“I was just about to knock.” He sounded harried. “I didn’t mean—”
She put her hands up. “It’s okay. How can I help you?”
“If it’s amenable for you, I thought we could take our walk now?”
No. It wasn’t amenable. She needed to talk to Lee. “I had not, I don’t... Why yes, thank you. Now would be perfect.” Crap. Why couldn’t she think of excuses on the fly? She’d been good at it in high school.
At the stairs, he moved aside to let her go first, as per proper Regency etiquette and took her hand to guide her down. Once they reached the grand staircase on the first floor, she saw Miss Gray and Mr. Daley heading toward the front door. She had the sudden urge to tug on Hamilton’s hand and stop him from continuing. The feeling increased when the doorman helped Gray into her jacket and bonnet.
Hamilton clenched his jaw as they continued to the door, but he didn’t slow or stop. He wasn’t pleased with this either, but ever the perfect gentleman said and did nothing.
“Ah, two of my favorite people.” Daley winked at her.
Shea rolled her eyes. Daley saw it.
Hamilton took Shea’s jacket from the doorman and helped her into it. Shea couldn’t help but note that Daley hadn’t done that for Gray. She smiled at Hamilton, feeling his effort deserved a reward. Then remembered that there was a possibility that he’d asked Mary to break into Cross’s room, and frowned.
“It appears we’ve both had the same idea, come let us walk together,” Daley said.
“If we must,” Hamilton replied coolly.
Shea pulled her bonnet on. Several days here and it still hadn’t grown on her. She wondered if they would let her take it with her when playtime was over so she could torch the thing in her sink? When she caught Daley’s pleased smirk, she decided she’d ask. It’d be symbolic of all her frustrations here.
“Yes,” Miss Gray said in a tone that sent icicles straight to Shea’s veins. “That’ll be lovely, won’t it Lizzie?”
Shea narrowed her eyes. “Elizabeth.”
The woman attempted a look of apology but failed. Did she not have a remorseful bone in her body?
“She doesn’t like to be called Lizzie,” Daley said. “Even though it is quite the sweetest nickname I’ve ever heard.”
“And nor should she,” Hamilton jumped in, almost chastising, then faced her. “Elizabeth is a beautiful name.”
It was a beautiful name. Why did this seem like a revelation? She wondered, then knew. Because she’d barely heard her first name in five years. It almost never came up in police work. “No one has called me Lizzie since I was a child,” she said hoping to bring this Lizzie business to an immediate end. “And the last to do so stopped when I boxed his ears. Isn’t that right, Paddy?”
Daley shook his head at her, amused as always. “You were abnormally strong as a child. Almost butch, I’d say. Definitely enough to put me in my place. Who knew you’d grow up to be such a dainty little thing. Barely able to take stairs without assistance.” He cocked his head at Hamilton.
Now she really wanted to box his ears. How dare he call her “butch” and “dainty!” Ugh. “I’d say we’ve almost reversed roles, but maybe not quite,” she rejoined. “You were a delicate child—frail even, but I’d hardly call you butch now.”
“What would you call me?” he asked in a highly suggestive tone.
What? She was supposed to be insulting him, and he’d turned it around on her. In an inappropriate way too. Ew. They were cousins! “Smarmy.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
At that, she grabbed Mr. Hamilton’s arm. “Are you ready?”
“If the lady is?” Hamilton replied.
She nodded, and the two pushed past Daley and Gray. Unfortunately, they followed almost immediately. Shea ignored them as they reached the gravel at the bottom of the steps. They had a light rainfall the previous evening, and while the sky was still shrouded in gray, they hadn’t had rain for a couple of hours. Knowing the weather in this area, Shea didn’t expect anymore anytime soon.
Daley winked at Shea and led Miss Gray off. The dirt kicked up under their shoes as they made distance. Shea couldn’t look away from the surreal sight of the period couple. Was that what she looked like?
Then Hamilton spoke. “Everything all right, Miss Shea?”
“Yes, sorry,” she replied immediately.
“Please, don’t apologize, Miss Shea,” Hamilton chided. They followed the couple who were now ten yards ahead of them. “I do not hear you apologizing so much to anyone else in the house. Just me. Why is that?”
Was that true? Yeah, yeah it was. It was because she was constantly slipping up and saying or doing things she shouldn’t, and to him, it mattered.
“Sorry,” she said and then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. All right, it was officially out of control. What was this compulsion she had to please this man? The one man who more than anyone else fit in this crazy made up world.
“Miss Shea,” he groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“That’s unintentional, I assure you.” She dropped her hand.
“You have no need for apologies.”
“Yes, well I suppose I’m just trying my hardest to fit in, and when I fall short…”
He turned to her. “You could never fall short, Miss Shea. You’re lovely in every way.”
Shea was pretty sure she almost blushed at that. Almost. He was very sincere, but he was also an actor. And she was an on duty cop. Not that he knew that.
They came to a split path and he glanced down both, deciding which to take. One path was clearly the more traveled, and that was the one Miss Gray and Mr. Daley had taken. The other was barely a path, mostly trodden down grass that led into the woods. Hamilton nodded his head in the direction of the smaller trail and nearly dragged her to in his hurry.
Her heart palpitated hard in her chest. What was he doing?
Once they were in the trees, he slowed. “Sorry about that, I didn’t want them to see where I was taking you.”
A cold chill ran up her spine. Well, this was fantastic. If he were the one involved in Mary’s disappearance and the attempted murder of Cross, he’d very conveniently gotten her secluded in the woods. And now he was getting her farther and farther from the main path.
The woods darkened the farther in they got until not even one patch of gray sky was visible.
If he wanted to get rid of her, permanently, this was the place to do it, and while she had been trained to defend herself, she couldn’t discount the fact that he was bigger than her, knew where he was going, and wore pants. Fighting him off in this get-up would be hard.
He took her hand from the crook of his elbow and held it in his other hand, then dropped his free hand to her lower back as they continued. It felt… intimate. Almost too intimate. Oh, no, what if he was taking her somewhere to declare himself? Wasn’t that the kind of thing they did here? Frankly, she’d prefer he attack her.
“It’s not far now.” Leading her around a bend, he took her arm firmly in his hand and covered her eyes with his other. “Trust me,” he whispered.
For some reason she suddenly pictured the red flashing light on Brown’s desk flashing it’s red light. Blink. Blink. Blink. A branch snapped under her shoe, and she jumped and made a little choking noise in her throat. He shushed her. She wanted to place a kick to his instep and run for it. It didn’t matter if his purpose was to attack her or romance her.
He slowed to a stop and removed his hand, and Shea tensed for an attack and/or kiss that didn’t come. She looked back at Hamilton whose gaze was fixed in the distance. She followed his line of sight to the edge of the forest where a small church sat. It was gray with stain glass windows. A small cemetery surrounded it, and its steeple reached above the shadows of the trees and into the sunlight. It was one of the most surreal things she’d ever seen. She was still in California, right?
The church looked like it could be abandoned, but from th
is distance, it could just be dark—closed for the day.
“I noticed your crucifix the moment we first encountered each other in the hall upstairs. I’ve wanted to bring you here since then,” he said.
Shea was glad to see the small church. First, she was pretty sure it meant that he hadn’t brought here to try and kill her. Phew. And second, it filled her with a much-needed sense of calm. In this foreign place, it was something familiar. She’d grown up in a religious household, and she still attended church regularly. It never occurred to her that she would get to go while she was here, but she wasn’t about to shun an opportunity.
He continued, “Isn’t it beautiful?
“Indeed.”
“It’s just as beautiful inside as out.”
“The dome is stunning.” She wondered if there was painting on the inside of it.
“It’s a whisper dome.” He clasped his hands behind his back.
“A what?”
“If you have two people stand across from one another and have one whisper, the dome carries the message across to the person on the other side.”
“Really?” Shea smiled. “Can we get closer? Is it abandoned?” She hoped it wasn’t.
“No, it’s fully operational, but only to those who live on or near Bristle Park.”
“Really?” That seemed strange. How had they managed to get a pastor to agree to be part of this?
“Yes. I’d take you there now, but I’m worried I’ve kept you secluded from a chaperon for too long. We best be getting back to the house before the gossips start.”
“I’m sure the gossips wouldn’t deny a girl of her spiritual needs,” she said, but immediately turned and started walking back toward the house. Her heart was still thumping loudly in her chest, and she wanted to be back with the rest of the group.
It wasn’t a moment before Mr. Hamilton was once again at her side. “You’re…” he stopped as though he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say, “you’re different.”
Ah, the most used pick-up line in human history, she’d be willing to bet. In fact she’d heard it a time or two. Typically from men who just wanted in her pants. It was all Shea could do to keep from snorting. She couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her lips though. But then again, this was the Regency era, and he was a gentleman.
“Are you laughing at me?” Mr. Hamilton asked. His tone was almost amused.
“No, of course not,” she reassured him, “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Now he sounded a little surprised and perhaps sad.
She weaved her way back down the path, overgrown in tall grass. “Do you want me to?”
“I want you to be as comfortable around me as you are your cousin,” he confessed.
Her eyes bulged. He thought she was comfortable with Daley? Seriously? What had he been snorting?
“You’re surprised?” he asked. “You have the most delightful expressions. A man could spend hours cataloging each and every one and never get bored.”
At that, Shea did snort. She’d never heard that line before.
He smiled. “There, that’s better. That’s the reaction your cousin would’ve gotten.”
She chanced a glance at him. He appeared the most relaxed she’d seen him since she’d been here. Was that her doing? She hoped so. “I think you overestimate my level of comfort with my cousin.”
“Do I?” He sounded hopeful.
She thought about it. The first night here she’d thought he was nice enough. Since then he’d made her worry that he was after Cross, had thrown himself into the task of seducing that horrid woman, and had taken up harassing her as a hobby.
“I hardly know him. And he hardly knows me. We’re nearer strangers than cousins.” Boy, oh boy was that the truth.
Stopping, he grabbed her hand so that she was forced to look at him. When she was turned back, he dropped her hand, as though he’d just realized he’d been engaging in some sort of social faux pas. She half expected him to apologize, but he didn’t.
“That can’t be true.” His eyes were more gray now than she’d ever seen them before.
Not knowing how to respond to that she smiled at him and turned back to the path. This conversation was too confusing. She was done and felt suddenly exhausted. What did he care about her “relationship” with her fake cousin? She knew it had something to do with the characters the three of them were playing, but what that was she had no idea. Maybe it was one of those things that would play itself out.
“Your furrowing your brow,” Hamilton said when he caught up again.
“I didn’t mean to.” Why couldn’t she control her facial expressions?
He chuckled and looked at the ground. “It makes me want to caress those adorable little lines away. And that is something I have no right to desire.”
She felt her breath hitch. That was the most intimate thing anyone had ever said to her in all twenty-five years of her life. The next closest thing to it was from her college boyfriend who had referred to her as “sweet cheeks”—and he hadn’t been referring to the cheeks on her face.
It elicited all sorts of weird emotions in her. Embarrassment, hope, giddiness. Yes, it was giddiness she’d been feeling, and a strong dose of desire, but more than all of that she felt shockingly outraged. Because she realized that she wanted someone to say things like that to her. Say them and mean them. Instead, she’d gotten it from a freaking actor.
She’d been allowing herself to get pulled into this nonsense—but no more. She was on the job, and the last thing she needed to do was get distracted by a pretty face—especially one who was being paid to like her. They needed to get out of here. As soon as possible.
Chapter Nineteen
Making her way back to the sitting room, Shea came to a stop when Cross’s voice wafted out to the hall, telling and embellishing Shea’s heroics, to the delight of everyone. She couldn’t go in there. She needed a moment to think, needed an excuse not to have to talk or be talked to. For the moment Cross was safe in the company of many. And Shea was overwhelmed with the realities of the afternoon. She needed help, and all she had were three incompetents.
She back tracked, to the dining room, but it was being cleaned, so she turned to the room directly across from it. Pushing the door all the way open, she stepped inside and froze.
It was a library, a large one. A dull light shone through the stained-glass windows, reflecting shades of red, blue and yellow off the bookshelf-lined walls. Leather bound books filled the cherry stained shelves. A ladder of the same shade hung on a track on the far shelves. Dark green leather armchairs sat in the middle of the room, with a small table between them holding four glasses and a crafter with some kind of alcohol. Or perhaps it was apple juice. The faint smell of cigar, or maybe even pipe smoke lingered in the air, but Shea suspected the smell was infused in the wood from history long past.
A warmth swirled within her until it spread out through her body. Never would she have imagined such a place. She was much more at home in here with the books than she had been in the sitting room. She’d finished her sonnets last night while Lee had been dazzling everyone, but thought of what an excellent deterrent the little book had been.
She went to the nearest shelf and started perusing her options. And boy, oh boy did they take staying in the Regency era seriously. She hardly recognized a single author or title. Still, she had a strange desire to open one and smell it. There was just something about leather bound books that made her happy. Against the windows, the pattering of a light rain began. She’d been wrong about the rain after all.
Finding Shakespeare, she removed Taming of the Shrew from the shelf and opened the gold-leafed pages.
“Interesting choice.”
She started, slamming the book shut as she whirled around to see Mr. Daley. He clenched his jaw and the crinkles that normally adorned his eyes were gone. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him and placed the book back on the shelf.
“Where were you?
” he demanded.
“Excuse me?” She faced him again.
He stepped closer to her and shut, but not all the way, the door which had concealed him when she’d first come in. He’d blocked her only clear path of escape. Her other most-likely suspect. How did she manage to keep getting in these situations?
His fingers tapped over the surface of the book he held. Thrum, thrum, thrum. “Imagine my surprise while during my morning walk I discover that I am left alone with Miss Gray, unchaperoned. And my dear cousin and her devotee are nowhere to be found. If the gamekeeper hadn’t passed by just then, I’m sure that a scandal would have shortly ensued.”
Devotee? Scandal? Really? She slumped. He was the last person she would have pegged as a rule follower, simply because he wasn’t one. And she’d been pretty sure he’d be happy to be alone with Miss Gray. What man wouldn’t for that matter? So what was his problem? He should be thanking her, not scolding her.
He continued, “Of course, we escorted Miss Gray immediately back to the house and then I went looking for you.”
“What? Why?”
“To make sure that that scoundrel wasn’t taking advantage of your innocence and naiveté.” His face turned red.
Okay, she could almost forgive him for calling her “butch” and “dainty,” but “naive?” That was a step too far. “You’re not serious?”
“As serious as a young woman inflicted by a rakehell.” He stopped a few feet from her.
It was on her lips to ask him what a rakehell was, but she stopped herself, knowing it would prove his point. Besides, based on the conversation they’d had up until now, she figured she could make a ballpark guess.
“Well, sheath your fencing sword, cousin,” she said, “for Mr. Hamilton is neither a scoundrel nor rakehell. He escorted me to the church, and then we came right back to the house.”
His eyes narrowed.
She continued. “I then found your uncle, and we discussed tonight’s menu. Not that it’s any of your business.” As far as lies went, that wasn’t so bad.
His lips twitched up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What are we having for dinner?”
Regencyland- The Bristle Park Murders Page 12