14
James
James could see the tension in Mary's body, and before he could feel frustrated with the fact that he was looking closely enough to notice, he had to come to her rescue.
Davis shouldn't have been there. That much, he knew immediately. He hadn't lived in Dover long—so far, he was more like a house guest—but he had employee records. Davis lived in town. He shouldn't have been here, unless it was on business, but what business could he have?
When they were finally apart, Mary made an apologetic face.
"You don't have to get a room, you know. I'm sure you've got a sofa, or something, that you can sleep on. I wouldn't mind if you did that."
It rankled him badly. She didn't mean what he thought she meant. He kept reminding himself of it, but she kept sounding so very much like she did. The way she looked at him, the way she acted, the way she talked…it had to be his imagination. It didn't make it any easier to ignore.
His flat wasn't far, and then he could give her the tour and be off.
He pushed the door open and gestured that she should go in first. She stepped in and set her bag down.
It was a shabby room. He'd liked it for his purposes, but now he was acutely aware of the cheapness of it. He felt as if Mary was slowly cataloging every thing that she could find wrong, and marking it off as a criticism of him. He could feel it burning hot in his throat.
"It's not much, but it's home," he said in a vague defense that Mary waved away.
"Nonsense," she said. "For a single gentleman, it's perfectly nice."
"Well," he said, reluctant to argue with her, "the bedroom is through there. The sheets should be in the closet, I'll make the bed before night, don't you worry."
He closed the bedroom door and walked back out into the front room. "Through there's the kitchen, the water closet's right there…"
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and tried not to feel too bad about the place, but it was a struggle to maintain his mood. The place felt odd, and he wanted little more than to get out. When she didn't dismiss him, he cleared his throat.
"I'll, ah…let you get comfortable, and I'll be back around time for supper to tell you what I could find, if that's alright with you, Miss—"
"Call me Mary, I said." She sounded annoyed, and he swallowed his response.
"Of course, I'm sorry. Mary."
He pushed his door open and stepped out into the open air. He'd never wanted to be gone so badly. The air in the room felt heavy. Like he'd never been there before in his life. He looked up at the sky.
London generally had poor weather, and today was no exception, but today was particularly oppressive. But he had work to do.
The Law Office of Roy Stump was in Soho, and it had always struck James as odd that a Baron would have gone there. He dismissed it right away, and repeatedly. As long as the job would pay, there wasn't any reason to question anyone's motives, but it had rankled at his mind badly. What on earth could have been the motive?
He stopped just down the street and dusted his pants off, straightened his jacket. He was tired from all the walking, but it had done his mind a world of good to have an excuse to be away from his flat. Away from Mary, and the curvy hips that swayed when she walked.
He almost knocked on the door before he saw the sign:
Closed. Mr. Stump is on vacation in Europe and cannot be reached.
It struck him as odd, immediately. What struck him as more odd was that he'd been here less than a week ago, going over last-minute details of his work in Dover, and he'd made no mention of any plans to leave the country. It wasn't as big a deal as going to, say, America, but a lengthy trip wasn't something to be undertaken lightly.
He frowned. That meant that he'd had to have left within the last week, at the very outside.
He shaded his eyes and looked in through the window. There were the desks in the office that he remembered. They had papers on them, seemingly thrown at random when whoever had sat at the desk had decided they weren't worth keeping.
Whatever had happened here, James thought, they had left in a hurry afterward. There was an eerie feeling of stillness and calm in the sight. It was obvious that whatever the case, there had been a great deal of movement here, of energy. They hadn't bothered to straighten up; in fact, the mess inside was worse than he'd seen it in several visits to the office.
But all of it was gone, now, and all he saw were shades and fragments of memories long-since passed.
James nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice near his ear. "Can I help you?"
He gasped and turned on his heel. A pleasant-looking man past middle age was standing behind him on the sidewalk, smiling faintly.
"Yes, I suppose so…My name is Poole, I was contracted by Mr. Stump, and now I can't seem to get in touch with him, can you shed some light on the situation?" He pulled out identification papers and showed them to the man.
"Ah," the plump man muttered. He rubbed his beard for a moment. "Yes, it seems as if he left some time yesterday afternoon. I wasn't informed until this morning, of course, so now I have to keep an eye on the place to keep out for robbers and sneak-thieves. I'm sorry to have bothered you, but you can't be too careful, you know."
"Of course. Are you…are you the landlord, here?"
The man hummed in assent and smiled.
"Thank you for all of your help, it's most appreciated."
"Any time, young man."
James took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His feet ached, and he was aware of the woman in his flat like a splinter just under the skin. It chafed and rubbed in all the wrong places, and he couldn't help but want it gone.
Even if this splinter was a beautiful woman, and she was going to be laying in his bed that night.
He tried to pretend it was a coincidence when his path took him by the pub down the street, even though it was at least two blocks out of the way. He hadn't been thinking, obviously that had to be it. It couldn't be that he was avoiding going home.
The bartender greeted him happily enough, and for a brief moment, James almost managed to forget about Mary, to forget about the Geis family's problems and the missing man he'd come back into the city to speak to.
The whole thing couldn't be a coincidence, he knew. But sometimes it was easier not to think about it, and this was one of those times. He needed to sleep, and not just a few minutes' rest before going out like he'd gotten when he came back into town. He needed a night's rest.
What was worse, though, was that he didn't want a rest. He had other appetites, gnawing hunger that he couldn't repress, no matter how he tried. He tried to shake it off. He was a man, and she was…well, she was all sorts of woman. An unforgettable woman, if ever he'd met one.
All he wanted to do was put her behind him, but he had work to do outside of the bedroom. Work that was more pressing than his desire to act chivalrous in front of a lady.
He got up and paid for his drink, and then made his way to the door. His face felt hot and he thought that maybe he'd overdone it a little more than he thought. It wasn't long, but he could feel his mind drifting. He could practically imagine Mary, nude and beneath him.
It was a tempting thought.
But it wasn't going to happen, he reminded himself. That was absurd, the stuff of lewd penny dreadfuls. He was a gentleman, if not noble, and he would conduct himself as a gentleman. He'd slipped once, but he was stronger now. Smarter, and he knew what to look for.
He'd lose his only lead. The last thing on his mind should have been intimacy. Even if it was a woman as beautiful as Mary Geis.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.