“Romani.”
Cole almost scoffed; she was about as Romani, as he was Chinese.
Platt hovered behind his mistress as Copley guided her out, waiting to take over his duties.
“Well, you are tired, so I must not indulge my curiosity any further.” He paused in the doorway. “Good night, Madam Davina.”
“Thank you, Sir, you are too kind.”
Thea approached her father and Miss Eliza took her vacated seat, blocking his view of Thea.
“I say, that was exciting, wasn’t it?”
Cole gave her a confused look.
“Oh! How dreadfully insensitive of me, that was your mother, wasn’t it? It was hard to tell in the dark.”
“That’s perfectly all right, I’m fine.”
“Good,” she grinned. “And it must be nice to hear that she forgives you.”
He was trying to peer around her and it took him a moment to realise what she had said.
“Yes, quite. If you’ll excuse me.”
He made his way to Thea and her father.
“Nightcap?” he asked.
“Excellent idea,” Copley agree. “You and Thea should compare notes. I want to stay here and see who has been unnerved by tonight’s events.”
“Are you sure?” Cole asked, although he appreciated the chance to spend time with Thea.
“Quite sure. Here.” He handed Thea the handkerchief he had taken from Madam Davina.
Thea didn’t seem to have been paying much attention to the conversation but she followed him to the study. The pug, who had been in the care of a servant during the séance, followed Thea.
Cole discovered the reason for Thea’s inattention once he closed the door behind them.
“I could throttle that woman!” Thea exclaimed. “Honestly, who does she think she is, toying with people’s grief?”
Cole had a rather different perspective. Yes, the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death were fictitious but had they not been, he would have felt comforted by the psychic’s words. While he didn’t believe in the supernatural, he was willing to concede that Madam Davina could ease people’s suffering, and he said as much.
“But it’s not true!” Thea argued. “Taking comfort in a lie is immoral.”
“Perhaps, but grief can be all consuming and if believing in ghosts or an afterlife eases their suffering, I cannot see any harm. The dead will not return to prove the mystic a liar.”
Thea shook her head, unable to understand what he was saying. Why would anyone want to believe a lie?
Realising the futility of his argument, he dropped the subject. “What did you want the handkerchief for?” he asked instead.
“The blood.” Thea suddenly seemed to remember she held it in her hand, and she brought the handkerchief to her nose and inhaled.
“What does that tell you?”
“I’m sure she didn’t spontaneously begin bleeding,” Thea explained. “I think the blood is bogus.”
“She couldn’t have wiped it on herself, she was holding hands with those either side of her.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. She held our hands the entire time the light was out. Except for right at the end, which didn’t give her enough time to put blood on her face.
“And when she sneezed?”
“She… got a handkerchief out.”
“Exactly.”
“But the séance hadn’t begun then, not really, and she was holding our hands for the rest of the event.”
Thea wasn’t at all sure about that but couldn’t prove otherwise yet.
“If she sneezed and retrieved her handkerchief, why did she accept someone else’s handkerchief at the end?”
“I… don’t know, perhaps in the commotion, she forgot she already had her own.”
“Perhaps,” Thea didn’t sound convinced.
She opened the handkerchief and made her way over to an oil lamp, Cole watching her closely.
“This isn’t blood,” she proclaimed. “Aside from the fact that a nose bleed often causes a handkerchief to be saturated, this is a slightly wrong colour.
Cole approached her to see for himself. He wasn’t an expert and the light was low, but he thought it looked very much like blood, and told her as much.
Thea responded by taking her own handkerchief out and undoing a brooch on her gown. Cole watched her actions in puzzlement, until she aimed the pin of the brooch at her finger. He caught her hand before she could stab herself.
“Are you mad, woman?”
“I’m merely attempting to prove that this,” she waved the stained handkerchief, “is not blood.”
“Not by harming yourself! I realise that you don’t like to be wrong, Thea, but I can't allow you to maim yourself to prove a point.”
“It’s a pinprick, Cole, I’ve suffered worse while sewing.”
“Perhaps that’s true, but I can't bear to see you hurt yourself. I believe you, the blood is phoney.”
“Except you don’t believe me, you are simply trying to placate me.”
“Then surely there has to be a better way to convince me. A mind like yours must be able to find another way to prove it.”
“There isn’t enough here to determine with accuracy what the stain is made of. Even if there was, I only brought a small selection of my laboratory equipment and chemicals. In sunlight I could possibly transfer some to a slide and put it under a microscope so you can see that this hasn’t clotted, as blood would, but even so, you would need to see a slide of clotted blood to compare and contrast.”
“Then we wait until tomorrow, and I will supply a drop of blood to compare it to.”
Her jaw slackened. “So you cannot watch me prick my finger, but you expect me to watch you do it?”
“Well, yes. It’s only a pin prick and hardly a bad pain.”
She raised her eyebrows, since he was essentially using her same arguments in his own defence. He also thought he detected a smile on her lips but he couldn’t be sure, it might be a grimace at his hypocrisy.
“I was teasing,” she admitted. “I saw a brain this morning, watching you prick your finger, like the Sleeping Beauty did, would not be too difficult to watch in comparison.”
“You are correct, of course, but I worry that being right is so important to you, that you may lose sight of your safety. This investigation is not worth even one drop of your blood, Thea, and I would rather it was never solved, than have you place yourself in harm’s way.”
“I can be single minded,” Thea admitted. “But I have been that way since I was a child, and I am unlikely to change now. I’m sorry.” She looked away, sounding despondent.
Cole stepped closer and placing a finger under her chin, applied gentle pressure until she raised her head and looked into his eyes.
“Never apologise for being you,” he said, attempting to convey the depth of his regard for her in his expression. “But do not expect me to stop caring because it’s inconvenient for you.”
She was frowning, seemingly confused.
“Cole?”
He still wasn’t convinced of her feeling for him but given her anger on his behalf, not to mention the sensation when they touched (which he was fairly sure she experienced too) he was willing to risk exposing his feelings.
“I find that I have come to care for you, Thea, a great deal. I know you value honesty above all else, so I cannot tell you that I love you yet, I don’t know quite what this between us is yet, I have never experienced anything like it before. I think you can feel it as well, and it concerns you because it’s new to you too. Am I right, Thea, are you coming to care about me?”
For a few excruciatingly long moments, she didn’t respond. Just as he was losing hope, she nodded her head slightly, and he let out a breath he had been unaware that he was holding.
“Then might I suggest that we explore these feelings together, and find out if this attraction is the start of something very special?”
T
o his immense surprise, her eyes began to fill with tears.
“I’ve upset you?” he said, withdrawing his hands. He felt awful, wondering what he could have said to hurt her. His language had been a little business like he supposed, but Thea wasn’t a woman to be swayed by flowery prose. Or at least, he hadn’t thought she was.
“No!” She dropped both handkerchiefs on the floor and clutched his hands. “You have not upset me. I can't explain why I feel tearful, it is quite illogical but my tears do not reflect unhappiness, I assure you.”
He freed a hand and reached up to cup her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.
“I’d like to try an experiment, if you are willing,” Cole said softly.
“Oh?”
“Yes. You see, touching you makes me feel some very pleasurable sensations and I have a suspicion that kissing you would increase those agreeable feelings exponentially.”
“That is an interesting hypothesis, Sir, and I agree, one that needs testing.”
She had moved closer to him as she spoke, and he to her so that now, only inches separated them. He breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of her perfume or hair tonic, which contained notes of vanilla, sandalwood, cinnamon and perhaps sweet hay, certainly something that reminded him of the outdoors and sunshine, without being floral. It was a bold scent, not something he would usually associate with femininity but it was pleasurable nonetheless, and very befitting for her personality.
He almost wanted not to kiss her. Standing here, anticipating their first kiss, was a delightful feeling, one he wanted to draw as much pleasure from as possible. Unfortunately, he thought that kissing her might surpass this sensation, and his will to resist her was rapidly weakening.
With barely an inch separating them, she closed her eyes, her long black lashes casting an even longer shadow over her cheeks. As her lips parted, his will left him and he pressed his lips against hers, gently, testing his reception and her reaction.
Her lips were as soft as silk and she tasted vaguely of red wine. He was content to remain as they were for a while, exchanging soft kisses and drawing as much pleasure from the encounter as he could. Thea evidently had other ideas though, and she deepened the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue.
He wondered if he was taking advantage of her innocence but he could not stop her, nor could he end this kiss. Instead the hand on her cheek moved behind her neck and his other hand snaked around her waist, his hand in the small of her back, holding her to him. Her hands had wound themselves around his waist and her hands moved over the planes of his back.
He had felt attraction towards a few women in his time, he had even kissed a handful of them but none had made him feel as he did now; both like a young child on their birthday, bursting with excitement, and like an addict, receiving their first taste of opium for although he was not addicted to her, he already knew that he would be eager to savour her charms time and again.
It seemed as though time had stood still and when the kiss ended naturally, both of them overwhelmed by the depth of the emotions they were feeling and needing a respite, they remained in an embrace, their foreheads touching.
“I feel quite breathless,” she said, her voice soft but deepened by desire.
“And I,” he agreed.
“I would say we have validated your hypothesis.”
He couldn’t be certain, but he believed she was teasing him and played along. “Indeed, the results of this experiment have far exceeded my expectations.”
“And mine.” A sly smile curved the edges of her lips upwards. “Of course, one experiment is not enough to prove a theory.”
“Oh?”
“No, an experiment must be repeated often with the same results before it is proved and if possible, under a variety of circumstances, just in case external factors are influencing it.”
“Well, your understanding of science is far superior to mine, of course, so I must defer to your judgement in this matter.”
Her smile widened. “Are you suitably recovered to try again?”
“I believe I am.” His smile matched hers until to his surprise, she removed her hands from his back. She didn’t move away however, and her intent became clear as she opened the buttons on his tail coat, slipping her hands below the garment as she took a hold of him again.
Part of him wished that she hadn’t provided the additional temptation, while another part of him wished that she had continued, and opened his waistcoat also.
This time, she kissed him, rising up on her toes to press her lips to his. This kiss held more urgency than the first, not less as he expected, and he idly wondered how he would be able to behave like a gentleman while in public with her.
Passion rose in his loins and threatened to overwhelm him. He also had a feeling that she would not stop him either, since she appeared to be as affected as he was. That thought, the idea of disgracing her, sobered him enough to end the kiss, although he did not release her until the dog began to bark, drawing their attention to the footsteps which were approaching the door and even then, it was with reluctance.
A knock sounded on the door and after a moment to step away and rebutton his coat, Cole called for them to enter. Thea had retrieved the blood stained handkerchief from the floor and held it close to the oil lamp once more.
Chapter Eight
“Ah, there you are,” Copley said as he entered the room. If he noticed anything amiss in his host and rather flushed looking daughter, he did not query it. “How goes it in here?”
“Your daughter was just trying to convince me that the blood Madam Davina shed was not real,” Cole explained.
“And yet you sound unconvinced. Really Thea, I expected better from you.”
Thea turned to look at him. “Honestly, Father, I can only work with what I am given and when I am given a stubborn gentleman, I can hardly be expected to work miracles.” She returned her attention to the handkerchief but spared Cole a quick glance and playful wink.
Cole had wondered if Thea would take her father’s insult to heart, since subtlety often seemed to elude her. Now he realised that father and daughter were used to teasing and even if she couldn’t read most people’s social cues, she evidently knew her father well enough to judge his behaviour correctly.
The realisation pleased him, since the idea of a humourless marriage, no matter how passionate, wasn’t a welcome thought.
“Oh dear,” Lord Copley lamented. “And I did have such high hopes for Master Cole.”
“Fear not,” Thea explained. “He is stubborn, but not all together untrainable.”
“Speaking of untrainable, I see Mrs Cole’s dog is in here with you,” Copley said as he sat down. “She made something of a scene when it could not be immediately found.”
Copley joined him, sitting in the chair opposite.
“You will get me into trouble,” Thea wagged a finger at the dog. “But I may still redeem myself in Papa’s eyes.”
“You have proof?” Cole asked as she approached.
“Yes, I believe I do. Hold your hand up.” She took a seat beside him and pulled his hand onto her lap. Then she rubbed the blood stained part of the handkerchief over his index finger.
“Rub your thumb and forefinger together.” She imitated the movement and he copied her. “What do you notice?” she asked.
“Nothing untoward.”
“Does your fingertip not feel greasy?”
He frowned as he considered it. To check if the sensation was normal, he rubbed the thumb and finger of his other hand together, noting that when he applied pressure, the tips did not move at all as freely as his other hand.
“Yes, they do.”
“Blood is not oily,” she explained. “Even supposing it was, the blood should be try by now, while this stain is wet.”
Copley leaned forward and held his hand out. “May I?”
Thea gave him the cloth and he checked her findings for himself. When he was done, he brought his fingers to his nose and
inhaled deeply.
“What do you think it is made from?” Copley asked.
“A thin oil, possibly lamp or olive oil. I can detect a faint trace of rotten egg in the handkerchief, so I would think that the oil has been mixed with Cinnabar, also known as mercury sulphide. It’s the material often used to make vermillion oil paints.”
“How freely available is this Cinnabar?” Cole asked.
“Many artists prefer to mix their own paints, so the pigment powder is freely available.”
“Then the question now is, how did she place the oil on her face when both her hands were being held?”
“I’m sure the answer to that is simple,” Thea explained. “All the best conjuring tricks are, once you can figure them out.”
The grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimed 1am.
“I did not realise it was so late,” Thea sounded shocked.
“Yes, most of the ladies have retired to their beds now, claiming fatigue from the evening’s events,” Copley explained. “Their husbands are now joining them.”
“We should retire also,” Thea said.
They got to their feet.
“I will see you at breakfast, Mr Cole,” Lord Copley said.
“Indeed.”
Copley nodded to his daughter and left the room. Thea and Cole followed but at a much slower pace.
“I want to thank you, Sir, for being honest with me.”
“Honest?”
“About your feelings. You are not the first gentleman to show an interest in me, but you are the first to be honest about the extent of your feelings and not mislead me as to the depth of your affection. You have also not patronised me by uttering false platitudes designed to flatter me. In a world that consistently undermines and ridicules me, to find someone who has faith in my judgement is very welcome indeed.”
Cole smiled. “You are not upset by my kissing you?”
“Not at all, I rather enjoyed it.”
“You ‘rather enjoyed it’?” he asked, as though she had offended him.
“I was attempting to be circumspect,” she seemed upset to have slighted his character, even unintentionally.
“Thankfully, a good kissing technique is teachable and since I obviously need help to become proficient, I would recommend daily lessons. Do you know of any good teachers?”
Murder at Locke Abbey Page 11