Page 38 of Taken to the Grave
“What dinner?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said impatiently, her eyes not meeting his. “I asked Prince Paul about Lord Stromburg, and Sir Oliver glared at me for the rest of the evening.”
Hugh hinged forward as his muscles strung tight, forcing her to meet his eyes now. “You did what?”
She sidestepped his question, and him, as she moved to the other side of the narrow entrance hall. “The men accusing Mr. Givens of speaking out of turn had a carriage with this symbol. Sir Oliver and now Mr. Comstock both have cuff links with it. We know for certain that Mr. Comstock took Bethany to the Sanctuary. The connection is there all around.”
“What did you say about Stromburg?” he asked.
“Nothing about him being dead if that is what you are worried about. I’m not that much of a simpleton.”
“I didn’t say you were. However, finessing questions to make them sound natural isn’t necessarily your forte.” She was a bull in a china shop most times. “If this Sir Oliver fellow eyed you the rest of the evening, it’s probably because he found your questions suspicious.”
“Maybe because he knows Lord Stromburg is dead.”
And now, so was Comstock. Hugh crushed the brim of his hat in his hand, uneasy with Audrey’s request for the cuff links. He glanced up the stairs and lowered his voice. “You may see something horrendous when you hold them.”
“Whatever I see, I will be fine,” she retorted, still angry. “Do you want answers or don’t you?”
“There are other ways.”
“This is one of mine.” At last, she speared him with a glare. “Or do you not approve of that either anymore?”
“Now you’re just spoiling for a fight,” he replied, his own hackles rising.
Before she could respond, the maid reappeared on the stairs. Audrey turned her back on Hugh and met her at the bottom.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Clark, might we take these to an inquiry agent at Bow Street? We have reason to believe this symbol is connected to Miss Silas’s disappearance,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not sure, milady, they were so very important to Mr. Comstock…” the maid said, her eyes tearing up again as she looked at them, cradled in the bowl of her hand.
“Of course, I understand,” Audrey began, her tone honey sweet. Hugh narrowed his eyes; she would never give up this easily. “We will send the inquiry agent here if you would prefer. That way, you can take the opportunity to explain about Mr. Comstock’s involvement with Miss Silas, and how you stood in as his sister?—”
Alarm poured over Miss Clark’s expression, drying up her tears instantly. “No, no, milady, I wouldn’t want to… Oh, but if you could take them and speak to the agent instead, and please, I never meant any harm. Mister Comstock said it would not amount to anything in the end…” The maid passed the cuff links into Audrey’s gloved hands, her chin beginning to quiver again.
Audrey slipped them into her skirt pocket, the barrier of her gloves having prevented any visions. “You aren’t to blame, Miss Clark. Truly, you needn’t worry.”
This time, at least, Audrey sounded sincere.
“Thank you for your time,” Hugh said as the maid showed them out. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Without a word or glance toward Hugh, Audrey walked swiftly back to the carriage. Carrigan handed her up, then sent Hugh an apologetic grimace, as though knowing he and Audrey were at odds. The driver stood aside and allowed Hugh to climb in. He secured the door, and Hugh took the bench opposite her. She wouldn’t look at him. She also did not take the cuff links from her pocket.
Hugh sat back, his body strung tight. “Will you hold them here?”
Audrey hitched her chin, swaying with the rocking of the carriage. “I don’t think so. I…I think I would like to be alone. I can’t think clearly right now.”
Because of their argument.
“Very well,” he said, hating the unexpected barrier between them.
He should have never opened his damnable mouth.
Chapter
Twelve
Audrey stood before the mirror in her room, watching Cassie pace in and out of the reflection.
