Page 107
“Yes.”
“You may release me now.”
“I may.”
He remained precisely where he was for another breath, and Judith experienced the extraordinary sensation of simultaneously wanting him to move and being deeply annoyed by the prospect.
His breath touched her cheek first, then he faintly brushed his lips against her cheek, followed by her temple, before he stepped backwards. Cool air entered the space between them, and Judith immediately missed his warmth.
He relit the candle. His face appeared above the small flame, and for perhaps the first time since his arrival at Blackthorn, Major Baines had nothing clever to say.
Judith found this enormously satisfying. They retraced their steps in silence. Baines pushed the concealed door closed while Judith rearranged the sheets they had disturbed, aware throughout that he was watching her. She endured it for perhaps half a minute.
“You were going to kiss me.”
Baines became remarkably interested in a stack of pillow-cases. “I was considering several courses of action.”
Judith folded a sheet which did not require folding, placed it upon the shelf and discovered that courage, once summoned, could be surprisingly inconvenient. “I rather wish you had.”
Silence descended between them with considerably greater force than before. Judith looked up.
The expression on his face made her stomach turn over. There was no amusement in it and certainly no triumph, only something warmer and infinitely more dangerous because she could not dismiss it as flirtation.
“Judith…”
She placed the unnecessary sheet upon the shelf. “We should review ledgers to see if we can find patterns.”
His eyes narrowed. “You cannot say something like that and begin discussing household records.”
“You complained when I did precisely that regarding Cranford’s widow, once.”
“That was different. I did not want to kiss you after hearing about Cranford’s widow.”
Despite herself, Judith laughed, and Baines smiled in response, although his gaze remained intent upon her.
“One day you are going to discover that provoking a man and then walking away has consequences,” he said.
“You are too easily provoked, then,” she taunted, though something occurred to her. At last she understood the mistake they had made from the beginning. “We have been looking for someone who knows too much,” she said, meeting Baines’ gaze. “We should have been looking for someone no one notices at all.”
“A servant, then? Are you certain?”
“No, I am not certain, but there has to be something we have missed.”
They returned to the muniment room, where the ledgers waited.
Judith took her seat while Baines remained standing beside the table. She looked at the household lists, but this time she no longer saw names divided neatly into guests, servants and retainers. She saw movement.
Footmen carried trays between rooms without anyone remembering their faces. Maids entered bedrooms and passages at every hour of the day. Grooms waited in stable yards. Coachmen drank in servants’ halls. Tradesmen delivered wine, candles and food. Messengers carried letters. Repairers collected damaged objects and returned them days later. Visiting valets moved between their masters’ chambers and the principal rooms with scarcely a question asked.
A person did not have to belong to Blackthorn to become invisible within it. He needed only to appear as though he belonged wherever he happened to be.
Baines leaned over her shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
Judith slowly turned another page. She thought of the scratched panel, the ink stain and the fragment of paper containing words Pembroke had spoken. She thought of three different pieces of false information gathered from three different conversations and assembled into a coherent report before leaving Blackthorn.
“You actually keep bedroom assignments?”
“Obviously.”
