Page 28 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Yes, exactly my point. Isn’t it wonderful how apishly protective he is of you?”
Imogen was relieved when they were called to the dining room. Since her uncle would not allow discussion of the investigation over supper, Imogen was forced to wait until they had finished their meal to begin asking questions.
What utter agony!
She could not recall what they had been served, only that the courses kept coming out one after the other in an endless stream. “Uncle Cormac, we shall all explode if you order another course brought out.” She had taken a spoonful of onion soup, nibbled on a fish pie, and pushed around some peas and potatoes on her plate.
“Patience, Imogen,” he said with a parental look of admonishment.
How could she be patient with an unsolved murder hanging over their heads?
Finally, they all retired to the parlor, where tea was served for the ladies and her uncle poured the gentlemen his best port wine. Imogen was glad he did not stand on formality and insist the men remain seated around the dining table with their drinks. She would have expired from impatience.
Draco was studying her again, as he had done throughout the meal, his gaze as cool as ice and sharply assessing. He had the ability to pierce through her layers and make her tingle. She was glad to have met him, and at the same time wished they had never met because he was too much for her to handle. She was too inexperienced for someone like him. He knew about life, the elegant and the seedier parts, and had seen so much of the world while sailing the high seas.
Making her Society debut would not magically turn her into a sophisticated debutante or gain her any worldly allure, but it was something.
Right now, she was little more than an ignorant goose.
“What have you learned about last night’s murder?” she asked, fairly breathless in anticipation of Draco’s answer.
He sipped his port, in no hurry to end her grueling wait, and then ambled to her side. His hand casually rested on the back of the sofa where she and Deandra sat as he began his response. “As I mentioned to Lord Burness earlier this evening, the footman came forward and identified a man in a wizard costume as the one who handed him the note.”
“A wizard?” Imogen racked her brain to recall the wizards she had seen last night.
“Yes. He was also certain the man had asked him to deliver the note to Lord Driscoll, so this rules out any mix-up regarding the intended victim. Driscoll was always the target.”
Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I mean…not that he’s dead, but that you were not the one in danger.”
“So am I.” He cast her a wry grin.
Despite the icy reserve she always saw in his eyes, he still had a way of making her body tingle and turn warm whenever he looked at her. She found his ability to do this most disconcerting. “Lord Woodley, we—”
“Gad, I hate that title. Call me Draco. We are among friends here. Burness, any objections?”
Her uncle glanced at Aunt Phoebe, who gave an imperceptible nod, then shook his head. “No objections.”
Imogen sighed. “Fine,Draco. Now that we are certain of the intended victim, we can concentrate on the relevant clues. Driscoll’s friends ought to be questioned further, but they have all scampered to London by now. How will you get them back? Well, they cannot be more than a few hours ahead of you. They’ll probably stop overnight at an inn and drink themselves into a stupor, so it should not take you very long to catch up to them.”
“I am not bringing them back here,” Draco said with surprising insistence. “I’ve discussed this very matter with your uncle.”
“That’s right,” her uncle muttered. “We don’t want them anywhere near you. In fact, there’s no need for them ever to set foot in Moonstone Landing again.”
Imogen felt confused. “There isn’t?”
Draco was the one to answer her. “No. I’ll send word to my London contacts and have those lords investigated there. Major Brennan and his men will also keep an eye out for them and alert me should they be foolish enough to return. I have not struck any of them off my list of suspects, but we are better served by not holding them here. Their prominent families, despite detesting them, will never permit them to be locked up, and wedon’t want them freely walking around the village, for your own safety and that of the other young ladies.”
Imogen nodded. “Draco, are you looking at one of them in particular as the culprit?”
“I believe that it is an all-or-nothing proposition with these men. Either all of them are involved in Driscoll’s murder or none of them are. They are weak-willed toadies who do not act independently of each other. Who knows what Driscoll was doing? He might even have been blackmailing his friends.”
“And they’d finally had enough?” Deandra gasped. “How cold of them to plunge a knife into his chest and leave him on the rocks to drown.”
Draco finished his port and set the glass on a small table beside Imogen before responding to Deandra’s comment. “Personally, I do not think they did it. As I said, they are all wastrels, and must have been easy marks for Driscoll to abuse. I’m sure they all have plenty to hide. But they are weak men and too dependent on him to ever rebel. Still, Constable Angel and I will send whatever information gathered here to the London magistrate.”
“And his constables will take over the investigation?” Imogen asked.
“Partly, yes. But the murder occurred on my property, so I must insist on keeping a hand in it. Also, Malcolm Angel, as Moonstone Landing’s chief constable, and Burness here, as its magistrate, have seniority in this investigation. Anything the London magistrate discovers would be reported back to us. Unfortunately, as it is a crime that occurred outside of their jurisdiction, they might give it a low priority.”
