She glanced at him and realized that it had been a minute and she still hadn’t said anything. “Wuthering heights,” fell from her lips and she had to keep herself from banging her head against the table. She hated, hated, Wuthering Heights, but she’d read it in college, and it was the right period.
“Ah, yes, Emily Bronte.” He smiled, only this time it didn’t seem entirely sincere. “A very talented young authoress.”
“Heathcliff,” Bayliss said, “my kind of man.” He draped an arm over the back of the couch.
Ignoring Bayliss completely, she faced Asher. “What’s your—”
Miss Cross reentered the room, and Asher’s gaze followed her over to the couch. He and Bayliss stood for her as she came round.
Cross sat in the chair and rubbed the wrinkles from her dress. Asher stopped breathing.
“Well,” Mr. Bayliss asked, beating Asher to the punch. “How is the fair Miss Smith?”
Cross made a serious face. “I have good news and bad. She’ll survive, but we won’t have the pleasure of her company for the rest of the evening.”
Cross leaned closer to Shea and cupped her mouth to whisper. “She’s lactose intolerant.”
Shea went bug-eyed. Why had Miss Smith eaten all that cheese at dinner?
“I guess that means we won’t be having our movie night tonight after all,” she said.
Someone stopped between the couch and sofa where they sat. Mr. Daley stood over them, a wide smile showing perfect straight white teeth. He squatted between them. “What are you whispering about?” he whispered.
Shea leaned back.
Miss Cross smacked him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Which is, of course, why I asked.” He faced Shea. “Cousin Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Daley.” She looked at her hands, suddenly self-conscious of the bags under her eyes. She hated him a little for that. The last time she’d felt this way had been when she’d gotten her braces in high school.
“How about we take advantage of being cousins, and you call me Paddy, as you did when we were children.”
Paddy? Really?
“I’m deathly bored,” Miss Gray simpered from the fireplace. “We must have some form of entertainment or I’ll wither away.”
Shea smiled at her. One could only hope.
Bayliss leaned forward. “I wouldn’t mind another round of whist.”
Daley stood, and Shea exhaled. He smelled too good to be her cousin. Too manly. Her cousins smelled sweaty. Or like beer.
“Excellent,” Gray said, “it’s been ever so long since I last played. Though it’s a four person game and we have six players.” The disappointment she tried to convey fell flat.
Shea lifted her book of sonnets. “I’d like to read; go on without me.” Maybe she could sneak back into the office and write down the names of all the employees on staff for Lee. Whoever had broken into Cross’s room might have a record.
“Read?” Gray said in a scornful tone. “You can’t be serious.”
“There are fewer ways better one can improve their mind.” Daley’s eyes sparkled. Actually sparkled.
Shea clenched her jaw. Great, they were both mocking her now.
Gray stared down her pert nose at Shea. “Of course she’d prefer to read. I suppose she takes pleasure from nothing else.”
Frig. It was like being in high school again. She was not pretty enough, she studied too much, she didn’t study enough, she wasn’t as tall as the Amazon-like volleyball team. “Reading is a great pleasure, which anyone who had tried it would know. But no, it’s not the only thing from which I take pleasure.” She gave herself a mental fist-bump. That’d even sounded proper.
Miss Gray narrowed her eyes, but Shea refused to look away. Gray turned to the nearest man, Bayliss, and stuck out her hand to him. “Shall we?”
He was on his feet instantly, escorting her and her swishing skirts away. Shea hoped far far away but was disappointed when he pulled out a chair for her at the whist table.
“I’ll stay with you,” Asher offered.
No! “I’m fine on my own. Go enjoy yourself.”
“Are you sure?”
She lifted her book. “Quite.”
Mr. Asher stood and bowed to her, then took Miss Cross’s hand and led her to the table too. She didn’t look back at Daley who failed to move from his spot standing next her, only hoped that any moment he’d leave too. Instead, she felt the couch give way next to her.
She glanced over. He sat so close to her that she found herself scooting away. She tried to cover her embarrassment with a question, “You don’t want to play whist?”
He lifted a hand with four fingers up. “Four person game.”
“Right.” She sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be easy to get rid of the man once he’d decided to stay. She couldn’t quite help but to admire his persistence though. He’d make a good cop.
“It’s been so long cousin, I’d rather catch up.”
Case and point. “And I’d rather read.”
“Yes, well we can’t all have our way, now can we? So tell me, cousin, what was your favorite part of Wuthering Heights?” He grinned.
He’d heard that? Had he been intentionally listening in? She clenched her jaw and thought. Hard. Was there anything about the book she’d liked? “Well, the setting, and the um…some of the ideas, Mr. Ernshaw was a pretty decent—”
She breathed out. Could she possibly get any more vague and ridiculous? Could she really not come up with one thing she liked about the book? A main plot point or character or theme? Why couldn’t she just lie?
With a chuckle, he raised a staying hand. “You hate it, no need to lie.”
She pulled her chin back. A chill ran up her spine. She saw his eyes crinkle with mirth and realized he was messing with her.
“I do hate it, actually,” she said feeling suddenly brazen. She found herself pleased when his jaw dropped before his lips turned up just a little at the corners. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s hardly a person in the story with a single redeeming quality.”
He crossed his legs toward her and placed his arm over the back of the couch—his hand rested just above her shoulder. “Agreed.”
It was her turn to be shocked. Of course she didn’t know him all that well, but she’d come to expect him to be disagreeable. Likeable too, though.
“Yet, I feel compassion for Heathcliff; to have felt a love so strong and have it stolen due to circumstances out of his control. I can imagine why he did what he did. Why he became what he became.”
She scoffed.
Eyes wide, he turned back to her and waited for her rebuttal.
“Catherine was a horrible person. She could have chosen love over money, but she didn’t, and further, she chose to torture him even after he’d lost all hope of ever having her. He should have loved a better woman. And he should have chosen a better path, one of dignity and honor. He chose revenge. He was a coward.” She breathed out. Ahhh. That’d felt good—being herself for a minute.
“And you don’t think, considering the circumstances in which he was raised, that he deserves any sympathy or forgiveness?”
She touched her cross at her neck, the steel suddenly cool against her skin. “Of course I do. All I’m saying is that we’re not products of our environments, but of our choices.”
“Really?” He was smiling despite the fact that he sounded skeptical.
She looked at the ceiling and breathed out. “If not then I’m screwed.”
He chuckled, grabbing her attention and she became startlingly aware of where she was and who she was with. The last thing she needed to be doing was opening up to him. Also, had she just said screwed? Why couldn’t she stop with her modern day jargon, already?
“I’m sorry—”
He continued as though she’d never said anything out of the normal standards of Regency etiquette. “You honestly think that a person can help who they love?”
&n
bsp; For some reason, this question struck her as not only unexpected but terribly obvious. “Of course. Don’t you?”
He didn’t answer her question, only asked another. “What’s your real favorite book?”
She had a little bit of an idea of what Pride and Prejudice was about, but not enough to pretend it was her favorite. Nothing era-appropriate was forthcoming.
“And don’t make something up. I want to know your real favorite book. For instance, you seem a lot like a Louis L’Amour girl.” He tapped the back of the couch a few times, only inches from her shoulder.
Shocked that he would mention a book that was so obviously in the wrong century, she said nothing. Was this a test?
He leaned toward her and touched her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Come on, cousin, it’s just me. I won’t rat you out.”
She looked back at the table where the others sat playing their game, and when she was sure no one could hear, she also leaned forward. She instantly regretted the closeness and swallowed. “Really?”
“Cross my heart,” he said, and he did with his free hand.
“I don’t have one. With all the magnificent choices out there, how could I?”
He leaned back, smile still firmly in place. “In that case, let’s talk about Mr. Hamilton.”
“What?” She pulled her chin back. “Why?”
“He’s a fine catch for any young lady, would you not say, cousin? He shows a great fondness for you.”
She frowned. “Excuse me; I have to go to the ladies room.” She stood, straightened her skirts, and beelined it for the exit.
Once clear of the room, she leaned against the nearest wall and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could. Only eleven days left. She just needed to keep a cool head. She pulled away from the wall and marched down to the office. Keeping the lights off, she grabbed the roster she’d seen earlier from off the wall. She was willing to bet that the list had the names of everyone at the park on it as she scanned the names. Not wanting to waste time writing down the names of all thirty people, she folded it, and shoved it down into her corset.
She’d call Lee later. For now, she’d have to suck it up back in the sitting room, where Cross was. She squared her shoulders and headed back.
Chapter Nine
“We missed you after dinner last night,” Shea said to Hamilton as the group paraded down a trail in the park; paraded being the operative word. She stuck a finger between the ribbon that held her bonnet on and her neck and tugged. She stared at the tree line of aspens in the distance—the same grouping where the flash of light had come from on her first day here. It’d only been four days, but it felt like a lot longer now.
“I was pulled away on business.” Hamilton had a confident gate, and he could probably out walk her, but he kept his pace in line with the company both in front and back of them. “Though, yours is the only company I missed.”
“Oh,” Shea said as filler while she tried to come up with an appropriate response. The uncontrollable giggles from the group ahead and the gazes boring holes into her from behind made it impossible to think.
Miss Cross and Miss Smith were walking in front of Mr. Asher and Captain Bailey. They giggled as they led the way. Shea was glad Smith felt better, if for no other reason than to please Mr. Asher. The poor, besotted, pretend besotted, guy.
Shea and Mr. Hamilton continued in silence. She was glad he didn’t expect conversation. She found the silence comforting. Hamilton wasn’t a man for idle chit chat—and she wasn’t a woman for it. Plus it gave her time to think. It might have been easier to think had the couple behind them been quieter and more subtle in their topic of conversation. Though if they had been, Shea was quick to note, it would have ruined their fun. And she was sure that it was their fun that they thought mattered most.
“Tell me, Mr. Daley,” Miss Gray crooned, “do you think our dear Mr. Hamilton has ever met a woman he’s found as charming as Miss Shea?”
Shea clenched her jaw but refused to rise to the bait.
“It doesn’t appear so,” Mr. Daley replied in a stage whisper, “but it would be hard to, don’t you agree? My cousin is a fine example of maidenly charm and beauty.”
Shea kept her eyes on the tall grass, swaying to and fro with the breeze, golden waves against chartreuse hills.
“Perhaps we should ask them?” Mr. Daley suggested.
And here it comes.
“Mr. Daley, don’t you dare,” Miss Gray giggled. It was obvious she meant “I dare!”
Shea cringed.
Hamilton leaned toward her. “Are they making you uncomfortable?”
Shea peered up at him. “I think that’s what they want, but no. I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I could have a word—”
She patted his arm with her free hand that wasn’t holding his arm. Was he offering to defend her honor? She stood a little taller. “No, not necessary.”
A burst of laughter sounded from behind her—followed by a loud pop that made everyone jump. Shea spun round, reaching for her gun hip, before remembering that she didn’t have her gun. Not that it mattered. Miss Gray was in near hysterics as Mr. Daley wadded up a plastic bag and shoved it in his pocket. He gave her his million dollar smile, the one she’d seen when they first met. The smile that she now decided meant trouble.
Shea peered over her shoulder at Cross, who was breathing heavily and looked a little pale. Shea’s stomach lurched at the sight of the panic on her face. Smith was composed and her lips pursed. It made Shea proud—Smith was a lot stronger than she let on.
Though Asher stood closer to Smith, his attention was fully on Cross. “Are you all right? You’ve gone pale.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Miss Cross said, “It just startled me.”
That’s it. She’d had enough of Daley’s pestering. It had to stop. Now. She turned and glared at him and was about to tell him off when Hamilton beat her to the punch.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Hamilton stepped forward. “Trying to scare these poor women? Look at Miss Shea, Miss Cross. Look how they quake. Have you no propriety, man?”
Shea pulled her chin back. Quake? Her? Uh, no. She didn’t quake. It was nice having someone stand up for her though. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her. Lee had stood with her, but that didn’t count.
Mr. Daley didn’t seem in the least bit repentant. He leaned back on his heels and chuckled. Did he have a death wish? Even she’d been startled by Hamilton’s reaction. Hamilton took a menacing step forward, and Shea had a sudden flash of the two men in a fist fight. It’d be easy enough to break it up, she’d had to break up fights on more than one occasion as a cop, though she didn’t fancy getting a black eye in this place. She grabbed Hamilton’s hand.
“Mr. Hamilton, please. You’ve made your point.”
“He scared you,” Hamilton ground out, not removing his glare from Daley.
“It’s not the first time,” she fabricated, “it’s been his life’s joy to do so. I dare say he’ll do it again, and I, in turn, will get even with him.” She leveled her gaze at Daley, in time to see his smirk widen. He liked the idea of her getting back at him. She shook her head. “It’s just a game. I’ll talk to him.”
Hamilton’s gaze softened as he took her in. “Are you sure?”
She gulped. Holy cow this man was intense. “Yes,” she said and had the sudden urge to get away from him. “Right now, I’ll talk to him right now as a matter of fact.”
She hustled away from Hamilton, past Miss not-so-amused-anymore Gray and grabbed Daley’s arm, dragging him away. As they moved from the group, she looked to Smith and Cross. “We’ll catch up!”
Once they were well out of hearing range from the group, Shea let go of Mr. Daley’s arm. His head cocked to the side. She bit her lip. Crap, now what was she going to say? She couldn’t threaten him or ask him what he’d been thinking or why he’d done that. She’d already provided a reason for the group when she’d said it was
a game they played as children.
“So, you’re going to get even with me, huh?” he asked.
She sagged in relief as he provided an opening.
“Yes, I am,” she snapped.
“I’ll look forward to it. Now why did you drag me all the way over here, Cousin Elizabeth?” he asked.
Double crap—he was using her first name. Well, two could play at that game. “Well, Cousin Paddy, I suppose I was curious why you decided to amuse your little girl-toy by scaring the cra—living daylights out of everyone?”
He laughed. “Don’t censor yourself on my account. I like it when you say ‘crap.’ I’m not Mr. Hamilton.”
“No, you’re not,” she said. Mr. Hamilton was a gentleman. He loved this place and lived the rules as though they were holy script. That she could understand. Perhaps he was a little gruff, but honorable and kind.
Daley, however, was a misfit if ever she’d seen one. She wondered how he managed to work here if he was constantly breaking the rules. Then she took him in, and it slapped her across the face harder than that secretary with the three-inch nails had that she and Lee had arrested four months ago for embezzlement. The man was gorgeous. And not in an I’m-interested-in-my-cousin way, but in an I-just-met-this-person-and-I’m-actually-not-related-to-him way. That was why he was here.
Just looking at his cupid curls, impish grin, and toned form was enough to make a girl stutter. On top of that, he was also charming and smart. It was disarming, which was of course why he was paired with the overly vivacious Miss Gray. Smith was right; he was the only one who could handle that woman—whom Miss Gray would want to be handled by. Also, Shea needed to stop thinking the word “handled.” Bleh.
“You don’t like him,” Daley asked ripping her from her wandering thoughts, “do you?”
Regencyland- The Bristle Park Murders Page 6