Catrin dropped her hands. She lifted her head to look at him. The anger was still there, but it was remote. “Everyone?”
His hand curled into a fist by his side. “You are every heroine in every story. I change the names, later, when the story is done.” And he brought his hand to his temple and pressed his fingertips against it, wincing.
“You should walk…” she breathed, alarm touching her.
“I’ve done nothing but walk, all day,” he muttered, his jaw working. “Now this…”
Her heart jolted guiltily. “I’m sorry,” she breathed.
“I know you are. Your regret does not erase this from your mind, though.” He lowered himself to the floor and sat upon the carpet of paper, with a small groan. He dropped the staff beside him, then unwound the scarf and put it aside, too.
He drew up his knees, his boots marking the pages, and rested his arms upon his knees. He lowered his head to his arms. “I should have locked them away or put them in a drawer. I simply couldn’t bring myself to it.” His voice was muffled.
Catrin didn’t know what to say. She had never failed to find appropriate words for any occasion, yet nothing she thought of now encompassed and acknowledged the revelation that Daniel had written about her…over and over again.
Except there was one thing she could do. Something she could reveal which would ameliorate his vulnerability.
“Have you read any of Gresham King’s stories, Daniel?”
He turned his chin without lifting his head. One clear gray eye peered at her. “The adventurer? Hasn’t everyone?” Bitter irony colored his tone. “Coralie Armistead is read by every housewife. King is read by everyone.”
“And the non-fiction book he recently released?”
Daniel lifted his head from his arm. “Now, that is one I want to read. On days when I can read,” he added. “Why are we talking about Gresham King?”
Catrin pursed her lips and lifted her brows.
Daniel drew in a deep breath, his eyes widening. “You. You are Gresham King.”
Catrin smoothed down the folds of tweed over her knees. “To the deepest regret and disappointment of far too many of my publishers.”
Daniel sat up, his knees lowering until his ankles crossed and his back was straight. He had forgotten the pain. “I should have known,” he breathed, his gaze turned inward. “All the places King traveled to were places I have visited…” His gaze shifted to the little desk behind the ferns. “My letters…”
Catrin nodded. “Although now I have run out of letters and stories, I must make things up. No one seems to have noticed the difference.”
“Including me,” Daniel said. His mouth turned up at the corners. “You are Gresham King,” he said again, with an air of astonishment and wonder.
“I would not be, but for you.”
His smile faded. “Coralie Armistead would not exist, but for you.”
Her heart soared. Catrin smiled. She couldn’t help it. The joy in her was lifting her, making her light and carefree.
“Daniel—”
“No!” He pushed himself up onto his knees and slid across the pages, to kneel in front of her. He touched her lips, silencing her. “Don’t say it,” he said, his voice low. “Not now.”
Catrin swallowed, the flow of happiness hitching and fading.
His gaze was steady and she saw warmth in his eyes. “I know what you want to tell me.” He put his hands about her waist and squeezed. For emphasis, she realized. “I would say the same to you, Catrin. I would give anything to speak those words, but I cannot. Not now.”
“Because of Blodwen and Finn,” she whispered.
“If the worst happens,” he breathed, “I will not pull you down with me. Even living here in this house will smear your name, if it comes to that. If there is a public and acknowledged connection between us, Cat, you will be tarnished beyond redemption.”
“You once refused me for the same reason—because you would be the ruin of me,” she said. Her voice was hollow.
“I was a fool,” he said roughly. “I had no idea what I was saying. If I had possessed an ounce of reason, I would have had you in my life all these years. This is far different.” He gave her a little shake once more, his gaze meeting hers. “They hang murderers, Catrin.”
She flinched.
Daniel stroked her face and brushed a curlicue aside. “When this is over, when I am cleared of suspicion, we will speak, you and I. But only then.”
Her heart hurt, this time for a different reason. Fear pummeled it.
Daniel kissed her. It was the lightest, chaste touch.
“I wish—” she breathed.
“I know.” His voice was low. “I have walked myself to exhaustion wishing I might, just once, kiss you as I used to.” He picked up her hand and kissed her palm. “The time we have wasted…” he breathed. “And now I am afraid it is too late.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I refuse to allow it.” She sat up and took his hand in hers. “Come with me.”
“I must walk, Catrin,” Daniel said, with a grimace. “Or I will not sleep. And now, I suspect I must find a way to sleep, so I am alert, tomorrow. I will need all my wits about me.”
Catrin turned on the chair so her feet were to one side and out of his way. She stood and tugged his hand once more. “You will sleep,” she assured him. “Afterwards.”
He considered her. The heat grew in his eyes, making her tremble anew. Then he rose and went with her.
And afterwards, he did sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
The firm knock on the front door, Sayers’s murmur and a higher, stronger voice, all stirred Catrin.
She smiled when she saw Daniel still slept beside her. He laid unmoving, breathing softly. Regretfully, she shook his shoulder and leaned to murmur close to his ear.
“There is someone at the front door. Sayers may come to find you in your room.”
Daniel didn’t jerk awake. He simply opened his eyes and blinked. He sat up, the covers dropping around his hips. Catrin’s breath caught as she took in his chest and the strong arms. He rubbed his hand through his hair, smoothing it down, and glanced at her. The corner of his mouth lifted. “This does not seem awkward at all, does it?”
She shook her head. “Not in the slightest.” For it did not. It was as if they had always slept together in this way and woken beside each other in the morning. “In here—” and she touched her chest, “you have always been right there beside me.”
He caught her face in his hand and pulled her to him. At the last moment, he seemed to remember and merely touched her lips with his. He rested his head against hers.
Then he rose and dressed with swift movements and left.
Catrin threw the covers aside and dressed, too. If it had been any other day, she might have contented herself with an informal wrapper. In her heart, though, she knew—as Daniel had said last night—that today was a day when she would need all her wits about her. It was most likely she would have to leave the house and appear in public, to defend her reputation and Daniel’s, too. A wrapper would not do.
She could manage day dresses on her own, although it was slower without a maid. However, as she was fastening her corset into place, Gwen tapped on the door and stepped in to help.
“There’s a woman at the door,” Gwen said. “She wants to speak to you.”
“Me? Does the lady have a name?”
“She’s no lady, Miss.” Gwen tugged on Catrin’s stays vigorously. The judgment in her tone was remarkable, for Gwen had been slow to judge Daniel or Catrin.
Suspiciously, Catrin said, “Is Maggie O’Shay downstairs, Gwen?”
“You know her, Miss?” Gwen was startled.
“I bought Oil of Lavender from her, to make an ointment for Mr. Williams.”
Gwen relaxed, as she tackled Catrin’s sleeve buttons. “Oh…” She seemed relieved. Then her expression tightened once more. “Why does the woman want to speak to you now?”
&nbs
p; “I have no idea,” Catrin replied with more calm than she felt, for this question puzzled her, too. “Perhaps I should go downstairs and speak to her and find out?”
Gwen grinned, her ruddy face glowing with amusement. “That would be the simple way, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed. Are my father or Lord Marblethorpe up, yet?”
“They are, Miss. They both breakfasted a few hours ago and left straight after. They wanted to talk to people in town. I don’t know what for.”
“I do,” Catrin assured her. “Could you request a pot of tea and toast and jam for two from the cook, please, Gwen? Served at the little table by the window seat in the drawing room. I will talk to Maggie there.”
“For two, Miss?”
“Mr. Williams must be kept informed about everything, today,” Catrin said. “How much did you hear or surmise from yesterday?”
Gwen’s expression darkened. “It ain’t right, what the Inspector said, Miss. It can’t be.”
“And that is why Daniel must be included in everything, today. We have work ahead of us, Gwen, if we are to find a way clear of this mess.”
Gwen sobered. “I understand you, Miss.” She moved toward the door, bent and picked up something and held it out to Catrin. “That’d be Mr. William’s cuff link, I’m thinking. You might want to return it to him before he comes downstairs.” She dropped the pin into Catrin’s palm, with a small smile, and left.
Catrin sat in the chair at the front of the round table. It would let Daniel choose the window seat itself and let him turn to one side, so his scar was to the window.
As she poured the tea and Daniel wolfed down two of the plain buttered slices of toast, Sayers showed Maggie O’Shay into the drawing room.
Maggie had a thickly knitted shawl about her shoulders and a battered cap upon her head, fingerless gloves and sturdy boots. Her cheeks were red from the cold. “Mr. Williams…!” she said, when she saw Daniel. Shock skittered over her face. “I understood you didn’t like to speak to strangers.” It was the same frankness she had used with Catrin when Catrin visited her at her poor little house by the wharf.
“The practice has not served me well, of late,” Daniel replied.
“So I heard,” Maggie replied, with a grimace.
Catrin was not surprised the news had spread to the farthest corners of the town.
“That is why I’m here,” Maggie added.
Catrin put the teapot down. “You know something about Finn Doherty?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended it to be.
“In a roundabout way, I might,” Maggie replied. “You recall I told you I was all out of Pennyroyal, when you visited, Miss Davies?”
“I do,” Catrin said coolly. She also remembered vividly the purpose of Pennyroyal.
“Pennyroyal?” Daniel said, his tone as sharp as Catrin’s had been. “You’re the woman in the house by the Parrog,” he said. “I have heard of you and your…medicines.”
Maggie drew the shawl about her shoulders in tighter. “I help in ways no one else can help poor women caught in impossible situations. Only that isn’t all I help with. I helped you, didn’t I?”
“You?” Daniel said.
“I bought the Oil of Lavender I used on your face yesterday from Maggie,” Catrin explained quickly. “What is it about the Pennyroyal you wanted to tell me, Maggie?”
“When I heard about Finn Doherty, I knew I must tell you.” Maggie hesitated. “Normally, I don’t breathe a word about who comes to see me, you see. It wouldn’t be good for business, if I did.”
“Understandably,” Daniel said dryly.
Maggie’s gaze shifted to him, then back to Catrin. “It’s Blodwen who came to see me, Miss. She’s the one who bought all the Pennyroyal I had left and had me explain how to use it.”
Catrin drew in a breath, reaching for calm. Blodwen had been pregnant…! Only, what did it mean? She couldn’t think properly for her raging heart.
Her silence prompted Maggie to continue. “I’m not lying, Miss. Not about this. You should have heard the girl. Cursing every man she knew, from her uncle to Finn himself—”
“Her uncle?” Catrin interrupted.
“Gethin Merrick,” Daniel murmured.
“Sir Merrick is her uncle?” Catrin repeated, amazed.
“He was the black sheep brother who returned to Newport covered in glory,” Daniel said. “It isn’t a unique story in Newport.”
Catrin nodded. Her father was the same as Merrick. He had left and returned a changed man.
Maggie’s mouth turned down. “Only, Merrick wouldn’t share his bounty, when he came back a few years ago. Said there was none to share, which left his sister high and dry. When the news got out about his disgrace, Mercy spent every breath she had telling him and anyone who would listen it was what he deserved. At the same time, she had her hand out to him for any coins he cared to drop into it. Mercy taught Blodwen to hate him and all men just as Mercy did. It’s why Blodwen came to see me.” Maggie grimaced. “Blodwen is not the only woman who has stood in my parlor and cursed men.”
Catrin put down her teacup and looked at Daniel. “Inspector Pryce must learn of this.”
Daniel nodded.
Catrin turned to Maggie. “Thank you for telling me about Blodwen.”
Maggie glanced at Daniel. She brought her gaze back to Catrin and squared her shoulders. “I’m not an evil woman, Miss Davies, although it makes everyone comfortable to think I am. I just like to help.”
“You did help. I’m not sure how, yet, but this news must change things.”
Maggie’s smile grew warmer. “That’s good to know, Miss.” She left, her shoulders still square and straight, and Sayers followed her from the room, his suspicious gaze on the middle of her back.
Daniel got to his feet, picked up the teacup and gulped most of the contents and put it down.
“Now?” Catrin asked him, startled.
“I can rig the trap and save Sayers the bother,” Daniel said. “Five minutes. Finish your tea and toast. Then we will speak with Pryce.”
The Inspector had rented a room at the Castle Inn on the high street. “Everyone stays here,” Daniel told Catrin, as he halted the trap in the yard behind the inn and got out. “This is the only reputable inn in the town where visitors without family could stay.” He had wrapped the wide scarf around his lower face, so his voice was muffled and the scarf hid most of his face. Only the tip of the scar showed by his temple, and only if one bent to peer under the brim of his hat.
The white-haired woman at the front desk gave them the Inspector’s room number. “Although you’ll likely find him in the dining room,” she added, as Daniel removed his hat and turned toward the stairs.
Daniel glanced through the arch on the other side of the reception area. “Thank you,” he told the woman. She gave him a nervous smile in return, her gaze shifting to his cheek.
Daniel glanced at Catrin and she moved up to his side as he walked through to the dining room. There were a dozen small tables, with rounded-back chairs on each side, white tablecloths and a silver vase on each table, holding fernery. Flowers were not in bloom in February, not even in hothouses or conservatories—if any house in the area had such amenities. Ysgolheigion certainly did not run to such a luxury.
Catrin hesitated when she saw three men sitting in the far corner of the dining room, their heads together, talking softly.
Two of them were Raymond and her father. The third was Sir Gethin Merrick.
If everyone without family to offer a spare bed ended up staying in this inn, it explained why the three of them were sitting at the table. Merrick’s sister, Blodwen’s mother, certainly would not hold out the offer of hospitality to a man she felt so unkindly toward.
Raymond and her father were clearly making good on their promise to speak to people in the town. Raymond’s rank would open doors for them which Simon would find difficult to step beyond. Had they already spoken to Baron Nevern?
In the other f
ar corner of the dining room, at a table bright with morning light coming through the nearby window, sat Inspector Sir Devlin Pryce. He was immaculately dressed in a black morning coat and crisp white collar. His cravat, below his iron-gray, pointed beard, was silver and blue. The blue matched his eyes.
He was drinking tea and reading the Times. When Catrin drew closer, she saw that it was yesterday’s edition.
Pryce lowered the newspaper, his gaze narrowing as he took in Catrin and Daniel’s approach. He folded the newspaper and waved toward the small chair on the opposite side of the little table. “You look as though you have much to say,” he told them.
Daniel brought a chair over from the nearest table and placed it on Pryce’s right hand and held it for Catrin. Catrin slid onto the chair and gave Pryce a tight smile. “We have learned something, Inspector.”
Pryce pulled out his watch, flipped open the cover with his thumb nail and glanced at it. “Barely eight in the morning. How did you come by this news?”
“That is part of the news itself,” Catrin replied.
Daniel sat in the chair opposite Pryce.
Pryce considered him, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you remove the scarf, Mr. Williams? It is warm in here by the windows, which must mean you are stifling. You are among friends here. I’ve seen far worse than your little scratch.”
Catrin’s lips parted in surprise.
Daniel’s clear eyes met Pryce’s. Slowly, he raised his hand to the scarf and unwound it. He settled it around his neck, to hang down the front of his coat and unbuttoned the top buttons of the coat.
Pryce gave him a small nod. “You were saying?” he said to Catrin. “How did this news come to you?”
Catrin related to Pryce the details of Maggie O’Shay’s visit to Ysgolheigion.
Pryce turned the handle of his teacup around and around on the saucer with one long finger, considering the matter, when she had finished.
“With child,” he murmured. “And the father…?”
“Finn Doherty, most likely,” Catrin replied. “Only if it was he, then why did someone kill her and Finn?”
“Yes, that point had not escaped me, Miss Davies. Thank you,” Pryce said mildly.
Degree of Solitude Page 22
