Page 10 of Kiss of Steele (The Royal Occult Bureau #9)

TEN

THE BLUE EXPANSE of the Mediterranean Sea surrounded us the next day. My knowledge of the sea was limited, but I had a feeling the water here was a lighter shade of blue than the ocean. The warm air was a pleasant change from the vast coldness of the Atlantic.

Another not-so-pleasant change was having two brooding men, Oliver and Rennie, keep such a close eye on me. From breakfast to my afternoon tea, they were always a few feet from me, scanning the room, searching the corridors, and being stiff. When I went to the ladies’ room, they would wait for me in the corridor, knocking on the door if the affair required more than two minutes.

As I promenaded along the main deck, enjoying the sunshine, they followed, talking between themselves in hushed tones. They had the same attitude, the same walk, and the same grey suits. Co-workers, obviously.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging by how their fists clenched and their necks tensed, they were arguing. I twirled my parasol, pretending to stare at the horizon while throwing glances at them.

Rennie had been quite distant since the previous night. I couldn’t blame him. The contract was clear. No romantic involvement with me. But blazes, if he’d kissed me—properly, that is—I would have let him. If he’d wanted to touch me, I would have allowed it. Oddly enough, not a trace of guilt soured my mouth. Sandro wasn’t my betrothed, but I shouldn’t be so eager to kiss another man, should I? Or rather, so sad because another man hadn’t kissed me.

Still, did I want to return to England? Maybe. The trip was proving to be emotionally confusing and rather dangerous.

“It’s her!” a shrieking feminine voice bellowed from behind me. “That woman!”

I turned around to find Mrs Morrison glowering at me. Detective Norton stood next to her, his rounded glasses askew on his nose.

“It’s her. She did something to my husband.” The woman strode towards me, her dark hair escaping from her tight bun.

Rennie stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the termagant.

She came to an abrupt halt. “What have you done to him, you witch?”

I touched my chest. “Are you talking to me?” I glanced around to be sure she wasn’t addressing someone else.

“What’s happening here?” Oliver asked, sounding like an affronted British general.

Norton pushed his glasses up and dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “Mr Edward Morrison, the husband of Mrs Morrison here, is missing.”

“Oh, my goodness,” I said. Not another one.

Rennie stiffened. “Since when is he missing?”

“Last night,” Mrs Morrison answered. “We went to bed, then he woke up saying he felt sick and that he was going to find the nurse. He never came back, and the nurse didn’t see him.”

“I’m sorry about your husband,” I said. “But I don’t have anything to do with his disappearance.”

“Did he leave my cabin to meet you?” She jabbed a finger at me. “Did he have an assignation with you?”

“How dare you accuse me of that.” I snapped my parasol shut.

Rennie stretched out his arms, as if to keep Mrs Morrison and me separated. “We’ll help search for him. You have my word.”

“You better find him, or else I’ll deal with that scandalous woman myself.” She pivoted and marched away.

Scandalous? Me? How exciting!

Norton fiddled with his glasses again. “Miss Fitzwilliam, I must ask you if you have any relationship with Mrs Morrison.”

Oh, confound it. Curse Edward. “No. I only saw the man once very briefly. We’ve never spoken.”

Norton showed the sceptical expression only police officers could master. “But Mrs Morrison said you told her that you and Edward danced together.”

Bother. “I was mistaken. The man I danced with was called Edward, but he wasn’t Mr Morrison. It was another Morrison. I mean another Edward.” It sounded weak to my own ears.

Norton didn’t look impressed. “A member of the staff remembers you asking her to find the cabin of Mr Edward Morrison. You were quite insistent on finding him.”

Tarnation. Even Rennie cocked his head towards me. Oliver scrubbed his chin.

I hadn’t told Rennie. “I, yes, I did, but, see, the man I danced with claimed to be Edward Morrison,” I said, tormenting the pommel of my parasol. “But he wasn’t.”

“Why would anyone pretend to be him?” Norton asked, scribbling something on his notepad.

“I don’t know, Detective. I believe finding the answer to that question is your job.” I lifted my chin.

He glowered. “And where’s this man? The man you danced with?” he pressed on.

“I don’t know,” I said through gritted teeth. “I haven’t seen him recently.”

The detective opened his mouth again, but Rennie cut him off. “Shouldn’t we focus on the real Mr Morrison and try to find him?”

“But the man Miss Fitzwilliam met might be behind Mr Morrison’s disappearance, and who knows, perhaps even Mrs Francis’s disappearance.” Norton cast a hard glance at me.

Unfortunately, he had a point, but I didn’t want to answer any of his questions.

“Let’s search the ship first. We have some experience with it now.” Rennie took my arm and led me away without giving Norton the chance to answer. “Why didn’t you tell me you searched for Edward?” he asked when we were out of earshot.

“I didn’t think it was important, and since you didn’t give me any information about the danger I was in, I wasn’t sure Edward had anything to do with it. I’m not sure even now. Dash it, I’m confused.”

He glared at me, the warmth from last night gone. “Listen, I promise I’ll tell you everything I can, everything that doesn’t harm you. Is there anything else you didn’t tell me?” I must have looked guilty because his expression hardened. “What is it?”

“Sandro wants to elope with me once we’re in Venice,” I whispered.

Not a single hint of shock or surprise showed on his face. Sort of disappointing. I was expecting a bigger reaction.

“Did you agree?” His tone was inquisitive but not jealous.

“I didn’t, of course. What a ridiculous idea. I don’t lose my head only because a man is a good kisser.”

His nostrils flared a bit. “Let’s find this bloody Morrison.” He added three ‘s’ in Morrison.

We didn’t split. Rennie and Oliver went everywhere I went, from the restaurant on the top-level deck to the sauna. It was dusk when we searched the theatre. No silver goo stained the floor, though.

I plonked down onto one of the plush seats, heaving a sigh. “Norton will accuse me of murder.”

Oliver shrugged. “No body, no crime.”

“We need an entire unit to search this bloody ship,” Rennie muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“An entire unit of what?” I asked, perking up.

He worked his jaw. “I have to talk with Norton. Oliver, take care of Monia.” With that, he strode away.

Oliver offered me his arm. “I’ll escort you to dinner, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

We walked towards the dining hall, him humming a tune, me wishing Rennie were the one with me. Without much appetite, I picked at my baked trout, searching the dining hall for Rennie. He’d been gone for a while. At least he was going to sleep in my cabin tonight. We would talk.

“Worried, Miss Fitzwilliam?” Oliver asked, smiling politely while drinking his tea with his little finger stretched out.

“I wonder where Rennie might be.”

He tilted his head. “Am I not a good company?”

“No.” The word rushed out of my mouth. Good gracious, since when was I so rude? My face flamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

He sipped his tea. “May I ask how you got that scar?” He pointed at my wrist.

I hadn’t noticed my sleeve had inched up, revealing a portion of the long scar. “An incident while I was riding my horse.”

He edged closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Are you sure about that? Are you sure it isn’t something else? Something more sinister?”

As he said those words, a headache pounded behind my eyes and cold sweat dampened my skin. “Of course I am.” My reply lacked confidence. My memories were confused. There wasn’t a horse. I winced as pain sliced through me.

He smirked and leant back on the chair. “Interesting.”

I cheered up when Rennie entered the room, his face a mask of frustration.

“We found Mr Morrison,” he said.

“Lord, is he all right?” I asked, standing up.

“He’s weak, but alive.” Rennie pinched the bridge of his nose. “We found him in the cargo hold, still wearing his dressing gown. He’s now with the nurse.”

“Good. Now he’ll tell Norton I have nothing to do with this business,” I said, pushing aside my plate.

Rennie shook his head. “Monia, he said you attacked him.”

“What?” The little amount of dinner I’d eaten churned in my stomach. “This is absurd. I’ve never touched him.”

“I believe you, but Norton wants to see you.” Rennie offered me his crooked arm. “Now.”

“I’ll go see Morrison,” Oliver said. “See you later.”

On weak legs, I headed to Norton’s office, holding Rennie’s arm. “Can he arrest me?”

“That’s not going to happen. Ever. I won’t allow it.” He patted my hand.

“But what if he wants to?”

“No.” The certainty in his tone brought some hope to my chest.

“Miss Fitzwilliam.” Norton stood up from his chair when we entered his office. “Please take a seat.”

I did as told and perched on the wooden chair in front of the desk. Rennie stood next to me, towering over the detective.

“Mr Steele must’ve told you we found Mr Morrison.” Norton laced his fingers over the desk.

I didn’t say anything, waiting for a question.

“Mr Morrison said you lured him to the cargo hold with an excuse and then you... er, threw yourself at him and ravished him.” The detective shifted on his chair. His forehead glistened with sweat. “He said you started kissing him and doing other illicit things, trying to seduce him.”

My mouth dropped open. “He must be out of his mind, or perhaps he hit his head somewhere. I did no such thing. I have no romantic interest in him.”

“Besides.” Rennie chewed on his bottom lip. “Miss Fitzwilliam didn’t leave her cabin last night.”

Norton squirmed, as if his chair were on fire. “May I ask you how you know that?”

My reputation was ruined either way. But I’d rather ruin my good name by telling the truth than be arrested for a lie. “Rennie slept in my cabin.” I didn’t care how it sounded. “We’ve been together all the time.”

“I see.” Norton drummed his fingers on the table.

“Detective.” Rennie’s grave tone filled the room. “I wouldn’t put Miss Fitzwilliam’s reputation in jeopardy for no reason. What we told you is the truth. Miss Fitzwilliam didn’t leave her cabin last night.”

“I understand but”—Norton dropped the pencil he was writing with—“why would Mr Morrison lie? Why would he accuse Miss Fitzwilliam without reason? Revenge? He doesn’t know her.”

“Maybe he was confused,” I said. “Maybe he met someone who looked like me, who pretended to be me.” Yes, it sounded far-fetched.

Norton’s chair made a squeaky noise when he reclined in it. “So we have a man who pretended to be Mr Morrison and who danced with you, and now a woman who pretended to be you and attacked the real Mr Morrison. Not to mention that Mrs Francis vanished after claiming to have been attacked by a phantom Scot no one has ever seen. A quite complicated web that involves a lot of people.”

Summarised like that, it sounded absurd. And it was. But I had no answers.

“Detective,” I said, on the verge of a hysterical breakdown. “Believe me. I did not hurt Mr Morrison. I don’t know what’s happening on this ship, but I am not a criminal. Or a seductress.” My eyes burned with tears, and I hoped Norton didn’t think I was faking them.

He sagged on the chair. “I’ll interrogate Mr Morrison again when he feels better. You can go for now, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

I didn’t like the ‘for now,’ but I bowed my head and stood up.

“This is preposterous,” I said when we were in the corridor, heading to my cabin. “You don’t believe I attacked Morrison, do you?”

“Of course not.” He put a hand on the small of my back. “Don’t worry. No one is going to arrest you.”

I snuggled closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder before straightening back up. Oliver was leaning against the wall next to my door.

“Did you speak with Morrison?” I asked.

He shook his head. “He was asleep. He’s very weak.” He glanced at Rennie. “As if he hadn’t slept or eaten for days. His energy drained.”

“What did the attacker do to him? Why is he so weak?” I opened the door of my cabin with a shaky hand.

“It’s complicated.” Oliver slid inside the cabin while Rennie remained in the corridor.

“What’s happening?” An anxious knot tightened in my belly.

“Oliver will keep an eye on you tonight.” Rennie’s voice sounded all wrong, as if he were angry.

“Rennie needs to sleep too,” Oliver said, starting to shut the door.

“I...” I fiddled with my hands.

“Good night, Rennie.” Oliver waved.

“Be a gentleman, Oliver,” Rennie hissed.

Oliver smirked. “You have my word.”

Rennie held up a hand. “Good night, Monia.”

“But I’d like you to stay here,” I said.

Oliver stepped in front of me. “Rennie is exhausted. He didn’t sleep to keep guard. He’ll be with you tomorrow.”

Indeed, dark shadows circled Rennie’s eyes. “I’ll stay with you tomorrow,” he said.

“Good night.” I wanted to say something else, but Oliver locked the door.

“Now.” He removed his jacket and tossed it over a chair. “Don’t worry, Miss Fitzwilliam. I’ll be the perfect gentleman, even though I’m not good company.”

“Perhaps Rennie could sleep here too.” I balled my fists at my hips.

He waited a few moments, then peeked outside. “Good. He’s gone. We need to have a chat.”

“About what?” I stepped away from him.

“Rennie and I disagree. See, I believe sacrifices must be made for a good cause.” He flexed his fingers.

“I don’t understand.” I inched closer to the vase on the dresser. It was heavy enough to cause some damage in case he attacked me.

“Do you want to know why your parents sent you away with Rennie? Why didn’t they like your prince? Why did a man try to attack you? Who really is Edward? And why does Morrison claim you attacked him?” He had my attention now.

“I do,” I said, still touching the vase.

“I can help you with that.” He put his hand on my forehead, and I jolted. “Relax, Monia. This is going to sting a little.”

Pain burst inside me. White flashes filled my vision. Fire seemed to flow through my lungs. It was as if a red-hot blade were cutting my head in two. I screamed, my throat hurting. Then darkness enveloped me.