Although Harriet didn’t speak a word, McTavish explained, “If we’re to be here a while, we can’t be standing all night.”
Unfortunately, there weren’t enough seats for Harriet.
Katherine cleared her throat. “I might have something in the study, though it took two men to bring it up…”
McTavish patted his knee. “Och now, let’s not go through the bother. Harriet can come sit right here if her feet get tired.”
Harriet glared at him.
Pru blushed scarlet. She glanced at her husband to be, her color deepening even further before she stared at her lap. “Let me help with that, Harriet.” Her mumbled words were so low that they seemed to blur together. Her intention, however, was clear as she bent over the table and helped Harriet fix the cups.
Wayland stepped back from the last chair and offered it to Harriet. “You can sit here.”
Warily, Harriet glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “And where will you sit?”
Wayland shrugged. He lowered himself to the floor next to Katherine’s armchair and leaned his shoulder against it. “I don’t mind the floor. It’s where Emma prefers me to be, in any case.” As the happy dog trotted up to him, he submitted to her begging and scratched her behind the ears. “See?”
The tension in the room eased. Harriet delivered Wayland’s cup to him with a whispered, “Thank you.” When she’d doled out the remainder of the tea service, she claimed the chair, holding her teacup on her lap. She didn’t look in McTavish’s direction once.
Wayland cleared his throat. “So, how are the wedding plans progressing?”
Katherine nearly groaned. Why did he have to bring them up? It was perhaps the one topic she didn’t care to discuss, for she’d held enough conversations in the past month on the topic to last her a lifetime.
Pru, on the other hand, beamed as she launched into excruciating detail about the problems she had and hadn’t solved in the past few days. Of course, she wanted Katherine’s opinion on each problem and solution. With her throbbing ankle, Katherine couldn’t avoid the conversation this time. She could only engage as best she could while trying to hold her temper and to stay awake.
She must have fallen asleep at one point, because when she woke, it was to Pru’s groan. Her friend stretched, glancing over her shoulder at the drawn curtains. “What is the time?”
McTavish’s snore rent the room. Scowling, Harriet nudged him awake with her foot. He blinked, confused at first, before he narrowed his eyes at her and wiped drool from his mouth.
Katherine laid her hand on the arm of the chair to adjust her position, only to brush her fingers against locks of hair—surprisingly soft locks of hair. Wayland jerked awake. Emma stirred in his lap.
Pru rubbed her eyes and squinted at the window. “I think it must be dawn.”
Katherine’s stomach dropped. “Dawn?” Had they missed the intrusion of the murderer?
Pru nodded and grimaced. She pressed her lips together as she rose, stretching out sore muscles. Annandale did the same. “It’s time for us to leave.”
“You can’t,” Katherine said at once.
Pru pinned her with a frown. “It’s morning. No one will arrive now. The best we can hope is that someone will come tomorrow.”
Katherine pressed her lips together. How could her plan have failed?
Seeming to take pity on her, Wayland rumbled, his voice rough from sleep, “It takes time for rumors to spread.”
But he had delivered the rumor into the ears of one of her suspects directly! Unless Mr. Gammon hadn’t killed his father… But who did that leave?
Pru asked, “Have you told Lady Dalhousie?”
“Last night.”
“There you have it, then. You can’t expect her to spread a rumor to all of London in a single night. Give her the day at least.”
“Then you’ll return tonight?” Katherine hated her small voice. Even if Pru didn’t return, she would do this on her own.
“We’ll return tonight,” Pru promised.
With a soft groan, Wayland unfolded his big frame. “Where else would we be?”
That night, when Katherine opened the door, she met Wayland’s scowl with one of her own.
“What are you doing answering the door?”
Katherine crossed her arms over her chest, even though the movement left her to balance on one leg. “You aren’t the first person here tonight. Harriet is busy.”
He narrowed his eyes, clipping off his words. “I could have waited.”
“Carrying that…” Katherine frowned. “Why did you bring a chair?”
Wayland grunted. “Your floor is unforgiving. And don’t change the subject.”
Katherine stepped backward, trying to hide her limp from him by putting the door between them.
He stepped inside, depositing his treasure on the floor. He shut the door, stripping off his gloves. “You should be resting your ankle.”
Heaving a sigh, Katherine returned to her armchair in the parlor, the same she had occupied last night. Lord Annandale, Pru, and McTavish had already arrived and claimed the same seats they had the night before. “My ankle is much improved.”
“Much improved” did not mean “healed.” With every step, pain jarred her. She tried her best to conceal it.
Wayland drawled as he followed her, “Oh yes, your limp makes it perfectly clear that you healed overnight.”
She glared at him as she sank into her seat. “I said improved, not healed.”
Fortunately, Emma called attention to herself. Having been kept up late the night before, she had slept the day away with Katherine and remained full of bubbling energy. She raced around the room, interfering with the banal conversations they carried on for the next few hours. After she shamelessly begged attention from everyone, she jumped onto Katherine’s lap and settled in for a nap. Katherine fought the urge to do the same.
Night had fallen shortly after Wayland had arrived. Despite the company, they had exhausted any possible means of conversation during the long night before. With little to say to one another, the conversation was stretched and thin, pregnant with pauses that made Katherine’s eyelids feel heavier. She blinked, shaking her head to wake up.
Harriet stifled a yawn with her fist. She stood, stretching. “I’ll fetch some more tea. Or perhaps coffee. I sense we’ll need something strong.”
Mumbles of assent drifted from the ring of visitors. When Harriet turned and stepped toward the door, she did so alone. The warmth and crackle of the hearth did little to dispel the sleepy atmosphere.
Harriet nudged McTavish with her foot. “Aren’t you going to help?”
He yawned, his jaw cracking. “’Tis not my household.”
She kicked him harder.
“Ouch!”
Harriet shook her head in disgust and bustled away. “I scarcely touched you. You’re on duty, even if you aren’t in your own home.”
McTavish stood and winked. “It seems the lady needs me.” As he followed her out, he hid another loud yawn behind his hand.
Katherine sighed, settling deeper into the armchair and wishing for the freedom to move. She didn’t want to rouse Emma, not when it had taken so long to quiet her. But her ankle throbbed, and she could use a stretch.
On the loveseat opposite, Pru suddenly seemed wide awake. She leaned forward, fiddling with the folds of her skirt. “Wayland, I’m surprised you weren’t the first here today.”
Wayland exchanged a glance with Katherine. Patiently, he explained, “Katherine and I did not go out this evening.”
“I can see that,” Pru countered, her voice syrupy sweet. “Why didn’t you invite us to the theater? We were free yesterday evening.”
Wayland’s expression darkened for a moment before it smoothed to one of ennui. “You and Annandale have so little time alone with each other. I didn’t want to impose.”
Her smile broadened. “Oh yes, I can see that privacy was foremost on your mind.”
Katherin
e’s head was too fuzzy from sleep to want to engage in that thorny conversation. Surreptitiously, she nudged Emma with the back of her hand, waking her. The dog leapt to attention with a full round of barks. She scrambled off Katherine’s lap, circling the room with such canine vigor that Lord Annandale winced and tried to cover his ears. The conversation dropped. Fortunately, when Harriet and McTavish returned with the coffee, Pru held her tongue.
They managed to stay awake for the rest of the night, but it was a battle. By the time hints of gray lightened the windows, they were all ready to fall asleep in their chairs. Pru looked haggard, with deep circles under her eyes. Wearily, she leaned her elbows onto her knees. “Katherine, we cannot do this every night.”
Pru had been reluctant from the start, but the fact that she was ready to abandon the investigation hurt more than Katherine cared to admit. Katherine swallowed—hard. “It’s only been two nights. As you said yourself, rumors take time to spread.”
Pru shook her head. Her lips thinned into a thin slash, emphasizing her sharp chin. “And how many more nights do you intend for us to sit here? Think of your ankle; this cannot be an ideal way for you to heal.”
“I’m not vexing it…”
Wayland stood, his height drawing everyone’s attention as he loomed over them. “If you don’t want to keep watch every night, then don’t. The idea still has merit. Why don’t we alternate evenings? There’s no reason for all four of us to be here. If you’d like to get some sleep, McTavish and I can return tomorrow evening.”
Under his breath, McTavish muttered, “Speak for yourself.”
Wayland pretended not to hear.
Pru met his gaze, holding it a moment as she raised one eyebrow. “Very well. If you want to continue, you can come tomorrow. We’ll keep watch the next day.” She turned to Katherine. “I trust that will be acceptable?”
Katherine gritted her teeth. That was the pain and exhaustion speaking. She nodded, suddenly eager for her guests to depart so she could go to bed.
It wasn’t ideal, but Wayland was right. She didn’t need so many bodies around as witnesses; one or two would do. And even if Pru did not intend to be among that number the next day, at least Katherine would not be facing Dr. Gammon’s murderer alone. Wayland had proven himself a staunch ally in this investigation.
Chapter Eighteen
Unlike lady Katherine, Harriet did not have the leisure to sleep long into the afternoon. She had far too many matters to handle and far too few daylight hours in which to untangle them. Fortunately, a few scones were left from Miss Burwick and Lord Annandale’s visit. Harriet fed those to Katherine when she awoke, along with tea and jam. Her chores consumed her throughout the day, and the supper hour had fallen upon her without warning. Fortunately, Mrs. Ramsey hadn’t minded parting with two plates of hot roast and boiled potatoes in exchange for Harriet’s promised return with some salacious gossip. That was a small price to pay, for Katherine had been hungrier than usual.
Now that the day had come and gone, Harriet was falling asleep on her feet—and she still had a night’s watch to do with the others. She stifled a yawn as she pulled open the door, ushering the guests inside. At least she would not have to keep watch alone. With luck, the two men would provide more than enough entertainment, and Lady Katherine wouldn’t notice if Harriet happened to fall asleep.
The moment Captain Wayland and McTavish entered the townhouse—the latter with his usual swagger—Harriet stripped away their outer gear and mumbled about fetching the tea service. She turned her back to stow their garments and ambled down the corridor in a daze. She didn’t realize that she had company until she reached the kitchen and put on the kettle.
When she turned, McTavish leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms. The expression in his eyes was serious, for once. “Are ye avoiding me, lass?”
Harriet turned away. “Of course not. Don’t be daft.” She scurried around the kitchen, finding what was left of the seedcake and slicing it. She had the ingredients to make another, but in the slew of other chores she had devoted herself to today, she hadn’t gotten around to it. She hoped Lady Katherine wouldn’t complain about the stale cake.
“Then why will ye nae look at me?”
“I’m busy.”
With the rustle of cloth and a lone footstep, he approached. “That is nae the reason. You’re always busy.”
She turned on him, her hair bobbing in front of her face before she shoved it aside. “I’m running this household on my own, aren’t I?”
She regretted snapping at him at once. Showing him anything other than indifference would only encourage him. The peculiar look in his eye made her heart beat faster. Although he was usually flirtatious, this was a serious sort of look. Not dismissive or teasing or one of the hundred other things he’d offered her since they’d met. At that moment, she had his full attention. And that made her heart beat even faster. She turned away. McTavish probably looked at all the maids he got alone in the kitchen that way.
“Help me put together this tea service. We should hurry.”
“They can wait.” His voice was thick and a bit rough. In the single candle lighting the room, the quiet in the wake of his voice made it seem as though they were the only two people in the house.
The whistle of the kettle punctuated the air. Harriet released a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and turned to fetch it off the stove. She poured the hot water into the teapot, added the tea leaves, and stoppered it up to steep.
Her back still turned, she told him, “We should return before tongues wag.”
He laughed, a low chuckle. “Whose tongues?”
“Lady Katherine’s.” She turned, raising her eyebrows at him and clasping her hands in front of her. “It’s unseemly for us to be alone together, and she knows it.”
That statement seemed to startle another laugh from him, this one louder. “When did ye become as uptight as one of those highborn ladies? No one cares if we’re in the kitchen together, least of all yer lady.”
Harriet swallowed hard, because she feared he was correct.
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, then reached out and brushed a wayward curl from her cheek. “Are ye afraid of me, Harriet?”
“No.” Something that felt suspiciously like a tingle lingered on her skin where the curl had been. It mirrored the warmth washing through her at the sound of her name. McTavish called every woman by an endearment—lass, dove, or any number of other patronizing words. Never by name… until now. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she stepped back. “We have work to do.”
“It can wait.”
She lifted her chin. “In that case, whatever it is you’re offering, I’m not interested.” She almost kept the quaver from her voice. She swallowed as if she hadn’t heard it and maintained eye contact. She was afraid if she looked away now, he would only accuse her of being a coward. Perhaps she was, but she had no room in her life for anything but her work. Especially not with a man who would flirt with a goat if it wore skirts.
“Och, now. I’d be more inclined to believe that if ye said it like ye mean it.”
A thump echoed elsewhere in the house. Harriet jerked back. “Did you hear that?”
For once, he dropped his flirtation, every bit as serious and concerned as her. They held each other’s gazes for a moment more before she gathered the tea service and hurried to the front of the house.
Katherine had spent far too much time in this chair, in this house over the past few days. If she had to spend much longer waiting for something to happen rather than actively chasing it herself, she would go mad. Unable to idle a moment more, Katherine stood, using the chair’s arms to propel herself onto her good leg. Her ankle twinged, refusing to hold much of her weight as she toured the room, stretching out her muscles and working out the frustration making her restless.
Wayland intercepted her, placing his bulk squarely between her and her circuitous route. “What do y
ou think you are doing? You should be resting that ankle.”
She tried to step around him, but he was far more agile than Katherine in her injured state. He reached out to steady her by the elbow, aid that she didn’t need. She shook him off.
“Why are you here?”
Wayland dropped his hand, flexing it at his side. “I volunteered for this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, I heard you yesterday. Why?”
His eyes caught hers, their depths unreadable. “You’ve proven your investigative instincts to me more than once. I trust you on this.”
Katherine’s breath caught. It shouldn’t have been such an intimate admission. After all, they were both esteemed members of the Royal Society for Investigative Techniques. They’d both worked several murders together. But hearing him speak the words aloud took her breath away.
She shouldn’t have rushed him out the door the other day when her father arrived. Papa might not like Wayland, but if so, it was only because he didn’t really know the man. In fact, the more Katherine got to know him, the more she saw the similarities in Wayland and in her father. They were both good detectives, both kind men who thought of others before themselves. In Bath, Wayland had befriended a veteran soldier and fought against Katherine’s investigation in order to prevent the poor man from more pain.
It wasn’t the only tense moment they had shared in Bath. Katherine swallowed hard as a memory resurfaced of the pair of them hiding in an alley, adrenaline coursing through her as they strained their ears to hear the pursuit of the city watch. She’d convinced herself she had imagined the fleeting moment when she thought he might kiss her. With the way he looked at her now, his eyes dark and warm and his expression earnest, she again thought he might kiss her.
Emma yipped loudly. The dog stirred from her sleep and launched herself off the armchair, knocking over the stool in the process. It walloped the floor. Katherine jumped. Wayland did too, pulling back. Emma barked madly as she ran from the window to the front door and back again. What had gotten into her?
Murder on Charles Street (Lady Katherine Regency Mysteries Book 5) Page 15