Page 28
“And he has the unfortunate habit of not thinking things through before taking a leap,” Hugh added. She did not disagree.
Recalling the fraught way in which they’d parted earlier that morning, Audrey waited a moment to sense her husband’s mood. He peered at her, as if doing the same.
She gave in and reached for his arm. He grasped her waist and pulled her close—or as close as he could with her mound of an abdomen.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I was a bear earlier, wanting you to stay home and rest.”
“Yes, you were,” she said, her hands smoothing his cravat and collar. “I know it was out of love and care, but I need you to trust me. I know what I can manage, and when it is time for me to put my feet up and rest, I will.”
He nuzzled her cheek and kissed just beneath the lobe of her ear. A shiver of delight stole down her spine.
“You can kiss me all you like, my lord, but you are still not coming with me tomorrow when I meet with Lady Susan,” Audrey teased as his lips dropped more kisses on the side of her neck.
“What if I promise to stay in the carriage?” he murmured against her skin.
“What did you learn from Mr. Messinger?” she asked, attempting to redirect him. He groaned, knowing what she was up to.
He looked her in the eye, scowling playfully. “Messinger is adamant that he does not know Miss Harwood. Calvin never spoke of her.”
“You believe he is telling the truth?”
Hugh nodded, his arms still around her waist. Audrey longed for the day she could press close to him again, without the interference of her large midriff.
“I got nothing out of him that was useful,” Hugh sighed. “Speaking to the neighbors’ servants turned up nothing, either. Except the possibility that Messinger prefers men.”
Audrey pulled back a little, surprised. “Oh?”
“He was seen bringing a man into his home via the back door a month ago. Apparently, it looked intimate. It’s useless to the case, of course,” Hugh explained. “We need another angle.”
They did, and the difficulty in believing that Lady Susan Ritchson would have the capability to carry out all the elements of the murder gave her an idea.
“Whoever killed Miss Harwood had access to a dray,” she said. “Easy, immediate access. Think of it—if Tobias truly had killed her, he’d have needed to get his hands on a wagon for transport.”
Hugh nodded. “So, the killer either owns one or hired one out.”
A throat cleared at the entrance to the drawing room, and Sir strode inside. Audrey stepped out of Hugh’s arms as the young boy rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
“You two are always kissin’,” he groaned.
Audrey laughed as Hugh crossed his arms and replied, “Enough cheek. Tell me what you’ve found.”
Sir collapsed onto a sofa and kicked up his legs into a reclining position. “I’ve found that I never want to be a bloody footman. The one at Number 5 across the street from the Harwoods must stand in the window all day, just waiting to answer the door.” Audrey smothered another laugh as Sir continued. “Says he saw the mister and missus leaving that evening like they said, and then a man arriving a little later, around six.”
That would have been Tobias, Audrey gathered. “And Miss Harwood answered the door, allowing him inside?”
“That’s right. Sanders—the footman—was keen to tell me that the mister and missus are up the River Tick. Been sackin’ their staff and clearin’ out their furnishings.”
That suited the state of their home, Audrey thought.
“Did Sanders see the man leave?” Hugh asked.
Sir shook his head where it lay on a pillow. “No. But he did say his employer arrived home around then, and he was preoccupied.”
Hugh walked over and pulled the pillow out from underneath the boy’s head. Sir groused as he sprang up, but Hugh spoke before he could utter a complaint. “Good work. I need you to find the closest livery to Shepherd Street. Ask if anyone hired a dray and horse last evening.”
The affronted expression drained from Sir’s face, replaced with intrigue. “Right. I should’ve thought of that.” He leaped from the sofa.
“Tomorrow, Sir, it is getting late,” Audrey said, but the boy nodded in the way he did whenever he was not truly listening. He scurried from the room.
