CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BARNABAS RESISTED WATCHING HENRY to see what she would do. If she didn’t like either of the two choices she had, then she could damn well stay here. Mule-headed as she was, she wasn’t about to give in. He didn’t have all day to argue with her.
Now that they were out, he needed to arrest Coleraine and take him back to London. Really, he should insist they head for the train station, but he’d intended to question as many people as he could while they were here.
The police commissioner would have expected them yesterday.
He was risking his job to stay another night, but he’d be damned before he let Henry dictate what he would do.
Miss Hall’s forehead crinkled, and she was looking over his shoulder.
Henry shot past him, her stride determined.
He bit the insides of his mouth to keep from smiling. Really, it was ungentlemanly of him to laugh at her, let alone allow her to carry her own bag.
Slightly more than five feet away, she stopped in front of Coleraine and said fiercely, “I want my gun back.”
“It is at the house,” Coleraine said.
Barnabas’s step faltered. He hadn’t thought to ask if her gun had been returned. He’d assumed it was still in her bag, but he shouldn’t have. Not when his manacles were missing.
No wonder she didn’t feel safe. Damn, he was getting lax. Or he was too tired to think straight. Or rather he was thinking too much about how he’d like to treat Henry if he ever had her alone and willingly undressed. Not that that seemed likely to happen with her rebuffs.
“Why did you take it?” demanded Henry.
Coleraine reached for the carriage door. “I can’t imagine how angry you must be. I thought it best to give it to Mrs. Hall for safekeeping. If you would allow me to take your bag.” He held out a hand.
Henry glared at him and moved to the back of the carriage.
Barnabas took her bag from her and stowed it in the boot with his own.
“Why is he looking at me like that?” she whispered.
He glanced over at Coleraine, who had his head cocked to the side as he studied Henry.
Henry’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. Was she afraid? Or just angry?
“I’m sorry,” Coleraine said. “You do look deuced familiar.”
“You have seen me before,” Henry said with bravado, although she seemed to be using Barnabas as a shield.
“She did live on the same street as your Southwark house,” said Barnabas.
“That’s not it.” Coleraine shook his head. “You remind me of someone. Something about your eyes.”
Henry bumped against Barnabas as if she meant to attack Coleraine.
“Easy.” Barnabas turned and held her back. She was shaking. He stroked her arms until she met his eyes.
“Perhaps you two gentlemen should ride on the box,” said Miss Hall.
“That won’t be necessary,” Barnabas said. “If you would give us a moment.”
Miss Hall climbed into the carriage and Coleraine walked several feet away.
“My sister and I...”
“Her eyes were as pretty as yours?”
She gave a tiny surprised shake of her head. “It was the only thing about us that was alike.”
She must remind Coleraine of her sister Rachel, but the earl hadn’t put it together. A flare of anger swept through Barnabas, but he had to calm her so he forced it from his mind. He bent near her ear and whispered, “Remember I am here to arrest him for murder. It is as much justice as could be had for your sister.”
She closed her eyes and wilted a little.
He cradled her against him.
“I don’t want to be around him. Or his brother.”
“I know.” But it was his job. He sighed and relented. “We should go to town to question the carter, Mr. Inverness. Then we’ll decide where to stay.” He should have said, where she’d stay.
She flattened her lips regaining her equilibrium. “You should arrest them.”
“Let’s hear what they say, first.” The last thing he wanted was to have it get out that he’d been waylaid and held against his will. And he couldn’t manage three prisoners and Henry. But if she insisted, he would have to find the local constable, which would eat up more of the little time he had to question people in Ireland. He put his hand out to guide Henry to the carriage. “We need to go to town and speak with Mr. Inverness,” he told the earl.
“If you would prefer, I can walk back to the estate and leave the carriage for you two and Mrs. Hall,” Coleraine offered.
The last thing he needed was Coleraine slipping away now that he should have the man in custody. “You had better come with us.”
Henry turned incredulous eyes on him and shook free of his grasp. He gestured her into the carriage. Miss Hall had taken a backwards facing seat and patted the seat beside her.
Henry took the seat next to Miss Hall.
“She does better facing forward.” Barnabas said, which earned him a scowl from Henry.
“By all means, do change,” Coleraine said.
Henry slid across and Miss Hall followed.
Coleraine then moved to the backwards facing seat as far from Henry as he could get in the tight confines of a carriage.
Miss Hall leaned close and whispered, “Dr. McCabe is in town if you need to see him.”
“Why would I need a doctor?” Henry asked.
Miss Hall looked down.
Coleraine speared him with an icy glare and a lifted eyebrow as if questioning or accusing Barnabas of violating Henry. The man couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to protecting women, even rude, willful reporters like Henry. “Actually, I’m not sure he has returned from Ballycastle yet.”
“She doesn’t need to see a doctor,” Barnabas said.
It suddenly dawned on Henry what they were implying.
“I just thought since you didn’t have any clothes...” said Miss Hall.
“That I might have caught a cold?” said Henry with a sneer. “We weren’t naked.”
“You have put my mind at ease,” said Coleraine. “Would that I could put you at ease.”
“I doubt that is possible,” said Henry. “While you are free.”
Barnabas winced. Why had he thought bringing her would be a good idea? Then he remembered he hadn’t brought her.
*~*~*
Henry thought she’d be happy to be free of the little house, but now her insides were raw. She’d never in her wildest thoughts believed that the earl would be her rescuer. She didn’t like that at all. Then he’d gone and reminded her of her sister and her awful death. Thinking of Rachel never left Henry in a good mood. That Coleraine didn’t remember her sister bothered her more than she wanted to admit, although she tried to tell herself it was a blessing.
The conversation in the carriage on the way to the town of Coleraine was stilted, although she just shook her head at Miss Hall’s inquiries. But even Barnabas wasn’t wasting any effort on being congenial. The conversation wilted and died.
Lord Coleraine studied her, which left her throat dry and the little hairs on the back of her neck dancing. Miss Hall narrowed her eyes and watched him, watching her.
Finally cottages began to pass outside the window, marking the outskirts of Coleraine.
“Since we’ll be in town,” Miss Hall said, “I thought I would stop by the market and see if the supplies I ordered have arrived. Would you like to accompany me, Miss Brown?”
“I’d rather hear what Mr. Inverness has to say for himself,” Henry answered. But the invitation had no doubt been kindly meant to get her away from the earl. “Thank you, though.”
Miss Hall gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. But then the woman probably disliked Henry after the article she’d written, not that any of it had been untrue.
They rattled onto a paved street and the carriage drew to a halt. The coachman opened the door.
She had half a mind to take the first train to anywhere away from here, but that would cut her off from everyone who knew where she was. No doubt Coleraine could easily track her down with enough coins dropped into the right palms. A perfect scenario to be permanently disappeared, as so many others formerly in Coleraine’s care were.
“After you, sir.” Coleraine gestured for Barnabas to exit.
Barnabas climbed down and stood to the side.
Coleraine descended and handed down Miss Hall. For a second it seemed all he could do was follow his housekeeper with his eyes, a hint of yearning on his face when she wasn’t watching.
“I shouldn’t be long,” said Miss Hall. “I’ll meet you back here.” She moved off at a brisk pace.
Henry’s relief at no longer being the main focus of Coleraine’s attention was short-lived. Once Miss Hall was around the corner, he reached a hand out for Henry, but she ignored it.
Coleraine gave Henry room to climb down without assistance, but his gaze narrowed on her eyes.
“Rachel,” said Coleraine, as if he’d finally put it together. Or he’d been waiting until Miss Hall was no longer with them. “You’re Rachel Brown’s little sister.”
Henry’s throat tightened.
“Yes,” confirmed Barnabas.
Coleraine looked to the side for a second, swallowed and then said, “I was very sorry to hear...about her death.”
He had to know that Rachel had committed suicide. And if he’d cared at all about her sister, he could have managed to attend her funeral or send condolences. Henry’s fingers curled into fists and her stomach knotted. Yet, this might be her only chance to ever know what he had done to her sister, so she had to ask. “What did you do to her?”
Coleraine whipped his head back toward her, his forehead knit. “Nothing. I should have done more.”
“More?” Henry nearly choked on the word and she stepped toward him. “She killed herself because of what you did to her.”
Coleraine shook his head with a surprised denial that made her stomach ache. Then he grimaced. “More likely what I failed to do.”
“No. I think you did more than enough.” What did he think he should have done, beside not defile Rachel? If that was what he’d done. It was the only logical explanation she could think of over the years—that good, sweet, pure Rachel had been despoiled by the earl and couldn’t live with herself. It didn’t quite fit with what she’d said, but nothing did.
He gave her an odd look, as if he didn’t know what to make of her. Then again, his responses weren’t at all what she’d expected. That he admitted to any responsibility, however slight, left her feeling as if the paving stones had suddenly shifted under her feet.
Barnabas was fixated on Coleraine. Had he spied some deception in what his hero said?
Her mind spun back to Rachel’s last words. Couldn’t do what he asked. “What did you ask her to do?”
Coleraine gave a tiny shake of his head. “I didn’t ask her to do anything. She asked for my help.”
What would Rachel have asked of Coleraine? Would Rachel have gone to him for money? Money had always been an issue after their father abandoned them. Had Coleraine said if Rachel wanted money, then she should earn it on her back? Why would Rachel have gone to Coleraine—other than he was wealthy? But there hadn’t been any money. “What kind of help?”
Coleraine flicked a glance toward Barnabas and lowered his voice, “I offered to secure a place for her baby at the Foundling Hospital.”
Henry’s ears buzzed and the rest of his words became a string of nonsense for all the sense she could make of them. Her body went hot and the next thing she knew she was flailing with clenched fists at Coleraine. “You’re a liar! My sister wouldn’t have lain with a man.”
Coleraine did nothing to stop her blows. He merely raised his arms to block her punches aimed at his face.
Barnabas caught her around the waist and lifted her off her feet while pulling her away. “Stop it!”
For a second she struggled wildly.
“Are you here to write a story or be one?” Barnabas whispered into her ear.
“He’s calling my sister a ruined woman,” she protested. Rachel wouldn’t have lain with a man she wasn’t married to. Would she? No, Rachel wouldn’t have. Rachel went to church every Sunday and never broke the rules. “She wasn’t going to have a baby.”
“He’s telling the truth. Your sister was with child,” Barnabas hissed.
The heat left her as fast as it had come on. Her sister couldn’t have been pregnant. Not Rachel, who was good and pure. But why would Barnabas lie? She twisted trying to see Barnabas. “You don’t know that.”
Coleraine shifted around, putting himself between them and the walkway. “You can let her go, now. She’s just had a shock.”
Barnabas set her down and gradually loosened his hold, as if he didn’t entirely trust her.
She grasped at facts that seemed as murky as the Thames to make sense of what he was saying. Coleraine must have lied to Barnabas and Barnabas believed him. Sweet Rachel, who only wanted to please people and always followed the rules. What had happened to her? Surely, she hadn’t been pregnant. No, it was something Coleraine had done, but the man stood there with a concerned look on his face. Henry’s thoughts spun into tangles.
She jabbed a finger in Coleraine’s direction. “I don’t know what he told you, but my sister was a good person.”
“I read the post mortem report,” Barnabas said glumly.
“Why?” shot out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Coleraine’s murmured, “She seemed a good person,” was ignored.
“To assure myself that your sister’s death wasn’t a murder that was mistaken for suicide,” Barnabas explained in his I’m-being-reasonable,-you’re-not tone.
Her breath left her and she felt as flat as a deflated balloon. Barnabas was thorough, and it was the kind of thing he would have done in his efforts to investigate Jane Redding’s murder. After all, both women had died from a slit throat.
How could Rachel have been pregnant and Henry not have known? But she wouldn’t have ever believed it of her sister. She tried to recall her sister’s body in the tub, if her belly had been distended, but all that she remembered was the blood everywhere—in the water, staining the ceiling, puddling on the floor under a slit wrist that must not have been fast enough for Rachel. The street turned wavy as her eyes filled with moisture.
“Miss Brown, you are distraught,” Coleraine said. “I have thoughtlessly provoked painful memories and so soon after you were locked in that byre house.”
She blinked back the tears. Had Rachel killed herself because she was unwed and with child? “I want to know why my sister...” killed herself.
“This discussion isn’t for the streets.” Coleraine looked around and seemed to draw into a tight reserve that excluded her. Was he done talking about her sister? “I draw enough attention by myself. We should go into the inn.”
For the first time, Henry realized there were other people about. A few were gawking in their direction.
Oddly, Coleraine had done his best to shield her from their stares.
“We’re wasting time here, when we came to question Mr. Inverness.” Barnabas folded his arms.
“This is important, too,” Henry said. As important as his fool’s errand to try and find a different suspect to Redding’s murder.
Barnabas started to say something, but Coleraine laid a hand on his sleeve. He then turned to his coachman. “Niall, will you locate Mr. Inverness and bring him back here?”
“I’ll go with your coachman,” Barnabas said.
“Then I’m going, too,” Henry said. “I deserve to hear what he has to say.” She wanted to hear what Coleraine had to say about her sister. If he would say more. But she did not want to be left alone with him.
Coleraine turned to Barnabas. “She does deserve to hear what Mr. Inverness has to say. She was held against her will, too.”
How weird that Coleraine was playing the champion, while Barnabas had lost patience with her.
She wanted to know what his brother had to say for himself, too. Although, that would likely mean she would have to go back to the house with them. “I’d also very much like to hear what excuse your brother offers.”
“I’m afraid he’s left.”
“Convenient,” Henry said. “Will he show up again?”
Barnabas scowled at her. He knew what she was asking.
Coleraine gave her a questioning look. “He’ll be in London tomorrow, I’m certain. If he returns to the house, I would bid him stay with our sister rather than make anyone uncomfortable. What he did was unconscionable and I told him so in no uncertain terms.”
Once again, he’d knocked her off center. She didn’t expect a killer to have a conscience or concern about how others felt. Or had he kidnapped them at the earl’s instruction? “Why did he take our clothes?”
“He said so you wouldn’t be inclined to escape and would wait for rescue.” Coleraine sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I suppose he meant it as a way to give me more time to settle my affairs.”
In any case, the man who had instigated their drugging and capture—if she took the earl at his word—could be anywhere. She cast a glance toward the inn the earl had gestured toward.
“I would offer to stay in the inn, myself”—he turned toward Barnabas—“but I gather you would not allow that?”
“No. I would not,” Barnabas said stiffly.
She let out a sigh. There wasn’t any point in arguing any further. Barnabas had made up his mind and wasn’t going to relent.
*~*~*
Henry had to admit, the room she was given in Coleraine’s house was rather nice. More than the large canopied bed and plush chair by a fireplace, Mrs. Hall had pointed out that it was the farthest from his lordship’s suite, the inspector was just across the hall, and her door had a nice strong lock on it. Not just a key lock, but a sliding bolt that could only be opened from the inside—as did the bathroom down the hall, if she cared to have a bath.
After eating from the supper tray provided, Henry untied the tapes of her steel hoops. She might as well bend them back into proper shape. They dropped to the floor with a series of muted clinks, and she stepped out of them.
“Henry.” Barnabas tapped on her door. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she answered curtly.
Miss—Mrs. Hall had offered to lend an ear if Henry needed to talk about what had happened when she was confined with Inspector Harlow. But Henry didn’t want to talk about that with anyone. Not just yet.
“I know you don’t want to be here, but I need to keep an eye on Coleraine until it is time to take him back,” his muffled voice came through the door.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. She shoved out of the chair and ran across the room, fearing he’d gone.
But when she opened the door, he was standing there looking chagrined.
“We’re not leaving tomorrow?”
“Coleraine’s heir is here and I need to question him. If for no other reason than that the defense may raise him as a possible suspect because he stands to gain if Coleraine is convicted. I plan to cable the commissioner to tell him I encountered unexpected delays and need a day or two just to make sure every possible suspect has been interviewed—just so the defense doesn’t raise doubts about a less than thorough investigation.” He was grasping at straws to find another suspect at this twelfth hour.
She hadn’t known what to make of Lord Coleraine, but she could see why Barnabas had doubts about his guilt. The man continued to be polite and concerned even in the face of her rudeness. Hell, her attack. He’d been sympathetic and told her he wished he’d done more for Rachel. He’s seemed sincere, which left her unsettled in her mind.
She almost felt sympathy for Barnabas. Except he’d forced her to choose between being alone with a murderer of women running about or sleeping under the same roof as that murderer—possible murderer.
“And that I have his lordship in my custody.” His mouth tightened. “As soon as I figure out a way to say all that in a convincing way without revealing so much that every telegraph operator between here and London knows exactly whom I have arrested. I don’t want a commotion at every station as we travel back. I can’t believe you attacked him. I thought you were scared of him.”
She stiffened. “I am.”
His lips curled, but his eyes softened, leaving her confused. “Are you satisfied that Mr. Inverness was duped?”
She recalled the sick shock on Mr. Inverness’s face as he learned Barnabas was a Scotland Yard inspector. It hadn’t taken any special skill to see that he’d just thought it was a harmless prank being played on friends of the earl. Engaged to be married friends.
“I’m sorry you had to find out about your sister like that. I didn’t know if you knew.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I’m still finding it hard to believe Rachel...” Getting in trouble would be more like Henry than her sister. “...Rachel would let herself be ruined.”
Barnabas furrowed his brow. “It is possible she was attacked. It could have been part of her despair.”
Henry started. Her chest hurt and she could barely swallow.
“You know it couldn’t have been the earl’s,” Barnabas said gently.
She had barely begun to wonder who the father might be.
“This earl’s,” he muttered. “Your sister passed only two months after the prior earl. The present earl had only been in London a month or so.”
She heard what he said, but her knees had gone wobbly. She clung to the door lest she fall. “Do you think it could have been his father’s?”
“I don’t know, but everyone here is telling me the old earl was mad as a March hare. That, in the end, his behavior toward women was less than...it should have been.”
A door inched open a crack down the hall and then was quickly pulled shut. Was someone spying on them?
Henry grabbed Barnabas’s arm and pulled him inside. She shut the door and slid the bolt. “I did wonder if it was normal to have these kind of locks on the door in this kind of fancy mansion.”
“I shouldn’t be in here alone with you,” Barnabas said.
She rolled her eyes. “We just spent two nights locked in a house together and everyone here knows. Besides, I’m perfectly safe with you, and someone was peeking out of the door at the end of the hall.”
“Probably a servant not wanting to intrude. Those are the servant stairs, and you are not perfectly safe with me.”
She turned halfway across the room to the chair she’d abandoned as what he’d said registered. “Well, I know you aren’t going to kill me. It isn’t as though I’ve been given my gun back.”
He stood by the door, very still. His damp hair was once again combed into submission, the curls tamed to waves. Fully dressed he looked every inch the professional inspector, and part of her mourned not seeing him slightly mussed and not so completely dressed. Yet there was something intense in his eyes. “Only a small death might be involved.”
Tension moved through her. “What?”
He gave a half smile and shook his head. “You are naive sometimes, Henry.” He took a step towards her. “You did invite me into your bedroom, did you not?”
She stepped backwards. Her pulse thrummed so loud he could surely hear it. “To talk.”
“We’ve talked plenty over the last two days.” He took another long step towards her. “I don’t want to talk.”
She cast a glance at the bed with its canopy and she took another faltering step backwards. Only she wasn’t certain she was moving to the sitting area by the fireplace.
Barnabas caught her elbows and stopped her retreat. “Am I to assume consent only if you have your gun and you haven’t shot me?”
She shook her head, but then half wondered if she had gone mad. “I thought you must be tired of me. Or angry.”
Her voice was all breathy.
“Frustrated mostly.” He eased her against him and every point of contact was like a prick of electricity.
She stared at the lapels of his coat and the narrower lapels of his vest that matched his brown on brown pin-striped coat. The touch of his body made her knees quiver, but he was confusing her. He hadn’t denied being angry.
He caught her chin and tilted her head up so she’d have no choice but to look in his eyes. Once she was staring into the warm brown depths, she couldn’t seem to look away. He bent down and brushed his lips across hers, never closing his eyes.
It was as if he could see deep inside her, but it felt wrong and wicked to keep watching him as his mouth connected with hers. By the time he probed the interior of her mouth, her breaths were coming in short pants and her legs had gone boneless. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.
She grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling, but he had her. One hand was pressing into her back between her shoulder blades and one hand he’d slipped lower, leaving trails of heat in its wake. Somehow she thought she might melt into him.
Two days and nights alone and he hadn’t kissed her like this. Not like he meant it with every inch of his body.
She was turning into a mindless quivering mass of need and want. The memories of the night in his uncle’s carriage and how she’d nearly lost herself to him then flooded back into her mind with the remembered heat.
She stretched on to her toes to meet him in the kiss, but it wasn’t any good. Only her breasts pressed against his chest when she wanted to feel so much more of him against her.
He pulled his head back until she opened her eyes again to look into his darkened gaze. Bending his knees, he lifted her with one arm under the back of her thighs and the other wrapped around her back, under her arm, brushing her breast in a way that made her breath snag.
“We’ll have to get you a stool, shorty,” he said with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his delectable mouth. But he carried her toward the bed and laid her gently on the surface. Only pausing long enough to strip off his coat, he followed her onto the mattress.
Her heart was beating like a trapped bird flapping in her ribcage.
She barely had time to form a coherent thought and then he was kissing her again with his body against hers. His weight pressed her down into the feather mattress, but it felt so right to have him against her. Then his fingers were nimbly working the steel buttons of her dress and pushing inside the opening. Her flesh tingled where the pads of his fingers trailed along the edge of her shift.
His mouth left hers and moved to her neck, finding new ways to make her quiver. He slid down slightly, his lips touching the upper curves of her breasts while his hands cupped her. Oh, this was madness.
His intent was unmistakable, but she hadn’t thought when she pulled him into the room—or had she? Did she intend to let him take her?