Page 18 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
I leaned forward, watching her, the anger and regret of the night still simmering under my skin. “You’re determined to see it solved.”
Her eyes met mine, fierce and unflinching. “Someone should care.”
For a long moment, I just watched her—this woman, maddening, reckless, too brave for her own good, throwing herself into the world’s tragedies as if she could shoulder them all. And I realized, with a sinking weight in my chest, that I couldn’t leave her to face this one alone.
“The girl—what was her name?”
“Elsie. She’d given birth just a few weeks ago and gave up the baby for adoption so he could have a better life. The shelter found her a position with a seamstress. She was to start there in a fortnight.”
“Brave girl. It couldn’t have been easy for her.”
“She was. And sweet. Barely sixteen.” Rosalynd’s voice wavered slightly. “I don’t believe she went out to meet a lover, no matter what Dodson says. She wasn’t interested in men. I think she was lured out—or forced.”
I glanced off into the distance. “There will be evidence of how she was killed. Strangulation can take many forms. A man could have used his hands or a rope. She could have been garroted. The method would provide valuable information. Did she fight back? Was there some detritus under her nails? A qualified examiner can determine all that.”
“How do you know this?”
“Let’s just say I’ve done some investigative work before.” I blew out a breath. “Her body would’ve been transferred to the local mortuary. Did Dodson say where?”
“St. James’s mortuary. She’d already been taken there by the time I arrived at St. Agnes.”
“Then there’s no time to lose.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need to view the body. Tonight.”
“I’ll go with you. I want to?—”
“No. That’s no place for a lady.”
“I don’t need your permission, Steele. I can go there on my own.”
I let out a slow, dangerous smile. “I’ll inform your brother of what you intend and suggest he tie you to your bed if necessary.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?”
We locked eyes—a silent, heated standoff.
“There’s a more practical reason you can’t go,” I said finally.
Her brows arched. “Which is?”
“You wouldn’t be allowed to view the body.”
“But you would?”
“I’m the Duke of Steele. They won’t say no to me.”
She let out a long, frustrated breath. “Very well. But you will tell me what you find?”
“I’ll send word tomorrow.”
The carriage rocked gently, the lantern light flickering across her face, casting delicate shadows along the polished wood.
I let the faintest smile touch my mouth—tired, worn, real. “You don’t always have to carry it alone, you know.”
