Page 60 of Murder at the Seven Dials
Light, bright and startling, flooded her vision, wiping it away completely.
Audrey opened her eyes and sucked in a breath. Standing within the wide-open closet door was none other than Hugh Marsden. He glared down at her, and Audrey’s lips gaped like a landed fish.
“It appears Bow Street has been infiltrated by a peculiar breed of mice,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Audrey stood so quickly the blood rushed from her head. She swayed and her hand shot out to catch herself against the closest shelf. The cuff links she’d been holding clattered to the floor and rolled. Mr. Marsden crouched to retrieve them.
“I…” She had no ready excuse. He wouldn’t have believed anything innocent anyhow.
“What are you doing in here?” he demanded as he stood tall again, the cuff links in his palm. He held them for her to see. “Are you taking these? This is evidence. You are not permitted to be in here.” He stopped and drew back. “My god, did you pick the lock?”
He turned to view the handle as if it would tell him.
“I’m not taking anything, I merely wished to see Philip’s belongings.”
“You broke into the evidence closet. Do you have any idea—” He lowered his voice and looked over his shoulder. “Do you have any idea the trouble you are in?”
Sweat beaded along her back and neck. She had known the risk of being discovered, but she hadn’t thought it would be Mr. Marsden himself to find her. Any other Bow Street official might have believed a silly lie and a bat of her lashes, or perhaps even an outburst of crocodile tears. But not this man. Curse it!
“I know it’s impossible for you to understand, but I needed to see his things.” Her mind tumbled over and over, searching for a plausible excuse for why. She found nothing but more dizzying panic.
“For what reason?” He stepped into the closet. “What is it you are stealing?”
She glared at him. “I already told you, I am not stealing!”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you. I find you pilfering through your husband’s evidence box, his cuff links in hand, and you expect me to think you are doing nothing illegal?”
“Yes!”
Men’s voices sounded down the hallway. Swearing an oath under his breath, Mr. Marsden came into the closet fully and shut the door. Audrey’s candle still burned, thankfully. The small sphere of light danced shadows over his face.
She frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Providing you another moment to make your confession. Refuse and I’ll have no choice but to place you under arrest.” He angled his head, the shadows of his brows pointing devilishly. “How would that appear to the ton, I wonder. Both duke and duchess arrested within the same week.”
Audrey could not believe this man! The utter gall. “You cannot arrest me for wanting to see my husband’s belongings!”
“I can arrest you for breaking and entering, and for disturbing evidence from a murder.”
She held his stare, searching for any indication that he was exaggerating. He didn’t so much as flinch. He couldn’t possibly…wouldn’t possibly…would he? Mr. Marsden had more than convinced her that he didn’t give a pig’s knuckle about propriety or the importance of rank. He was more than happy to shock and awe. With a sickening sweep of dread, she realized that he would indeed arrest her. He’d probably have a fine chuckle and a celebratory finger of whisky afterward, too.
“I can’t tell you,” she whispered, her heart dropping.
“Then you leave me no choice.” He turned and reached for the door. Audrey leaped forward, and without an ounce of grace, grabbed his arm. She yanked him toward her. The suddenness of it caused them both to lose their footing. Audrey slammed against the shelves, Mr. Marsden colliding into her.
“Jesus, woman!” He grabbed hold of her waist, but then, with another muttered oath, flung his arms back, as if burned.
“Please, just listen!” she said. He stared at her, still close enough for Audrey to trace his scent. Oakmoss and vanilla. She inhaled and closed her eyes, struck by the warm intoxication of it.
“I am listening,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Do not hedge or attempt to lie.”
She fluttered her lashes, trying to expel the warmed vanilla scent of him. Over the last few days, she had become accustomed to his presence, to his severe mood and his exasperated tone; however, she’d also seen a lighter side to him, a dry, sarcastic wit. Concern when he thought her to be in danger. Now, he was nothing if not deadly serious. If she wasted his time, he would snap.
“You know my husband is innocent of the murder,” she said softly.
Mr. Marsden’s lips thinned. With visible reluctance, he nodded tightly. Audrey let out a shaky breath.
“What if I told you…there was something I could do to…to find the killer?”
