Page 27 of Cloaked in Deception (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #4)

Chapter Fourteen

A growl of thunder filled the pause that dropped between them.

That afternoon, after Gavin Seabright’s departure, Leo had entered the morgue in a fog, her mind spinning over the beginnings of her theory.

That’s all it was. She had no proof for any of it.

And yet, the more she thought of it, the more confident she felt that she was onto the truth.

Jasper’s immediate apprehension wasn’t unexpected.

“You think Mrs. Hayes took Martha Seabright’s infant? How in the world did you reach that conclusion?”

The back door to the office had been propped open most of the afternoon, and now, light gusts of wind and rain blew inside, wetting the threshold stone. Leo gravitated toward the fresh air as she gathered the reasons she’d accumulated during the afternoon. They were piteously few.

“Gavin explained that Edward hadn’t been sick when he and Paula had last seen him. However, he apparently died the next night of a mysterious fever.”

“Gavin and Paula were young, just children themselves. Maybe the baby was ill, and they simply didn’t realize it,” Jasper said, following her toward the open door.

It was something Leo had considered too and was a valid argument.

“And fevers can claim the very young and the very old quickly, I am aware,” she said. “But we can’t dismiss the fact that they never saw the infant’s body. Edward was buried before dawn of the following day before Gavin and Paula were even alerted.”

“If the nurse believed the fever could be contagious, she might have wanted the burial to be done as quickly as possible,” he said, citing another possibility Leo had weighed.

But she’d found it unlikely. Unless the baby had been afflicted by smallpox or some other plague, there was no reason to bury the victim so swiftly, and a nurse would have known that.

“Mr. Hayes was a governor of the orphanage at the time, was he not?” she asked.

Jasper nodded as he eyed the storm outside. “He was.”

“As such, his wife would have also held a position of authority,” Leo said.

He crossed his arms. “And you think she ordered the nurse to give her the baby and tell Martha Seabright her infant son had died?”

“Sir Eamon said that Martha asked about a particular nurse at the orphanage,” Leo pointed out. “This could be the reason why.”

“What about the other employees, like the groundskeeper who would have dug the hole for burial? Surely, the matron, too, would have seen the dead child before he went into the ground.”

The quick barrage of reasoning battered her theory, riddling it with holes. And yet, she knew instinctively that something about Edward’s supposed death was not true.

“I can’t help but think of the cryptic note Mrs. Seabright had in her handbag at the time of her murder,” Leo began. “She was given a sum of money for a choice she’d made. It had been a business transaction, and the author had assured her she’d done the right thing.”

Jasper closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re suggesting she was paid in exchange for her son?”

“It is an awful notion. However, Esther Goodwin said her sister was eager to be rid of her children. If Martha was made an offer for her son to be taken in by another family, to be given a better life, maybe she accepted it. The note in her handbag would make sense if that were the case. And perhaps Mrs. Hayes sneaked into Martha’s home for a reason related to the baby. ”

He shook his head, a stutter of lightning accentuating his disagreement. “That letter could have been about anything. There were no details, not even a name. Furthermore, what would Mrs. Hayes have wanted with a baby? She already had two children of her own.”

That is where Leo struggled too. Mrs. Hayes couldn’t have simply shown up at home with a baby and not been questioned. Still, Leo wasn’t ready to abandon her theory.

“Perhaps she brought the baby to someone else she knew. A friend. I don’t know,” she admitted, which felt too much like defeat for her liking. “But Paula always believed Edward was taken from the orphanage.”

“Mrs. Blickson identified Nurse Radcliff as the one who was caring for Edward when he died,” Jasper said, still shaking his head. “She never breathed a word about believing he was alive.”

“I think it would be prudent to speak to her again.”

Next to the sound of rain assailing the roof and splattering in the puddles along the dirt lane, Leo barely heard his grunt of assent.

There was nothing more to present to him regarding her theory.

All she could do now was wait to hear what Paula said when he did question her.

Tomorrow, most likely. And so long as they met here afterward, rather than at Scotland Yard, Leo suspected he would share the results of the interview.

She’d brought him the lead, after all. Just as she had earlier, about Mrs. Hayes being inside Martha Seabright’s home.

“Did you go to Bloomsbury Square?” she asked, eager to know what the woman had to say for herself.

“I did. I spoke with Miss Hayes.”

Miss Hayes. Constance . A twinge of disappointment and something else Leo didn’t quite like traveled their way through her, from belly to throat.

It had been some months since Leo had last seen Constance Hayes, but she hadn’t forgotten how striking she was, how stylish and sophisticated.

Leo raised a hand to pat the back of her head.

Wisps of her dark brown hair had come loose from several pins over the course of the afternoon while assisting Connor with the autopsy of a middle-aged man.

She had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Gavin Seabright, Mrs. Hayes, and little Edward that she had not stopped to consider how untidy she might appear.

She lowered her hand, hoping Jasper hadn’t noticed her insecurity. “Was her mother in?”

“Mrs. Hayes left London immediately after returning from her outing to Martha Seabright’s home. A servant confirmed she’d gone out for a few hours and was wearing a hooded blue cloak, just as you noted.”

“She has left London?” Alarm pitched her voice higher. “Where has she gone?”

“According to Constance, to their family home in Hampshire. Her father and younger brother departed for the country yesterday unexpectedly, and today, Constance discovered her mother had gone too. There were no goodbyes.”

“There is no question, then. Something must have happened,” Leo said, thinking of Martha’s home. Had Mrs. Hayes found something there? Something worrying enough to make her flee London?

“The servant I spoke to said Mr. and Mrs. Hayes had argued the night of the benefit dinner,” Jasper said. “Mrs. Hayes was heard accusing her husband of lying to her.”

“Gracious,” Leo murmured, her mind spinning with this new information. “I wonder how it connects to Martha Seabright.”

“It might not connect at all,” he warned. “I won’t know until I question them.”

“Are you going to Hampshire, then?” Leo eyed the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o’clock. “Not tonight, I hope?”

They were supposed to have dinner together this evening. She’d been anticipating it all afternoon, even if the promise of it made her feel a bit wobbly.

Jasper formed a slow, crooked smile. “Not tonight.”

Again, conscious of her bedraggled appearance, Leo pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear; it had been coming forward, tickling her cheek for a few hours. She hadn’t cared enough to pin it back into place, though now she regretted the decision.

“Are we still dining at seven?” she asked, next running her palm over her narrow belt and the rumpled green shirtwaist tucked into the band. “I’m not sure I’ll be ready so soon. I’m rather a mess.”

Jasper only continued to grin, his attention slipping down the length of her body, from where she held a palm to her stomach to the tips of her boots. When his eyes met hers again, she felt pinned in place by them.

“You don’t look a mess, Leo. You look beautiful.”

A gust of wind blew in, sprinkling her lightly with rain.

She didn’t blink or flinch. She could only stare up at him, befuddled.

Her first instinct was to deny the compliment.

Beautiful wasn’t how she would have ever described herself.

Awestruck as she was, however, she paused long enough to recognize sincerity in the way Jasper gazed at her. He’d meant it.

“No one has ever called me that.” Only once she’d spoken did she hear how pitiful the confession sounded. Embarrassment warmed her. Or perhaps it was pleasure from his flattering remark. She wasn’t certain.

“Never?” Jasper appeared doubtful.

Leo shrugged, wishing she hadn’t said it now. “Trust me, I would remember if someone had.”

Just as she would always remember this. Jasper, holding his bowler by its dampened crown, his honey-blond hair a shade darker from the rain that had soaked through the wool felt on his walk to the morgue.

His dark green vest, the one that accentuated the color of his eyes.

His brown tie, the knot loose after a long day.

He moved closer, narrowing the space between them.

When his hand reached for the stubborn curl of sable hair that had slipped forward once again, his fingertips brushed her cheek as he tucked it behind her ear.

Standing this close to him, breathing in the scent of his clothing, of his skin, was all so new and thrilling and terrifying.

And yet, as overwhelming as it was, nothing could have induced her to back away when Jasper’s warm hand cupped the nape of her neck.

Or when he angled his head nearer, and his lips lowered to hers.

He tested the kiss with a gentle press of his mouth, and after a heart-stopping moment, Leo met it with an answering nudge.

Her palms lifted to the damp lapels of his coat, and she gripped them lightly.

Through half-lidded eyes, she saw a flicker of lightning.

The scent of ozone mingled with his musky sandalwood.