Page 27 of Nature of the Crime
Hugh covered her hands with his, holding them in place. “If he knows about Philip, he might want to expose the truth.”
“He could do that without implicating me in two murders.”
“True enough. It looks like he may have killed Vaillancourt to get out of paying him the agreed upon sum, but why kill Burton?”
They each silently contemplated the question. Hugh didn’t mind the quiet. He was enjoying the stolen moment with her despite the circumstances. Though he wanted to, he couldn’t kiss her, not here. Not when stopping would be next to impossible.
“If the baron had the manifest, the man from my vision might have wanted to conceal his own name. He could have wanted to stop the baron from handing it over,” Audrey suggested. It was a plausible theory. “But why risk entering my room and taking that comb? Greer might have seen him. Mrs. Plimpton or Becky too. That he even bothered to place it on Burton’s sleeve was foolish—he must know I have soldiers guarding me every moment. I have a solid alibi.”
“Just as you did aboard theBritannia.” A theory dawned, raising the hair on the nape of his neck. Whenever that happened, he knew he’d come upon something worth pursuing. “But even with the alibi in place, the accusation, the investigation, still garnered scandal. By now, all of Dover is speaking of it. With this port as a thoroughfare to London and Paris, news will travel fast.”
Audrey stepped back, her hands slipping out from under his. “That is what he wants? For me to be scandalized?”
“It’s possible. Before then exposing the truth about Philip,” Hugh said. Though something about it still didn’t feel completely right.
Audrey turned to gaze into the fire. He imagined her as she’d been the night before, wrapped in his arms. Oblivious to theworld beyond her room. It could not happen again, not if a guard was to be posted outside her door, as Hugh would insist. For her own safety, he would stand sentry himself, if he must.
“If the assailant is aware of the truth, it’s either because he saw Philip or a whispering tongue let on,” Hugh said softly, careful that their voices would not be overheard.
Audrey also whispered when she replied, “There is only Mr. Walker, us, Philip, and I imagine his valet, Grayson.”
“You imagine?”
“He was the only servant Philip took with him to France. He vouched for Philip’s death, and then sent a letter resigning his post. I presume he knows.”
“That did not worry you before now?” he asked, incredulous. Especially after the previous summer, when Mr. Henley’s valet betrayed the confidence of his former employer, revealing where an expensive ring was located, which had then led to a ransom and murder plot.
“Philip trusted Grayson the way I trust Greer,” she replied. Hugh bit his tongue. Saying anything more would only stoke her temper.
“Do you know where Grayson is now?” he asked instead. “Where his family is?”
Audrey rubbed her temple, and when she lowered her hand, he took it into his. He pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Forgive me. You’ve been through much today. Why don’t you rest for a little while?”
She sighed and tugged their joined hands toward her. With a stubborn scowl, she brought his fingers to her lips and mirrored him.
“Rest is not necessary. In fact, I think I might be experienced enough in the discovery of bodies to become a coroner myself.” She kissed his fingertips again and an answering chordtightened in his groin. “I will ask Greer what she knows about Grayson’s family. Will you come to my room again tonight?”
That chord twisted painfully. “I will have a soldier in the upstairs landing to detour any unwanted guests, so no.”
She masked her disappointment but nodded in understanding. “I’ll find a way to you then.”
He bowed over their joined hand before releasing it. “You always do.”
Chapter
Eleven
“Idon’t see why I must give up my room.” Cassie folded her arms and sat back in her chair. She and Audrey were seated at the long table in Mrs. Plimpton’s dining room, with Michael, Hugh, and Thornton. A supper of beef pudding had been lain out for them, along with a pot of strong tea.
Michael’s patience all but snapped. “Cassie, be reasonable. There is no more room at the inn.”
Audrey didn’t think his ill temper was entirely due to his younger sister and her complaints about having to room with Audrey in order to allow Grant Thornton a place to sleep that night. A letter from Genie had arrived earlier, and whatever she’d written, it had put the duke in a foul mood.
“If only Mrs. Plimpton had a stable, I could bunk there,” Thornton said irreverently as he finished the last bite of his pudding. “Lay myself down in a manger, as it were.”
Hugh stifled laughter, but Cassie narrowed her glare on the physician. “Did you just liken yourself to the baby Jesus?”
He set down his fork and dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Babies whine, and forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe I’m the one currently doing so.”
