Page 45 of Murder at the Seven Dials
“How dare you have me followed?” she asked as she pulled her wrap close. Her evening slippers puttered down the front stone steps. The crisp air nearly made her dizzy.
“I knew you would do something rash with that locket,” he replied.
So, he’d seen her take it from Miss Lovejoy’s drawer after all. Why hadn’t he said anything at the time?
To see what you did with it, you ninny.
“You wanted to get me to do your investigating for you, I take it?” she asked.
He stepped up beside her, his hands in his pockets. “Hardly.”
“And yet, you couldn’t gain admittance to question Wimbly at his home.” She faced him, defiance making her hot and loose-lipped. “How lucky for you to have cornered him in the Seven Sins just now. Thanks tome.”
“The risk you took was idiotic.”
“It was paltry. Only my reputation was in danger, and with my husband arrested for murder, that hardly matters anymore.”
“Maybe I should remind you, my lady, that if you truly believe the murderer is still loose, he might not want you digging around.”
Audrey’s scalp tingled, and she held her tongue. That thought had not quite yet entered her mind, and she felt stupid for it. Worse, she’d allowed Mr. Marsden to see her reaction plain on her face. He now gloated.
Carrigan came around the corner with her coach.
“Yes, well, I gained some valuable information,” she said, pretending at nonchalance.
“I doubt it,” he muttered.
“I know the marquess wasn’t jealous of her other lovers. She was not exclusive,” Audrey said, using the word Wimbly had. “There are potentially other suspects.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t give names.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
The carriage came to a stop beside them on the curb. Carrigan hopped down quicker than usual, likely alarmed to see Audrey standing so close to a strange man.
“Your Grace,” Carrigan said, his eyes hinged on Marsden. His burly chest faced him like a shield.
“Carrigan, this is Officer Marsden.”
The driver stepped closer to Marsden the moment he was aware this was no aristocrat and didn’t deserve unconditional respect. To his credit, Marsden’s brows lifted, appropriately alarmed.
She sighed. “Everything is fine, Carrigan. I’m ready to go home.”
Audrey took the driver’s hand to be let up into the coach.
“I attended the coroner’s inquest,” Marsden said. Audrey’s feet stilled and her spine went rigid. He’d clearly intended for the blurted statement to capture her attention.
She pursed her lips, irritated his strategy had worked, and peered over her shoulder.
“You may ride with me to Violet House, but you are not invited in.”
A small grin shuffled the corner of his lips. Carrigan stood aside and gestured for Mr. Marsden to climb up.
Audrey prayed she did not regret it.
ChapterTwelve
