by Anne Mallory
Kate gritted her teeth as Christian smiled brilliantly. “If it’s not inconvenient, I was hoping to search your room? A mere formality, of course.”
“Of course. Do come in now, but perhaps you would like to return later for a less formal search?” The woman’s voice was smooth as satin, and Kate decided she hated that fabric.
“Perhaps,” Christian replied easily.
Kate felt like throttling him. What was he thinking to flirt with one of their suspects? It’s not as if she would normally care, but he was on this investigation with her, damn it. Least he could do was to act professionally.
“Do you mind if I watch you work? I have the utmost respect for you Runners. So strong, and brave, and strong.” Kate saw the woman’s fingertips run along the edge of Christian’s arm, caressing his shirtsleeve. Wicked widow, indeed. Kate stumbled forward, and her flailing arm knocked the widow’s hand off Christian’s shirtsleeve.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, madam.”
Olivia barely spared her a look, instead continuing to send smoldering glances in Christian’s direction as she regained his arm and tucked hers under his. Olivia’s dress swished as she strolled with him farther into the room. One would think they were at a ball and not in a room that was at most seven paces long. Irritating man.
“Do tell me what you are looking for, Mr. Black? You won’t have to search us, will you?” She put her free hand to her bodice and fingered the delicate lace.
Kate blinked in shock, speechless.
“We just might have to at that, Mrs. Trent.”
“Do call me Olivia.”
“And you may call me Christian.”
Olivia gave him a self-satisfied smile, and Kate turned away to start rifling through the woman’s belongings. She could feel a brief, distasteful glance at her back, but Olivia simply made a tutting sound and flirted shamelessly with Christian once more.
Kate stifled a gasp of shock at finding a rod with a thin leather tail. She shoved it back into the traveling case.
“Did you find something of interest, Mr. Kaden?” Christian’s smooth voice sounded amused, and she just knew he had seen what had been uncovered in Olivia Trent’s valise.
“Not yet.” She cleared her throat. “Do carry on.”
After sorting through several oils, unidentified implements, and a few perfectly identifiable implements, a red-faced Kate shoved the case back under the bed. If the murder weapon was in there, then happy hunting to Christian if he was going to avail himself of the merry widow later. Just like Connor, he was.
She checked under the mattress and searched through the nooks and crannies of the dresser. She was running out of places to search when Christian finally decided to do what they had originally come here to do.
“Olivia, was your first night at the inn the night that Mr. Janson was murdered?”
“Yes, Francine and I are traveling to London and our coach stopped here for the evening. We are taking in all the sights. It’s been so long since I’ve been to Town properly.”
After examining Mrs. Trent’s case and watching her interact with Christian, Kate could just bet what those sights included. The shades were drawn and the lamps lit to cast Olivia in the best light.
“Did you hear anything odd the night Mr. Janson died?”
“I heard Mr. Lake yelling and glass shattering. Mr. Nickford was mucking about in the hall. I think Mrs. Wicket was down here twice, once to address the ruckus with Mr. Lake and a second time after.”
Kate was intrigued, despite herself. “How do you know Nickford was in the hall?”
Olivia’s gaze never left Christian. “I could hear him muttering. His voice is quite distinctive. Strange man, but rather well off, so I’m told.”
“And Mrs. Wicket?”
“She tripped on something, I think, I heard her cry out.”
“Cry out? Like she was hurt?”
“No. More like in shock. There was a bang like she hit the wall.”
“And the gallery? Did you hear anything out there?” Christian entered the questioning.
“Two people were talking around two or three in the morning. The chimes sounded. There was a sound like a scuffle as well, but I was nearly asleep at that point.”
Kate frowned. “Were you just falling asleep or had you been awakened by the scuffle?”
“Francine and I were talking. We had undressed and slipped under the covers.”
“Talking about what?”
“What we were going to do in London, how glad we were to leave the country.” Her look left Christian and she sent Kate a condescending glance. “Surely our conversation is of less interest to you than our toys.”
Kate was unimpressed by the widow’s patronizing glares and smug superiority. “I find you of very little interest actually, but we need to complete our investigation.”
Olivia’s eyes sparked and then narrowed.
“Did you notice anything else the night of Mr. Janson’s death? Besides the common room, your room is the only one to share a wall with Janson’s. Did you hear anything from his room?”
“Yes, I am quite aware of the layout, Mr. Kaden. Mr. Janson made a lot of noise until around two. Quite drunk, I do believe. Wouldn’t be surprised if in his drunken stupor he accidentally tossed himself over the railing.”
Kate saw Christian’s eyes narrow.
“Did you hear or see anything that could support that?” he asked.
“I wasn’t spying on my neighbors, Christian.” She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “I have much more pleasant ways of passing the time.”
The hall clock began to chime and Kate shivered. Christian deftly disentangled himself from Olivia, who gave a moue of disappointment. He walked over to Kate, and his hand briefly brushed her side.
“Unfortunately, we still have several more rooms to search, Olivia. Will we see you at supper?”
“Most definitely,” she purred.
Kate opened the door and walked from the room. She was irritated with Christian for flirting with a suspect and half surprised that he had walked away from the well-endowed widow to give her comfort. It made for a very aggravating and confusing state of mind.
Kate didn’t wait for Christian to follow as she walked around the stairwell. She paused for a moment and looked around. Olivia Trent really did have the best room for hearing everything that went on. Centrally located, next to the stairs, opening onto the gallery, and adjacent to the victim’s room. The only rooms that she would have trouble hearing conversations from would be the Crescents’ and the common room.
Christian tapped her shoulder, his gaze once more unreadable. “Desmond’s room next?”
She jerked her head in a nod and Christian strode forward and knocked. Desmond didn’t answer, fortunately, and Christian unlocked the door. As soon as they were inside he turned to her.
“Why are you so irritable all of a sudden?”
“Oh, please. ‘Christian, you are so strong and brave,’” she mimicked. “You did nothing to help in Olivia Trent’s room!”
“I kept her occupied while you searched, didn’t I?”
“You flirted shamelessly with her the entire time!”
He smirked. “Jealous?”
“No!”
He moved forward to flip open a book on top of the bed stand, his body touching hers. Before she could move, he leaned forward so his lips were barely brushing her half-exposed good ear. “There’s no reason to be jealous, Kate.”
Her voice caught somewhere in her throat, but her feet managed to move a step back.
“I’m not jealous, Black.”
“We’re suddenly back to last names, Kate? Seems I’ve made some progress after all.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite convince herself. His ability to unsettle her was reaching a new level that was a bit, well, unsettling.
Desmond’s room was uninspiring, quite like the man himself. It was devoid of any persona
l objects, with his cricket gear stacked in the corner.
“I suppose that makes sense,” Christian said. “He and Janson live nearby. They were staying at the inn for a night of celebration.”
Kate frowned. That thought had been bothering her for days. “Why wouldn’t they just leave to go home? Their other teammates did.”
He shrugged. “Janson’s home was being remodeled. His parents are still away; he likely was using the situation to his advantage. Wicket said he had that chat with Janson. He was attempting to woo Mary.”
“But that doesn’t explain why Desmond would also stay.”
He shook his head. “Janson was the type who needed someone else to back him. Someone standing behind his shoulder sneering.”
“So you think that’s why Desmond remained?”
“I think Desmond probably stayed because Janson asked him to.” Christian picked through the cricket gear. “We will have to ask him though.”
Kate looked under the bed. Nothing was there, not even a ball of dust. “Good housekeeping service here.”
She turned to see Christian examine the cricket bat.
“There’s no dearth of cricket bats in this inn, is there?”
Christian looked speculative. “Except Janson’s. He played in the match the other day right along with Desmond and Lake. Yet I haven’t seen his bat, have you?”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “You think he was killed by his own bat?”
“Why not?”
She watched him turn Desmond’s bat. Unlike the others, Desmond’s was clean and well kept. Christian saw her staring.
“Desmond’s a mouthy one, not one to get dirty. The only reason he was even in the taproom fight was because he was assaulting people who weren’t paying attention.”
Christian placed the bat back on the chair and motioned to leave the room.
“You don’t think it was Desmond.”
Christian shrugged. “Could easily have been. A jealous rage, perhaps? Tired of being in Janson’s shadow? Perhaps he wasn’t as devoted a second as everyone seemed to think. Men like Desmond aspire to greatness, but are too petty to ever truly achieve it.”
Christian somehow convinced her to search the Crescents’ room again, since the couple was out. The room was probably very light and airy during the daytime hours, but the sun had already set, and Christian lit a lamp.
Other than a silver-handled cane, there was little of interest. The room was well-appointed, with three casement windows and direct access to the gallery.
Kate watched Christian look through the desk and raised a brow as he swore.
“You didn’t see anything resembling the journal that Freewater mentioned, did you?”
“No. Why are you so single-minded about trying to get your hands on Freewater’s journal? It’s the first thing you search for in every room. I even saw you look under the mattress in Tiegs’s room, don’t think I didn’t. That’s what gave me the idea to do the same in Olivia Trent’s room.”
“Well, while we are searching, we might as well search for the journal too. We don’t know what else we are looking for now, do we?” His voice was harsh.
“Let’s look for Janson’s bat. That was a splendid idea you had.”
He gripped the desk. “But that still doesn’t bring us closer to finding the journal.”
Kate decided not to comment. There was obviously something special about the journal, but until he decided to share it with her, she would continue to keep her peace. Unless it impeded their investigation.
His grip on the desk gradually loosened, though there was a tiredness that remained in his eyes. “Fine. Let’s search Janson’s room. I know that the servants said it was completely bare, but we should still check it over to see if anything was left behind.”
“Then we can go to supper. They should be serving soon.”
“Fine.” He nodded tightly as they exited the room and locked the door. Sally collided with them as they turned the hall corner at the stairwell. She murmured a quick apology and ducked her head after giving Kate a shy smile.
Christian waited for her to pass before leaning down to Kate. “Looks like you have an admirer after all, Mr. Kaden.”
“You are mad. Have you seen the looks Sally gives Benji? Methinks you are blind if you haven’t.”
Christian started to whistle, and while she was glad his mood had improved, his mercurial nature still bothered her. She had determined sometime while in Olivia Trent’s room that it wasn’t Christian who was mercurial, but rather the façade he presented to everyone. The man had an ironclad persona that he seemed to don without a thought. She wondered why he felt the need to disguise his emotions so thoroughly.
Christian opened Janson’s door. The servants had been correct; the room was completely clean.
“I wonder when Sally cleaned this room?” Christian asked.
“Elias and Mary did say there was nothing in the room just before Gordon found the body.”
Christian frowned. “Mary didn’t open the door. I think it was Elias.”
Kate considered it. “You’re right. Mary came down saying the door was locked and Janson wasn’t responding. Wicket then sent Elias up. We should have probably examined this room first yesterday, but you were determined to search Freewater’s.”
She gave him a look that he chose to ignore.
There wasn’t much furniture to search here either, but Christian checked under the mattress and Kate peered through the drapes and out onto the gallery. As she pulled the green drape closed, she noticed a bit of lighter green clinging to a sliver of wood. Curious, she leaned down and plucked up the few threads.
“Christian, is this the same color as the cloth we took from Janson’s hand?”
He let the mattress fall and lifted the pieces up to examine them in the lamplight. “Well, the drapes are green. Could they be stray threads?”
“The drapes are a different fabric. The drapes are velvety; these cotton threads are similar to what we found in Janson’s hand.”
He grinned. “Excellent work, Kate.”
She tried to wave it off, but a pleased heat spread through her.
They walked from the room and saw Nickford muttering to himself in the hallway.
“Good evening, Mr. Nickford,” Kate said.
He looked up and blinked. “Ah, good evening, Mr. Kaden, Mr. Black. Good night for catching ghouls.”
“Uh, sure, good luck, Mr. Nickford.”
He gave a cheery wave.
“Nicked in the head,” Christian muttered. Kate swatted his arm and he caught her hand, rubbing it between his bare fingers. His touch was light enough that small tingles radiated from the contact. She shivered.
He hadn’t worn gloves since that first night. His smooth hands possessed a strength and firmness that echoed his personality. Smooth and shallow on the outside, but with a core of inner strength that sometimes peeked through. It was those glimpses that held her interest.
She reclaimed her hand, clasping the railing as they descended to the ground floor. Every new touch made her more nervous about what was happening between them. Or at least what was happening to her. He probably did this type of thing all the time.
As they entered the dining room, they could hear the general chatter.
“…and he wasn’t accounted for during that time. I know he did it!”
Kate stopped in mid-step. Mr. Crescent was gesturing wildly. He had discovered the murderer?
“And he’s standing right there!”
He pointed directly at Christian.
Chapter 13
If you can’t get it right the first time, you are a failure.
The Marquess of Penderdale
to Christian, age twelve
Christian wasn’t sure why he froze. Perhaps it was the appalled look on Kate’s face or the wild, accusing one on Crescent’s, but he felt as if he had once again been accused of being a bad child when he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I di
dn’t do it,” he blurted out, the old feelings briefly resurfacing before he squashed them flat. “What are you on about, Crescent?” he said with his normal drawl.
He deliberately avoided looking at Kate. He was sure she wore the same look of disappointment that his father and brothers sported before he had escaped to Eton. Christian ruthlessly squashed those thoughts as well. And here he had thought he had shown that he could actually be of use for something besides witty repartee and debauchery. He should have known better.
A small hand tugged him to the side. He looked down to see Kate glaring at Crescent in confusion and horror. Horror directed at Crescent and not at him.
Something warm spread through him.
Crescent made an impatient motion with his hand. “Not you, Black, the man behind you!”
Christian turned to see Benji staring wide-eyed at Crescent. The male servants must have returned from working on the roads now that it was getting dark.
“You!”
Benji shrank back, and Christian felt his ire over his youthful demons redirected toward Crescent.
“Mr. Crescent, could you please explain what it is you are accusing Benji of?”
“He nicked my trousers!”
Christian’s relief was so profound that he couldn’t stifle the laughter that rose in his chest. He felt Kate shudder next to him and thought she too was snickering, but doing a better job of hiding it.
“This isn’t funny, Black!”
Christian continued to grin. “No, not funny at all, Crescent.”
“I demand he return my trousers at once!”
Christian let loose another snicker and a few of the other patrons couldn’t hold in theirs as well. He noticed that Tom, who had returned with Benji after helping to clear the roads, was also standing in the doorway. He wasn’t laughing. He was in fact shooting Crescent an extremely menacing glare.
Kate said out of the side of her mouth, “I guess you were right about the occasional trouser theft.”
And with that he let go of his memories and the pain. Oh, they would return sometime in the future, they always did, but for now a true grin appeared. Kate surreptitiously squeezed his side.