Daniel didn’t move. “If you’re thinking of Mrs. Leigh-Waters as the murderer, I don’t think she did it, if my opinion is worth anything,” he said. “I don’t think she’d have the courage.”
“Nor do I,” Louisa added. Her belief in the woman was clear in her eyes. “And there’s the question of the poison—how it got into the tea, or at least the teacup, without Mrs. Leigh-Waters being there to make sure the right person drank it.”
“Yes,” Fellows said slowly. Louisa’s words made the part of his thoughts still tangled in the case begin to work. “And I think that’s it.”
Daniel and Louisa looked blank. “What?” Louisa asked.
“The answer to the entire problem.”
“Ah,” Daniel said. “You know how it was done?”
“Not yet. But I have possibilities to check. I planned to think about it tonight, alone, and then ponder while I sleep. I need sleep.” Fellows hadn’t gotten any the night before, that was certain.
Daniel looked resigned but nodded at him. “We’ll leave ye to it, then. Except you have to tell us what you discover. We’re pining to know.”
“I’ll send you a telegram,” Fellows said in his dry voice. He opened the door. “Thank you for the information. Good night.”
“Right you are.” Daniel held out his arm to Louisa. “Auntie?”
Louisa didn’t look at him. “I’d like to remain a moment, Daniel.”
“No,” Fellows said immediately. If Louisa stayed in his rooms, with his bedchamber steps away, he’d never be able to let her out again.
“Daniel,” Louisa said.
“I shouldn’t let you,” Daniel said. “I’m the chaperone, you know.”
“He is right,” Fellows said to Louisa. “You can’t stay up here with me.”
“For heaven’s sake, he can wait outside the door, which you may keep unlocked. If Daniel hears me scream, he will rush in to my rescue. I need to speak with you.”
Fellows’ hand stilled on the doorknob. He could not let her stay, blast the woman. But she stood stubbornly, as though rooting herself to the floor.
Daniel decided for them. Because neither Fellows nor Louisa moved, Daniel picked up his hat and gloves and walked out past Fellows, the hem of his kilt swinging.
“I’ll be kicking my heels at the end of the hall,” he said. “Shout when you’re ready, Louisa.”
Fellows remained at the door, holding it open. “Daniel, she can’t stay.”
“Best humor her,” Daniel said. “Else she gets terse, and I’ll have to ride all the way to Isabella’s with her like that. Do me a favor and let her speak her piece.”
Fellows had no sympathy. But he knew Louisa wouldn’t budge unless he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her out. And if he touched her, he’d carry her straight to the bedroom.
Daniel grinned and turned away as Fellows finally swung the door shut. Fellows heard him whistling in the hall.
“Begin,” Fellows said to Louisa. “Then leave.”
He kept himself beside the door. Safer there—the entire sitting room lay between him and her.
Louisa wore brown leather gloves that hugged her fingers. Fellows couldn’t stop his imagination putting those gloved hands on his bare chest, feeling the cool leather on his hot skin. She’d move her hands down across his abdomen, roving to the hardness that strained for her.
“Why do you have my photo in your bedchamber?” Louisa asked.
Fellows started, pushing his fantasies aside. Louisa looked at him expressionlessly, without anger, or disgust, scorn, or any other emotion he’d expect her to have. He kept a picture of her without her knowledge, and she only asked him about it in a calm voice. How she’d discovered he had it, Fellows hadn’t the slightest doubt.
“I will throttle Daniel Mackenzie,” he said.
“You have three photographs on your dresser,” Louisa said slowly. “One of your mother, one of yourself in your police uniform. Natural enough. And you have me.”
Any lie would sound ridiculous. There was no reason in the world Fellows should have her photograph, except one.
“I don’t often see you,” he said. “I have the photo so I can look at you in the stretches of time between.”
She regarded him in silence a moment, as though considering his answer. “Did Eleanor give it to you?”
“She did.”
“Did you ask her for it?”
“No,” Fellows said. “But when she offered it, I didn’t refuse.”
Louisa swallowed, the movement faint in her slender throat. “I, on the other hand, have no photograph of you.”
“I don’t often have one taken. Haven’t in years.”
“Eleanor would do it,” Louisa said.
“No doubt.”
Another pause. Shakespeare would have had trouble writing this play. His characters talked and talked, spilling out streams of poesy. So many words, when silence spoke volumes.
“That photograph of me was taken a year ago,” Louisa said. “Just after Eleanor and Hart’s wedding.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“You’ve had it all this time.” Louisa lost her frozen stance and stepped forward. “You’ve had it all this time, and you’ve not said a word. You haven’t said anything.”
“Would it have done any good?”
“I think it would have done the world of good.” Louisa’s voice increased in volume. “But how could I know? How can I know anything of what you’re thinking? You hide so much.”
Fellows came out of his rigidity. “I don’t have much of a chance to speak to you, do I? Every time I see you, you’re at a party of some kind, surrounded by friends, laughing with them. You’re where you belong. You’re part of their world, with people you understand, and I am not.”
“What are you talking about?” She glared at him. “You are in that world now. You’re part of the Mackenzie family. They’ve welcomed you with open arms.”
“They have, yes.” His tone went ironic. “They’ve been adamant to erase the part of my life when I lived in penury. Their remorse is touching. The only one not wallowing in guilt is Ian, because I don’t think he understands the meaning of the word.”
Louisa flushed. “Do you think I’m wallowing in guilt?”
“You feel sorry for me, Louisa. You’ve told me.”
Her face reddened further. “You think I’ve kissed you out of pity?”
“You might believe otherwise, but yes.”
“Is that what you truly think? That I’d be so . . . patronizing?”
“Aren’t you?” Fellows knew he made her angry, but maybe if she grew furious enough she’d go, and stay away from him. “You told me once that I looked as though I needed cheering up. Poor Inspector Fellows—like a beggar standing outside the window, gazing at a feast he’s not allowed to have.” He’d felt that way often enough as a lad, especially the day he’d watched the boy Hart climb back into the sumptuous Mackenzie carriage and ride away with their father. Fellows had been left behind, outraged and bereft, and dragged off to a police station. That was the day he’d decided to become a policeman.
Louisa’s eyes were starry with anger. “How can you say that? How can you know anything about my feelings for you? You’ve never bothered to ask me!”
“I don’t remember you bothering to ask me before you coaxed me onto a ladder with you, or dragged me under the mistletoe.”
Louisa moved to him, halting close enough to him that he could breathe in her scent. Dangerous. “I don’t recall you pushing me away,” she said.
Was she mad? “Dear God, what sane man would? There you were, beautiful and wanting to kiss me. Last night you wrapped your arms around me and pulled me down to my desk with you. Only a saint would push you away, and I assure you, I am no saint.”
Louisa took a breath, pulling her voice down from a shout. “Why are you trying to make me angry? You are being deliberately cruel. Why?”
“Because you can’t be here. I said that when
I came in. We can’t be together, Louisa. No declarations, nothing.” Fellows tried to speak steadily. “If anyone discovers me even talking to you, the investigation will be compromised. I’ll be pulled from the case and a detective assigned to it who cares nothing for truth, only for arrests and convictions.”
She looked puzzled. “But I’m not the only suspect now. Hargate was a blackmailer, with many other victims. You said you had ideas.”
“And by your own admission, Hargate was blackmailing you. You still had a motive, still are a very good suspect. So until this investigation is over, we don’t see each other, we don’t speak. If I have anything more to ask you regarding Hargate, I’ll send Sergeant Pierce to you. Do you understand?”
“Well enough.” Another of the small silences fell. “What about when the investigation is over?”
“I don’t know.” Fellows drew a breath. “There is still . . . I don’t know.”
“And yet, you have my photograph.”
They looked at each other a long moment. Everything spoken and unspoken hovered between them, waiting to be shattered.
Then Fellows moved around and past her, making himself give her a wide berth. He strode to the bedchamber, slammed inside it, grabbed the small photo from the dresser, and slammed out again.
He thrust the photograph at her. “Take it.”
Louisa didn’t reach for it. “Why? It’s yours.”
“Take it.” Fellows grabbed her wrist, pulled her gloved hand to him, and slapped the framed photo into it. “Give it back to Eleanor, keep it for yourself, give it to Mr. Franklin. I don’t give a damn.”
“You’re horrible.”
“Yes, I am. Best you know that. Now get out.”
Louisa stared at him, her mouth open, red lips moist. It was all Fellows could do not to sweep her up, deposit her on the sofa, strip off her clothes, and have her. Now. Hang the investigation.
And then Louisa might truly hang. No, Fellows would never let that happen. Even if he had to stay away from her from this point forward, let her marry another man, and never see her again, he’d do it to keep her from harm. Louisa’s life was worth far more to him than his own happiness.
Louisa didn’t hurry to obey. She looked up at Fellows for a long time, then clutched the photograph to her chest.
“I’ll go,” she said in her quiet voice. “I understand how it will look for the investigation if it’s thought we are having a liaison. But I won’t stay away forever.”
“When that time comes, no doubt we’ll argue again,” Fellows said.
“Do plan on it.” Louisa turned from him, snatching up the hat she’d left on a side table. “When I hear someone else has been found to be the culprit, I’ll seek you out again. I doubt you’ll send me word, so I won’t wait for it.” She dropped the photograph into her pocket, thrust the hat onto her head, and turned to the mirror to stab two hatpins through the hat's crown.
Fellows watched her, mesmerized, as Louisa turned back to him, the hat perfectly in place. She gave him a last glare then marched past him and out the door without a good-bye. Despite her words, the slam of the door behind her spoke of finality.
***
Fellows spent the next two days frantically going over his notes, questioning those he felt should be reexamined, including Mrs. Leigh-Waters and the interesting reason Hargate had blackmailed her. She’d had an affair a dozen years ago, the notebook said. The affair had ended, Mrs. Leigh-Waters told Fellows tearfully. The gentleman in question had married and gone to live in Boston with his American wife, and they never corresponded. But her husband had never learned of it.
Hargate had somehow found out and decided to torment her about it. Hargate had found out many things about many people. He’d used the leverage over them to obtain money, favors, positions, and his bishopric.
Any number of people might have wanted to kill Hargate, yes, Fellows thought in frustration. But only one of them had figured out how to put the poison into the right teacup.
By Monday morning, Fellows had not uncovered who. At least, not with enough evidence to convince Chief Superintendent Kenton.
Fellows was ordered to take the train to Newmarket. A police van drove him to King’s Cross station, a constable making sure he boarded. Kenton, understanding Fellows’ desperation, said he wouldn’t officially assign Inspector Harrison to the case until Fellows returned. Fellows would have until after the races to come up with an answer. But he had to go to Newmarket.
When Fellows arrived in Newmarket, the entire Mackenzie brood already there, the horse-mad aristos of England were abuzz with the latest gossip. The Honorable Gilbert Franklin had proposed to Lady Louisa Scranton, and wedding bells were sure to ring before midsummer.
Chapter Fifteen
Louisa loved the racing season, loved traveling with Cameron Mackenzie and his growing family to Epsom Downs, Newmarket, Goodwood, Doncaster. The Mackenzies had a private box in the stands at each course, usually full of the family cheering on Cameron’s horses.
All the Mackenzies had gathered for this Newmarket race, including the duke and duchess. The children had come to Newmarket as well, though they were currently at the hired house under the watchful eyes of their nannies. Cameron, Daniel’s father, tall and harsh-voiced, stayed in the box only a short time, impatient to get back to his horses. Cameron bore a deep scar on his cheek, evidence of his former unhappiness. Louisa watched Cam’s second wife, Ainsley, rise on her tiptoes to kiss that scar before he left. Softness flashed into Cameron’s eyes, and the look he gave Ainsley was full of heat and fierce joy.
Cameron left the box, pausing to say something to Daniel on his way out. Daniel laughed out loud, looking exactly like his father in that moment.
“Excellent weather for it,” Gilbert Franklin said next to Louisa.
Eleanor had enthusiastically invited Gil to attend the races with them. Isabella, when informed, had been less than pleased. Izzy had been cool to Gil since he’d called at the Mount Street house the morning after Louisa’s encounter in Fellows’ flat. Gil had asked to speak to Louisa alone and then proposed to her, even going down on his knees to do it.
Weeks ago, Isabella had been happy to help Louisa with her idea of using the Season to try to find a husband. Now that Gil, the perfect match, had made it clear he wanted Louisa to be his wife, Izzy barely stopped shy of snubbing him. That she didn’t approve was obvious.
Gil put his warm hand on Louisa’s arm, and her shaking started again. Every time Gil touched her, Louisa trembled. Any other woman might believe herself madly in love, half swooning at the touch of her beloved, but Louisa knew better. She shook because she felt as though she’d boarded a wrong train, and that train was rocketing off into the wilderness, no way to stop it.
When Louisa saw the unmistakable form of Lloyd Fellows approach Cameron near the track below, she became suddenly sick to her stomach.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Gil asked her in concern.
She really should be more grateful to him, she knew. Gil was like clear water, soothing, never troubling. Louisa ought to be glad, after all the upsets in her life, to lie still and let the water trickle over her.
Fellows, on the other hand, was fire. Fire burned. Even the spark of him was enough to sear her to the bone. Louisa always hurt when she was with Fellows, and merely looking at him talking to Cameron made her ache.
Fire and water. Water should put out the fire and ease the pain. Then again, fire that was hot enough jumped over water and continued its destruction.
The next race began, and Louisa tried to pull her attention to it. One of Cameron’s horses was running in it, as well as horses he trained that belonged to other gentlemen. Cameron never bet on his own animals, but the other Mackenzies usually had a flutter. Cameron’s horses were always short odds to win, but it was fun to wager a little. Today, Gil had gone down to the bookmakers and put money on all the races for him and for Louisa.
Gil didn’t sit so close to Louisa that he woul
d cause a scandal, but he did keep his arm near hers, so that their shoulders were nearly touching. When he turned to her and smiled, it was like the sun coming out. Louisa ought to be deliriously happy.
The horses started. The crowd surged to its feet, including everyone in the Mackenzie box, and the noise began. Ian was the only one who didn’t cheer on the horses, but he held his hands ready to clap when his wife did. He still didn’t entirely understand the concept of cheering and clapping, but he’d learned to mimic, so others would not point out his eccentricities. Beth cued him these days, her gentle guidance helping him over many a rough moment.
Cameron’s horse, Night-Blooming Jasmine, running in the mare’s race, easily pulled ahead of the others. Jasmine ran as though she could do this all day, then perhaps have a romp in the pasture afterward before going home to enjoy a good grooming. The other horses sprinted to catch up to her, but Jasmine leisurely galloped around the track, pulling even farther ahead in the last furlong. She finished first by a long measure.
The Mackenzie box exploded with noise, Daniel and Mac standing on the railings and shouting the loudest. Ian abandoned clapping to put his arm around Beth and give her a hard squeeze. Beth was more important to him than a horse winning a race.
“I had no doubt,” Ainsley said, smiling. “Jaz is a wonderful horse.” She credited Jasmine with helping her and Cameron through their rough courtship.
“An excellent win.” Gil abandoned propriety to slide his arm around Louisa’s waist. “A little something to feather our nest, eh?”
Isabella, standing on Louisa’s other side, gave Gil a formidable frown. Gil assumed she was unhappy about the arm around Louisa’s waist, and withdrew, sending Isabella an apologetic grin.
“I’m very thirsty,” Isabella announced. “Louisa, will you accompany me to the tea tent?”
Mac turned around to her. “No need to bestir yourself, my love. Danny and I will rush down and procure for you anything you wish. You too, Louisa; ladies.”
Isabella’s cold look dissolved into a smile. She touched Mac’s face, the love in her eyes beautiful to see. “No thank you, Mac. I am making an excuse to take a stroll and speak to my sister. We’re going to gab like mindless females.”