“Am I now part of some sort of investigation, inspector?” She gestured toward his notebook as she sat down beside Lady Hampton on the settee. He took a chair facing the two women. Between them, a polished coffee table was laden with dozens of clippings and books. He eyed the clutter. A tidy man, he preferred order to his surroundings.
Jane noticed his disdain. “My apologies for the mess. I like to keep my research close by as I study a specific topic.” She gathered the papers in neat piles. “I feel a good journalist should obtain as much information as possible and try to understand the world around them, don’t you agree?” she asked.
Randolph’s eye caught one of the news clippings and carefully slipped it from the pile. It was a brief though benign article on the grisly discovery of the arm found the first day that he ran into Miss Goodwin. CID policy at this time was to give out as little details as possible. They didn’t need a panic sweeping the city. He glanced up and saw her waiting, her hand held out to tuck the article in her notebook.
He relinquished it and noted a large leather-bound reference book on anatomy stacked beneath another pile of papers. He recognized it immediately as he’d thrown out one just like it with his father’s medical books. Yet the title on the binding of yet another book caught his eye. “Psychology of the Criminal Mind.” His eyes met hers over the edge of the book. “What particular part of the world are you researching, Miss Goodwin?”
She offered a brief smile. “I have an insatiable curiosity on a variety of subjects.”
The servant entered the room then, carrying tea on a large tray.
Lady Hampton offered to pour out.
“It appears, Miss Goodwin, that you’ve been quite busy with your research.” He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction. “It can be quite time consuming. I’m glad you were able to get out last night and see some of our fair city.”
Lady Hampton handed him a cup and glanced at Jane. “You didn’t mention that you’d seen the inspector last night, my dear.”
“It must have slipped my mind.” She accepted her tea. “Do you find it odd that a woman would enjoy spending copious amounts of time wanting to read about what is happening around her?”
She was baiting him. Randolph chuckled. “Not in the least. I’ve been known to become a bit of a recluse when researching a case.”
“Sugar, inspector?” Lady Hampton’s gaze darted between them.
“No, thank you,” he answered, his gaze holding Jane’s. The woman was prickly when it came to her perception of how men viewed her. Writers House “Lady Hampton, I wonder if I might take a look at the note you indicated came for Miss Goodwin.”
“I’m not sure we can assume it was addressed to me,” Jane interjected as she pulled the folded paper from her skirt pocket.
“My dear, you were the only one in the house last night.”
“It is possible that it was delivered to the wrong house,” Jane said. “I’ve barely resided here long enough for anyone to address me in such a personal manner.” She handed him the note. “Here you are.”
He plucked the note from her hand and read it. “The content gives you no cause for concern, then?” It was, in fact, a very personal note. The writer was clearly smitten with whoever was the intended recipient. “It sounds as though you may have a secret admirer.”
She walked to the bookshelf and pulled down a book, flipping leisurely through its pages. He saw her slender shoulders rise with her gentle sigh. “So, nothing sinister, wouldn’t you agree?” Jane remarked.
“And where was it found?”
Lady Hampton spoke up. “Our cook found it slipped in the foyer when she came in this morning. My nephew and Miss Goodwin, as you know, attended Vladimir Kerchov’s performance last night.”
“And you didn’t notice it when you returned home?” If speaking with him had slipped her mind, what else might she not have noticed?
“No, sir. I did not see it. Wesley checked the house before he left. He wanted to make sure I was going to be fine.”
Randolph looked at her. “Did he feel there was a question of your safety?”
“I told him it was unnecessary, but he was insistent. The servants had already retired to their quarters for the evening.” She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her. He sensed there was something more.
He skimmed through the note again. Anyone she’d met that afternoon at tea could be a suspect. Though it would seem, given the circumstances, that Vladimir and Wesley were at the top of the list of potential secret admirers. He made a mental note to check the backgrounds of both men when he got back to the station. “Tell me about that night. Start at the beginning, until you returned home.” His focus was on Jane as he settled back in his chair.
Jane returned to her seat, pausing a moment, distracted, it seemed by her thoughts. Her pale cheeks colored, and he’d have given his right arm to know what she was remembering. Was her relationship with the young Mr. Hampton purely platonic? If not, that might well solve the mystery.
“Wesley picked me up around seven. We arrived at the theater a few minutes before curtain at eight.”
“Then, you took a carriage?” Randolph asked.
“Yes,” she continued with a nod. “We watched the show, and at one point, I became…well, my stomach was not quite right.”
“And so what did you do?”
“I felt the need for a bit of fresh air, so I left the performance.”
“So, you went outside?” he asked.
She hesitated a moment before replying. “Not exactly.”
The blush in her cheeks deepened, making him curious. “And did Mr. Hampton accompany you?”
“Inspector,” Lady Hampton interjected, “I’ve no idea what you’re insinuating, but I assure you—”
“Not right away,” Jane answered, holding his gaze.
Ah, there it was. The part she’d been holding back, even from Lady Hampton, he suspected. “Go on when you’re comfortable, Miss Goodwin.”
She glanced at Lady Hampton, clearly reticent to continue. Though he wanted to press Jane for details, he detected that his host had difficulty seeing her nephew as having a normal healthy male appetite. How could he blame the lad? Jane Goodwin possessed an enticing blend of fresh innocence and guarded passion. It had kept him intrigued since the moment they spoke in the garden. However, given Jane’s hesitancy to be forthright with the details, she apparently shared his view regarding the good Lady Hampton. Not wishing to deviate from the story, he made a brief note and prompted Jane. “Why don’t you skip to when you arrived back here. Was there anything unusual—doors unlocked, windows ajar?”
Jane shook her head. “It was dark and Wesley insisted on escorting me inside. He turned up the lamps and walked through the entire house, assuring me that I was…that I was perfectly safe.” Jane held her hand to her chest, averting Lady Hampton’s steady gaze.
Randolph cleared his throat, sensing that he was wading into murky water. Still, he had to have as much information as possible. “Ladies, I beg your forgiveness for what I’m about to ask, but it may help us to resolve this issue.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “Miss Goodwin, did you spend the rest of the evening alone? That is to say, did Mr. Hampton remain on the property through the night?” He asked the question as delicately as possible, watching Miss Goodwin’s eyes very carefully.
Lady Hampton busied herself with tidying up the plates from tea.
“Of course not. He left immediately after inspecting the house,” Jane stated without hesitation.
Randolph heard Lady Hampton’s quiet sigh. His mouth quirked. Even as he found her response amusing, he could not deny his own measure of relief. The realization sent his thoughts into a tailspin. He had to shake himself mentally to continue. “Go on, Miss Goodwin.” His voice was brusque.
“I had just entered my room, closing the door as I always do, and was reaching for the light when I heard a noise.”
“What type of noise?” His hand
tightened around his notepad.
“Like the sound of an iron gate latching, I suppose…a clanging sound.”
Randolph’s gaze narrowed. “Can you show me where you were and what followed after you heard the noise?” he asked, pushing up from his seat.
“Why, yes, I suppose. Follow me.”
She led him upstairs, and Randolph fought to keep his eyes off the gentle motion of her hips. From his view, it didn’t appear that she was slave to the varied underpinnings that women generally wore and which, in his opinion, only served to distort the beautiful curves of a woman. Indeed, the blouse tucked into her simple floor-length, plain black skirt did much to fuel his imagination of what treasure lay underneath. A dark, familiar smoke curled in his gut. He shooed it away as Miss Goodwin turned to face him at the top of the stairs.
“In here.” She ushered him into her room.
White lace curtains framed the windows and a decidedly feminine quilt of lavender, yellow, and pink covered the white wrought-iron bed.
Pity, a woman like her in a single bed.
Randolph cleared his throat and moved hastily to the front window that looked out over the cobblestone street and the park beyond. “Show me where you stood when you heard the noise.”
“I was standing exactly where you are,” she remarked. The soft tone in her voice tempted the darkness inside him. He forced himself to stay on task. There was no doubt she intrigued him intellectually, stimulated him physically, but that innocence was intoxicating—a direct contrast to the darkness deep inside him.
“What did you do next,” he blurted in haste. Realizing his outburst, he raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “My apologies, ladies.” He glanced at Lady Hampton, her eyes wide with shock. “I’m afraid it’s been a harrowing last few hours.”
Miss Goodwin moved next to him, maneuvering herself so close that she finally had to request he step aside. “I was here,” she said, continuing with reenacting the scene. “I pulled back the curtain and saw a man in a dark cloak. It appeared he was looking back at the house…at my window, and then he disappeared on foot into the park.”
“Was the light on? Was he able to see you watching from the window?” Randolph asked. He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder. He breathed in her soft soap and water scent, and pictured her dressed for bed. Perhaps she wore a thin chemise—translucent in the lamplight—one that would reveal every curve. He wondered if the perpetrator was privy to that view. The thought knotted his gut. “You hadn’t yet changed your attire from the day?”
She faced him. “I was still fully clothed, inspector. I do not make a habit of standing by my window in my nightclothes. And I left the light low, so as not to attract attention to myself.”
“And you feel certain it was a man?” he asked, looking away from her steely gaze.
“I assume it was a man. He wore trousers and not a skirt.” She walked away, giving him a hooded glance. “From what I could see.”
He stared out the window, reeling in his thoughts, repressing the seductive urges of his dark side.
“What did you do then, Miss Goodwin?”
“I locked my bedroom door and pushed the dressing table in front of it.”
“Very resourceful.” Randolph admired her quick thinking. However, under these new circumstances, he debated the wisdom whether she should continue to reside alone at the house.
“I sat in that chair, drifting in and out of sleep until this morning.”
“You poor dear,” Lady Hampton clucked, coming to Jane. She put her arm around her waist.
“Which reminds me,” he asked, directing his attention to Lady Hampton. “Where are the servant’s quarters? I wish to speak with them as well to see if they heard or saw anything unusual on the premises.”
“Of course,” Lady Hampton said. “They’re likely out this afternoon. They have weekend afternoons off.”
Randolph nodded, returning his gaze to the quiet woman at Lady Hampton’s side. “Can you think of anyone, Miss Goodwin—”
“Jane, please.”
However unorthodox it was to call her by her first name, Randolph was not about to quibble with her on social etiquette. He was certain Lady Hampton would speak to her about it once he left. “Can you think of anyone…Jane,” his voice grew notably softer. “Who would, for any reason, wish to frighten you?”
She blinked as though the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “I’ve hardly been here long enough to make any enemies, much less garner a secret admirer.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps you’ve garnered the attention of someone not fond of foreigners,” Randolph suggested. However, it was just as likely that someone was again simply trying to frighten the members of the club with the intent of closing it down. It had happened before.
Jane crossed her arms over her chest, striking a defiant pose. “Well, I can hardly change that, now can I? I’ve given no one just cause to come after me personally. Furthermore, I have no intention of being frightened off by someone’s childish scare tactics.”
He admired her courage. Yet another aspect to her personality that he found to be fascinating. Still, he had to err on the side of caution, and she should, as well. “Perhaps you have enemies who might have followed you here. Was there anyone back home with whom you’d had a disagreement?”
Her gaze narrowed on him. “I had no idea that the English were such a suspicious lot, inspector. You suggest that my enemies, if I had any, would follow me across the Atlantic? How preposterous.”
“Forgive me, as absurd as you may feel it is, I do not wish to leave any stone unturned. You cannot fathom the absurdities I’ve seen.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she dropped her arms to her sides. “My apologies, Inspector Mansfield. You are only doing your duty, I realize. Truthfully, I can’t think of anyone—least of all my gutless ex-fiancé—who would stoop to such antics.”
“I know this is difficult, but your cooperation in this matter may well provide a clue to whoever frightened you last night.” He paced the room, making sure he hadn’t left out anything. “Is there anyone else? Scorned lovers, jealous friends?”
“May I remind you that we’ve no definitive proof that the note was intended for me.”
Randolph raised a brow. “Based on your story, the timing, and the fact you are the only resident living here, I have no other recourse but to act as if it was meant for you.”
“But Lady Hampton has indicated that members of the club have received mysterious notes in the past. Perhaps my arrival simply gave someone an opportunity again to try to thwart what Writers House is trying to achieve.”
“Since you’re aware of the previous notes, I can assure you that this one bears no resemblance to the others.” He glanced from one woman to the other. “I appreciate your time and help in answering my questions. Lady Hampton, if I might trouble you for my coat, I must be on my way.”
Lady Hampton marched down the stairs ahead of him. Jane followed on his heels. He stepped off the last stair and a new question popped into his head.
He turned abruptly on his heel. “Miss Goodwin?”
She lurched forward, her footing unbalanced, and landed in his arms for the second time since they’d met. She pushed quickly away and righted herself without apology.
“Yes, inspector?”
“Do you consider yourself a rebellious woman?” His query, loose as it may be, was valid to his investigation. However, he was also curious. To what lengths might a woman, hungry enough to want to succeed in a journalistic world, go to generate publicity?
Her blue eyes regarded him. “If by that you mean do I prefer to have control over my own life, then yes, I suppose there would be those who find me rebellious.”
He held her unwavering gaze, tamping down the smoke curling deep in his gut. He had a feeling this one would be a fury in bed. Lady Hampton appeared with his coat.
“You left this on the table in the parlor, inspector.” She handed him the note.
“May I keep this? I’d like to study it a bit more.” He held it up to Jane and not waiting for her answer, pocketed it.
“Of course.” She crossed her arms, eyeing him coolly.
“I’ll stop by later in the week to speak with your servants. You’ll let me know if any more of these should appear on your doorstep, won’t you?”
Jane nodded, but it was Lady Hampton who spoke. “Of course.”
Randolph nodded his farewell and stepped outside, pausing a moment on the veranda. He scanned the fenced-in front yard, checking for possible places a person might keep himself hidden. Was the perpetrator waiting for Jane when she got home? He took a step from the porch and looked up. The sun, after a series of rainy days, had decided to bless the city with its presence. However, the heat and humidity caused an ungodly stink from the river. You can’t have everything, Randolph thought. He started down the steps and heard his name.
“Inspector Mansfield?”
Surprised, he turned to find Jane Goodwin at the top of the steps.
“Was there something you forgot to tell me?” He kept his feet locked on the bottom step, not trusting what he’d do to breathe in her lavender scent, to wonder how sweet her soft, pink mouth tasted.
She studied him as though she could read his thoughts, then straightened her shoulders. Her expression changed suddenly, becoming businesslike. “Are you aware that Master Vladimir is staying at a gentleman’s club called McFarland Manor?”
He did, and the fact that Randolph recognized the stationery used by the admirer made him the prime culprit of this deed. It had made his skin crawl to see the older man fawning over Jane at the tea. But he wasn’t about to reveal how he knew about McFarland Manor or its members. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. We make it a point to know and to keep an eye on all notable visitors to our city.”
She cocked her head, a sparkle of interest shining in her beautiful eyes. He had to stop staring at her.
“I suppose I should offer my thanks, since it appears you are set on keeping your eye on me, as well.”
His lips twitched with a smile. “Given the choice between the two of you, I’d say keeping my eye on you is far more pleasant. But I’m guessing gratitude wasn’t why you came out here, is it?”
The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane Page 11