“Good day.” He offered his hand to help her into the hackney.
“And to you.” She straightened her skirts, then as the cab started forward, lifted the veil and tucked it along the brim of her bonnet.
“Is that wise?” He glanced out the windows, worrying whether she could be recognized.
“The veil is an encumbrance I don’t care for. I’ll sit back with the hope I blend in with the interior and will not be seen.”
Who was he to argue? He greedily drank in the sight of her as a parched man might enjoy a glass of cool water. Her long dark lashes swept down to cover those eyes briefly before lifting to meet his gaze. She seemed unaware of her effect on him.
“Any word from McConnelly?” she asked.
Trust her to dive directly into the issue. It was a reminder that their relationship needed to stay on the proper footing. The type that didn’t have him ogling her. “No.”
“Do you know if the earl and his brother were close?”
“From what little I know, they were relatively so. Joseph was a good seven years younger, so it’s difficult to say.”
“I propose we tell him I’m an acquaintance of yours, and my husband was murdered in a similar fashion in December. We want to speak with him as my husband’s murder has gone unsolved.”
He mulled over the idea, realizing it might work. “Won’t he be surprised that he didn’t hear of the murder?” Though crimes occurred, it wasn’t as if murders happened daily. The few that did usually made their way into the broadsheets.
“I don’t think he’ll ask many questions if he’s consumed with grief.” Her pensive expression suggested she wasn’t completely sure about that aspect of her plan.
“And when I run into him in the coming months and he asks about you, what would you suggest I say?”
“That I’ve moved to Wales to be with my family. You haven’t heard from me since.”
Though impressed by her forethought, he shook his head, unease weighing on him. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have a better idea?” One of her winged brows rose as if in protest.
“You could remain in the hackney while I speak with him.” Though he didn’t think he’d win the argument, he had to try. How Annabelle had managed to stay out of harm’s way before now was unclear. She seemed intent on risking her reputation or worse. Was it her writing that drew her into unsafe activities or her very nature?
She gave him a scathing look, not bothering to reply.
“I would like it recognized that I strongly disagree with the plan.” At some point, one of these outings was going to end badly. The worry bothered him more than he could say. How could he protect her when she made no effort to do so herself?
“Duly noted. You do realize I heard you the first time you protested.” Annabelle looked at him as if he were the one being unreasonable.
Why had he wanted her to lift that veil?
“Each time we’re together, let alone doing something questionable, the risk is great. Doing so multiple times heightens the danger.” He suddenly felt like his father, who had frequently harped on him for taking chances when he should know better. He sighed at the realization that he was still taking those risks. Perhaps his father had been right about him after all, though part of him was annoyed that the earl’s opinion still mattered.
“Thomas.” Hearing his given name on her lips caused his chest to squeeze in a most uncomfortable way. Then she reached for his hand to hold between her gloved ones. “I appreciate your concern. Truly. However, I believe our purpose is greater than the potential peril. Don’t you?”
He wanted to agree, but he couldn’t when it came to her. “I value your safety above all else. And I mean both your physical wellbeing and your reputation. If harm befalls you because of me—”
“I won’t hold you accountable. This is my idea, not yours. I appreciate you accompanying me.” She glanced out the window before catching his gaze once more. “If you weren’t here to help me through all this, I don’t know what I’d do. It wouldn’t be possible for me to continue writing if I realized a killer was on the loose, using descriptions from my books to commit the foul deeds, and I could do nothing about it.”
Her words assuaged his concern a small measure. At least she wasn’t taking the matter lightly. He squeezed her hands. “I’m pleased I can help but nothing you say will alleviate my worry until you’re safely home again.” And the whole situation was behind them, he added silently.
The sway of the hackney brought her closer, and he reached out his free hand to steady her. Her nearness was more than he could withstand, especially when her sweet scent drew him closer, much like a finger beckoning him forward. The sweet bow of her pink lips proved equally impossible to resist. He covered her mouth with his, feeling everything inside him settling into place at the contact. But now was not the time or place for such things. Even a rogue like him knew that much.
“You should not be here with me,” he whispered as he eased back. “But I’m pleased you are.”
“As am I.” To his delight, her eyes sparkled with passion.
If he spent more time with her, the temptation to sample all she had to offer might prove too much. He clenched his jaw, reminding himself of the many reasons that would be ill-advised.
Digging deep to find renewed resolve, however limited, he released her hands and sat back. “Very well then. You are an acquaintance of mine. Shall we give you a name?”
They discussed the details and possible questions the earl might ask until the hackney halted before Arlingwood’s home in Mayfair.
Within a few short minutes, they were being shown into the library to greet the earl.
“Raybourne.” Arlingwood was a tall man with dark hair and grief-filled eyes.
Thomas bowed as Annabelle curtsied.
“This is Mrs. Tickner, a friend of mine,” Thomas began. “Forgive me for bringing her unannounced, but I believe you might like to hear what she has to say.”
“My husband was murdered several months ago.” Annabelle’s tone held the right amount of grief. “I couldn’t help but notice how similar the report of your brother’s death was compared to his.”
“You have my deep sympathy, madam.” The earl gestured for them to take a seat as he did the same.
“We hoped you might be willing to share a few details of what happened,” Thomas added, hoping to prevent the earl from asking too many questions.
Annabelle nodded but said nothing more, much to Thomas’s relief. The less she spoke the better.
“I’m disappointed the police haven’t discovered any significant clues in the case.” The earl folded his hands on the desk.
“Had your brother mentioned any troubles of late? Any issues that caused him concern?” Thomas asked.
“None that I can remember. It wasn’t unusual for him to be in the area as he visited the docks several times each month. He liked to watch the cargo being loaded and unloaded, saying he wanted to help keep an eye on our investments.” Arlingwood’s lips tightened as if he worked to hold back his sorrow.
“The area can be dangerous.” Thomas paused to see if the lord remembered anything.
“He never mentioned encountering danger before.” The earl stared into the distance for a long moment. “The East India Company made some changes he disagreed with, though that wasn’t unusual. They are a force unto themselves.”
Thomas glanced briefly at Annabelle, certain she’d stiffened at the mention of the East India Company. The powerful company had been formed to trade in the Indian Ocean region but seized control of land as well. Little more than a decade ago, they’d had an army twice the size of Great Britain’s. Rumors abounded of their less than ethical business practices, both at home and abroad, for the trade monopolies they formed.
“Did he say anything specific?” Thomas prompted.
“Only that despite the Company losing its monopoly of trade with India when the Charter Act passed two years ago, they continue
to discourage others from trading with the country. He worried that could adversely affect our investments.” The earl shook his head but gave them the name of the dock his brother had visited. To Thomas’s surprise, it was some distance from the place his body had been found.
“I wish I could be of more assistance,” the earl added. “It’s been such a shock.”
“I understand completely,” Annabelle said.
“We won’t take any more of your time.” Thomas stood and offered his hand to Annabelle.
They left the man to his grief and returned to the waiting hackney.
“He mentioned the East India Company,” Thomas began as they settled inside. “Did that mean something to you?”
“As you may know, my father owns a shipping business and the Brunswick Dock,” Annabelle said as she once again tucked the veil on top of her bonnet after the cab rolled away from the residence. “He’s had pressure from the Company to sell in the past two years.”
“I’m certain his isn’t the only business to experience that. As the East India Company is so heavily involved in trade, it’s no surprise they want to control as many parts of the business as possible.”
“Their methods of encouraging others to sell aren’t always scrupulous.”
“When significant sums of money are involved, dealings often become less than honorable.” If there was a chance of the Company being tied to the death, the situation could be even more dangerous than he’d anticipated. Perhaps the publication of the second book should be delayed until the murderer had been arrested.
But he didn’t see how publishing another mystery would affect the murderer’s actions. If the villain ran out of murders to copy from her books, would he pick another author’s book to copy?
“Has your father mentioned anything in recent days about them urging him to sell?”
She hesitated, making him wonder if there was more to the matter. When she turned to look at him, sorrow darkened her eyes. “My father hasn’t been well. He only ventures to the dock a few times a month and is usually accompanied by my sister’s husband, the Earl of Aberland.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Thomas realized he hadn’t seen Sir Reginald in some time. He no longer accompanied his family to balls or other events.
Annabelle parted her lips as if about to say more then closed them with a small shake of her head. “I will ask Aberland if he has any news on that front.”
“And I’ll send a message to McConnelly to request an update.” The subject of her father seemed to upset Annabelle, which made Thomas wonder how serious his illness was. “Will you be attending the Halverson garden party?”
“Yes.” She looked at him in surprise. “Will you?”
Garden parties were not something he normally went to, but for her, he’d make an exception. “If I have any updates to share, I’ll make a brief appearance.”
Her smile made him feel as if he’d performed some heroic deed. And damn if it didn’t feel good.
~*~
After Thomas left her at Caroline’s garden gate—this time without a kiss, much to her disappointment—Annabelle realized he hadn’t mentioned her latest manuscript. He’d told her he intended to proceed with editing, though he agreed to discuss the timing of publication before sending it to the printer.
Did that mean he hadn’t liked it? She scowled at the thought. She’d been certain it was her best work thus far.
“Didn’t it go well?” Caroline asked as Annabelle joined her in the drawing room where her sister sat embroidering a floral design in colorful silk thread.
“We didn’t discover anything helpful. Apparently he frequently went to the shipyards to oversee some of the family investments. The earl remarked about an issue with the East India Company his brother mentioned.”
“I can’t imagine they would have anything to do with the murder.” She rose before Annabelle could take a seat. “Let us change your gown as quickly as possible. If Mother or Margaret were to come by, I’d hate to have to explain all this.”
Annabelle followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. “Does that mean you told Aberland about all this?”
“Yes, though he’s not particularly pleased.” Caroline sighed. “Is there any hope this is the end of your clandestine meetings with Mr. Raybourne?”
“It’s difficult to say.” In all honesty, she sincerely hoped not. She liked being with him, though she’d be happy to put the murder behind them. Deciding it would be best to change the subject, she smiled at Caroline as she started to undress. “Richard has been so helpful. To think we were all upset when you first became betrothed to him.”
Caroline gave an answering grin. “I thought it was the worst thing to befall our family. Isn’t it interesting how things turn out so differently than we expect?”
“Indeed.” She bit her lip to keep from adding that sometimes it was for the worse. “I’m pleased you regained your eternal optimism now that you’re enjoying wedded bliss.”
Caroline laughed. “Love comes in the most surprising ways.”
Annabelle couldn’t help the trickle of unease her sister’s words caused. Not that she was in love with Thomas. Far from it. She was simply grateful that he was aiding her in this situation. Nothing more. Yet she couldn’t help but press a hand to her chest at the sudden ache there.
~*~
Deciding he couldn’t bear to wait any longer, Thomas returned to the office to retrieve Annabelle’s latest manuscript, A Murder Most Foul, and took it home with him. He spent the rest of the day and late into the night gripped in the pages. He’d had no choice to do otherwise since the tale held him by the throat from the first few lines.
Reading it in her neat handwriting made it a far more intimate experience than he’d expected. It was as if she narrated the story directly to him, holding him captive until the very end. As he turned the last page, he knew it was going to be a huge success. In fact, he couldn’t wait to read it again. Her readers were going to love it.
Yet how could he proceed with publication with the murder unsolved? Delaying it a week or two was easily done. But delaying it months would cause problems. If only he could find a way to help the police locate the killer, the path would be clear to publish the book. Could the East India Company be connected in some manner? At this point, it was the only clue they had. But how could he determine whether they were involved?
In the early morning hours when he finally slept, Annabelle crept into his dreams, heating his blood until he woke. It was no wonder, he told himself. Not after spending so many hours with her whispering in his ear.
He rose and prepared for the day, going to the office earlier than normal to take care of a few things before starting to read the manuscript again, this time with a pen and paper at the ready. He had a few minor changes he wanted to suggest, including more angst in the protagonist. He knew that if he were in the same situation as the former Navy captain, he’d have second thoughts about how to catch the murderer.
The villain she’d created was even more devious than the last one. His twisted mind made the battle between good and evil all the harder fought. Thomas had no doubt the book would appeal to men and women alike. He need only discover a way to spread the word and convince the public to buy it?
The editor from the broadsheet who published the serialized chapters written by A. Golden each week had agreed to add information about A Murder Most Unusual, the first book, at the end of the next two installments for a fee. Though the cost was steeper than Thomas had hoped, he was certain it would be a good investment.
But the murderer was preventing him from making any plans. Nothing could be scheduled until the person was caught. He pulled a blank sheet of paper from his drawer, searching his memory for anyone he knew associated with the East India Company and made a list of them. Unfortunately, the list was rather short. If the Company was tied to the crime, Thomas would have to take care who he spoke with and what he said.
By the time Bing bid him good eveni
ng, Thomas decided he’d start at his club and see what he could discover. He locked the door of the office and took a hackney to Boodle’s on St. James’s Street. Surely he would find one or two of the men on his list. If not, some intelligent conversation would keep his thoughts from circling around Annabelle and their kisses. He shook his head at the realization that for the first time, he sought conversation rather than liquor and cards. His life was already changing.
After greeting several acquaintances, he ordered a drink and settled at a table, prepared to wait as long as it took for at least one of the people on his list to appear.
“Raybourne. Haven’t seen you in days. Thought some terrible harm must’ve befallen you.” Viscount Stanton had been a friend since their university years. His roguish reputation exceeded Thomas’s, but the lord seemed determined to change that by dragging Thomas along with him to gaming hells and brothels. His pockets were much deeper than Thomas’s, so he often funded the debauchery.
Thomas had found such outings amusing in the past and had been happy to go along. But the idea of overindulging in anything no longer held any appeal.
“Stanton. I hope the evening finds you well.” Thomas stood to shake his hand then gestured for the viscount to join him. The lord wasn’t associated with the Company as far as Thomas knew, but good manners dictated that they visit.
Stanton, his attire the height of fashion and well-suited to his tall frame, signaled for a waiter then sat in one of the wingback leather chairs at the small table. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for an age.”
“Still sorting through things at Artemis Press. It takes up most of my time these days.”
“I had nearly forgotten you’re a working man now. How terrible it must be to be tied to a desk.”
“Not so terrible.” The pleasure of reading Annabelle’s manuscript had been anything but. In fact, another idea on how to deepen the conflict occurred to him, and he longed for pen and paper to write it down before it escaped him.
A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3) Page 10
