The Earl of Her Dreams (16 page)

“At least one person involved in Janson’s death knew where the wall cubby was located. I don’t think someone carried the bat around the screen to relieve themselves, thinking about where to hide the murder weapon, and just happened upon the hiding place. A little too convenient and unlikely.”

“I agree, Inspector Black. I think you should hire on as a Runner after all.”

He winked at her. There was no way he would ever be allowed to be a Runner. Although he would love to see his father’s face contorted in horror, society wouldn’t allow it. Bow Street wouldn’t allow it. The unfairness of life, he thought. He was sure that someone like Kate would scoff at any self-pity on his part should she learn who he really was. But then she didn’t strike him as being someone who appreciated self-pity in any case.

“Christian, we can’t forget Mrs. Wicket. She may have even more motive and opportunity than Mary. Responsible for both the cover-up and the cleaning up. If Tom really did get the instructions from Mrs. Wicket to clean up the evidence, we may have a case of mother protecting daughter.”

Christian had never experienced the protective
feelings that parents felt toward their offspring, but a few of his friends had good family relationships, and he had observed how oddly people acted when a family member was in danger.

Then again he was taking risks and doing strange things to save Anthony, so perhaps those feelings weren’t just relegated to blood family.

Kate frowned. “But Mrs. Wicket had a choice to go to Mr. Wicket and stop the farce, cricket be damned.”

He touched the rough wooden wall. “Mr. Wicket seemed ready to sacrifice his own daughter for the sake of the team.”

She tapped the quill against the paper, and small flecks of ink landed in a haphazard pattern. “No, I don’t think he would have. I think Mr. Wicket was willfully blind to Janson’s faults, but I don’t think he would have sacrificed his daughter to Janson. I think Mr. Wicket knew there was something wrong with the man. He tried too hard to make excuses for him, calling him passionate, headstrong, and competitive. I think he was just hoping and praying that ‘his Julius’ would lose his wild streak and become the perfect man to protect his daughter.”

“If you say so.”

She frowned more deeply. “You seem awfully
willing to believe that Mr. Wicket has or had ill intentions.”

“I just think the man is plain daft.”

“Daft doesn’t equate to evil.”

“No.” He sighed heavily. “No, it doesn’t.” He would have taken daft any day of his childhood over the alternative.

“What do you say we talk about it in the morning? We can question both of the Wickets. We’ll have to do it early. Mr. Wicket said the roads are likely to open up tomorrow, and we need to get this damn thing solved.”

He looked at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. It had been quite an eventful night. And he still had half a mind to visit the screen to finish up what had been started earlier.

He looked to Kate, who had put down the quill and was chewing her lip in earnest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I agree. Let’s turn in for the night.”

He nodded and was surprised to find Kate a bit skittish. For some odd reason he found it endearing. He really was going soft.

She kicked off her shoes and climbed under the sheets. For whatever reason, she continued to wear her head wrap. He hesitated for a second. He had
left earlier because he wanted to take things, well, not
slowly
, but at a pace that was comfortable to Kate. He perched on the edge of the bed and slowly removed his boots.

The hall clock started to chime the hour and he felt the stiffening of his bed partner. He turned toward her to offer comfort and was surprised when she toppled him forward and began kissing him in earnest.

Christian recovered quickly and took the lead. If she was going to up the pace, far be it from him to complain. He muttered soft words into her hair as she clutched his back. Settling light kisses in her hair and around her face and neck, he felt her begin to relax.

He ran soothing hands over her arms and back. She turned her head to look at him and he kissed her. A light kiss, just a taste really. She responded instantly, and the kiss progressed to a deeper passion and turned hungry and demanding.

Christian wasn’t quite sure how her shirt came off, or his, and the removal of trousers was completely beyond his memory, but he did remember dipping his fingers into liquid fire and the taste of her mouth and skin, raspberries and desire, fire and song.

And he saw the determination in her eyes right
before the small, smooth fingers took him in hand. She had obviously never done this before. It was in her eyes and her, at first, tentative touches. He responded to her touches, letting her know what he liked, and moved into her hand to help her with others. The touches became bolder; the fire in her eyes smoldered as he continued to reciprocate.

He had never let his guard down during sex. Had never let his partner see any deeper than what he wanted. He didn’t know if his inability to hold the mask was due to his desire to allow her to experience this first foray into her own sexuality without doubt or if it was just an extension of his increasingly hard grip on the mask while in her presence. Maybe it was just Kate herself.

He looked deep into her eyes and gave in to the feelings and emotions. Just as he reached release and knew that she had reached hers, he saw an emotion in her eyes, one he wasn’t accustomed to seeing, and he could have sworn that just for a second her features turned golden.

K
ate woke to the steady drip of snow melting from the roof and birds chirping noisily outside the window. She opened her eyes slowly, watching the jagged beams of light filtering around the edges of the drapery. She felt better than she had in weeks. Four weeks, to be exact.

She paused. It worried her a bit to feel such pleasure. The last time she had awakened this happy, her father had died.

An arm, warm and heavy, held her securely.
Closing her eyes, she nestled farther into the warmth, afraid to check if Christian was awake. She had confessed a number of things last night in the dark. In the dark she could believe that she was still attractive and desirable, the kind of woman Christian would want.

She bit her lip as she thought about the wonderful things Christian had done to her and they’d done with each other. Would he still have done them had he seen her ear? Had she just gotten herself further into trouble by not showing him the scars up front and dealing with the consequences then? Instead she had cast reason to the wind and involved herself emotionally and physically with a man who was already mercurial in his moods.

She gently slipped out from under Christian’s arm without looking at his handsome face, walked to the window, and pulled back the drape. She briefly checked to make sure her head wrap was in place. It was. The steady drip was coming from the downspout, the ice melting from the warmth of the sun. The snow would soon be gone, leaving the countryside in wait for the next dumping.

It took a moment for her brain to catch up to her thoughts. Melting snow. She looked sharply across the horizon to the roads and could barely see the
crews of men working to clear the lanes. They were almost through.

She let the drapes go.

The guests would be leaving today. And so would Christian.

She looked over to where he lay, tangled within the sheets. She half expected him to still be sleeping because he had that gentleman’s way to sleep in late. But he was staring at her, his eyes watchful.

“You looked pensive, Kate. What were you thinking on so bright a morning? Are you sore?”

She blushed. “No. I was just thinking that the roads will be cleared in a few hours, and we still don’t know who killed Janson.”

“The locals will sort it out, if we don’t.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched, arching back like a cat.

She tried not to stare at the gorgeous man sitting before her in the altogether.

“But we should be able to solve the case,” she persisted. Of course, he had volunteered to participate in order to get his friend’s journal back. Now that he had the journal in hand, he could just leave. Leave the inn, the mystery. Leave her.

He gazed at her evenly, and she wondered from where this new calm exterior had emerged.

“If you wish to remain to solve it, I will stay as well, as I promised.”

She studied him as a wave of relief coursed through her at his words. She hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath awaiting his response.

“I
have
to stay,” she said tightly. The money that she would save on the room was enough to arrange a seat, albeit an uncomfortable one, to London, and she still needed to avoid her half-brother.

“No, you don’t.”

“I need to arrange fare to London, and my arrival needs to be well-timed.”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take you to London when you are ready.”

She raised a brow. “And how is that?”

He smiled easily. “In my carriage. And I have a place we can stay just outside of London, only a few hours’ ride from here.”

She scrutinized him. “Your carriage? I thought you lost money at the races? And you want me to stay with you, unchaperoned in your house, wherever said house is?”

He raised a brow and waved off all but the last question. “And being unchaperoned is any different from what we have been doing the last few days? Where we are going you can even have your
own room, if you like.” He spread his arms in a magnanimous gesture, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

She wished she had a pillow handy, especially after a few gently sarcastic comments by Christian concerning her request to dress where he couldn’t see her, after what they had done the night before. Christian tsked when she covered her breasts.

He surprised her by rising from the bed, lifting her and gently depositing her on the bed. “Let me be your maid,” he whispered.

Although the water was cool, her body heated as he stroked a wet cloth across her body, cleansing her skin and reminding her of their activities the night before. She groaned with pleasure as he pulled the cloth over her breasts and covered her lips with his.

An hour later, sated, cleansed and garbed, they walked downstairs.

Tiegs and his thugs were already seated at a dining table. Tiegs lifted his cup in a mock salute as they entered.

Kate sank into a chair. Daisy smiled broadly and returned to the kitchen to bring tea and breakfast.

The guests trickled in until finally, with Mr. Freewater’s arrival, they were all present. Freewater
looked worse for wear—dark circles, pinched lips, and a haunted expression on his face. Kate had to assume the loss of the journal was the cause of his depression.

Desmond also wore a tight expression of distaste and condescension.

Mr. Wicket bustled in excitedly and clapped his hands together. “Good, good, everyone is assembled. I just received a report that the roads will be open soon, and the first carriage is due in town around noon.”

A small cheer from Francine, a sigh from Nickford, and an even more haunted look from Freewater accompanied the announcement. Mrs. Crescent gave Francine a haughty glare, but even she had a relieved smile tugging her lips.

Christian leaned across the table. “We still have a few hours left. Let’s talk to Mrs. Wicket.”

Kate nodded and they stood. Tiegs walked a bit ahead of them as they exited the room, and turned to face them before they could enter the office.

“Solved it yet?”

“Hopefully by lunch,” Christian said with ease.

“I do think you actually might. Where are you off to now?”

“To question Mrs. Wicket.”

Kate looked sharply at Christian. What was he
doing sharing their strategy with him? Tiegs was still considered a suspect.

Tiegs nodded. “Very good choice. I believe she is upstairs on the second floor. Good place to be this morning.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. “What game are you playing, Mr. Tiegs?”

He switched his gaze to her, looking vaguely amused. “Aren’t we all playing a game,
Mr.
Kaden? You are looking quite bright-eyed this morning.”

Kate felt her face redden. Tiegs’s comment only confirmed what she had previously thought. He knew. Why he chose not to say anything publicly, however, was something she didn’t understand. Tiegs seemed to find enjoyment in the dilemmas of others.

“Games are generally for the titled, but we poorer folks must do as needs dictate. Isn’t that right, Mr. Black?”

Christian lifted his head in a strange sort of male acknowledgment. “Indeed. A good day to you, Mr. Tiegs.”

“And to both of you.”

As soon as he was gone, Kate turned to Christian. “What was that about? Shouldn’t we question him? He obviously knows more than he is telling.”

Christian shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good. Men like Tiegs know when to keep their mouths shut, unless you have excess money you’d like to spend to loosen his jaw and tongue?”

She stared pointedly.

“No? Well, let’s see what we can do this morning and if nothing works out, we’ll consider a little bribery.”

A visit to the office confirmed what Tiegs had said. Mrs. Wicket was in the servants’ quarters on the second floor. The innkeeper told them to go on up.

Kate had been on the second floor once before while assisting Mr. Wicket. The rooms were best termed “cozy.” She hadn’t been in the Wickets’ chamber and was curious to see the innkeepers’ private domain.

Two flights of stairs found them by the servants’ quarters, which were nestled on the top floor. They passed the Crescents’ maid, who looked harried and barely paid them any mind, and Benji, who issued a tentative smile.

Kate took the lead and knocked on the Wickets’ door.

Mrs. Wicket opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

“I knew you’d be along sooner or later.” She
gave them a long, piercing look. “Shall we have tea?”

“No, thank you,” Kate demurred, and Christian declined with a charming smile.

The room was a decent size, as large as Freewater’s room and complete with a fireplace and cozy furniture. A number of colored wall hangings were positioned near the window casings, adding a touch of color and warmth. Unlike the first floor, the heat of the kitchens didn’t extend quite this far.

Mrs. Wicket motioned toward a beautiful oak table in one of the room’s dormers, a good place to question servants privately or dine away from the bustle of the guests.

They seated themselves, and Mrs. Wicket leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop and folding her arms, a bold move and one that Mrs. Crescent with her prim airs would surely have disapproved of. Kate leaned forward as well, trying to imitate a manly gesture with her right arm and hand while her left hand awkwardly remained in her lap.

“Now then, gentlemen. What can I help you with?”

“We were curious about your whereabouts on the night Julius Janson died. Can you tell us what you were doing that night?”

Mrs. Wicket didn’t sigh or hesitate. “I made my rounds on the ground floor, as usual, going over meals with Bess and tasks with Elias and Benji, then returned here. I sent Sally with some towels and talked to Daisy briefly about personal conduct matters. Then Mr. Lake started yelling, and I walked downstairs to speak with him. I expected more from Mr. Lake. Quite a bit more than he was showing that night, as I informed him. We said good night and I returned here. I made my nightly rounds at three. No one was up and about and everything was in order, so I returned to bed within the quarter hour. I discovered Mr. Janson’s fate along with everyone else in the dining room the next morning.”

Christian frowned. “Why did you do your rounds so late? Nickford seems to be under the impression that your ghostly rounds are completed an hour earlier.”

She raised a brow. “Ghostly indeed. But, in answer to your question, I was late that night.”

“Why?”

“I was up late speaking with Mr. Wicket about Lake and Janson.”

“What about them?”

Mrs. Wicket deflated, although it was barely noticeable, as if a breath of air left her shoulders just
a tad slumped and her head the tiniest bit hung. “Mr. Wicket was a proponent of our daughter Mary marrying Mr. Janson.”

“And you weren’t?” Kate asked, three days’ worth of curiosity contained in the question.

Mrs. Wicket shook her head. “I was not. My husband’s head was turned by Mr. Janson’s prestige and athletic prowess. Not only was he the squire’s son, nearly the closest thing one gets to nobility around here, but he was
the
force behind the town’s cricket team. We take these things seriously around here, Mr. Kaden.”

As she said that, she suddenly squinted and leaned forward, looking more sharply at Kate. Kate held her breath for a second. The only way she had kept her secret from the hawk-eyed woman thus far was to stay out of her sight. As she had mostly dealt with Mr. Wicket, Sally, and Benji, it hadn’t been difficult. One of Mrs. Wicket’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the surface of the table as she continued to study Kate.

“Of course. We took these things seriously back in my village too. Never much of a cricket player myself,” Kate said, more than a little nervous.

Christian seemed to take pity on her. “Your husband thought Janson would be a good
provider and raise Mary’s standing in the community.”

Mrs. Wicket thankfully turned back to answer Christian. “Of course, Mr. Black. But Mr. Wicket doesn’t always look beneath the outer trappings, doesn’t always want to, the poor man. So I do it for him. Alas, he was quite adamant on Mr. Janson. Julius had been sweet-talking him for months, years even. He could be a charmer when he wanted something. But most of us knew he was rotten to the core. I just needed a little more time to convince my husband to deny Janson’s request and look elsewhere.”

“Lake.”

Mrs. Wicket inclined her head. “Mr. Lake is being held to a higher standard, as he is well aware. It was the reason for his dressing-down that night. If I had so much as a whiff that he was like Mr. Janson, I would have pulled my support for him immediately. I’d like to think Mr. Lake is good for my Mary. I believe she enjoys his attentions as well. With Julius out of the way, the relationship between them has bloomed. I am hopeful for their future together.”

“A compelling reason to murder Janson.”

“Perhaps. However, I did not murder Julius Janson.”

She said it so calmly, so directly, that Kate was inclined to believe her. There were so many things working against her, however. She had the motivation to murder the man and the opportunity with her wanderings. She knew the inn, probably better than even her husband. She would surely know of the hiding space in the wall.

“We found Mr. Janson’s bat, the one that killed him, in a hollow space in the common room.”

Mrs. Wicket didn’t even blink.

“Do you know how it could have come to be there?”

She gave an elegant shrug, in contrast to her roughened hands and slightly bowed shoulders. “All of us know of the crooks and nooks in the inn. Many a guest has accidentally stumbled across them as well. I assume that is how you discovered it?”

“Literally,” Christian said smoothly. “But if you knew about these spaces, why didn’t you tell us about them when we started our investigation?”

She gave another elegant shrug. “It never crossed my mind. A man we all knew had just been murdered in my inn. Mr. Wicket was strongly concerned with what the squire would do and how it would affect our business. Under
the circumstances why would I even think about a tool used to murder Mr. Janson or suggest possible hiding places for it?”