Page 39 of Nature of the Crime
Hugh wasn’t being bossy for the sheer sake of it. Protecting her was his sole desire. However, as she passed the vessels moored along the wharves of the port town, the briny scent ofthe winter sea air filling her nostrils, Audrey couldn’t help but bristle. Loving a man was a complicated thing, especially when that man had the ability to whip her up into a frothy furyandturn her mindless with need. When it was the former, Audrey felt like a bull lowering its horns, ready to do battle. And when it was the latter, she easily yielded to a mutual hunger, laying herself bare and vulnerable. As had happened last night.
Could there be no middle ground? There was so much to navigate now that she and Hugh were lovers. It was both thrilling and overwhelming to think of it.
For now, however, she only knew that she could not allow her own convictions to wither. She would accept Sir and Carrigan as her new “guards”, but she would not feel a drop of fear about this nameless, faceless menace that may or may not still be lurking around town.
“If someone is determined to see you framed for a murder, Your Grace, it is wise to always have an alibi, is it not?” Greer asked. She walked alongside Audrey, while Sir and Carrigan kept a few paces behind.
“It is. You’re right, Greer.” Her maid did not deserve Audrey’s agitated manner. Especially after her enormous tact the evening before, when she’d knocked upon Audrey’s door. Greer had come to ready her for bed and found she was not needed after all. Her maid’s knowing grin as Audrey opened the door a mere inch and whispered that she was dismissed for the night had been of kind understanding.
Hugh had laughed as she’d climbed back under the counterpane. “At least this time she did not walk in and get an eyeful.”
Audrey had stiffened with shock, and he’d confessed that the morning after their first night together at Fournier Downs, Greer had entered the bedchamber while Audrey still slept in Hugh’s arms. He and the maid had shared a quick, silent look,and she’d backed out of the room, never to breathe a word about it again.
Audrey’s mind had just started to drift toward memories of that first night, when they passed a young boy, about half Sir’s age and height, hawking newspapers. The soles of her boots skidded to a stop as she read the inked headline above the fold:
Baron’s Murder Linked to Widowed Duchess
Sir jerked a thumb toward the stack of papers. “That’s a load of fudge.”
Audrey stared at the edition of theExaminerthat the hawker held up for passersby, then shifted her attention to a second stack. TheJournal de Calaiswas a French newspaper, and the headline alluded to the same thing. Even if she had not been able to read French, the lurid caricature of a body lying on a beach with a lady drawn as if she was running away from the crime, said enough.
“The next article will report you’ve been absolved, Your Grace,” Carrigan said as they continued past the hawker. He only meant to reassure her, however a dreadful notion again trickled into her thoughts. What if Philip, wherever he was, saw this French paper? What if he panicked and thought to come back, to defend her? Or even if he just attempted to reach out to her…
Audrey’s pulse jumped unsteadily. If only she could stop the story from making its way to France. Knowing Philip, he would concoct some way to discover what was happening to her. She’d gone to dangerous lengths to prove him innocent when he’d been arrested, and he would surely do the same for her.
Her feet tripped to a stop again, this time just outside the packet office door.
“Your Grace?” Greer asked with alarm. “Is something wrong?”
My God.That was it. “The newspapers,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder. The young hawker gave a lady a paper and pocketed his payment.
“Pay them no mind,” Greer said. “They’ll all be fed to cookstove fires by nightfall.”
Audrey nodded, distractedly. She would tell Greer later what she’d just thought of, but not now, with Sir and Carrigan present. Were the newspaper headlinesa lure?
How many times had she, Cassie, Hugh, and Michael all expressed disbelief over the supposed evidence linking her to the two crimes? The true killer couldn’t possibly believe she would be convicted either. But the killer had to have a motive. An objective. Everything pointed to that objective having to do with Philip and exposing to all the world that he was still alive.
And if he came back to support Audrey in her time of turmoil, it would be done.
“I can go in for you, if you like,” Sir said, jerking her out of her stupor. She was still standing outside the packet office door, the others peering at her with concern.
“No, that’s not necessary.” Audrey pushed inside. It was a compact space, with schedules tacked to the walls, carts for passenger luggage lined up in a corner, and a few benches for travelers. She’d spent hours seated on one of those benches the evening she’d been detained. The clerk behind the counter instantly recognized her.
“Purchasing a ticket, Your Grace?” Mr. Fulton said cautiously, as if wary of a wild animal. No doubt he thought her a cold-blooded murderess like the rest of the town.
“Not today,” she answered. “I would like to see a passenger manifest. It would be from last year, the eighth of June. I’m afraid I don’t know the name of the packet.”
Hugh had divulged all that he could remember from Grayson’s letter, and he was certain it hadn’t been mentioned.
The clerk frowned. “Now, see here, I can’t have another manifest going astray.”
Audrey presumed the clerk spoke of the missing one from theBritannia. “I don’t wish to take it,” she said. “Only to look at it.”
He grumbled as if he didn’t quite believe her but then disappeared into a back room. While she waited, Sir leaned up against the counter.
“What are we looking for anyhow?”
“Don’t pester Her Grace,” Carrigan reprimanded.
