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“Didn’t find anything tossed,” Sir reported. “A maid from Number 9 was standing outside, curious about the fuss. Said she saw a shifty-looking wagon around seven.”

“What did she remember about it?”

“It was a dray pulled by a horse that had one hoof in the grave, its load covered by a tarpaulin.”

“The driver?”

Sir shook his head. “Had on a big, hooded cape. She didn’t see any part of his face.”

If the maid had seen the cart and driver, most likely someone else at Cumberland Place had as well. And they might have gotten a better look at the man. Hugh would return tomorrow to question the neighbors, whether Victor Messinger approved or not.

Sir emitted a barking cough, reminding Hugh that the boy was just recovering from a severe cold.

“Stay here and guard the body,” he told Sir. “I’m going to speak to the servants. Once the hired cart arrives, let me know. I’ll deliver the victim to Thornton, and you can return to Berkeley Square.”

Sir scowled. He despised any sort of mollycoddling, even when he was ill. “I ain’t sick anymore. I’ll come with you.”

“I’m not sick,” Hugh corrected his grammatical slipup.

Sir took off his hat and shook the sleet from the brim. “You aren’t either? Good. We’ll take the body to Thornton together.”

Hugh laughed as he started across the mews to Messinger’s back entrance. “Cheeky runt.”

Chapter

Three

It was past midnight when Audrey heard the soft, opening snick of the door connecting her bedchamber to Hugh’s. She hadn’t been in bed long, and she certainly had not been able to fall asleep.

Dinner had concluded early, as she’d predicted, and Cassie, Genie, and Michael had left shortly before ten o’clock. It had been a relief. Audrey had worried Tobias would stagger into the dining room and cause Michael to lose his temper, further eroding what was supposed to have been a cheery holiday dinner. However, Tobias had behaved himself, staying in the kitchen for about an hour, finishing at least four cups of coffee and then leaving for his bachelor’s rooms on Piccadilly.

Audrey’s new maid, Dorothy, had reported all this with some amusement when she joined Audrey to help her prepare for bed. The maids in the kitchen were sweet on the young lord and kept topping up his cup after he’d taken only one or two sips. Thankfully, Tobias wasn’t the sort of young man to dally with a smitten maid.

Then again, the vision that had barreled over her when she’d accidentally touched his pocket watch gave her pause.

As midnight neared, and Audrey sat in bed rubbing her rounded abdomen, she’d alternated between wondering what Tobias had said to cause the young woman in the glasshouse to cry, and what Hugh and Sir were doing at that very moment.

Now, as she heard her husband’s familiar attempts to be quiet and not wake her as he undressed to join her in bed, she rolled onto her back. “I hope you aren’t very tired.”

Hugh, having shed his clothing down to his linen smalls, sent her a coy grin. “I am never too tired to see to my lady wife’s desires.”

Audrey laughed as he climbed under the covers. Rolling back onto her side, she felt the tension that had built up over the last few hours melt away when Hugh hooked her with his arm and brought her flush against him. His warm body cradled hers, and Audrey took comfort in it.

“My only desire,” she said, as Hugh kissed her neck, “is to know the details of your outing with Sir Gabriel. What is the situation?”

Hugh’s breath gusted over her neck as he sighed. It was a sound of frustration. And exhaustion.

“A murder. A young woman was killed and transported to a horse stall inside the carriage house of a Member of Parliament. Victor Messinger.”

“His name isn’t familiar,” Audrey said. “The killer brought her there? Does Mr. Messinger know her?”

“He claims not to.”

She heard his reservation. “Who was she?”

Hugh’s palm slid over her belly to hold her—and their child. “I don’t know. Sir Gabriel has put me in charge of the inquest, so I brought her to Thornton’s home. He wasn’t in. Probably out carousing at a gaming hell. But his butler admitted the body into the cellar. I’ll have Thornton look at her wounds tomorrow. With any hope, he’ll be able to tell me something illuminating.”

He nestled closer, as he liked to do while they slept. “How did the rest of dinner progress?”