Page 49 of Nature of the Crime
In the privacy of the front room, Hugh touched her cheek. “I’m glad you’re safe. But I think you need to leave Dover. Thornton can take you back to London.”
She jerked away, as if he’d burned her. “Without you?”
“Edmunds has asked me to stay and investigate.” The flare of insult firing in her blue eyes ripped into him. She’d told him before that she wanted to be his partner in everything, even if there was some danger attached. He wanted her beside him in everything too but struggled to agree when it came to risking her safety.
“You will not send me away, Hugh Marsden.”
“Audrey—”
She silenced him with her mouth again, though this time in a kiss. He’d been a fool to think she would heed his suggestion.
“We need to find St. John. He is here, now, and we will find him. Together.” She touched his bottom lip. “Besides, wouldn’t you agree that I am safer with you?”
He winced as he realized she was right. There was no one else he trusted more with her safety than himself. “I am beginning to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. You are a master of manipulation, Audrey Sinclair.”
She only shrugged one delectable shoulder and kissed him again.
Chapter
Nineteen
The rare winter sunshine was waning, casting the inn on Liverpool Street in a golden glow. Audrey paced the sitting room, looking out into the street when she passed the windows. Sir wasn’t back yet. He’d left with directions from Mrs. Plimpton on how to find Becky’s home, where her widower father and younger brother lived.
“I’m sure it’s where the girl has gone,” the innkeeper had said.
It had been nearly two hours and the chambermaid had not come back to the inn. As they waited, Audrey felt trapped. Having permission to leave meant nothing if her conscience would not allow her to run away to relative safety. But this inn was closing in around her. Everything from the chintz sofa pattern to the trinkets on the shelves to the lace trimming on the curtains had started to wear on her. She wanted to leave, to go home to London. However, Thornton had returned to say Lieutenant Edmunds and his soldiers were conducting a search of the Western Heights and that the lieutenant asked them to remain at the inn for the time being.
Greer sat with Carrigan before the fire, plying him with the tea Mrs. Plimpton had brought him earlier, saying it was one ofher grandmother’s old brews to help clear up head colds. Greer now urged him every few minutes to spoon up some soup too. The tip of his nose was bright red, his cough still rattled in his chest, and he was practically nodding off right where he sat. But like herself, her driver did not want to be idle. He’d berated himself for not being with Audrey and Greer when they’d met with Becky at the Drop Redoubt and for missing the chance to chase after St. John. He refused to lay abed now.
“What if she is in trouble?” Audrey asked aloud as she made yet another circuit in the sitting room. The carpet, with its flattened pile and worn spots, was also beginning to get on her nerves.
“Becky is no threat to St. John,” Hugh said as he tapped his foot and deliberated his next move in the game of chess he and Thornton had been playing. “If that was him on the Heights, then he is aware she has already divulged what she knows to you. There is no reason to silence her.”
His logic was sound, but it didn’t stop her from sensing something was wrong. He moved his pawn. Thornton scoffed and swept his piece from the board. “It would be more of a challenge to play against a chimpanzee.”
Hugh sat back, unconcerned that he’d lost a game piece or that his friend had insulted him. Audrey knew he was as impatient as she was.
“I feel dreadful sorry about it,” Mrs. Plimpton said as she brought in another tray of tea and biscuits. She’d determined for herself that her maid must have been the one to tell Audrey about her involvement with Lord Burton andSin. “Becky’s a sweet girl. I hate to think she feared losing her position here.”
Losing her position, or worse, Audrey thought in silence.
“We’re in the same muddle, me and her,” the innkeeper went on. “It’s been hard around here since the war ended and the shipbuilding fell off. With hardly any soldiers at the barracks,town business has fallen flat. Some are turning to smuggling to make ends meet.”
Audrey had no appetite for tea but approached the table where the things had been lain out. “Becky mentioned smuggling too.” An idea perked her up. “She said St. John might be a smuggler?”
Mrs. Plimpton nodded. “Aye, it’s true. He were real secretive, but I knew he made runs.”
In her peripheral vision, bright crimson flashed. Audrey turned toward the window.Soldiers. The front door to the inn opened, and Hugh and Thornton jumped to their feet. Their chess board lay forgotten as Lieutenant Edmunds entered.
“Nothing so far on St. John,” Edmunds announced before anyone could ask. “I’ve come to inquire about this.” He held up a small, embroidered lady’s handbag. The wrist ties had been snapped, but Audrey recognized it.
“It belongs to Becky. Where did you find it?”
Mrs. Plimpton came forward and took the bag, her expression drawn.
“On the downs surrounding the barracks,” he answered. “There was a mess of boot prints nearby. It appeared to be more than one person.”
“He must have her,” Audrey said, certain now. She eyed the handbag a mere second before Mrs. Plimpton stuffed it into her apron pocket. Fabric could often be reluctant to give up its memories, but there had been a few times when clear visions had come through.
