A Study in Scandal (Ladies' Amateur Sleuth Society Book 1)

by Robyn DeHart

  “I instructed the driver to take us back to my offices,” he said. “I do hope that is quite right with you and that I am not interrupting an afternoon appointment.”

  “Quite right, indeed,” she said. “I am available all day. We have work to do.”

  “Indeed.”

  Could it be he was beginning to trust her, to actually see her as an assistant? Wouldn’t it be grand if she became his full-time assistant? After all, this was 1892. A woman of her means could certainly take a position without causing too much talk. Not any more talk than her father had already caused. No one would think twice about her doing something out of the ordinary. They’d simply shake their heads and say, “Well, she is Lord Watersfield’s daughter.”

  “Amelia,” he said softly, as if he wasn’t quite certain it was entirely appropriate he use her given name.

  “Yes?”

  “Might I inquire as to why you are not married? You are of age, are you not?”

  That brought a blush to her cheeks. “I apologize, that was a rude question,” he said.

  “No, not at all. It’s a reasonable question, I suppose. I am more than of age. On the shelf, so to speak. I don’t exactly know why I’m not married except that I haven’t had many suitors. Once you pass that marriageable age, it’s more difficult to garner attention.” She untied her toilette and set it in her lap. “Without land or a title to bestow, I’m afraid I wasn’t tempting enough to secure an offer.”

  “I doubt that,” he said.

  Doubted what? Amelia thought. That she wasn’t tempting enough? Goodness. Perhaps Colin had been thinking about their kiss as much as she had been. How could he not?

  The kiss had replayed in her mind repeatedly. Surely it would be remembered in history as one of the most passionate kisses of all times. At least it would be for her. Granted it might also be the only passionate kiss she’d ever experience, but that was beside the point.

  Although it was likely that he’d led a far more passionate lifestyle than her own. For all she knew, he had a woman of his own. A lover. The thought brought an unsuspecting surge of envy through her body. She did not like the thought of him having a lover.

  “Why are you not married, then?” she blurted out.

  He shrugged. “I’ve never entertained the thought.”

  “Never?”

  “No.”

  “Not even once?”

  She couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his shoulders. He truly was a large man. Larger than most Englishmen, although not portly, merely tall and broad. And no doubt firm and sinewy. She caught herself before she sighed. This infatuation was getting quite out of hand.

  She simply wanted to touch him. To be touched by him. But that was not the sort of thing women in her station did. Unless they were conducting an affair. She’d heard rumors of several women who had secret affairs. Whispers at parties, but no one ever knew for certain. Why could she not do the same? Granted those women were mostly widowed or in poor marriages, but who was to say that a spinster couldn’t do that as well?

  If she was discreet. Surely spinsters deserved passion in their lives. They shouldn’t have to do without simply because they never found the right man to marry. Or simply an available, willing man, whichever the case might be. It was unfair of society to require that a woman who was unable to secure a husband remain untouched the rest of her days.

  She simply would not be held to such a requirement.

  She and Colin should have an affair, she decided. The most challenging aspect, she’d wager, would be convincing the inspector it was a good idea.

  Amelia had never been a prisoner to propriety, but she’d done her best to follow the rules. Today, though, she would start a new life, one that tossed all of those rules aside. Because she knew that if she were to explore the passion between herself and Colin, she would have to seduce him.

  That would require some significant planning, as she didn’t know the first thing about seducing a man.

  Colin interrupted her thoughts by saying, “Perhaps when I was a boy.”

  It took her a moment to remember what she’d asked him. Marriage and whether or not he’d ever wanted it.

  “I don’t rightly remember,” he continued. “Mother and Father seemed happy enough. So I suppose I assumed I’d marry someday. But I don’t recall ever pursuing it further.”

  “So you’ve never been in love?” she asked.

  He frowned. “I don’t believe in love.”

  “Don’t believe in love? Honestly? How can you not believe in love? ‘Tis all around us.”

  “No, it really isn’t. Love is one of those foolish and fleeting emotions that people spend an enormous amount of energy on, only to be repeatedly disappointed. People say love is blind; I say love is, at best, fickle.”

  So perhaps he didn’t have a lover and hadn’t had a more passionate life than her. All the more reason to pursue this affair with him. Yes, love could be fleeting and fickle, but it could also be wonderful and uplifting and changing and enabling. And so many other amazing things. She’d seen it before. And she’d felt it.

  Perhaps not the sort of love a woman feels for a man, but she loved and she loved deeply. Her friends, her dear, sweet father. And an assorted collection of tiny other things in her life such as her books and her mother’s locket.

  Perhaps that was simplifying the matter, but love was a grand emotion and worthy of respect. Poor Cohn—to have never known such a thing. Or perhaps he did know it, but simply refused to believe it. Perhaps he was looking for something else while love sat quietly in the comer. For it was quite evident to her that Colin Brindley knew how to love. He was unabashedly passionate about his research—that was love.

  “So I suppose it is safe to assume that you shall never marry?” she asked.

  “Quite safe. I have never seen the point. With the exception of children. I suppose children need parents, and you must marry for that. But I don’t need children.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever marry either. So I shall miss out on motherhood, but I shall be a splendid aunt to my friends’ children.”

  “Your sleuth society friends?”

  She nodded.

  “They are married?”

  “No, but they will be.” She toyed with a ribbon on her bodice.

  “But not you?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Why are you so special?” he asked, and she thought she detected a hint of humor in his voice.

  “That’s just it. I’m not special. Plain Amelia with nothing quite extraordinary about her.”

  That garnered her a laugh. A genuine and hearty laugh that tickled at her heart and put a smile on her face.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you laugh, Inspector.”

  “There is often nothing that amuses me. But you, I find amusing.”

  “That’s not very kind,” she said.

  “I’m not teasing you. I meant that sincerely.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I think it is absurd that you don’t think there is anything extraordinary about you. Most people are not extraordinary. That has nothing to do with being marriageable.”

  “You think I’m marriageable?”

  “I think it will be hard to find a man who can keep up with you, Amelia, but if you ever do, then yes, you are quite marriageable.”

  She frowned. “I can’t decipher if that was a compliment or an insult.”

  “A compliment.” Then the carriage stopped in front of his offices. “Right, then, shall we?”

  She allowed him to assist her to the street, then followed him up into the house.

  He started up the stairs, then paused. “Would you like some tea?” he asked.

  “That would be nice.”

  “You can wait for me in my office. I shall prepare the tea and see if I can’t find some biscuits as well.”

  She was nervous, she realized. Her hands were even a bit shaky. She supposed it was the decision to pursue an affair with C
olin that had her jittery inside. But nonetheless she felt certain about her decision. Now all she needed to do was figure out how to apprise him of her decision.

  He’d laughed at her earlier. He said he hadn’t been jesting. What, then, was so amusing about her admission of not being extraordinary? Was it amusing because it was so obvious that no one ever needed to say it aloud?

  Or? A voice inside her whispered. That same tiny voice that always wanted to argue this point.

  What if he disagreed? it said.

  What if Colin Brindley sees some tiny hint that you are in fact extraordinary in some small way?

  She shook her head. That was impossible. This was a futile direction for her thoughts to be going. She needed to stay focused on the case. Be helpful. Lest he’d regret ever asking her to assist him.

  She wandered into his office and found it much in the same state it was in the last time she visited. Clean and tidy. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that no one used this room.

  She found Othello curled up on some papers on the desk in front of the window. She ran her hand over his soft orange fur. He stretched, then peeked at her with tired green eyes. She picked up the sleepy creature and held him to her chest as she continued to pet him.

  And surely Colin loved his pet. Othello certainly had a good life, lazing about wherever he chose. She would be willing to bet Colin gave him cream to drink by the fireplace at night. But love did not exist? She smiled.

  “I do believe your master is fooling himself,” she said.

  “Here we are. I don’t think these biscuits are exceptionally fresh, but I hope they shall serve their purpose.”

  She turned to face him. “Dipping them in the tea will hide a multitude of sins.”

  “He doesn’t usually like people,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Othello. He doesn’t often like other people. In fact, he generally will hiss and run into the other room if I have a visitor.”

  She looked down at the kitty in her arms. “Well, that’s not nice of you, Othello. Feigning disinterest so people will pursue you, I assume. I suppose it’s a tactic that works quite well for some.” She placed him down on the desk, then made her way to the seating area.

  Colin handed her a cup of tea and motioned toward the biscuits. “Please help yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where shall we start?” He crossed his left leg over his right, and once again she was shuck by the sheer length of his limbs.

  “At the moment, we have no firm leads in the case,” she said, hoping she sounded as if she knew precisely what she was talking about. “We know that Nefertiti is missing.”

  “Right. And we know that practically all of London had access to her,” he said.

  She smiled. “Correct.”

  “Tomorrow, I shall interrogate your servants and then I wish to go and see this museum curator you mentioned.”

  “Very well.” She took a thoughtful sip of tea. “Must you speak with the servants?”

  “We’ve been over this. It is essential. Amelia, they each had prime access to the piece.”

  She nodded. “Were this piece not so important to my father, I would not care who took it.”

  “Yes, you would.” He smiled. “I do believe you love a good puzzle.”

  He was right. She wished that she could claim she only worked on this for her father’s sake, but she could not. Her own selfish desires were there as well. “I cannot deny that, Inspector. You are rather perceptive in identifying my hidden motivations.”

  He glanced at the window. “Another storm is approaching. I hate for you to be out.”

  “I suppose I should be going, then,” she said.

  “Very well, I shall walk you out.”

  They made their way to the door.

  “Amelia,” he said.

  She turned to face him, and before she could answer he grabbed her by both shoulders and pressed his mouth against hers. There was no movement as in their last kiss, only his lips on hers. He released her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but found no words.

  “That wasn’t quite right,” he said. “No, not right at all.”

  This time he moved in slower, placed one hand against her cheek, and softly lowered his mouth to hers. His lips moved against hers this time, slowly. Very slowly. Desire coiled down her body and settled between her legs. She shifted her weight, but found no relief.

  His tongue slid across her bottom lip, then her top, then into her mouth. Gracious, he was torturing her to death. But oh, what a way to die. She released a throaty sigh and leaned farther into him, her fingers curling into his hair. A warm dampness settled in her nether regions and she wanted desperately to rub herself against him. But she wasn’t quite that bold.

  He continued his slow and thorough perusal of her mouth until she thought her legs would melt right off her body. Gently, he ended the kiss, and when she opened her eyes, she found him staring intently at her.

  “I believe that was quite right,” she said.

  His warm brown eyes had turned darker, and he looked very much as if he wanted to devour her. The thought of which sent shivers to places in her body she hadn’t known could get shivers. She wanted him to touch her. Everywhere. A blush heated her cheeks. What a disgraceful thought.

  “Yes, well,” he said, his voice husky and raw. “1 shall see you tomorrow afternoon. I trust you will find your way home safely. 1 called for a hackney.”

  Their kiss had affected him as well. Why, though, had he kissed her?

  “Thank you. Tomorrow it is.”

  She turned on her heel and left. This time there was no apology for the kiss. And this time he’d started it. As if he’d been planning it all day. Their conversation earlier had been disjointed, and he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he usually did. He wasn’t nearly as argumentative. It was as if the idea of kissing her had been the sole thought occupying his mind.

  Her heart sped up slightly. She quite liked the prospect of him thinking about her. Especially if those thoughts included kisses, as hers so often did. Perhaps starting a passionate affair with him would not be quite so difficult as she had first thought.

  Chapter Seven

  “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.” ~The Sign of Four

  “Wheston is simply arrogant, so he might be a tad reluctant to even speak with you. Ignore his attitude. He is perfectly honest. And Bethany is very shy, so she most likely won’t make eye contact. Be patient with her.” Amelia looked at him with eyebrows raised. It was the first time Colin had ever seen her look as if she were losing her patience. “Are you going to write any of this down?”

  “Amelia, all will be well. I promise I shall not abuse your servants.”

  She released a heavy breath. “Oh, wait, this one is important. Penny, she’s quite nervous. I believe she was quite ill to her stomach this morning. Oh, do be kind to her. She’s so young and sweet, and this has been the only position she’s been able to keep. She’s a bit clumsy and others have been less tolerant of such things. Even though any one of us could drop and break things—that sort of thing happens all the time. Chances are the nasty women who let her go have never even handled the teapots and whatnot in their houses, else they might have dropped and broken them as well.”

  He tried not to smile, tried not to be amused, because she was serious. Very concerned for those in her employ. He had to admire her for that. She was a kind woman who did what she could to ensure those around her felt no discomfort. He would be kind to her servants, but he would also do his job.

  “Please be at ease, madam, I promise your servants will be no worse for the wear. Now you must go. The longer you are in here, the longer they must wait. Which in turn might increase the unsettled nerves of some. Go. All will be well.”

  She eyed him for a moment
more before standing. “You’re a good man, Colin. I trust you’ll be kind to my servants. Let me know if you need anything.” With one last glance, she left him alone in the study.

  He’d decided on doing the interviews in the room where the “crime” took place in case the perpetrator was here today. Forcing someone to answer questions in the location where the crime was committed often made that person nervous. And nerves often made people reckless and more open with the truth than they intended. It was a trick he had learned at the Yard. But more than that, he was here in the Watersfield home doing the interrogation because it put Amelia more at ease.

  The first to arrive was Weston, the butler. He was as Amelia described, arrogant. Colin had had a few interactions with him thus far and had seen the protective gleam in his eyes. Not to mention the strong streak of propriety that clung to the man. He answered all of Colin’s questions and remained calm. This was not the one he sought.

  One by one they came in, the housekeeper, the chambermaid, the laundry maid, a housemaid, and a footman. Colin only had one name left on the list. Penny. The maid who cleaned this room. The one Amelia had said was ill with nerves this morning. It could simply be a fear of losing her position, or it could be guilt. Only time would tell.

  The girl who entered the room was much younger than Colin had anticipated. She looked to be only twenty or so, and her hands visibly shook at her sides. She gave him a small curtsy.

  “Sir,” she said quietly.

  “Hello,” he said. He smiled at her, hoping to ease her nerves. Even if she had a confession to make, he didn’t want her becoming ill. Especially all over him. “Sit,” he said.

  She complied and folded her hands in her lap. Her knuckles whitened beneath the clench of her hands.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir, a bit.”

  “Have you ever been questioned about something before, Penny?”

  “Yes, sir. At my last two posts. The ladies of the house questioned me, then let me go. I can be clumsy at times.”

  “Try not to be too nervous. I’m going to ask you a few questions and you need only answer them honestly. I have no doubt that regardless of the outcome, Lord Watersfield and Miss Watersfield will be most kind.”