“I don’t know.” Margaret moved to where Annabelle had set the manuscript to trail a finger over the stack. “I suppose I would enjoy marriage to the right man, but I’m certainly in no hurry for it. I wouldn’t want to leave Mother to care for Father alone.”
“I understand, but I intend to be here to help.” Annabelle didn’t want that to keep Margaret from doing what she wanted. “Next year, you’ll enjoy the Season and attend balls where you can meet others, including handsome young men.”
“You have and that hasn’t changed your mind.”
“No.” Annabelle closed her eyes briefly as Thomas filled her mind. Not that he’d changed her mind. It was just this infernal reaction she had to him that bothered her.
“What is it?” Margaret asked. “Have you met someone?” The excitement and curiosity in her tone nearly made Annabelle grimace.
“Not at all.” She looked into her sister’s eyes, so like her own. “I don’t want love to change me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t help but look at Mother and Aunt Felton and see how much it changed them.”
“What about Caroline? I think love has had a wonderful effect on her.” Margaret smiled wistfully.
“For now. I hope that continues. And I wish the same for Louisa.”
“Love can be both a burden and a gift, I suppose. Perhaps at the same time.”
“You are so wise for your age.” Annabelle reached out to hug her. “Whatever you decide, I want you to be happy.”
“If you’ll promise the same.” Margaret drew back to look into her eyes. “Keep your heart open. You never know what the coming days will bring.”
Annabelle smiled, though she couldn’t help a shiver of unease, suddenly feeling as if her sister’s words were like the foreshadowing she liked to use in her stories.
~*~
Thomas finished the first chapter of the tenth manuscript he’d reviewed that day thus far. He rarely read the entire story unless it showed promise. None of the ones he’d read seemed especially appealing. He’d done his best to set aside his personal taste to try to find a potential book that might appeal to readers. Given that the majority of those were women, he was at a loss.
None of the stories compared to Annabelle’s writing.
He’d hoped forcing himself to focus on work would make it easier to set aside thoughts of her, but reading the manuscripts made him think of her.
Being in the office made him think of her.
Remaining at home each evening as he took notes on her previous book made him think of her.
But in truth, it was the kiss that made him do so.
With a sigh, he jotted directions for Bing to write a letter with a polite decline to the authors of three of the stories. He was tempted to have his assistant review some of the manuscripts as well, but how could he do that when he didn’t know what he was looking for himself?
He’d already given Bing a copy of A Murder Most Unusual with the request that he record details on the characters and setting much like Thomas was doing. That way, they’d have another person’s impressions to refer to once they started the editing process. Anything that quickened that would be helpful. Based on the financial report he’d reviewed earlier, the sooner they published the second book the better.
The sound of Bing speaking with someone caught Thomas’s attention, sending anticipation through him.
“Miss Golden is here to see you,” his assistant announced with a broad smile.
Thomas didn’t bother to correct him as to Annabelle’s proper surname. “Please show her in.”
Though he made the effort to gather himself, her appearance in the doorway still stole his thoughts. The moment her eyes met his, logic fell away.
If any other woman made him feel this way, he would’ve already had her. Was his attraction due to the fact that he couldn’t? That she was forbidden fruit? He was beginning to fear his fascination with her was much more than that.
“Annabelle, what a surprise.” He noted the bound paper she held and smiled, filled with both anticipation and relief.
“Thomas.” She looked over his desk which was covered in papers. “Doing a bit of reading?”
“Yes, but none of the stories compare to yours.” He gestured toward his assistant, who still stood in the doorway smiling. “Even Mr. Bing has become an admirer.”
Annabelle turned to look at him. “Is that right?”
“I’m thoroughly enjoying the story, miss.” Bing nodded with great enthusiasm. “I stayed up far too late the past few nights to read it.”
“I’m pleased it caught your interest.”
“It has indeed,” the young man gushed. “Just when I was certain I knew who the villain was, I realized I was wrong. The setting is vividly described, the dialogue clever, and the plot—”
“We’ve ordered another printing,” Thomas interrupted before Bing embarrassed himself with his praise. Though the company would have to pay for the expense upfront per the terms of the contract, he had no doubt sales would exceed availability and turn an additional profit. Graham would be happy about that.
“That’s very good news.”
“That will be all, Bing.” Thomas waited until the man had left the room before gesturing for Annabelle to take a seat. “Are you holding what I think you are?”
She smiled before placing the neatly bound bundle on his desk. “Yes. I believe it’s ready. But I wanted to discuss it first.”
“Oh?”
“Do you think we should wait until more is known about the murder before we proceed?”
“No.” The denial slipped out before he could stop it. They needed a profit as quickly as possible. Annabelle was their best hope for that. “What purpose would that serve?”
Worry clouded her brown eyes. “You can’t deny that whoever murdered that poor man read my book.”
“Perhaps, but that doesn’t make the murder your fault.”
“I know. But I detest the idea of my story being used in this manner. What if we wait for a time to see what occurs? If the police make an arrest, I won’t worry.”
“We already ordered more copies of the first book. We need to publish the next one as quickly as possible to build the momentum.”
He wanted her to agree—for her success even more than his. Momentum was key. Besides, waiting would cause financial issues he didn’t want to explain to Graham.
“What if I did a bit of investigating of my own into the murder?” The offer slipped out before he could consider it in full.
“You? Do you know anything about investigations?”
“I’ll have you to guide me from behind the scenes. If the murderer is truly copying your book, who would be better suited to catch him than us?”
She worried her lower lip as she pondered his idea.
“I’ll speak with the constable who found the body and tell him I’m interested in the details because I’m researching a book,” Thomas continued. “Your identity will remain hidden.”
“I want to come with you.”
“Absolutely not. For the sake of your safety as well as your reputation, I can’t allow it. However, I promise to keep you closely apprised of my progress.”
“I don’t think you understand how troubled I am by the murder. There might be something the police are overlooking that I’ll see.” She reached for the manuscript she’d set on his desk, a mutinous look in her dark eyes. “I accompany you or I keep my manuscript until the police make an arrest. Which is it to be?”
“Annabelle, have you gone mad?” The idea of her writing a gritty murder scene was one thing, but having her involved personally was another matter entirely. One that threatened to choke him.
“I’ll be with you. What could go wrong?” she asked.
He could think of so many things, including the temptation he felt when he was with her. He couldn’t resist her at a ball, let alone in a less crowded place. She was asking a rogue to be a gentleman—impossible.
“Your reputation—”
“I’ll disguise myself. We’ll say I’m your widowed aunt.” A light gleamed in her eyes as the details took hold.
“No. I refuse to allow it.” He knew deep in his bones it wouldn’t work. Something terrible would happen. And it would be his fault. “Absolutely not.”
She pulled the manuscript onto her lap. “Then I cannot give you this.”
Dismay seeped through him. The determination in her eyes told him he’d lost. Surely the police would make an arrest any day and this would all be for naught.
“Very well. If you insist,” he agreed reluctantly. “But mark my words—this is a terrible idea.” Her suggestion that he’d be there to protect not only her reputation but possibly her life chilled his blood. He thought he’d made it clear that he was no hero, merely a rogue. She asked far too much. He could only hope she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Chapter Six
“Do you realize you will be ruined if you’re caught?” Caroline stared at Annabelle the following day as if she’d lost her mind. She folded her arms over her chest much like Margaret had. Annabelle hadn’t realized how much her two sisters were alike until now.
“We’re not going to be caught,” Annabelle insisted, ignoring her nervousness at the risk she took. “I’ll be dressed in widow’s attire complete with a veil. No one will recognize me.”
Annabelle needed Caroline’s help, so she’d explained about the murder and how closely the details matched the scene in her book. She’d also told her of the plan with Thomas to speak with the constable in charge of the murder investigation. There was no possible way for Annabelle to leave home dressed in a disguise without being caught. Not with Barclay always watching along with Margaret and her mother.
“What if you’re forced to admit you’re the author of the book?” Caroline asked.
“I have given that careful consideration. But finding the murderer who is copying my story to kill others is more important. Not only does the poor victim deserve justice, but I don’t want my effort to entertain people to be used that way.”
“This carries far too much risk.” Caroline shook her head.
“I’ll be with Mr. Raybourne. He’ll protect me if anything goes amiss.”
“That man is a rogue through and through. No doubt this was his idea. Who will protect you from him?”
“He’s been nothing but a gentleman in our business dealings.” Annabelle chose not to mention the kiss they’d shared at Louisa’s ball. The moment had been personal—not business—so she wasn’t exactly lying. She couldn’t help but wonder if deep inside he was the honorable man he acted like when they were together.
“Being caught with him or any man will ruin you,” Caroline said.
“I will take care as will Mr. Raybourne.” Annabelle didn’t understand her need to think the best of Thomas. In all honesty, she liked him.
“Please don’t do this.” Caroline scooted to the edge of her chair to grip Annabelle’s hands. “The risk is too great. Why don’t I speak with Richard about it? He may have contacts who would be useful.”
“He’s already done so much for our family. Too much. Let me go to this meeting and then I’ll decide if we need assistance.” Aberland had been a spy for England, so he certainly had experience that could prove helpful if needed. “I promise to take every possible precaution. But you of all people know how important my writing is to me. The idea of someone using my book as a method for murder is something I cannot abide.”
“Then let the authorities do their job and find the murderer.”
“We are. We only intend to offer additional insight once we make a few inquiries. If the murderer is truly copying my story, I might be able to determine what his next move will be.”
Caroline released her hands, worry in her expression. “If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Nothing is going to happen. We’re merely speaking with the constable to gather more details. That might be the end of my attempt to help.”
“I don’t like it, but I can see you’ve made up your mind. At least promise you’ll be careful.”
“You know I will. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change for the outing.” She’d brought one of her mother’s mourning gowns from when their grandmother had passed away some years ago. As it had been tucked in the very back of her wardrobe, Annabelle didn’t think her mother would miss it.
Thomas had arranged for them to speak with the constable who discovered the body to see if he’d share any additional details. Their next move depended on how the meeting went.
In truth, Annabelle was nervous but also excited at the prospect of the meeting. She’d never had the chance to speak to a constable before. She intended to ask for specifics about the murder victim and where the body was found but also hoped to gain information about procedures to aid in her next story. This was an excellent opportunity to research how the police approached a crime like this one. She wished she could take notes on what the officer said, but that would be difficult to explain.
“How do I look?” Annabelle asked as Caroline joined her in the small dressing room off Caroline’s bedroom.
“Like my sister.” Caroline examined her from head to toe, walking around her then adjusting the veil that covered her face. “But I don’t suppose anyone else will be able to recognize you.”
“Excellent.”
“I expect you to return as soon as possible,” Caroline advised as they descended the stairs to the ground floor where the delivery entrance was located. Annabelle was leaving through that exit and walking to the hackney stand on the next street where she’d meet Thomas.
“I’ll give you a full report then.” With a wave, Annabelle ignored the questioning looks the servants gave her and hurried out before Caroline thought of a new reason to stop her. She passed the mews and continued down the alley to the street. It only took a few minutes for her to reach the stand.
Much to her relief, Thomas was waiting with a hackney. He nodded in greeting as he glanced over her attire with a displeased expression, something she could easily discern despite the thick veil limiting her sight. He held the door and assisted her inside.
“This is a terrible idea.” He sat beside her then tapped the roof to tell the driver to proceed.
“You’ve already made your opinion clear.” She couldn’t resist patting his arm. “All will be well.”
“I must be out of my mind.” He turned to look at her. “Or you are.”
“My sister has already suggested that, yet here we are.” She smiled brightly only to realize he couldn’t see her expression.
“Indeed.” He appeared less than pleased by the fact.
The hackney wound through the busy streets, bringing them closer to the river. Soon the vehicle stopped on Wapping High Street before a three-story stone building with turret windows.
The Thames River Police had been formed in 1798, the first of its kind. Their objective was to detect and prevent crimes on the Thames.
“Here we are.” Thomas glanced out the window before looking at Annabelle. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“I’d rather you didn’t sound so pleased about this meeting.” He handed her out, a scowl on his handsome face.
“I rarely have the chance to conduct this sort of research. It could prove extremely helpful with my next book. That should excite you as well.”
“If we were conducting this at the publishing office, perhaps.” He glanced around the busy street. “But not here.”
“We’ll be surrounded by constables. What could be safer?” Yet her gaze followed his, and she immediately understood his concern.
The rough look of the area had her tightening her hold on Thomas’s arm. The buildings were not especially well kept and those walking past were dressed much differently than the people in Mayfair.
“The success of the police in deterring thefts along the river with their boat patrols is impressive, don’
t you think?” Annabelle asked, determined to make the best of this opportunity despite her unease. “Crime has been greatly reduced because of their presence.”
“With the exception of failing to prevent the murder of Joseph Smead, yes.”
“I’m sorry.” She pressed his arm, hoping he knew she meant it. “I didn’t mean to make light of his death.”
“I hope we can uncover the reason behind it and find the murderer.”
“As do I. Perhaps the constable will share something to help us. He might not realize a detail is significant, but we will.”
Thomas turned to her before they crossed the street to the building. “I reviewed the murder scenes in the book this morning so that they’d be fresh in my mind.”
“As did I.”
He frowned. “You don’t have them committed to memory?”
“Good heavens, no. The only details I remember now are the ones for the third book, which I’ve started plotting.”
“Another? So soon?” Thomas’s surprise was cut off as he stared at her. “I detest that veil. I prefer to see your face.”
“I’m certainly relieved wearing it is temporary.” Did he want to see her because he liked what he saw or only because it made conversation difficult?
She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. “I had the opportunity to read The Commerce and Policing of the River Thames before writing my book. It shares significant details about both the police force and the criminals they tend to catch.”
Thomas paused with his hand on the door, one brow raised. “That sounds like light reading.”
“It was very interesting, given my occupation. Are you familiar with the Ratcliffe Highway murders?”
“Isn’t everyone in London? Such terrible attacks.”
“Positively dreadful.” Annabelle couldn’t help but shiver.
She remembered the details of the case vividly. The murders occurred in December of 1811 and left seven dead in two different locations a mere twelve days apart. Though a man had been arrested, much speculation continued as to his guilt or innocence. The accused had committed suicide—or been murdered and the crime concealed—before his trial. He’d been convicted posthumously but many wondered if that had been merely to quiet the public outcry.
A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3) Page 7