Page 103 of Death at a Highland Wedding

Seeing her, I laugh and put out my hand. I mean for her to give me a bouquet, but instead, she slides the kitten into my arms.

“I think she is lonely,” Alice says. “Missing her mother and brothers. I have been carrying her about with me, but it is not easy.”

“What you need is a pouch, like a mother kangaroo.”

Her brows shoot up.

“I will make you one in a moment,” I say. “Where are those flowers going?”

“Mr. Sinclair’s room.”

“Ah.”

She means the room where Ezra’s body is being kept, and the flowers are not for decoration. Even with the windows open, there is… a smell.

I take one bouquet and open the door. With the flowers in one hand and the kitten in the crook of my arm, I head over to replace the flowers beside the bed. I’m halfway there when the kitten explodes, hissing and leaping from my arms.

I bite back a too-modern curse as the kitten’s claws scratch my exposed forearm. Then the poor thing lets out a yowl as it falls awkwardly, lacking a right hind leg.

Alice scoops her up and cuddles her, but she keeps hissing. I hurry over to pet the cat.

“It’s the body,” I say. “She can smell it even better than we can.”

I take the second bouquet and set it out as I tell Alice to meet me in the hall. After they’re gone, I circle the room, looking for anything else that might have upset the kitten, but I don’t see it.

By then, the kitten has calmed enough that we’re able to take her back to our room. There, I fashion a sling for Alice to use. Then I realize I’ve been gone longer than I intended, and I hurry off downstairs. Time to speak to Müller.

I’m in the main-level corridor when Gray catches up with me. He lowers his voice and ducks his head as we walk. “I have just left a note in your room. Under the pillow.”

I’m glancing at him, brows raised, when we both notice one of the maids quickly retreating into another room after seeing—and hearing—us.

“My notes on the case,” Gray says, louder. “I had them delivered to your room. Please see that they are put in with the rest.”

“Of course, sir,” I say.

“This is too damnably complicated,” he mutters under his breath.

I brace for him to bring up the marriage-of-convenience suggestion again, but thankfully, he only says, “We will find a solution.”

“A solution to what?” McCreadie says, coming up behind us.

“The murder,” I say. “Fret not, dear detective. The illustrious Dr. Gray and his stalwart assistant are on the case and will solve it for you.”

McCreadie makes a rude noise, and we continue to the cloakroom to collect our outerwear.

THIRTY-FOUR

Once we’re far enough from the house, Gray says, “I feel I must say something, however disloyal it feels to Ezra.”

“It’s a murder case, Gray,” I say. “We can’t afford loyalty. Not to witnesses or suspects… or even the victim.”

“I know. Which does not prevent it from feeling uncomfortable.” He looks over at McCreadie. “Do you remember our last year of school together? When one of the maids was released from her position?”

“Hard for me to forget, given the scandal.” He looks at me. “She was let go for having relations with one of the students.”

I frown. “How old were you?”

“Oh, sixteen, seventeen? We were hardly children, and such relationships were not unheard of. That is the danger of having pretty girls working around young men. This was a scandal because they were apparently caught,in flagrante delicto, by the headmaster… who was leading a small group of alumni on a tour.”