Page 101 of The Moonstone Pirate
She carefully slit it open and then gasped. “Mr. Barrow has news!”
Draco leaned forward, eagerly taking the letter from her when she held it out to him. “Let me see. The Trewicks are ruled out in Driscoll’s murder,” he muttered, reading aloud. “Lord Trewick took his wife to Italy two months ago, hoping mild weather and the Italian countryside might do her health some good. She is quite ill, and their servants do not expect her to survive much longer. Trewick, despite the humiliation she has put him through, still loves her and wishes to make her final months comfortable.”
Imogen’s eyes were moistening.
He shook his head and groaned. “Imogen, do not soften your heart toward Lady Trewick. She made a fool of her husband. Do not dare talk to me about his love for her and the power of it. The Trewicks could rival Romeo and Juliet in tragedy. And how is Trewick ever to be at peace knowing his wife will probably die with Nolan’s name on her lips?”
“Speaking of Nolan,” Imogen said, “Mr. Barrow says here that his death was accidental. Well, that is a relief. It is good to know we are not looking at another murder.”
Draco snorted. “Nolan was still an ass, and I will never understand how Lady Trewick could love him…or how Lord Trewick could forgive her.”
“You are far too cynical, Draco. Who are we to judge whether any of them are deserving of love? It is none of our business. Ihope Lord Trewick finds someone who will love him as truly and deeply as he did his wife, if he ever remarries.”
“Well, one set of suspects out of the way.” He shook his head. “It is something. In truth, Driscoll’s toady friends are not suspects either. Healey and Burke killed him. That’s why they are now on the run.”
Imogen nodded. “Now all we need is word from the Home Office about the rebel plot.”
“Still a little too soon for that. But I think any day now.”
“Your meeting with the Irishman is tomorrow.” She gave her lip a light nibble.
Lord, I need to kiss this girl.
“I’ve thought of something else, Draco. Give me a moment to bring down more sketches. I have several I have yet to show you from last year, and some from this year as well. I drew quite a bit, not only here but while I was in London, and one of my books is filled with drawings of riders and their horses. Scenes from here and also in London on Rotten Row. Cain and Uncle Cormac both have Friesians, and they are magnificent horses. Lord Eldridge’s chestnut Friesian has to be rare, and there cannot be more than a handful of lords in all of England who have one. Is this not something of pride any lord would show off to his peers? Just as good as a shiny new phaeton.”
Draco smiled at her. “Yes, but what is the point? We know it was Walter Ramsay who took the horse. We also know it belongs to Lord Eldridge. That mystery is solved.”
She nodded. “Yes, but it just made me curious about what else might turn up in my horse drawings.”
“All right, Butterfly. You’ve been wonderful today, so I will deny you nothing.”
“Oh.” She cast him a beaming smile. “That is quite nice of you to say.”
He grinned. “I am not always a rude, surly lout.”
She laughed softly and then ran upstairs, only to return moments later with several books in hand. “Don’t get up. It is just three books, and they aren’t heavy. Oh, and here are the refreshments for us. Care for some cake?”
“No, Imogen. Just lemonade will be fine. There’s a nice breeze off the water. I will admit, it feels good to just lie here and rest a while.”
“I knew you had overdone it. Stubborn man.” She poured him a glass of lemonade and handed it over. He gulped it down and then set the glass aside.
“Let’s see what other masterpieces you have to show me.”
“They are just drawings, Draco.”
“No, I know they will be extraordinary, just as you are. Let’s see if you can work some more of that Imogen magic.”
She glanced at her sketches. “Well, it is hardly magic. Just a knack for observation.”
“Your instincts are uncanny. You’ve given me the connection between Healey, Burke, and the Irishman, not to mention linking those two to Driscoll’s murder. Who knows if they were involved in Nolan’s death, too?”
“Mr. Barrow said his death was accidental. From what I hear of him, his instincts are also uncanny and he never makes a mistake.”
“Nor do you, Imogen. So I am determined to look at whatever else you wish to show me, because you are quite amazing.”
She cleared her throat and opened the first book of sketches.
“Still bashful about compliments?”
