“Thank you again.” To his surprise and pleasure, she lifted to kiss him, her mouth lingering on his for the briefest moment. “Please send word if you hear anything more.”
“Of course.” His thoughts spinning, he retrieved his top hat and with a bow, left the beguiling lady.
What was he going to do about Miss Annabelle Gold and his increasing feelings for her?
~*~
Annabelle sighed as she looked over the crush of guests at the Bolton ball two days later. Sir Alexander Bolton and his wife were fabulously wealthy. As a former British diplomat and now a director of The East India Company, he knew nearly everyone, and the crowd reflected that.
But her mind was not on the guests or who might ask her to dance or what refreshments might be served. Instead, they remained on the murder. Thomas had sent word that Pickford insisted he wasn’t behind Smead’s death. Without a confession, the police had no proof and were no closer to finding the killer than before.
Was the nightmare over or had it just begun?
She hoped she was overreacting, but she’d reviewed A Murder Most Unusual and realized exactly nine days passed between the first two murders in her book. If the murderer wasn’t Pickford and whoever it was truly intended to copy her story, then another murder would occur this evening. The thought was unsettling, especially because there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
She’d spent much of the past two days writing notes on what they knew thus far along with a list of questions. But she felt no closer to an answer as to the motivation for the murder than she had before. The East India Company had no way of knowing whether Smead’s death would cause Arlingwood to sell. The motivation was unclear. Without it, how could they stop the murderer, assuming it wasn’t Pickford? The situation was maddening. She dearly wanted to discuss it with Thomas. Would he be here this evening?
“Smile, dear sister, lest the other guests wonder at your poor mood.” Caroline tilted her head to study Annabelle. Their mother had remained home this evening.
Caroline and Aberland had called on them soon after Thomas departed the day of the unsettling attack. Annabelle had explained what little they knew but was careful not to tell her mother of their concern about a tie between the murder and her book. Lady Gold had enough to worry about with their father. Both Caroline and her husband agreed not to say anything unless circumstances changed and it became necessary.
“I will try,” Annabelle said as she forced a smile. “But pretending all is well when it isn’t is more difficult than I realized. Isn’t Aberland with you?”
“He’s joining me later. He stopped by his club to see if he could discover any additional information floating about.” Worry lingered in Caroline’s eyes, suggesting she was as concerned as Annabelle.
Annabelle appreciated having his assistance with the current investigation. It was one more thing she wanted to mention to Thomas, along with her worry about a possible second murder.
Though Annabelle was fascinated by the idea that Aberland had served as a spy for the Crown for years, Caroline had forbidden her from asking him questions or discussing it in any manner. Annabelle toyed with including a spy in her next book, but it would be pure torture not to ask her brother-in-law whether she had all the details correct.
The shiver of awareness that passed over her suggested Thomas had arrived. She searched the crowd for his tall form, her heartbeat speeding in anticipation.
“Good evening, ladies.” His greeting had Annabelle turning to face him, her breath catching as he bowed.
She curtsied, wondering if her internal warning system of his approach was a blessing or a curse. The thought of being tied to him in such an intimate way was both fascinating and concerning in equal measure.
“And to you, Mr. Raybourne,” Caroline said. “I was hoping for a chance to thank you for your assistance with my family the other day.” She smiled, her words light. But Annabelle knew how truly appreciative her sister was.
“I’m pleased I was able to help.” Thomas nodded then his gaze shifted to Annabelle. “I trust no one has experienced further issues?”
“None.” Annabelle didn’t want to share any details with so many people nearby. “And you?”
“The same.” He studied her as if wanting to see the truth for himself.
Annabelle felt the same way. The bruise on his cheek had faded slightly, but she dearly wanted to know how he truly felt and what he was thinking.
Caroline’s small intake of breath had Annabelle looking at her in surprise. Caroline looked back and forth between them, making her wonder if her sister sensed the undercurrent of emotions swirling between her and Thomas.
The worry caused Annabelle to drop her gaze, uncertain if she was ready for her sister or anyone else to know about the growing complexity of their relationship. Was that what this was? A relationship?
Her affection and respect for Thomas had steadily grown in the past weeks, building into something more. But what? Love? She dismissed the idea. That was something she didn’t want in her life. She had too much she wanted to do to allow love and marriage to snuff out her dreams.
But she couldn’t deny how Thomas made her feel. Part of her longed to explore it further. Even the thought of doing so was enough to send warmth along her entire body and made her even more aware of the man at her side.
Oh dear. She was in trouble.
“May I have the honor of a dance?” he asked.
“I’d be delighted.” Yet the intensity in his green eyes suggested he was asking for so much more. Pulse thrumming, she placed her hand in his and smiled, wishing she could catch her breath, and hoping her sister hadn’t sensed her feelings.
“All is truly well?” he asked quietly as they made their way through the crowd.
“Yes. Though I would like a moment or two of privacy with you.” She glanced about but with so many people in attendance, she didn’t dare risk discussing the murder.
“As would I.” He nodded at several acquaintances. “Perhaps we can find a quiet place to speak in private.”
“I’d like that.” Being able to share her worries would be a relief, even if he couldn’t solve them.
They danced a reel and for the moment, Annabelle let her concerns fall away. The magic of the music and her partner took over. When his gaze held hers, it felt as if he were looking into her soul and liked what he saw. Which was rather perfect, because she felt much the same. She worried whether her feelings were evident in her expression and tried to keep them hidden. They were a secret she’d rather not reveal to anyone. Not until she understood what was between them.
When the dance ended at last and they bowed and curtsied, he escorted her off the dance floor on the opposite side of where Caroline stood. A tall column allowed them to pause where few people able to see them.
“Have you news?” he asked. The way his gaze held on her lips sent longing spiraling through her, making it difficult to think.
“Pickford hasn’t confessed?” She had hoped their attacker was the murderer.
He shook his head.
“If the villain is still out there and truly copying the book, another murder is imminent. Perhaps tonight. There were nine days between them in the book.”
His brow furrowed as he pondered her remark. “I hadn’t thought to consider the timing, though I don’t know who we would warn.”
“Nor do I, but the possibility of another death is extremely concerning.” She sighed. “Aberland is doing what he can to gather information.”
“Excellent. Please tell him his assistance is much appreciated.” Thomas hesitated a long moment. “Our host, Sir Alexander, is a director of the East India Company.”
Annabelle stared at Thomas in alarm. “Do you suspect he could somehow be involved in all this?”
“The friend who warned me earlier mentioned his name last evening when we met at our club.” He glanced about. “I intend to take a moment to see if there’s anything helpful in his library.”
>
“Surely he wouldn’t leave anything lying about that would incriminate him.”
“No, but there might be something of interest in a locked drawer.”
She forced herself to smile as Lady Deptford, a friend of her mother’s, passed by, giving them an odd look. “I’ll come with you.”
“You certainly will not.” The steel that showed in Thomas’s green eyes suggested she needn’t bother to argue.
“I could stand guard—” she began.
“I forbid it.”
She lowered her shoulders in defeat even though frustration simmered under the surface. “I want to help. Searching would be quicker with two of us doing it.”
“That’s not enough reason to risk your reputation.” He eased away from the column and offered his arm. They started in Caroline’s direction. “I will wait for the evening to progress before I try anything. For all I know, I won’t be able to enter his library. He might have it locked.”
Annabelle wasn’t certain whether to hope it was or wasn’t. She only knew she wanted to help. Doing nothing only made her worry more.
If Thomas was caught—
She couldn’t bear to finish the thought.
Chapter Eleven
Later that evening, Thomas folded his hand in the card room and gestured for another guest waiting nearby to take his place.
“Giving up already, Raybourne?” Lord Currie asked.
“The cards have not been in my favor.” Thomas smiled as he rose. “Perhaps I’ll try my luck again later.” Vingt-et-un, a game where each player did their best to reach a hand of one and twenty but not exceed it, was normally something he enjoyed, but concentrating was proving impossible.
He’d watched Sir Alexander throughout the evening, hoping to find a time when the man was engaged with someone or something, which would clear the path for him to look in the library. But the host had remained near the doorway of the ballroom not far from where Thomas believed the library was.
Playing a hand of cards had been something to pass the time as he could hardly stand near the man to watch him without gaining unwanted attention.
Though Thomas dearly wanted to dance with Annabelle again, he didn’t dare. Doing so twice in one evening would suggest he had an interest in her to everyone at the ball. He intended to do all he could to protect her reputation even if she seemed unconcerned about it.
He returned to the ballroom, frustration simmering inside him. If he and Annabelle could spend some time alone together to review the information they had, surely they could make sense of the few clues before them and decide on a path to pursue. However, that carried too much risk, which left him with the task of searching Sir Alexander’s library desk.
With a quiet sigh, he admitted talking to Annabelle wasn’t the only reason he wanted more time with her. She appealed to him in multiple ways, including her intelligence, wit, beauty, and those generous curves. He wanted her more than he’d wanted a woman in a long time, if ever.
He caught sight of her across the room, talking with her sister. She looked especially beautiful this evening in her pale green gown with its high waist and suggestive neckline that only made him want to see more of her. The delicate white bandeau circling her hair brought to mind a princess. His princess.
He deliberately turned away, determined to set aside his attraction so he might focus on the problem at hand.
Annabelle’s comment about the possibility of another murder occurring soon worried him. It made sense that if the murderer were replicating the book and had yet to achieve whatever goal he sought, he would kill again. But who and why?
Someone with influence at the East India Company had to be directing the murderer. Thomas’s instincts suggested Sir Alexander could very well be involved. The man’s background was unclear, but rumors circulated that he’d come from nothing, having grown up in one of the rougher areas of London. His rise to wealth and power, not to mention his knighthood, remained cloaked in mystery. Perhaps the man hadn’t lost touch with the tough roots from which he’d sprung.
Thomas couldn’t pass by the opportunity to investigate the man’s library when he was this close. Especially after the remark Cummings made about Sir Alexander and his ruthlessness regarding the East India Company’s tactics.
Thomas made his way slowly around the ballroom, searching again for Sir Alexander and his wife. When he finally discovered them near the refreshment room, conversing with another couple, he decided the time had come to act.
Though he wondered if he should be concerned that Cummings had decided to be so forthcoming of late, Thomas couldn’t resist following the only lead he had. He and Annabelle certainly had no other evidence to help them resolve this mystery.
He gave himself a mental shake at the realization that he considered Annabelle his partner in all this. He should keep her as far away as possible from the situation. It was dangerous, as proven by the attack at the shipyard and Smead’s murder.
At least he’d resisted her offer to help him search the library. He could easily explain his presence by saying he needed a moment alone or was searching for some decent brandy or the like. Having Annabelle with him would complicate the matter tenfold.
With one last glance at Sir Alexander and his wife, Thomas eased out of the ballroom and moved down the deserted corridor to the door he thought to be the library’s.
To his relief, the knob turned under his hand. A glance inside revealed a large, darkened room with a banked fire that cast shadows along the walls. Based on the numerous shelves that ran the full height of the room along one entire wall, the man had an impressive collection of books. Thomas wondered if he’d read any of them or merely collected them because he had the wealth to do so.
He found a candle in a candlestick on a nearby table and lit it with the coals of the fire then strode toward the desk positioned by the draped windows. The desk was bare, but Thomas knew anything of interest wouldn’t have been left out for others to view.
The middle drawer was locked as was the top right-hand one. He withdrew a small pick from his waistcoat that he’d brought along in case the opportunity presented itself and knelt to try his hand at the lock. The task brought back memories of he and his brothers attempting to unlock their father’s desk simply for the challenge in their youth. He listened closely, concentrating on the feel of the metal through the lock.
He drew a breath of relief when the lock released, and he quickly opened the drawer. Several papers were inside, and Thomas withdrew them to hold each one close to the candle so he could read them.
Why the documents were locked away, Thomas couldn’t guess. They seemed irrelevant to him. Lists of cargos from various ships. Minutes from the East India Company meetings. Various financial documents. Taking the time to look through them all now was impossible. His best hope was to glance at the papers and hope something caught his eye.
Just as he was about to give up on the stack, he found one that had a familiar name—Brunswick Dock, which was the one owned by Annabelle’s father. He read further, realizing it mentioned East India’s intent to purchase Sir Reginald’s business, but only once they’d driven down the price.
The sound of voices outside the door sent his heart pounding. He returned the papers to the drawer then searched for a place to hide. The only option that afforded hope was behind the heavy drapes. He snuffed out the candle, waved the air to diminish the scent, and stepped behind the drapes as far from the desk as possible.
The voices continued but were muffled by the closed door. A higher tone reached his ears, suggesting a woman had joined them. He waited, nerves stretched taut, to see if they entered.
~*~
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I wonder if I might ask a favor.” Annabelle smiled at Sir Alexander and his companion, Lord Thornton, who stood outside the door she assumed to be the library. Her heart hammered as she struggled to think of an excuse to keep the men from entering.
She’d noticed Thomas slip o
ut of the ballroom a few minutes earlier and had positioned herself to keep an eye on Sir Alexander to make certain Thomas wasn’t disturbed if he was searching the man’s desk.
The sight of Sir Alexander and Lord Thornton moving in that very direction had her heart in her throat. She’d hurried through the throng toward the ballroom entrance, hoping to intercept them before they reached the library.
“Miss Gold.” Sir Alexander frowned at her. “But of course. What is it you need?”
Annabelle’s mind was unpleasantly blank, a rare occurrence for her. What could she ask that would move him away for several minutes and give Thomas the chance to escape? She swallowed hard, all too aware of the two men staring at her. This was madness. She didn’t even know for certain if Thomas was in there. Yet the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach suggested he was.
What could she request of Sir Alexander to distract him?
“Would it be possible for you to introduce me to someone?” she blurted, asking the first thing that came to mind.
“Who?”
“I-I’m not certain of his name.” The heat of a blush crept up her cheeks, but perhaps that would be to her advantage given the question she’d asked. She gestured over her shoulder. “He’s standing near the entrance to the ballroom.”
“Perhaps in a few minutes—” Sir Alexander began.
“He’s right over there, and it looks as if he intends to leave soon.” She gave a shy smile and fluttered her lashes. “I don’t want to miss this opportunity.”
“Very well.” The man shook his head as if slightly exasperated by her request. “Where is he?”
She turned and led the way down the corridor and back to the ballroom, walking slowly with the hope that Thomas would emerge behind them. She searched the area for the supposed stranger. “Where did he go?”
“Perhaps you could tell us what he looks like,” Lord Thornton suggested.
“Rather tall with dark hair and green eyes.” She nearly grimaced as she realized she was describing Thomas. “I believe he might be near my age.” She bit her lip, still pretending to look about for her fictional character.
A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3) Page 13