Page 29 of A Murder in Trinity Lane (Rosalynd and Steele Mysteries #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

BISCUITS AND BLADES

I returned home shortly after two. With no dire news awaiting me for once, I ordered luncheon to be served in my study. Once I satisfied my appetite, I intended to speak with Rosalynd about her reckless excursion to Saffron Hill.

I’d just bitten into a slice of roast beef when a brisk tapping of small feet echoed down the corridor, growing louder with each determined step.

After a brief knock, Milford opened the door with his usual quiet precision.

But there was a distinct gleam in his eye, one that spoke of long experience and quiet amusement.

“Lady Petunia, Your Grace,” Milford intoned with impeccable decorum. The faint upward twitch of his lips and the gleam in his eye suggested he was not entirely surprised.

She swept in with a dainty curtsy, her cheeks flushed from the afternoon chill and her hat askew, as though she’d put it on in a hurry. “Duke.”

I rose and bowed. “Lady Petunia. Are you here to inspect more bedchambers?”

“That would be silly. I’ve already done that.” She seated herself in the chair opposite my desk with all the dignity of a seven-year-old. “I came to check on your welfare. I was quite worried after your bout of fisticuffs.”

“I see.” She was the only one who’d cared enough to inquire. Her sister certainly hadn’t last night. She’d been too busy casting daggers in my direction. “Well, you needn’t worry. As you can see, I’m well and hearty.” Not quite. My right side still twinged with pain.

She flashed a smile—one tooth conspicuously missing. “That’s excellent news, Duke.”

She deserved a reward for her concern. “Would you care for something to eat?”

“Biscuits would be acceptable. The iced kind. And fruit punch, if you have it. No lemonade, though.”

I rang for Milford and conveyed her wishes.

As it would be impolite to eat while she had nothing herself, the roast beef remained untouched.

“How are your brothers and sisters?” I asked.

“Rosie and Cosmos are visiting Kew Gardens.”

“Ah.” Good. That meant she wasn’t off investigating something else. She wouldn’t dare with her brother present.

“Laurel is reading another of her scary tales— The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde .” Her voice dropped. “Rosie would not approve if she knew.”

And she’d be right to do so. That tale was hardly suitable reading for a twelve-year-old.

“Fox is minding the orangerie. He’s trying to crossbreed oranges with lemons. I have no idea why. Oranges are perfect as they are.”

“And your other sisters?”

“Chrissie is pining for Lord Sefton, a totally inappropriate gentleman I heard. And Holly and Ivy are planning a grand Guy Fawkes celebration.”

I blinked. “That’s not until November.”

“Like I said—it’s grand. I just hope it doesn’t involve any explosions.”

“No, indeed.” I’d need to have a word with Rosehaven about the twins.

As she finished her recitation, Milford returned, bearing a silver tray with the tea service, a pitcher of punch and glasses, and a generous plate of iced biscuits.

Without a word, he set it down on a small table with his customary elegance, but not before his gaze flicked to Petunia with a glint of fondness before he withdrew.

“Shall we move to a more convenient spot?” I asked my diminutive guest.

She nodded regally.

We settled on the two settees opposite one another. I poured her glass of punch and presented it to her along with two iced biscuits on a plate. I opted for the Earl Grey.

“You didn’t want fairy cakes today?” I remarked.

“We’ll have them at afternoon tea. I don’t want to ruin my appetite.” She promptly added two more biscuits to her plate. “Rosie and Cosmos were meeting someone at Kew Gardens.”

“Oh?”

“Cosmos’s friend—Doctor Vale,” she said.

I stared. “Nathaniel Vale?”

“I believe that’s his name.”

“He’s a friend of your brother’s?”

Petunia gave me a look that doubted my intelligence—precisely the expression one might use on a particularly slow-witted footman. “I just said so.”

So she had.

I sat back, a weight settling in my chest. Nathaniel Vale. I hadn’t expected to hear that name again so soon. I’d assumed Rosalynd had simply accompanied her brother to Kew Gardens for a bit of fresh air and familial civility. But if Vale had been the destination all along . . .

Damn it.

Of course, she was investigating. It wasn’t a pleasant stroll among orchids and ferns. It was another bloody inquiry. Which meant she was putting herself in danger again. And doing so without me.

She hadn’t told me. She hadn’t shared it with me. Because she didn’t trust me.

“How long have they known each other?”

“He dined with us last week. And again last night.”

I choked on a biscuit.

“Are you all right? Your face is turning red.”

I cleared my throat. “I took a bigger bite than I should have.”

“You should take small ones. Otherwise, you’ll choke to death.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“I think Mr. Vale is sweet on Rosie.” She curled her lip.

And the surprises kept on coming. “How do you manage to learn all these things about your brothers and sisters?”

A self-satisfied grin rolled across her lips. “I have hiding spots throughout the house. No one knows about them.” She fixed me with a sharp glance. “You are not to tell.”

“I won’t. I promise.” How else would I find out what the Rosehaven brood—and Rosalynd in particular—were up to?

“I don’t like him.”

“Mr. Vale?”

She nodded. “He has mean eyes.”

I leaned forward, sobered by her childlike certainty. “That’s very observant of you.”

“I am very observant,” she said, nibbling her final biscuit.

A moment later, Milford reappeared at the door. This time, there was no spark of amusement in his expression.

“Lady Rosalynd, Your Grace.”

He stepped aside, and Rosalynd strode into the room.

She looked radiant—her hair windblown, her cheeks far too flushed, her eyes bright with alarm. When her gaze landed on Petunia, relief flooded her features.

“There you are,” she said, rushing forward. “Sweetheart, you mustn’t run off like that. You gave everyone a fright.”

“I didn’t run,” Petunia said, indignant. “I walked.”

“My point is you shouldn’t have done it.” Rosalynd’s eyes cut to me, narrowing slightly. “I do apologize, Your Grace, for my sister. I’ll ensure it does not happen again.”

I very much doubted that. Petunia excelled at escape. Intelligence agents could learn a thing or two from her. “Actually, I’ve rather enjoyed her company,” I said, coming to my feet.

Rosalynd’s eyes flashed. “ Don’t encourage her, Your Grace.”

Before she ‘Your Grace’d’ me to death, something I despised coming from her, I capitalized on her presence. “We need to talk.”

“I’ll arrange for a time.”

“Now.”

Her chin rose. “I must return Petunia home.”

“One of my footmen will escort her.”

Rosalynd blinked. “That’s hardly necessary?—”

“I insist.”

Petunia gazed between us, her lower lip trembling. “Please don’t fight,” she whispered. “It’s not nice.”

Rosalynd closed her eyes, then inhaled slowly through her nose. “You’re right, darling.” She kissed the top of Petunia’s head and turned to me. “Very well. Your footman may escort her.”

Petunia gave a teary nod and reached for my hand. “I hope you’ll feel better soon, Duke.”

I bent low and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you for your visit, Lady Petunia. It brightened my day.”

Silent as a shadow, Milford appeared. With a subtle, grave nod, he motioned Petunia to follow him and closed the door behind her.

With them gone, I turned to Rosalynd, fury still simmering in my chest.

“You should have told me.”

She hitched up her chin. “Told you what, precisely?”

“That Vale was dining at your house. That you were planning to see him again at Kew Gardens. When I mentioned his name last night, you said nothing.”

“I didn’t know he would be at dinner.” Her voice was clipped. “Cosmos invited him.”

“Vale dined at Rosehaven before. That’s twice, Rosalynd. Not once did you share that with me. Nor did you tell me about your excursion to Kew Gardens.”

“How could I when I didn’t know myself?” She took a deep breath. “He only suggested a visit to Kew Gardens last night. He’s working on some sort of hybrid. It seemed an ideal opportunity to learn more.”

“You decided to investigate,” I said bitterly. “Behind my back.”

“I went to gather information. Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or is it only acceptable when you do it? Is it only appropriate when you approve?”

She thought I was trying to manage her. “This isn’t about control, Rosalynd. It’s about putting yourself in a perilous situation. You went to Kew Gardens with a man who may be involved in a murder. And you”—I stepped up to her—“did not tell me.”

We stood mere inches away. Me, glaring down at her. She, gazing furiously up at me. By God, she was magnificent.

“It was a golden opportunity, Steele, to discover what his family was hiding. And I was in no danger. What could he possibly do to me at Kew Gardens?”

She had no idea how quickly a life could be snuffed out. All it would take was a blade slid across her throat for her life to end. “You don’t see it, do you?” My voice sharpened. “The danger you put yourself in. You were being watched.”

She blinked. “At Kew Gardens?”

“At Saffron Hill. There were men all around. Watching you. You were spotted. Tracked. God only knows what they planned to do to you.”

Her face paled, but only for a moment. “And yet nothing happened.”

I barely held back the urge to shake some sense into her. “Because I arrived. Because I pulled you out in time. If I hadn’t?—”

“You think you saved me?”

I stared at her. “Of course I did.”

She stepped back, fury rising. “You truly believe I couldn’t have handled myself?”

“You would’ve been overwhelmed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know what I saw. I know what they intended.” My voice rose with an emotion I could no longer control. “And I will not stand by and watch something happen to you.”

Her eyes glittered with fiery emotion. “I am not some delicate creature in need of protection. You do not get to play savior just because it suits your pride.”

“This isn’t about pride!”

“No? Then what is it? Guilt? Possession? Or is it that you can’t bear the thought of a woman making decisions without your approval?”

I drew a sharp breath. “Don’t twist this.”

“I don’t have to twist anything.” Her cheeks flushed with anger. “I’ve risked myself for this case just as you have. But the moment I act on my own initiative, you treat me like a child.”

“I treat you like someone I care about, you little fool.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Her mouth opened, then closed. She blinked, shook her head, and turned away.

“I’m leaving.”

“Rosalynd—”

She spun back, fire in her eyes. “No. This conversation is over.”

Without another word, she threw open the door and marched out.

Milford, who had no doubt been standing just out of sight, reappeared instantly. He bowed low as she passed, and closed the door behind her with a final, decisive click.

I stood alone in the room, fists clenched. Fighting for control. Fighting the urge to go after her.

After an eternity, I let out a labored breath. Nothing was resolved. And yet, somehow, everything had changed.