Garren’s unexpected kiss stunned Thora. “What are you—?” Her words were stifled when his lips covered hers and he began to kiss her as if it was the last kiss he’d ever place on a woman’s lips. Huntscliff, who she remembered as a steady, calm, reserved lad was suddenly out of control. His unexpected actions had her in a quandary. How could she push him away when yesterday she had dreamed of his kiss? But he had taken her off guard and it slowed her reason. It wasn’t as if she were a schoolgirl who had never been kissed. She had felt a man’s lips on hers before. Viscount Simon-North for one, but with him it had been a skill that she was certain one so handsome had developed into a well-practiced talent.
With Huntscliff it was different. His kiss was filled with an unnerving hunger, an unleashed raw desire that seeped from his body into hers, stirring a need that fired her most intimate places and demanded her response. Locked in his embrace, with their bodies crushed together, mouth-on-mouth, her resistance melted like snow in bright sunlight. The fire he had started spread through her, and she answered his kiss with equal ardor. Instead of pushing him away, her hands clung to his wide shoulders as if she was drowning and he was her only hope of staying afloat. His tongue prodded her lips apart and she took it into her mouth with a want that both excited and frightened her.
A sudden noise from outside the storage room shook them from their frenzy, and they parted as if they’d both gripped a hot poker. From between the slots in the door’s wooden boards they saw it was Mason Greenstreet and gave a sigh of relief.
Looking up at Huntscliff, Thora whispered, “Why did you kiss me?”
Garren swallowed hard. Thinking he had overstepped his bounds, he tried to contemplate a coherent reply, but with the taste of her mouth still lingering on his lips, his brain had turned into soup. Frowning, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “My apologies, Thora. I was afraid that you were about to say something before Lady Cecilia took her leave, and I thought it the quickest way to stop you.”
“Oh,” Thora said. So he only kissed me to quiet me.
How stupid of me to imagine it might be something else.
“I’m getting out of this horrid room,” she said, curtly pushing the door open with such force that it swung wide and slammed against the wall.
“Well now, there you are, Miss Mannington!” Mason said with a start. “Your brother sent me out looking for you. He was worried at not finding you at the manor,” Mason said as his eyes widened at the sight of Garren following her out of the storage room.
What was wrong with the man?
Thora wondered peevishly.
Hadn’t he ever seen someone leave a hiding place before?
“Thank you, Mr. Greenstreet. I’ll be getting back to the manor now. Will you please escort me, Lord Huntscliff?”
Mason eyes moved from Thora to Garren. Lady Thora’s cheeks were a bright pink and Huntscliff looking like he was fevered. Their behavior had him grinning until Garren flashed him a dark, threatening scowl.
“Of course, Thora,” Garren answered.
He led her out of the boathouse with Mason trailing behind them. When they were out of the man’s earshot, Garren leaned down to whisper in Thora’s ear, “Since we are working together, don’t you think you should call me Garren?”
Still piqued at the reason he gave for kissing her, Thora gave him a harsh glare. “I would rather keep our association on a professional level, Lord Huntscliff,” she snapped.
“As you wish, Lady Thora,” Garren replied, slightly disheartened.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
Chapter 5
After receiving a tongue-lashing from Nyle for leaving the manor unprotected and only after promising never to do such a foolish thing again, Thora was dismissed from her brother’s study. Like a scolded child, Thora went upstairs to her room sulking and threw herself across her bed. Luckily Lord Huntscliff had chosen to stop at the front steps of the manor to wait for his colleague, Mason, who had lagged behind. It had spared her the further humiliation of Huntscliff witnessing her upbraiding. She could imagine him jesting to his colleague of the drastic action he was compelled to take to keep her tongue still.
Unbeknownst to Thora, it wasn’t Garren who’d done the jesting but Mason. “Was like finding a mouse in a closet back there in the boathouse!”
“Don’t you mean mice?” Garren asked.
“One mouse.” Mason grinned. “The other’s a much larger rodent.” The heat of Huntscliff’s stare had him back-stepping until he realized that the big man’s menacing glare was not meant for him but for someone or something behind him.
Turning, he saw Viscount Radley Simon-North and Marquis Calder Brightington approaching from the direction of the stables, deep in conversation. He was only able to comprehend a few words at this distance but instantly knew what had put the scowl on Huntscliff’s face when he heard one of them utter Thora’s name.
Later, during the midday meal—a light fare of freshly baked breads, fish patties with leeks, and a variety of cold meats and several cheeses Thora sat with Lord Avery Flemington, purposely avoiding Lord Huntscliff. Her actions did not go unnoticed by the sharp-eyed Mason Greenstreet or by her brother.
Thora decided to continue her sleuthing. Even though it took great inner strength to speak her friend’s name, her smile never wavered as she queried Lord Flemington. “My lord, on your last visit to the manor, did you by chance dance with Ivey?”
Lord Flemington appeared taken back, shock written all over his face. “Lady Thora, I am well aware how deeply you were affected by Ivey’s terrible tragedy. Are you comfortable discussing your friend even now?”
“Oh please, Lord Flemington,” Thora pleaded, “it would give me such peace to know that she had been enjoying herself that evening.”
In a soft, consoling voice, Lord Flemington answered. “I’m sure she was. I didn’t have the opportunity to dance with her, but Viscount Simon-North and Marquis Brightington had the pleasure, and I do believe Mr. Leedworthy took her across the dance floor. You see . . .” He suddenly faltered, staring down at his plate. “It took most of the evening for me to summon the courage to ask Miss Mayfield to a waltz that night.”
Thora watched the brawny man as his eyes lifted and tentatively stole glimpses of Lauryn Mayfield. How someone so fierce in the boxing arena could be so timid with a female was something Thora found utterly adorable, and she gave him an endearing smile.
Seeing her expression from his seat two tables away took Garren by surprise. The tenderness she displayed for Lord Avery Flemington had him wondering if she had deeper feelings for the man. Garren put down his fork and pushed his plate away, his stomach now in knots. He genuinely liked Flemington, but he was still a suspect.
Inwardly, Garren muttered a curse.
Why does that woman insist on putting herself in danger?
Nyle had been right to ask him to come here. Thora needed looking after.
Turning from Thora and Flemington, he glanced over at another table where Cecilia Boothwell was lively engaged in conversation with Viscount Simon-North. No doubt, he mused, looking to replace her lover. Her former love, Sandler Leedworthy, sat alone with his back stiffly turned from Cecilia. Laughter from the next table stole his attention and he found Marquis Brightington had said something to amuse the Lady Mayfield and her daughter, Lauryn. Each man painted a guiltless picture, yet one of them was a predator waiting for his chance to strike. Garren could feel it in his bones.
After lunch, the ladies retired to their rooms to rest before the evening’s concert at the Langless estate while the men headed to the game room. Sandler Leedworthy sought out the nearest corner to read. Nyle begged off from playing cards with Lord Flemington and Lord Brightington and went to his study to catch up on some correspondence that needed his response, while Viscount Simon-North and Garren had decided on a game of billiards, both agreeing to a sizable wager.
As he chalked his cue, Garren casually remarked, “I heard the last time Somerville opened his home to guests someone was murdered.” He then studied what many women considered a handsome face, watching for a reaction.
For the briefest moment, Simon-North’s eyes traveled toward the two men playing cards, Lord Flemington and Marquis Brightington, before answering light-heartedly. “Yes, that’s right, Huntscliff. You weren’t here that time. You missed all the fun.”
“Fun? Strange word to use when talking about murder,” Garren prodded, wanting to take hold of the man and either punch, kick, or strike him for his callousness at the death of Thora’s dear friend.
“Sorry, poor choice of word on my part,” Simon-North said apologetically. “It was just at the time the sweet child went missing I thought that she was just playing a trick and would suddenly appear, laughing at all the ruckus she had caused.”
“Where were you when it happened?” Garren inquired as he took his shot.
“Right here playing billiards,” Simon-North returned evenly. “Played one of my best games that night. Won ten pounds from Brightington. You should have heard him squawk.”
Without putting down his cards, Marquis Calder Brightington turned his sandy-haired head toward the billiards players. “And I plan to win back those ten pounds,” he said, his pale green eyes holding a glint of confidence as he stared at Simon-North.
Garren forced a laugh. Their alibis were firm and unshakable. He continued to play, but his mind was not on the game, resulting in him being easily overtaken by Simon-North, who was an exceptionally good player. They played another game, and he was again defeated. Deciding he’d had enough, he went upstairs to dress for the night’s outing. When he had finished, he conferred with Nyle and Mason regarding the scene at the boathouse between Cecilia Boothwell and Sandler Leedworthy, omitting the most disconcerting part—kissing Thora.
In her room, Thora lay on her bed, wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling. The memory of Lord Huntscliff’s stimulating kiss had her wondering what would have happened if Mason Greenstreet hadn’t interrupted. What a terrible fool she had made of herself thinking that Lord Huntscliff’s kiss had been one of passion. Yet it hadn’t felt impersonal. She could have sworn it was more! If that’s the way he kisses in the course of his duties as an investigator, then what, she dreamily wondered, would his kisses be like when truly aroused?
Rising to her feet, Thora ordered herself to concentrate on matters more pressing than Lord Huntscliff’s kisses. First, she would confirm that Lauryn and Cecilia had their police rattles before leaving for Lord Langless’s estate. Even though she was cross with Cecilia, she still felt obligated to ensure the girl’s safety. She would have to remember to check with Floris once she arrived at the Langless estate. Secondly, she would seek out each man who danced with Ivey, Viscount Simon-North, Marquis Brightington, and even though it would be hard for her knowing what she did about him, Mr. Sandler Leedworthy. Perhaps Ivey had mentioned something to one of them, something innocent but important. Something that could provide her with a clue. Thirdly, she would do her utmost to avoid the speech robbing lips of Lord Huntscliff
Later, when she had finished dressing, Thora stepped to her window and peered out. A line of carriages stood outside Mannington Manor’s front doors waiting for their passengers. Before going downstairs, she stopped by Lauryn and Cecilia’s rooms to remind them to carry their rattles. Both girls were still in their petticoats when she visited them.
“I wouldn’t go anywhere without it after what happened on the terrace the other day,” Lauryn vowed. Cecilia, on the other hand, was not as obliging. She rolled her eyes, called her a worrywart but eventually agreed to carry, in her words, “the ugly thing.”
Running late, Thora returned to her room for her reticule. After placing the rattle inside, she quickly joined her brother downstairs. As the guests gathered in the center hall, Thora complimented Lauryn on her gown. It was a lovely, blue gown matching the color of her eyes. After giving Thora a conspiratorial glance, she opened the tasseled silk bag she carried, revealing the rattle inside. The rustle of skirts brought Thora’s eyes upward and she gasped. Descending the stairs was Cecilia Boothwell dressed in a gown nearly the same color of rose that Thora was wearing. Though Cecilia’s gown was a shade lighter in hue, it still had Thora peeved.
How could she wear a gown almost matching in color when only moments ago she had seen the gown I had chosen to wear
? an outraged Thora thought.
Cecilia appeared unconcerned, but Thora entertained the thought of returning to her room to change, though there wasn’t time. Nyle, a stickler for punctuality, was already showing his impatience and taking her arm, ushering her outside and into their waiting carriage.
Garren and Sandler Leedworthy had been invited by the Lady Mayfield to ride with her and her daughter in their carriage and both men accepted. Viscount Simon-North rode with the Boothwells. Marquis Brightington and Lord Flemington shared the latter’s carriage.
The only thing Garren learned riding with the suspect, Leedworthy, was that the man could give a lecture at a moment’s notice. When Lady Lauryn expressed a hopeful wish that the concert included a selection from Joseph Haydn, Leedworthy, much to everyone’s dismay and sounding like a stuffy professor, gave her a complete biographical account of the composer’s life. By the time he was finished, they were nearing the Langless estate and Lauryn had to gently nudge her mother awake.
Lord Langless’s outdoor concert was an annual gala event. A lover of music, the concert was the one thing, outside of his wife and daughters, upon which the pinchfist spent freely, and he didn’t limit his invitation to just the Mannington Manor guests. Distinguished villagers were invited, including the local merchants, neighboring landowners, his solicitors, the town doctor, and the vicar and his wife. All received standing invitations every year.
It was an occasion. Those who were invited looked forward with anticipation to the day when the Langless estate’s manicured lawns would be transformed into an open-air concert hall. Chairs were skillfully arranged to form a wide semi-circle before a raised gazebo where the musicians were busy setting up their instruments. Afterward, when the music ended, guests would be welcomed inside the main house to partake a lavish variety of tasty refreshments.
Seeing the vast number of chairs, Garren groaned. It was going to be difficult keeping his eye on the suspects and Lady Thora, who before leaving the manor had given him a frosty snub.
Damn!
He inwardly swore, thinking it was his forwardness that had put wedge between them. He would have to find her and convey his apologies again.
As the guests alighted from their carriages, they were shown to a side terrace where white-gloved servants carrying silver trays filled with long-stemmed glasses of champagne mingled amongst them offering the bubbly wine. Stepping onto the terrace, Thora looked for her friends and soon found Lauryn. Together, they took a glass of champagne from a passing servant and were sipping it slowly when Floris rushed up to greet them.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you two! You have no idea how I dread these concerts. Father has been bellowing at everyone all day demanding everything be prefect.”
“Mother Nature must have heard him. She certainly gifted him with a beautiful evening,” Thora said with a giggle while thinking how fetching Floris looked in the pale green gown that clung to her willowy figure. With her brown hair swept back and tightly coiled atop her head, Floris suddenly exhibited a newfound maturity. She also observed that while Floris had spoken, her eyes were searching. For Sandler Leedworthy, no doubt. Thora spotted him first. He had a sour expression on his face. He was standing with Cecilia and the two appeared to be having words. When he glanced over at Floris, his face suddenly softened. He spoke a few words to Cecilia and started toward her. Before he could reach her, Thora quickly took Floris aside and asked if she remembered to carry her police rattle.
Tapping her skirt pocket, she assured Thora it was in her possession. In fact, it was her mother that had insisted she carry it. Contrary to her husband’s belief that the rattle would be just an annoyance, Lady Langless thought that her gifting it to the young ladies was pure genius.
As Thora lifted her chin, she saw Lord Huntscliff making his way toward her. She felt a sudden lurch in her stomach and her pulse quickened as she watched the towering man’s long, relaxed stride carry him smoothly across the stone terrace. Though annoyed with the man, she still couldn’t help but think how particularly striking he looked in his dark evening clothes. His enigmatic smile was attracting attention from several other females nearby and for an instant Thora wanted nothing more than to be his companion for the evening. She could ask him to escort her once the concert began, but that might mean forcing him to do something against his will, like kissing her this afternoon. Far be it for her to punish him twice in one day. Besides, she had a mission, and she mustn’t let him or anyone else divert her from searching for Ivey’s killer.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said in that deep voice of his.
Lauryn and Floris returned his greeting, but Garren noticed Thora merely grunted and, much to his disappointment, excused herself when she caught sight of Viscount Simon-North sauntering alone on the terrace a short distance away. The sway of her hips under that rose-colored gown was hypnotic, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she made her way over to the man. Lord, how he hated Viscount Radley Simon-North. Thora was not only avoiding him but was pursuing danger in her attempts to find out more about her friend’s murder. His lingering gaze was broken when Nyle and Sandler Leedworthy joined him, and the other two ladies and members of the group chatted for a several moments. As if reading from a textbook, Leedworthy began to recite some historical facts about the surrounding countryside.