Page 83 of In Want of a Suspect
And then he leaned down and kissed her.
It was not one of the gentle kisses he usually bestowed upon her in stolen moments when no one was about to witness their impropriety, nor was it as tentative as their first kiss. This was a hungry kiss, almost rough. As Lizzie’s lips parted and she returned it, she felt all his fear and anguish, and utter relief in that moment.
They finally separated when both needed to draw breath, and the shock of it all left Lizzie panting lightly. But also, every bit of her was engulfed in heat, and all she wanted to do was draw his lips back to her own for more....
“Ahem,” Marianne said, not subtle in the least. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, Lizzie, I really think you ought to see what we found upstairs.”
“Right,” she said, and she knew without looking in a mirror that her cheeks were flushed. “What’s that?”
“Go,” Mr. Farrows urged them, taking one of the pistols from Marianne. “I’ll guard these criminals.” The criminals inquestion glowered but were unable to speak thanks to their gags.
Elinor gave him a quick, grateful smile, and then gestured at the group to follow her. “Back here, near the lift.”
“The what?” Darcy asked.
“You’ll see,” Lizzie assured him. “It’s like a very large dumbwaiter.”
They brought their lanterns to the back corner, where it was much more apparent that the floor and wooden trim had been replaced recently. In the better light, Lizzie could see that the brick around the repaired lift was still scorched black and all the wooden planks of the floor and ceiling had been replaced.
“The fire clearly started back here,” Elinor continued. “It burned fast and hot, and there was some damage to the floor above.”
“Can you tell what started it?”
“I cannot say definitively,” Elinor admitted, “but I can hazard a guess that I’d be willing to stake my reputation on.”
She strode over to where they’d found the pile of refuse, and picked a glass shard up and held it aloft. “I believe these bottles held spirits, and when they broke, they acted as an accelerant.”
“Isn’t this a wool storehouse?” Brandon asked. “Why would there be spirits here?”
“Because the Mullins brothers were smuggling French contraband,” Marianne said with wicked satisfaction.
“I was working up to that,” Elinor said, giving her sister a long-suffering look.
“Sorry!” Marianne didn’t appear to be sorry, though. “I got excited.”
“Do go on,” Elinor told her.
“Well, while we were sneaking off upstairs, I wondered—why on earth would the Mullins brothers need such an elaborate contraption?”
“To move heavy crates upstairs,” Lizzie said.
“And why keep their stores up there when that was where they lived?”
Darcy looked at the lift. “Because they didn’t want anything illegal down here, in plain view of their workers or any visitors.”
“Come see,” Marianne said, leading them to the stairs. They opened up into a large room that appeared to be a makeshift living area. On the far wall, the same side as the lift, there stood a mess of crates that had clearly been moved to the second level with the assistance of the contraption, for they were far too large to have been carried up the stairs. Marianne walked up to the nearest one and reached inside. She lifted a glass bottle, and Lizzie saw it was filled with amber liquid.
“Brandy,” she announced.
Brandon took the bottle from her and inspected the label before letting out a low whistle. “Frenchbrandy.”
“There’s more,” Elinor said, leading them to another crate, almost identical to the ones downstairs. She shoved the lid off. “This one has silks. Smoke damaged, but...”
“I’m guessing French?” Darcy asked.
“Undoubtedly,” Marianne said. “Now, I am no expert, butMama has a gorgeous pelisse made from French silk that Papa gave her before it was impossible to get and—well, never matter. But I believe we’ve found your illegal goods.”
“Not graphite,” Lizzie murmured. “I thought for sure Mr. Hughes was involved.”