Page 31 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

Stephen wandered closer to Pennington’s jewellery counter, his focus on Cornelia as she finished serving a customer.

He’d seen her twice during his walkabouts that day and, although there were always customers waiting to be served, her eyes lacked their usual welcoming light. That worried him. She had been so happy after the divorce hearing and that he’d agreed she could help him try to find Lillian Carter’s killer. So what had happened between then and now?

Seeing her momentarily alone, he approached her. She was carefully rearranging the jewellery she had been showing the departed customer.

‘Afternoon, Miss Culford.’

She started and looked up, a pretty flush colouring her cheeks, her smile just a little too quick and wide to be natural.

‘Mr Gower. Good afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?’

He laid his hand on the glass countertop, so he did not act on the insane urge to touch her. ‘I wanted to make sure you are all right. You haven’t looked as happy as I would’ve hoped since I last saw you.’

‘I’m quite all right.’ Her smile wavered as she lowered her voice. ‘I… wanted to speak to you, actually.’

‘Oh?’

‘Elizabeth Pennington has shared some information about Mr Carter’s first wife.’

‘And whatever she said has worried you? Because if it has, maybe you should step back from—’

‘No.’ She touched his hand before quickly snatching her fingers back and looking over her shoulder. Her superior was watching them while pretending to survey the department. ‘I have to help. To let my sister-in-law down after all she’s done for me…’ She shook her head. ‘Esther adores Elizabeth. I want to do this.’

Stephen sensed there was more to it. ‘Why don’t we take a walk on our break? We can talk better away from the store.’

She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Could you take your break now? I was due mine half an hour ago.’

He looked towards Pennington’s double doors. Two watchmen stood there and there was another walking the floor. ‘I can’t see it being a problem. I’ll talk to the other watchmen when we leave.’

Her eyes lit with eagerness, even a semblance of happiness. ‘Marvellous. I’ll just speak to Mrs Hampton.’

She hurried away and quietly spoke to her superior. The older woman peered over her glasses at Stephen, her brow furrowed, before she nodded.

Cornelia quickly walked back to him. ‘She’s allowed me thirty minutes, because I came in early this morning. Do you think you could get away for the same amount of time? I need to tell you everything I know.’

The scent of her hair and the subtle perfume she wore played havoc with his senses, but Stephen gently cupped her elbow and led her towards the staff quarters, where they put on their hats and coats.

Outside, they both gasped as the cold air enveloped them in its icy grip. Cornelia hugged herself and, before he could think about the consequences, Stephen wrapped his arm firmly around her waist.

Her widened eyes met his and, for a brief moment, time stood still. He was aware of nothing but her. Her eyes. Her hair. Her skin.

Her throat moved as she swallowed. ‘Stephen…’ She whispered his name and his heart raced as he lowered his gaze to her mouth. Her lips softly parted and he could have sworn he saw longing in her eyes. A signal – a hope – that she might feel what was growing between them.

He blinked and glanced along the street. ‘Come. There’s a small tea shop a short walk away.’

‘But—’

Taking her hand, he wrapped his cold fingers around hers and gently pulled her forward.

What was the matter with him? They were chasing a killer and he was waiting for the Board’s decision about his future, yet here he was, lusting after his accomplice in an investigation, who, by rights, should never have become involved in the first place. Yet, he wanted Cornelia there. He wanted her beside him, which possibly made her more dangerous to him than anything else.

He had to stop this. He could not afford to get entangled with a woman who was hurting. A woman reeling from her ex-husband’s betrayal. A woman trying her best to earn her own living, raise and support two children, whose cheating father might well want to remain part of their lives.

Complicated. Dangerous… and fraught with the potential to lead to further heartache. He needed to step back, but how was he to do that when he knew it was too late for him to escape unscathed, whether he enforced distance or not? Cornelia Culford had broken down a barrier around his heart. Made him anticipate a possible future where he didn’t hate himself.

She’d shown him kindness, trust and belief. Three things he’d had no idea he’d been seeking until this wonderful, beautiful woman came along.

Pushing open the door of the tea shop, Stephen reluctantly released her hand and stood aside to allow Cornelia to enter ahead of him. He exhaled, relishing the heat of the busy shop as he scanned the space for an empty table, but each one was occupied. In the window, there was a long refectory table with stools tucked beneath.

He glanced at Cornelia. ‘Is a seat at the window all right?’

She nodded, a puzzled line between her brows. ‘Stephen—’

‘Take a seat. I won’t be a minute.’

He weaved through the tables and ordered their tea at the counter. So many things were happening that he hadn’t expected when he came to Bath. It was as though there was some kind of conspiracy to keep him in police work… to stop him believing that he would spend the rest of his days alone.

Both things he didn’t deserve. Both things God had no right to dangle in front of him, just out of reach.

He’d failed Constable Walker, Hettie and Fay. He’d failed his fiancée. He’d failed. He was nothing more than a man under investigation for a bad decision that, he still believed, had led to the killing of three people. If he had acted on Hettie and Fay’s alarm and investigated their claims himself, who knew if the outcome would have been different?

‘There you go, sir.’

Blinking from his thoughts, Stephen paid the woman behind the counter and carried the tea to where Cornelia sat staring out at the bustling street. It was barely three-thirty, but dusk already loomed. Yet when he looked at her, all he saw was brightness and beauty.

‘Here you are.’ He laid a cup in front of her and slid onto an adjacent stool. ‘That might go some way to warming you before we head back.’

‘We don’t have long.’ She picked up her tea and tentatively sipped.

He was pretty sure she’d noticed his hesitation earlier. Had she read the desire in his eyes? The need to kiss and touch her? Somehow, he hoped she had. Hoped the signal he’d inadvertently sent had been received and that she might begin to wonder about him romantically, too.

Foolishness on his part, but since when did anyone have control over the heart?

She exhaled heavily. ‘Let me tell you what I’ve learned about Lillian.’

He nodded and picked up his tea. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Joseph and Lillian married in their early twenties and had a loving and happy union cut prematurely short by violence.’ She looked out of the window, her jaw tightening. She faced him again, anger burning in her eyes. ‘They worked and lived side by side with Joseph’s father at the family milliners on Pulteney Bridge. It seems to me their lives were happy, their future planned. It’s terrible, Stephen. How can Joseph ever move forward with such a heinous crime haunting him?’

Stephen picked up his cup. It was a question he’d asked about himself a hundred times. ‘I don’t know, but we’ll do everything we can to help him to do just that.’

She nodded, her eyes full of compassion.

He lowered his cup. ‘It seems that everything comes back to Pulteney Bridge. It’s where the Carters lived and worked, it’s where the man I’m seeking is believed to spend his nights and it’s where Lillian would’ve undoubtedly have been seen the most often.’

‘You’re looking for someone?’ Her eyes widened.

‘I visited the slums where Lillian was killed and got talking to a vagrant. That was the man that you saw me escorting out of Pennington’s.’

‘He’s your informant?’

‘Yes, but I’ve yet to go to Pulteney Bridge.’

‘But you plan to?’

‘Yes. Tonight.’

‘Then, I’ll join—’

‘No, Cornelia, you won’t.’ He held her gaze, even as her eyes darkened with familiar stubbornness. ‘You can help me gather information, but I will not expose you to risk. I have no idea what I’ll find – or who. I want you to do as I ask and stay away from anything remotely dangerous or we cannot work together.’

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but the longer she looked into his eyes, the more the wilfulness left hers. Turning to the window, she nodded. ‘Fine.’

‘I’m asking you to trust me. I know all too well how quickly investigations like this can turn violent. People do not appreciate being followed or pursued. This man by the bridge will be no different. I don’t want you mixed up in something where I can’t protect you.’

She continued to stare at the street. ‘I understand.’

The quiet tone of her voice said differently.

He gently touched her hand. ‘Do you?’

She faced him, her gaze lingering on his mouth, her blue eyes burning with a determination… a desire… he hadn’t seen before. A jolt of attraction shot through him and settled uncomfortably in his chest.

‘Yes.’ She sighed, the hunger in her gaze vanishing, only to be replaced by acceptance. ‘You’re right. I must think of the boys.’

Sympathy welled inside him. She suddenly looked so unsure of herself. So unlike the strong woman he was coming to know. Yet, her vulnerability made him warm to her even more. Made him want to care for her even more.

He shook off his thoughts and focused on the most important thing right now. Keeping Cornelia and her children safe. ‘Good, then I’ll go to the bridge tonight and see if I can uncover anything useful. But, for now, we should head back to Pennington’s.’

She left her half-finished drink on the table and stood, an underlying challenge simmering in her eyes. ‘I won’t come to the bridge, but I have to be side by side with you in this. It’s important to me and it’s important to Esther.’

He studied her, recognising her need to do something worthwhile. Fear for her tip-tapped along his spine. ‘You’re not a woman to be put off, are you?’

‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Especially when it comes to handsome police sergeants with the most wonderful eyes and a tendency to bossiness.’

The laughter that bubbled in his throat felt good and he shook his head, rare embarrassment warming his cheeks. ‘Come along, Miss Culford. We have work to do.’