Page 50 of Nature of the Crime
“You’ll keep searching for her, won’t you?” the innkeeper asked.
“My soldiers are scouring the Western Heights. She’ll be found.”
“Not if St. John has another place to hide,” Audrey said. “He is a smuggler. And smuggled goods need to be stored in secret places, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Edmunds nodded. “The smugglers use whatever remote spots they can. Around the coastline there are countless dens and caves in the bluffs. They’re difficult to find and even more difficult to access.”
Hugh came to her side. “Why would he take Becky to one of these dens?”
“I don’t know.” She felt as though the knowledge was just out of reach. “But it could be where he is hiding.”
“These dens are only accessible by water, and with the failing light and the winds this time of year, they are far too treacherous,” Edmunds said. “You sighted him at the Drop Redoubt. I think it more prudent to continue our search there.”
Irritation strung her shoulders tight. The lieutenant was accustomed to giving orders and expecting those around him to fall in line. She was suddenly grateful she did not have to live under his thumb, or anyone else’s.
“I do not believe you will find him there,” she said.
“But if we do,” he said, skating over her comment, “I should like someone familiar with St. John to be able to identify him. Lord Neatham?”
She had to hinge her jaw shut against balking. The sheer gall!
“I am also able to identify Lord St. John,” Audrey said, attempting to keep her tone level. “I should like to be of some use and assist in the search.”
“That won’t be necessary, Your Grace,” he replied, without a polite smile. What he meant to say was a flatNo. “It will be dark soon, and the terrain is simply too rugged. And Lord Thornton, we could use you in the search as well. The more men at hand, the more ground we can cover.”
Thornton stood to gather his coat and wisely avoided making any eye contact with Audrey. “Greer, keep having Carrigan sip that tea. I’ll listen to his chest when I return.” The driver gave no indication that he’d even heard the physician’s comment, but Audrey’s maid nodded before peering at Carrigan with concern.
Edmunds moved away, and Hugh gently took her arm. He pulled her deeper into the sitting room, away from the others.
“It’s better for you to stay. Becky may return here after all,” he said, though he didn’t sound confident. “It’s possible St. John has fled. Once you saw him, he may have panicked.”
She kept her lips sealed against a complaint. Sounding petty would do her no favors.
“However,” Hugh began, checking to be sure they were not being watched or heard. “Audrey, if we do find him, he will no doubt speak of what he knows. Of what Grayson told him.”
Her pulse stuttered. She knew it was true. The possibility loomed over them, and she could no longer avoid it. Somberly, he cocked his head and held her stare. Waiting for her to speak.
“Then that is the risk we will take,” she whispered. “St. John cannot get away with murder. If it comes out, then it comes out.”
She sounded far braver than she felt inside. To risk losing Hugh and a future with him, one in which she’d started to allow herself to envision and believe in, terrified her. The hurt the truth would cause Michael and Cassie and Tobias also made her knees soft. Hugh gripped her arms more firmly.
“No matter what happens, you have my heart. We will find a way to be together. Hell, we’ll leave for America if we must. We’ll be thoroughly disreputable, and I won’t give a damn, so long as I am with you.”
How could he make her laugh even when she felt so grim? Audrey shook her head. “We are not going to America.” She refused to run away. “However, we may have no choice but to be thoroughly disreputable here in England.”
With his eyes raking her in a slow and seductive manner, he grinned. Audrey only wanted to bask in it. He took her hand in his, his fingers warm and surprisingly coarse for a man of the peerage. He’d been viscount for nearly a year now, but so little about him had changed. He was proof that a title didn’t make the man; the man formed around the title.
“Marsden.” Thornton’s call to him severed the moment. Hugh kissed her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth, and followed Thornton and the lieutenant from the sitting room. Then, a few moments later, they exited the inn and started for the Western Heights.
As soon as their figures passed the window, Audrey sighed.
“Let me pour you some tea, Your Grace,” Greer said, rising from the sofa next to Carrigan.
“No tea for me right now. Please, stay where you are by the fire,” she replied, taking no small amount of pleasure from seeing her lady’s maid and driver so cozy next to each other.
If only things could be so simple for her and Hugh.
Against all good sense, her mind veered toward another couple who had been prevented from marrying. Her mother, Lady Edgerton, and her uncle, the Baron Edgerton. She didn’t like to think of them often. It usually only led to morose feelings of disappointment and pity for herself. However, she couldn’t deny that in some ways, their predicament mirrored the one she and Hugh were faced with. Oh, it was an entirely different situation to be sure. Lady Edgerton’s first husband had died and yet afterward she could not marry the man she wished to—the man she had already, Audrey suspected, been carrying on an affair with: her brother-in-law. It simply wasn’t acceptable or wholly legal for a widow to marry her dead husband’s brother. So instead, they had removed themselves from society and even now, lived together in private. It wasn’t discussed, but it was known.
