions?”
Growling, he swung toward the window. “Well...that was before.”
“Before what?”
He peeked over his shoulder. “Before you had a vision of Mr. Bailey’s death.”
“Are you saying that you believe me now?” She cocked her head to the side.
“I still have a few doubts,” he took a step toward her, “however, I’m closer to believing you than I had been this morning.”
“No, Mr. Westland. That just will not do.” She marched to the door and rested her hand on the knob. “I think your visit is over.”
“Wait!” He reached for her, but didn’t touch her. “I desperately need your help, can’t you see?” He really hated that he was reduced to pleading with her.
She gave him a scowl and leaned against the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know why you need my help, but what is in this for me?”
He furrowed his brows. “I don’t understand.”
“If I help you, will you allow me to continue helping you to find Rosie?”
Irritation boiled in his throat, but he clamped his mouth to keep from spouting his anger. Could she possibly do both? It frustrated him when he didn’t know if finding Mr. Bailey’s killer was more important than finding Rosie. Then again, if he was in jail, Rosie would probably never get found. “Yes. I’ll let you return and meet with Alice as you try to determine what happened to Rosie.”
“And...” Wearing a self-assure expression, she moved closer to him. “If I help you find the killer—and your sister—I want you to convince your captain that he needs to hire me. For a few years now, I’ve been trying to show the Metropolitan Police how I would be able to assist the officers. So, I would like you to tell your captain what I have done to help you.”
She has gone too far... And yet, did he have any other choice?
Sighing in defeat, he nodded. “Yes, I’ll do that, but only if your visions are helpful.”
“Deal.” She held out her hand to seal their agreement.
Hesitantly, he slipped his palm against her. Warmth encased his arm when he shook her hand. Suddenly, the confident attitude she’d had for the past few minutes disappeared. Confusion marked her lovely features as her gaze shifted from his face to their united hands.
She shivered and quickly pulled her hand away. “So...” She cleared her throat. “Do you wish to return to your house?” She motioned to her room. “It’s obvious we can’t accomplish anything here.”
“Actually, I’m not sure that’s wise.” He scratched behind his ear as he moved to the window. He looked down on the busy street, not seeing anyone familiar—and especially not one of the other officers. “If Captain Orwood wants me brought in, I’m sure Officer Barton will be watching my house very closely.”
“Yes, you are probably correct.” She tapped a finger against her full lips as she stared at him. “Do you think your captain will assign other men to watch your house?”
Pausing, he thought back to the conversation he’d overheard. “No, I don’t think so. I recall him telling Barton to keep it a secret between them.”
“That’s odd.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Well, no matter.” She flipped her hand. “One officer is still going to present a problem.”
Cameron sat on the armrest of the cushioned chair. “I suppose I could sneak in after dark.”
“We will have to disguise you, I think.” She paced the floor with her hands linked behind her. “How well does Barton know your family?”
Her serious expression made him want to grin, but he held it back. Thankfully, she was trying to get him out of this mess. “He knows I have two sisters and that my father is dead. Why?”
She stopped in front of him and arched an eyebrow. “Does he know you have an uncle that lives close?”
A chuckle escaped his throat before he could stop it. “But I don’t.”
“Oh, really?” Her gaze moved up to his hair. “I’m sure we can locate a gray wig.” Her focus dropped to his eyes. “And get you some spectacles.” She dropped her gaze to his clothes. “And find you some older style clothes somewhere. Perhaps even a cane to lean on since you have a bad back and achy legs.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to pull it off. If the other officers get too close to me, they’ll see I’m in disguise.”
“Then I suppose, we do our darndest to keep them from getting too close.”
The tightness in his chest eased slightly. By Jove, she was onto something. If only they could make it work.
IT WAS HARD NOT TO laugh.
Madison would just have to keep from looking at Cameron. Tall, broad-shouldered men like this man riding beside her in the hackney should never look like an old man. Although, she wondered when he finally reached his senior years, if he would be this robust.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep the grin stretching her mouth wide, an
d glanced out the window. She couldn’t have him noticing her reaction to his costume. This really wasn’t a laughing matter. But seeing Cameron wearing a gray wig, and an over-sized blue greatcoat, silver pants that were too high above his ankle, and scuffed brown boots, while holding a cane...how could Madison keep a straight face? He’d even gone a step further and stuffed something in the belly of his shirt to make him appear like he had a flabby gut.
A giggle jumped to her throat, so she bit her lip, trying anything she could not to laugh.
“This is not going to work,” he grumbled as he plopped on the farmer’s hat over his wig.
“Of course not,” she said with laughter in her voice, “especially when you speak with your normal voice. You need to make your voice a little shakier and old.”
He scowled and bumped his shoulder into hers. This time, she didn’t care if she laughed. “Oh, Mr. Westland. You know I’m only trying to help.” Although he was upset, she still detected a sparkle in his eyes.
“You honestly couldn’t find any pants to fit my long legs?” He pointed to his ankles.
“No. There wasn’t much of a selection to choose from today.”
Her mind flashed with an image of him standing in her room earlier today, looking handsome in his clothes. He was so very different from when she saw him in his uniform. “Besides, it was either purchase these trousers—or an old woman’s dress. Believe me, I was tempted to go with the dress.” He threw her a wide-eyed stare, and she laughed. “Aren’t you glad I went with the short trousers?”
“You are impossible. Do you know that?”
His teasing tone made her grin.
“Oh, I forgot one more thing.” She opened her reticule and pulled out a pair of spectacles. As she slid them on his face, he glared at her...but it was a teasing sort of glare. His mouth twisted, holding back a laugh. While adjusting them on his nose, she kept bumping against him. Her heart raced with an unknown feeling that warmed her whole body completely. Slowly, his expression softened and his gaze dropped to her lips.
Madison's Gift Page 6