Page 7 of Silence of Deceit
So long as no one showed the faintest interest in where Lady Cassandra Sinclair was, and why she was not participating in the Little Season, Audrey did not care what they said behind her back. However, she did care that the duke had spoken for her now, and that it had been so contrary to her own thoughts on the matter.
“I would like to take the card case,” she said tightly, aware that the attendant was still present. He looked between Hugh and the duke, his eyebrows raised.
Hugh turned to the man, and with another nod of his head, dismissed him. The attendant seemed more than happy to return to his other duties. Once alone, Audrey lowered her voice. “Delia was killed, Philip. If I can help Mr. Marsden find something useful for his investigation—”
“It isn’t my investigation,” Hugh interjected. Audrey parted her lips, surprised.
“Who is in command of it, then?”
“No one. She was only brought to my attention because the patrolman believed it was you, and he was aware of our acquaintance.”
An awkward moment passed in which Audrey was thankful she had not confessed to Philip about the near kiss at the quarry. He’d already told her that he sensed Hugh’s interest in her but that the officer was “unsuitable” as a potential lover. The very idea of Hugh being her lover caused her cheeks to heat.
“But she’s obviously been killed,” Audrey said, hoping her blush would be mistaken for frustration.
Hugh took a wide look over his shoulder. “A number of these unclaimed dead were helped along into the afterlife, Your Grace. Bow Street simply cannot solve all the murders in London.”
Audrey clenched her jaw. Why did it feel as though Hugh and Philip were teaming up against her? “Do you not want my help?”
Hugh’s expression softened. A touch of regret, perhaps? “That is not what I meant. However, perhaps the duke has the right of it. Your involvement would not be proper.”
Audrey hitched her chin, a dagger of hurt spearing her between the ribs. “You are suddenly concerned aboutpropriety, Officer Marsden? After I’ve already helped you solvefivemurders?”
Hugh crossed his arms, and his eyes darkened another shade. “Those instances were also improper, and if you recall, my concern was well-founded. In both investigations, you were nearly killed.” He exhaled, and then in afterthought, practically growled the appropriate, “Your Grace.”
“Why must you always toss that in my face?” she asked, her voice rising. “You’ve been in mortal danger a time or two as well, I’d wager.”
He stepped forward, though the table holding Delia’s body still separated them. “The difference is thatIam a Bow Street officer, andyouare a duchess.”
“A duchess who has given you information that you would have otherwise never found on your own,” she snapped back.
He parted his lips then sealed them again, his frustration causing the muscles along his well-formed jaw to jump.
“Audrey,” Philip said, “Marsden is correct. Inserting yourself into another investigation when we barely came out of the last with our reputations intact would be unwise. Think of Cassandra. We don’t need anyone whispering about us or asking questions.”
The suppressed anger in Hugh’s expression faltered. Wanting to stay angry, Audrey cut her gaze from his before she could see any sliver of care in his eyes. Hugh knew the truth about Philip’s sister: she had been taken advantage of by Lord Renfry, ruined thoroughly, and was now in Stockholm with trusted friends of Philip’s until after the birth of her illegitimate child. It was yet another secret Hugh had been trusted with, and as much as he was currently agitating her, Audrey still did not doubt he would keep their confidences.
Cassie’s reputation would be destroyed should the truth emerge, and she and Philip had agreed that maintaining a low profile was instrumental in deflecting curious gossipers.We need to be thoroughly dull, my darling,he’d told her in September upon their return to London. Since then, the pair of them had been just that.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Please at least assure me that Delia’s death will be investigated, officer.”
Hugh winced, and she wondered if it was in reaction to her cold, detached tone.
“I will look into it,” he said. For a moment it appeared as though he wanted to say more, but then he cleared his throat and stepped away from the table.
Audrey peered at the sheeted figure of her Shadewell acquaintance one last time, and then turned on her heel. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she made a hasty exit from the dead house. The emotion wasn’t just for Delia, but for the knowledge that her ability—the very one she’d thought might make her useful to Hugh and Bow Street—was being rejected once again.
* * *
The next morning,Greer entered Audrey’s bedchamber after her single, pert, telltale knock. She’d thoughtfully waited until nine o’clock, an hour later than usual, to enter the bedchamber and rouse the duchess. Audrey had not been able to sleep anyway and had been languishing in bed since dawn.
“This came for you, Your Grace,” Greer said after opening the drapes and allowing in the milky morning light. Audrey sat up in bed, her head aching from lack of sleep, and peered at the small, brown paper-wrapped parcel as Greer set it into her waiting palm.
“Officer Marsden’s smelly urchin came to the servant’s entrance with it,” Greer said, wrinkling her nose. “Mrs. Comstock says he charmed her into giving him a link of sausage too.”
Instantly, Audrey knew what the nondescript box held. Her heart fluttered as she pulled the twine bundling the parcel. The paper fell away, revealing her silver card case. A message had been scrawled on a scrap of paper, tucked underneath the case:
Find me afterward.
