by Cheryl Bolen
“I think it unlikely to have been performed in rural Lincolnshire.”
“Clever man.”
“And do you appreciate Shakespeare?”
“I do, and it’s impossible for me to convey to you how greatly I’m looking forward to tonight’s play.”
Soon the candles were extinguished, and the curtain went up. Her breath caught over the rich silks of the Elizabethan costumes in bright reds and greens. She quickly became engrossed in the plot, in every nuance of the dialogue, in the sheer pleasure she received from watching this delightful comedy.
How happy she was that she would be marrying and settling in Bath where such delights as the theatre, musicals, and assemblies were held throughout the year. Even simple acts like walking from her house to Forrester’s provided a diversity of people and conveyances and architecture like she’d never before known.
At the same time, it shamed her to admit she never again wanted to live at Blandings. She would miss the villagers and her family’s servants she’d known all her life, but she would never miss the monotony of the days.
No wonder she’d become so attached to her cats! As much as she loved her kitties, she thought as she squeezed her betrothed’s strong hand, they did not compare to people and would never be able to compete with the man she would marry. How strange it seemed that a month ago she knew not of his existence, and now the thought of not spending her life with him was unbearable. How could she have fallen in love so thoroughly in so short a time?
During the intermission after the third act, Glee Blankenship and her mother-in-law came to their box. “And where is your dear father?” the elder Mrs. Blankenship asked as she came to sit on the other side of Dot.
Dot felt guilty she’d not even thought to ask her father. How he would have welcomed the opportunity to see Mrs. Blankenship. “Knowing that my Papa is no great fan of the bard, I neglected to invite him.” That much was true.
“Typical man,” Mrs. Blankenship said. “I suppose he’d rather be playing whist.”
That gave Dot an idea. She nodded. “I should love to have a gathering at our house that would indulge my father’s interest in whist. Do you play?” she asked the older woman.
“I adore whist, and I should welcome any invitation that would include me in an evening of whist, especially with your delightful father.”
That Mrs. Blankenship obviously returned Mr. Pankhurst’s affection pleased Dot. Her own betrothal had presented the problem of leaving her father alone at Blandings, a most distasteful prospect. She would have been happy to have her father live with her and Forrester, but her father, quite naturally, preferred his own home, a home he was proud of and which had belonged to the Pankhurst family for well over two hundred years.
While the women chatted, Forrester rose and went to speak with Blanks, who’d come into the box after the women.
At the end of the intermission, the Blankenships returned to their own box.
When the play ended, Dot joined the audience in clapping heartily for the excellent cast. She turned to Forrester. “This has been wonderful! I shall never forget this night and seeing my first production of Shakespeare.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “It’s merely the first of many.”
Outside, it had begun to rain. She was thankful they’d come in Forrester’s coach and happy to see his coach awaiting. Inside the dark cubicle, he gathered her close. She could have sighed with deep contentment.
“I’ve spoken with Annie about the inquiries you and I have been making about Ellie Macintosh’s murder,” he said.
“Allow me to guess. She wishes to join us in our queries.”
“Of course. You two think entirely too much alike.”
“She is to be my sister.”
He squeezed her hand. “Tomorrow the three of us will go speak with Ellie’s friend Maryann. Sir Elvin found out for us where she lives and told her to be expecting a visit from me.”
“She knows you?”
“Seeing that she works at Mrs. Starr’s and seeing that I have been playing there since I came down from Oxford, yes.”
They’d not gone far when he pressed a kiss onto her cheek. She felt as if an explosion occurred inside her chest.
Is he going to kiss me again? Her heartbeat roared, and she was filled with trepidation, worried her inexperience could displease him, though he’d given every indication of complete satisfaction the previous night.
As the coach drew nearer to her street, her pulse hammered. Even though no words were spoken, she knew he was going to kiss her.
“Given the rain,” he murmured, “I won’t be able to give you a proper good-night kiss on your doorstep.” His lips found hers in the dark. His arms closed around her, drawing her close.
She was swamped by unexpected emotions. This was no quick peck. It was as if his lips were an extension of hers. As his hands traced sensuous circles on her back, she was lost to the overwhelming pleasure of melding into one with this man she adored. Her ragged breath ebbed and surged like a raging sea.
Had he ever breathed so huskily before? Or was she just more aware because they were so close?
Her arms came fully around him as her breasts flattened against his chest. She experienced the urge to be as close to him as skin, his delicious sandalwood-scented skin.
She was vaguely aware that he must be as satisfied as she with this intimacy for he made no effort to stop, no effort to cease his little grunts of pleasure.
When his coach stopped in front of her house, she could have wept with disappointment. His head lifted, and he pressed soft kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, and—to her complete astonishment—on the tops of her breasts as his hand cupped their plumpness. Her cheeks flushed.
She’d never felt more womanly.
He walked with her to the front door, though she had implored him not to in the rain. They stood briefly just before her footman swept open the door. Forrester gently ran a finger lovingly down her nose, bent and kissed her on the cheek, then said his farewells as—soaked—he returned to his coach.
In her blissful stupor, she could have wafted up the staircase without her feet touching the steps. Though the man she loved had never proclaimed a deep affection for her, tonight’s and last night’s passionate kisses gave her hope.
* * *
Back in the coach, Appleton let out a huge sigh. Kissing Dot had been most pleasurable. Thank God that aspect of their marriage would answer well. He found her intoxicatingly desirable.
He’d only paid lackluster attention to tonight’s play because he’d been so obsessed over Dot and the fact he was alone with her in the dark. Her low-cut gown had him throbbing with the desire to feel her, taste her, possess her.
The sooner they married, the sooner he could slake his hunger.
Still he could not dispel the notion that had come to him at the assembly, the notion that she might not be in love with him. He could not deny that her response to his greedy kiss tonight was warm enough. There was nothing cold about her. But, then, Dot was possessed of an affectionate nature.
He had only to remember the way she used to tote those damned cats about the city, to visualize the way she caressed the damned things to be reminded of her affectionate nature. Then, too, there was the way her heart had gone out to Ellie’s memory, even though she’d never met her.
Was her generous spirit the reason she kissed so satisfyingly? He wished he could believe she was in love with him—a selfish sentiment, given that he was not in love with her.
Chapter 14
“Sir Elvin told Ellie’s friend to expect us today,” Forrester said as the three of them strolled along the pavement in the direction of the city center. “Her lodgings are above a shop on Milsom Street.”
“What’s the lady’s name?” Annie asked.
“Maryann. I forgot to ask what her surname is,” Forrester said.
“Does Sir Elvin know why you wished to speak with Maryann?” Annie inquired.
&nb
sp; He nodded. “Sir Elvin’s the only other person with whom I’ve shared that we’re making inquiries.”
“Because you needed his assistance.”
“Precisely.”
Dot’s stomach roiled when she thought of Forrester lying with his mistress after the play last night. “Did you go with Sir Elvin later last night?”
He shook his head.
So he was not going to tell her where he was. At least he wasn’t going to lie.
“What did you do when you got home?” he asked.
“Papa and I played chess, and of course, the kitties vied for places on my lap. It got rather lively. Lover Boy and Nellie got into an altercation.”
He quirked a brow. “Was either injured?”
Why was it the thought of violent actions aroused men’s interest? “There’s always a bit of blood drawn, and bits of fur go flying, but nothing serious. We’ve become accustomed to it with cats. They’re not as docile with one another as dogs.” She looked up at him. “I daresay like most men, you prefer dogs.”
“I do—but that’s not to say I have anything against cats.”
It did not escape Dot’s notice that Annie looked askance at him over that last comment.
When they reached Milsom the crowds on the pavement thickened. By walking closest to the street, Forrester’s body served to shield the ladies’ gowns from splatters.
“Who won the chess game?” he asked.
Dot’s brows shot up. “Would you care to guess?”
“If I were still a wagering man—which I’m not—my money would be on you.”
She wondered if he were telling her the truth about not gambling any more, or was it a ploy to get his hands on her fortune? After all, he was a noted profligate, according to the Bath Chronicle.
She eked out a smile. “You’d be right, sir.”
“Why so formal?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there is a disparity in our stations.”
“Not after we’re wed. You’ll be the same rank as me, Lady Appleton-to-Be.”
It was difficult to remain out of charity with him. She had only to think of herself as his wife—she didn’t give a fig that he was a viscount—to forget to be wounded.
And she had only to remember being held in his powerful arms the night before, being thoroughly kissed by him. She could have sighed out loud.
Before a wedding could occur, though, she had to talk to him and make it clear she would not tolerate infidelity in a marriage. She’d heard that’s how marriages in the ton were conducted, and if it were so, she wanted no part of it—even if she had to leave Forrester and return to Blandings.
“What shop are we looking for?” she asked.
“A draper’s by the name of Foley’s.”
“I know it,” Annie said.
Dot nodded. “Me, too. I remember it’s on the other side of the street.”
Annie smiled. “That’s right.”
“I’ve lived in Bath for years and never noticed it, and how long have you been here?” he asked Dot.
She shrugged. “About five weeks.”
“You’re making me feel most inferior.”
“Wait until you play chess with me,” she said, giving him an exaggerated haughty grin.
“I shall have to abstain. My pride is already bruised.”
She wondered why his pride would have been bruised. It certainly was not because he’d failed to notice a linen draper’s.
At the next intersection, they had to wait for a pony cart laden with onions, a milk cart, several solo men on horses, and a mail coach to pass before the way was clear for them to cross the busy street.
Next to the door for Foley’s Linen Drapers was another door leading to a steep flight of wooden stairs which they took to the landing on the third level, where there were two doors, one Number Four, the other Number Five. “She’s at Four,” he said as he knocked.
He knocked several times before a voice behind the door asked. “Who do you be?”
Dot didn’t blame the girl for being cautious. After all, her closest friend had been brutally murdered.
“It’s Lord Appleton.”
The door opened, and a young woman—or was she still a girl?—smiled at him in obvious recognition. “Sir Elvin told me to expect you and yer lady friend today. Won’t you come in? I’m sure yer lordship is accustomed to much finer lodgings than this, but I aim to keep it clean.”
They swept into the shabby chamber. It was a fairly large room that served a trio of purposes. A lumpy bed edged into one corner and an eating table and chair into another while another third of the chamber accommodated a sofa covered in faded chintz. The clean wooden floors had no rugs, but simple cotton curtains covered the front and back windows.
The girl herself could not have reached twenty. Even though Maryann obviously could not afford costly clothing, she dressed stylishly in a mint green morning dress with puffed sleeves and scooped neckline. Her white, white skin resembled the finest porcelain, and her coppery hair coiled into ringlets.
It took no great understanding for Dot to realize Mrs. Starr shrewdly selected her girls because of their beauty, for Maryann’s face and figure were both flawless.
Just being in her presence made Dot feel even more inadequate.
Forrester faced the girl. “I’m sorry I don’t know your full name.”
“It’s Maryann Simpkins.”
“Miss Simpkins, I should like to present you to my sister, Annie Appleton, and my betrothed, Miss Pankhurst.”
Maryann dipped into a curtsy to each.
Not wanting to feel superior to the girl, Dot returned the curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Maryann waved toward the sofa. “Won’t you please sit?”
Dot and Annie sat down, but Forrester chose to remain standing.
“It may seem odd that we’re calling on you today,” Forrester said, “but both Miss Pankhurst and I are grievously affected over the tragic death of your friend Ellie Macintosh, and we wish to do everything in our power to learn the identity of the fiend responsible for her murder . . .”
“And make sure he’s punished,” Dot added.
The lady’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t get it out of my mind. I was with her just the afternoon she died. Who knew I’d never see her again? Who could have known a monster would deprive her of life?” A sob burst from her, but she quickly recovered. “For all I know, he could come for me next.”
“That’s another reason I’m so determined to find the madman,” he said. “We can’t allow him to slay again. Perhaps you know something that will help us find him.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know nothing.”
“Did Miss Macintosh speak to you of coming into some money recently?” Dot asked, her voice gentle.
Maryann’s eyes widened. “She did. That last afternoon.”
“How did she get it?” Forrester asked.
“That she wouldn’t say. All I know is that she did something she was sorry she’d done.”
“Would you say she was melancholy that afternoon?” Dot asked.
“She was. She was being very hard on herself. She kept saying it was too late to give the money back. Her wicked deed had been done.”
“But you don’t know what the wicked deed was?” he asked.
“No idea,” Maryann said.
“Do you know if there was a man she saw? A sweetheart?” Dot asked.
Maryann shook her head. “I never knew her to ever give encouragement to any man. She thought they were all interested in . . . well, in something she wasn’t. Ellie was a country girl at heart. She’d like to have married a farm laborer and settled on land and had a family, but I got the feeling she felt there was no place where she belonged, though Ellie was very tight-lipped. She didn’t talk much about herself.”
“Did you ever see her speaking with any men outside of Mrs. Starr’s?” he asked.
She pondered this for a moment. “No, never. I’m
sorry I’m not of any help.”
“It’s not your fault,” Dot said, standing. “But we’re not going to give up.”
When they reached her door, Maryann said, “Wait!”
They whirled around to face her.
“I just remembered something, something I believe is very important. She was going to come into some money that same night as she died. She must have been planning to meet a man.”
“The killer,” Dot murmured, a chill spiking along her spine.
“And you have no idea who she was going to meet?” he asked.
Maryann shook her head morosely. “She said she hoped she wouldn’t be late for w-w-work.” Maryann burst out crying. “Sh-sh-she never made it to work that night.”
Forrester moved to her and settled a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for talking with us today. If I can ever be of assistance, you can find me at Camden Place. And I beg of you, do not walk alone at night and always lock your door.”
“Thank you, my lord. As it is, Mrs. Starr has retained the services of a hackney coach to take home all the girls at the end of the evening. All the girls that’s left, that is.”
“That’s very good of her.”
Dot came and set a hand on her forearm. “If you remember anything else, do let Lord Appleton know. Do give the lady your card, my darling,” Dot said to Forrester.
It took him a moment to find which pocket he’d put the cards in. “We shan’t rest until the wicked man pays for his crime,” he said as they left.
* * *
Now they had gotten information, such as it was, from Ellie’s landlady and elderly neighbor as well as Ellie’s closest friend, Appleton knew barely more than he’d known before he started. He felt like the exhausted fisherman with empty nets.
They had learned Ellie had taken money for doing something she regretted, and that she had met with a possibly dark-haired gentleman of above average height at Sydney Gardens. It took no great intelligence to believe the two things they’d learned were related.
Seeing the fear that petrified the youthful Maryann made him even more determined to do everything in his power to stop the murderer from striking again.