by Darcy Burke
Grey nodded before taking herself off toward a set of servant stairs to deliver the key to wherever she’d obtained it. Cate had asked last time how she’d acquired it, but Grey would only say that it was her job to take care of the difficult details.
Norris looked down at her. “Can you find your way back to your room?”
Cate tried not to stare at his mouth, but the imprint of his lips lingered on hers and the heat in her body didn’t dissipate. In fact, the longer she looked at him, the more her desire smoldered. She averted her gaze. “We are not going our separate ways—not yet. You still owe me an explanation about what you meant in the library. You said you know what to do. Tell me.”
He glanced up and down the hallway. “Not here.”
She grabbed his hand, heedless of the attraction sparking between them. “My chamber is this way.”
He pulled her to a stop and dropped her hand again, quickly, as if she might burn him. “We can’t go there. Your reputation is already at risk. Where is your sense?” His tone was stern, but there was an underlying heat. She’d never heard him sound like that, as if he wasn’t completely and utterly in control.
“Everyone is in the front hall listening to Septon. He’ll go on for quite some time.”
“You don’t know that everyone is there,” he said quietly, but with urgency. “And the servants are not. I may be somewhat new to my role, but I’m aware that servants talk and are often the source of gossip and rumor.”
Cate rolled her eyes. “Just come with me. There’s a sitting room we can use and we’ll leave the door open.”
“On second thought, a private situation is preferable.” He went to the door of the room Grey had vacated and carefully opened it to reveal a small, unlit storage chamber. “This will work.” He beckoned for her to follow.
Once she stepped inside, he closed the door and plunged them into darkness. Only a strip of light from the illuminated corridor broke into the pitch black. She didn’t like that she couldn’t see him. On the other hand, she was intensely aware of his scent, his heat, and his proximity.
As if he’d read her mind, he took a step back.
Cate forced herself to focus on their mission. “Now talk.”
“You’re a bit of an autocrat,” he said softly. “I’ll add that to your list.”
“Add anything you like, just tell me what you meant.” She fairly growled the last, her impatience taking over.
“You needn’t worry about not finding anything because I know where the tapestry is located.”
He did? “Where?”
“Worcester, near my childhood home.”
“How do you know?” And how long had he known?
“Mason hid it there. He told us this afternoon.”
He’d known about it for hours! He’d known about it when they’d met before dinner. He’d known about it as she’d furiously searched the secret library. She reached out to find where he was standing. Her hand connected with his chest. She’d meant to lightly smack him—he more than deserved it—but as soon as she touched him, the manner of her contact changed. She snatched her hand away before she did something foolish, like kiss him again.
“I didn’t wish to tell you until tonight. I was certain you’d want to go after it directly, and it was important to me to visit Septon.”
He was right, drat it all. She would have wanted to pursue the tapestry straightaway. “It made sense that you wanted to talk to Septon since you were so close, and Worcester is a day away.” She could already be in Worcester. Except they were working as a team and that wouldn’t have been fair. “I wish you would have told me earlier. If we’re to work together, I want to know that I can trust you to be honest.”
“You can. As I said, I planned to tell you this evening. I was never going to keep it from you. Whereas I have to wonder if you would’ve shared this evening’s excursion to Septon’s secret library if I hadn’t followed you.”
He made another valid point, but like him, she’d planned to disclose any information she’d learned—if she’d found anything. “I didn’t know if I would discover anything helpful. If I had, I would’ve told you about it.”
“I shall have to take your word for it.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or if there might be a thread of sarcasm. This inability to see him only made him even harder to read. “I spoke to Septon just before he started his presentation,” she said. “He doesn’t know the men who tried to purchase the tapestry.”
Silence greeted her revelation. She could almost feel his disappointment. “I’m sorry he didn’t know anything to help you. But you still have this footman at Stratton Hall to interrogate.”
“Yes, and I plan to do just that after we retrieve the tapestry,” he said.
They were going to find it! She allowed herself to feel a rush of excitement and impending triumph. Working to contain her jubilation, she asked as casually as possible, “Do you wish to leave tomorrow?”
“Yes, the earlier the better. Will Septon be offended that we aren’t staying for the duration of the party?”
Cate frowned into the darkness. “No, but he’ll question why we’re leaving together.”
“Then we won’t leave together. I will depart at first light, and you will depart later.”
It grated on her that he would leave first, but that was silly. She could trust him. She had no other choice.
“There is an inn in Worcester—the Black Hound—meet me there. I’ll arrange for a room for you and Grey.”
“Thank you,” she said, appreciating his thoughtfulness. They were now most definitely a team. “We’ll see you in Worcester, then.”
She reached for the door as he did the same, and their hands collided. Instead of jerking back, she hesitated, inviting the rush of sensation that took her back to that surprising kiss.
He withdrew his hand. “You go ahead.”
Cate’s heart pounded. He was so close and in the darkness was so . . . anonymous. Secret. Who would know if she kissed him again? She pivoted, bringing her body nearly against his just in front of the closed door. “Norris,” she murmured, setting her palm against the front of his coat and sliding it up.
His head bent—she felt the movement and sensed his closeness. “Miss Bowen.”
She stood on her toes, but couldn’t find his mouth. He hadn’t come down far enough.
His hand stole along her waist, sending a shiver up her spine. The latch of the door clicked and light spilled into the room from the corridor behind her. “I’ll see you in Worcester.” He spoke very near her mouth, the whisper of his words gliding over her with promise.
But it was to be unfulfilled.
He stood back and ushered her into the corridor. Then the door snapped shut, and she was alone.
The light from the sconces and the sudden drop in temperature—or was that merely her imagination?—cooled her ardor. She put a hand to her temple and admonished herself for being foolish. This was going to be David Iscove all over again if she wasn’t careful. Steeling herself, she strode away from the room. Norris wasn’t Iscove, and she wasn’t going to lose her head. She was closer to her dream than she’d ever been, and there was no way she was going to let a man, no matter how attractive or alluring, stand in her path.
Elijah leaned back against the door, his pulse thudding through his body, and listened to her walk away. Blood and bones, that had been a near thing. He stood there in the dark, willing his erection to stand the hell down so he could leave the bloody room.
What the devil had she been thinking? Kissing him? Nearly kissing him a second time? What sort of woman of her station did that? Granted, he had next to no experience with women of her station, but he had to assume that a young, unmarried miss shouldn’t know how to kiss. Yet Miss Bowen had. She’d claimed his mouth with an expertise that had practically melted his bones. It wasn’t as if he’d gone that long without a woman. There’d been a few stops on his journey home, and upon arriving in London,
he’d visited an elegant brothel where he’d been serviced quite well. It had reminded him, in a bittersweet fashion, of Lily, his mistress, whom he’d left in Australia. She’d offered to come with him, but he’d declined, knowing that she loved her homeland—she was the daughter of a woman who’d been transported—and preferring to maintain an unfettered life. Indeed, Lily was the only woman he’d ever kept and he couldn’t imagine doing so again. And certainly not Miss Bowen.
Elijah massaged his forehead. Finally judging himself fit, he turned and left the closet. Thankfully Miss Bowen was nowhere to be seen.
He strode purposefully for his chamber, hoping that Wade would be there. He wasn’t disappointed.
“You’re in early, my lord,” Wade said.
“All in all, it’s been a bit of a frustrating evening.” He didn’t plan to tell Wade about the kissing business. “Unfortunately, Septon doesn’t know who these other men who wanted to buy the tapestry are.”
“I’m sorry for that, my lord. But we still have the footman at Stratton Hall.”
Elijah unknotted his cravat. “Indeed we do. And as it happens, Lord Stratton is a distant relation of Miss Bowen’s, so we have an entrée.”
Wade held out his hand to take the cravat from Elijah. “That is an excellent turn of events, my lord. Below stairs, I heard that Lady Stratton is Septon’s lover.”
“Yes, I heard that as well,” Elijah said.
“And her son is here, Lord Kersey. It’s the first time he’s come to Septon House. Apparently Lady Stratton is delighted by his presence. They’ve been estranged for many years.”
“So Miss Bowen informed me. She is Kersey’s cousin, if you can believe it.”
Wade’s light brown eyes flickered surprise. “Is there some connection, do you suppose? With the footman at Stratton Hall?”
“To Miss Bowen? I doubt it.” Elijah tried to puzzle how Dalby might have made his way from Cosgrove to Stratton Hall, but couldn’t figure it out. “I admit I find it odd that she has a connection to the place where this footman was able to find a position after being turned out without a reference.”
Wade eyed him curiously. “But you think it is merely coincidence?”
Elijah blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to think. I can’t believe Miss Bowen was involved with trying to steal the tapestry or with Matthew’s death.” Was that because he liked her and found her attractive? None of that held any consequence in the larger scheme, and he’d do better to remember that. As he’d indicated before they’d left for Bath—he meant to keep her close until he figured it all out.
“Is your plan still to travel to Worcester tomorrow to find the tapestry?”
“It is. Miss Bowen and Grey will meet us at the Black Hound in Worcester. Once we have the tapestry, we’ll continue on to Stratton Hall.”
“A sound plan, my lord. Are we to leave in the morning, then?”
“At first light.” Elijah shrugged out of his coat, and the paper he’d taken from Septon’s library fluttered to the floor.
“What’s that?” Wade asked, bending to pick it up.
Elijah watched as Wade opened it. “Something I thought might be a good idea to borrow.”
Wade perused the document. “Is this a drawing of the tapestry? Can’t read a word of what’s written beneath it.”
“Neither can I, but Miss Bowen says she can. She’s not aware I’ve taken it, though. For now, let’s keep this between us.”
“Very well.” Wade refolded it. “Shall I pack it in your case?”
“Actually, I prefer to keep it on my person. Tuck it under the pillow for now. Did you by chance see Grey? At dinner, perhaps?”
Wade stashed the parchment as Elijah asked. “I did, though she disappeared immediately afterward.”
“Yes, she was otherwise engaged in assisting Miss Bowen with her sleuthing activities.”
Wade arched a brow, but didn’t pose a query. “We didn’t have a chance to discuss our meeting with Mason.”
“Miss Bowen will enlighten her.” Elijah moved into the dressing chamber and removed his waistcoat, handing it to Wade.
“She’s rather pretty.”
Elijah shot him a disbelieving glance. “Grey?” Elijah tried to think of how he would characterize her. She wasn’t not pretty, he supposed. He thought her hair might be brown in color, but it was always pulled back in a rather severe knot. She had blue eyes if he wasn’t mistaken, and yes, they were clear and . . . pretty.
Elijah slipped his shoes off and nudged them toward Wade. “You realize she has a good five inches on you?”
Wade flashed Elijah a look that said he was not amused. “More like four.”
Elijah tried not to smile. “Let’s keep our focus.”
Wade picked up the shoes and tucked them into the traveling case in the corner. “Does that include you and Miss Bowen?”
“There is no ‘me and Miss Bowen.’” He tried not to think of her kiss or her almost kiss or his ragingly inappropriate reaction to both.
“I understand.” Wade’s tone said he didn’t believe him, but Elijah didn’t wish to debate the matter. Best to put it from his mind entirely.
“Before you turn in, will you inform Septon’s butler that we’re leaving? Tell him . . .” He blinked at Wade. “I don’t know what to tell him.”
“I shall inform him that you have a previous engagement, my lord.”
“Wade, you are astonishingly efficient at this new position. Tell me again, why did you fall into crime?”
He shrugged. “Because that’s what we did when there were too many of us to feed. Some of us are lucky and find our way, align ourselves with people who help us along.” He gave Elijah a meaningful, appreciative glance as he folded the clothing and packed it away.
Elijah knew he’d communicated with the siblings with whom he still had contact—two younger sisters who’d found their way and were now married. The rest of his family was unfortunately lost to him. “It takes a particular fellow to rebel successfully against circumstance.”
“I’ll run down and inform the butler. Will there be anything else?”
Elijah felt restless. Though he planned to rise early, he didn’t think he could yet sleep. “Perhaps some brandy or better still, whisky. And some cards. If you’re of a mind.” They’d passed many nights in Australia and on board the ship playing cards and drinking.
“Sounds about right.” With a nod, Wade took himself off.
Elijah wondered briefly what Wade would do if he encountered Grey. Would he steal a kiss, or exercise the same control Elijah had barely managed? And if it were the latter, would he regret it as bitterly as Elijah did?
What happened to putting this from his mind?
Swearing under his breath, he strode back into the bedchamber to await Wade. The sooner he delivered the tapestry to Miss Bowen, the sooner he could exorcise her from his life. He needed her family connection to visit Stratton Hall, however.
Bloody hell, tapestry or not, it looked as though he’d be saddled with Miss Bowen—and her kissable lips—if he had any hope of unraveling the circumstances of Matthew’s death.
Chapter 9
The journey to Worcester had taken several hours, ample time for Cate to relive the kiss with Norris at least two dozen times. Give or take a dozen.
She both regretted not kissing him a second time and counted herself fortunate. There was no telling how much farther a second kiss might have taken them. And now that she was about to see him again, the memory of his lips seemed even more present than it had all day.
Put the kiss from your mind!
Straightening her shoulders, she stepped into the private dining room at the Black Hound.
Norris stood from the table and offered her a bow.
She dipped a brief curtsey in return. It felt formal after the intimacy of the night before, but she found it was necessary if they were to maintain an appropriate association. “I received your kind dinner invitation. Thank you.”
&nb
sp; “I trust your journey was pleasant,” he said. “The weather was especially fine.”
“Quite. And yours?”
“It was long, but pleasant enough.”
The inn’s footman held out her chair so she could sit. Norris retook the chair he’d vacated.
She’d had enough of the awkward, stilted conversation. They were business associates—partners even—and they could move past a silly kiss. She draped her napkin across her lap. “Now that we’re here, will you tell me where we’ll find the tapestry?”
Norris frowned slightly and shook his head. He darted a glance at the footman, who served their soup from the sideboard. Once the bowls were placed before them, Norris looked up at the young man. “Would it be possible for us to serve ourselves?”
“I’ll have to fetch the rest. It won’t be quite as hot.” He appeared concerned about this.
Cate smiled at him to ease his anxiety. “It’s all right.”
The footman nodded and left. Cate helped herself to the soup while they waited for the food to be delivered and the footman to leave them alone.
Once he’d gone, she gave Norris a pointed look. “Here we are, alone again.” Did she need to draw attention to it? She wasn’t doing a very good job of moving past anything.
“Indeed we are.” He arched a brow at her. “I know it doesn’t bother you, given the way you and your companion traipse about, barely adhering to the confines of your station. I’ve decided to try to not let it bother me.”
“But it does.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On the one hand, she found his condescension regarding her “station” infuriating, although expected. On the other, she appreciated the care with which he handled her reputation.
He lifted a shoulder and sampled the soup. “I’ve arranged to borrow mounts for our excursion tomorrow.”
“Three of them?” She was nearly certain he’d include Grey, but wanted to make sure.
“Four, actually. Wade will be joining us.”
That made sense. After all, he’d described his manservant as his “Grey,” which in retrospect made her want to smile. Everyone should have a Grey. “And where are we going exactly?” Cate asked.
