Night Storm (20 page)

Increasing her speed, Charlotte hurried down the walkway as quickly as her narrow skirts would allow. She glanced over her shoulder to find Hermann’s red face only a few feet away. Rather than continue straight, she dashed right and plunged into a broad chest.

“Why the hurry, lass?”

Closing her eyes, she sagged into Lachlan Murdoch’s arms. “Lachlan, thank God.” The Society assistant rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. Beneath her hands, Lachlan’s body tensed as his clever mind deciphered the events playing out in front of him.

“What business do you have with Mrs. Fielding?” Lachlan asked.

Hermann’s answer was long in coming. “Nothing at all.”

“Then why were you hard on her heels?”

“I haven’t the faintest notion what you’re talking about. I’m merely enjoying a brisk afternoon walk.”

“That explains why your face looks as though you’ve been soaking it in beet juice.”

Now that her fear had abated, embarrassment rode high on Charlotte’s cheeks. Had she allowed the horrible attack on Lady Winthrop to cloud her judgment? Had she confused Hermann’s overabundance of arrogance with intent to do her harm? She eased out of Lachlan’s protective hold and faced the Society assistant. Sure enough, Hermann looked as though he might explode.

Charlotte lifted her chin, pushing down the last of her anxiety. “Please don’t let us detain you from your ‘brisk afternoon walk.’”

Instead of bursting into flames, Hermann’s face lost all expression, and the tension drifted from his body. He nodded at Lachlan before smiling at her. On the surface, he appeared conciliatory, as if it were all a great misunderstanding. But then his eye twitched again, and Charlotte knew something decidedly unpleasant lurked behind Hermann’s façade. Evil enough to physically harm another human being—a woman whom he believed would cause the downfall of a three-hundred-year-old teaching society? She didn’t know.

“Good day to you, Mrs. Fielding. Mr. Murdoch.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Mr. Hermann strolled away.

“Care to explain why one of the Society’s assistants was chasing you through the garden?” Lachlan kept his black gaze on Hermann’s departing back.

The last thing she wanted to do was to discuss the convoluted mind of a misogynist. The assistant obviously had a deep-seated dislike of women and found it convenient to blame them for all the weaknesses of his fellow man.

“He seemed to think me incapable of returning a book I borrowed from the Society’s library.”

Lachlan lifted a brow. “What did he plan to do—run you to ground and rip it from your wee fingers?”

“You would be in a better position to understand the workings of the male mind.”

“We’re not complicated creatures, lass. Sleep, food, women, money—we rarely think of anything else.” He winked at her. “Not necessarily in that particular order, either.”

Charlotte chuckled, and the dark cloud that had been hovering over her since the moment Mr. Hermann stepped into her path moved on. Lightening the mood of everyone around him was one of Lachlan’s most valuable talents.

“How do the two of you know each other?” she asked.

“My uncle introduced us the other day at the hall, after we met with you.”

The passage of time hit her, and she knew she had kept Cameron waiting longer than fifteen minutes. She glanced around, expecting him to be looming in the shadows, watching.

“Hermann’s well gone, lass. No need to worry.”

She smiled, not correcting his assumption. “Thank you for your intervention. What brings you to the garden? Better yet, how did you get in?”

“My uncle and I are on our way to a meeting. He needed to stop at the greenhouse for something, so I decided to take a walk.” He took in their surroundings. “It’s been a few years since I’ve strolled the garden’s paths.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

His dark, appreciative gaze settled on her. “Indeed.”

So much masculine beauty focused on her made her pulse race. She didn’t know how to handle this new side of Lachlan. She was used to him looking upon her with the amusement of a friend, not the interest of a lover. “I’m sorry to have to run, but I’m late for an appointment.”

“May I escort you?”

“That’s very kind of you, but unnecessary. I’m quite used to navigating the city on my own.”

“Allow me to at least walk you to the gate.” He held out his arm, and Charlotte gratefully accepted. “Uncle and I will be passing by the hall on our way to the meeting. Would you like for us to return your book?”

“That’s kind of you, but I feel it’s my responsibility to see to its safe return.”

“No one will think twice about Angus Buchanan returning the book for you. I swear the man is a God within those walls.”

Charlotte smiled, handing the book over to him. “He is indeed well-respected, and for good reason. Thank you for saving me a trip to Blackfriars.”

“You’re welcome, lass.” They walked in silence for several seconds before he said, “In truth, I had hoped you’d be here.”

“Oh?”

“I wanted to see if you were still available to have dinner with me—us—tomorrow evening.”

“Of course. Seven o’clock, right?”

He smiled. “That’s right, lass.” They walked in silent harmony for a while. When the gate came into view, he paused. “I’m looking forward to hearing your decision on operating the Bond Street apothecary shop for us.”

“Lachlan, I—”

Shaking his head, he said, “You don’t have to say anything now. We can speak of it further tomorrow.”

She nodded. “I’d best be going.”

When she reached the gate, he called, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Seven sharp.”

“I’ll be ready.”

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and headed toward the greenhouse. Charlotte followed his broad shoulders for a moment before passing through the gate. What would have happened had Lachlan not come along? Would Mr. Hermann have assaulted her? Stolen the book? Or something far worse?

She hoped she never had to find out. Drawing in a stabilizing breath, she exited the garden and came face-to-face with Cameron. Bracing one shoulder against the brick wall, he lounged in a negligent pose, looking as though he had all the time in the world. She might have believed the false image he portrayed had it not been for the tension gripping his eyes and pulling at his mouth.

“Who’s your beau?” he asked in a low, controlled voice.

His question struck exactly the wrong chord. A jolt of anger propelled her past him. She didn’t know if it was the scare she’d just recovered from, or the small note of masculine possessiveness edging his words that caused her visceral reaction. Perhaps both. All she understood in that moment was that if she didn’t get away from him, she would say something she would regret. Besides, she didn’t have time to quarrel with Cameron. She had less than an hour to make her way to Mayfair and meet with the coroner.

Within seconds, Cameron’s long legs drew him up even with her, matching her step for step. “I take it you’d prefer not to talk about your gentleman friend.”

“Don’t, Cameron.”

“You’re rather protective of—Lachlan, was it?”

Ignoring his question, she said, “Someone saw you.” She noticed his limp and slowed down.

“Who? Your Lachlan?”

“Lawrence Hermann. An assistant who would dance a jig to see my privileges revoked.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

She halted. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t stop, nor did he answer her question.

Hurrying to catch up, she said, “Don’t do anything to make matters worse.”

“I won’t.”

She studied his profile, trying to identify the hidden meaning behind his words. “Leave it be, Cameron.”

“Have you thought any more on allowing me to ask Felix a few questions?”

His change of topic jarred her. “Of course.”

“Care to share your decision?”

“I might not know for a fact what he did or didn’t see, but I do know Felix had nothing to do with Lady Winthrop’s murder.”

“You can’t know that unless you were with him every minute of the morning her ladyship was slain.” His studied her features. “Unless you have evidence to prove he didn’t.”

Charlotte did an admirable job of keeping her features unchanged, but Cameron’s scrutiny only intensified.

“What are you not telling me, Charley?”

Every self-preserving bone in her body screamed for her to remain silent, but she couldn’t any longer. “The other day at the theater, when you found me with my head buried in one of the costumes, I had just finished examining the costume Felix wore the day of the murder.”

“You had doubts about his innocence?”

She felt tears threatening, ashamed. “No, I never did.”

“Then why inspect his costume?”

“I don’t know. It was a loose end. I needed to tie it up.”

He nodded, as if he understood her compulsion.

“Do you promise to speak to him in a way that won’t feel like an interrogation?”

“Yes. However, if I believe he’s holding back information, I will attempt to pry it from him.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about.” She resumed walking. “You’ll need Mrs. Scott’s permission, of course. She’s a seamstress at Bertrand Boutique and will be heading home from work in a few hours.”

“I’ll treat you to a warm cup of tea while we wait.”

She shook her head. “I have another appointment to attend.”

Grasping her arm, he drew her to a halt. “What’s so important that you would miss my discussion with Felix?”

“You’re not on your way to speak with Felix, you’re going to talk with his mother.”

“After which I’ll be paying her son a visit.”

“Not without me present.”

“Precisely.”

Without knowing how long the coroner would take to examine Lady Winthrop’s corpse, she couldn’t guarantee she would be available when Cameron finished with Mrs. Scott. “Can you not postpone your meetings until tomorrow?”

“I’ve already waited a day longer than I should have.” He studied her for a moment. “Why don’t you delay
your
appointment until tomorrow?”

Charlotte was torn. She couldn’t allow him to question Felix alone and couldn’t depend on Mrs. Scott to stand up against Cameron should the need arise. But she also had a gut-deep feeling that she needed to be present during the coroner’s examination. “I can’t.” She peered up at him. “Please consider waiting until tomorrow morning to ask Felix your questions.”

“I told you—”

“What could you possibly do with the information you learn from him at such a late hour?”

“Charley, you would be surprised at how much can be accomplished under the cover of night.”

Not thinking, she lifted a hand to his chest. “Please, Cameron. I can’t miss my appointment, nor can I bear the thought of Felix fielding your questions alone.”

Still holding her arm, he angled around until they were face-to-face. He grasped her other arm, bringing their bodies within mere inches of each other.

“Do you really trust me so little?”

“Yes.” She sent him a small smile, full of regret.

Anger sharpened the hard lines on his handsome before transforming into weary acceptance. “Wise woman.”

His thumbs began a soothing motion on the inside of her arms. Even though layers of fabric separated her skin from his, the power of his caress tunneled all the way down to the area between her legs.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she found herself staring at his mouth. At his pleasantly full lower lip and the forbidden seam that led to warm, liquid depths. She swallowed back the longing that continued to plague her, despite her absolute certainty their chance for a life together had long since passed.

“Are you willing to barter, Charley?” he asked in a rough whisper. His warm, minty breath fanned over her forehead and nose.

“For w-what?”

“For the chance to be present during Felix’s
interrogation
.”

His taunting tone was lost on her in the wake of an opportunity to be at Felix’s side
and
attend the examination.

“What is it you want in exchange?”

“A kiss.”

Charlotte’s heart knocked hard against her chest. She couldn’t have heard him right. “A kiss?”

“A passionate, full participation kind of kiss.”

She took an involuntary step back. His hold on her arms did not break. He simply followed. Dear God, she wanted to kiss him. Wanted to more than she could bear. Which was exactly why she shouldn’t. “Perhaps it would be better if I paid you to attend his interrogation. That’s what you prefer, isn’t it? Blunt to fill your coffers?”

“Most of the time.

“But not today.”

“Not with you. For you, my price is a kiss.”

Closing her eyes, she searched for a way out of this madness and found only a path leading right to Cameron’s tempting mouth. The muscles in her neck and back locked, preparing for the inevitable.

“Deal.”

His beautiful eyes flared wide a moment before they softened with sensual expectation. “Deal.”

Heat poured over her as his head lowered. Charlotte tilted her chin up and croaked out, “Here? You wish to kiss me in full view of anyone who passes by?”

Ignoring her questions, he continued his descent. “Yes.”

She stopped his forward momentum by bracing both hands against his chest. “No. You’ve already compromised my standing with the Society. I won’t have my reputation completely sullied.”

“We made a deal, Charley.”

Closer now, she could feel the heat of his flesh, take in his musky scent. His nearness made her feel light-headed. “One that extends until midnight tonight.”

That stopped him. “Midnight?”

“You said, ‘
Today,
my price is a kiss,’ so I have until midnight to deliver.”

He was silent for a long moment, then one corner of his mouth curled upward. “Check, but not checkmate.” Leaning even closer, he inhaled a deep, long breath before straightening and releasing her arms. “So, where are we going now?”

“
We
are not going anywhere.” She rolled her shoulders back to loosen the tension knots. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Do you recall the comment I made at the Augusta yesterday?” He hiked up a brow. “The one warning that if I thought you were conducting your own investigation into the murder that I would become your constant companion?”