Page 18 of Murder in Disguise (Mary and Bright #5)

Later that evening

“Well, drat.”

Mary frowned as she passed Adelaide’s bedroom door where she and Miss Madison were supposed to be dressing for dinner.

After tea, Miss Madison had gone home to change clothing as well as check on her father who was supposed to have been in residence around that time, and she’d only just arrived back at the townhouse to join Adelaide.

“Is there a problem, Miss Madison?” she asked while knocking on the door.

The door was opened by Adelaide who briefly rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Theresa has burst a seam.”

When Mary peeked into the room, it was to find the other young woman looking into the full-length cheval glass with her left arm raised, inspecting a torn seam beneath that arm. “Oh, dear. How unfortunate. That’s not in a place easily fixed.”

Annoyance went through Miss Madison’s expression. “I don’t have another gown at home, so I suppose I’ll need to enjoy dinner with you at some other point,” she said to Adelaide. Then her expression changed to sadness. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nonsense, Miss Madison.” Mary winked at her niece. “I’m sure I have a gown I’m no longer using, and since you and I are much the same size, you should be able to wear it immediately. I’ll send my maid, Maggie, to you with a dress.”

Even though the young woman’s expression lightened, there was still an undercurrent of annoyance through it. “I so appreciate it, Mrs. Bright. Thank you.” She turned fully to face Mary. “I just wish I wasn’t forever having to rely on friends and acquaintances or take in secondhand things.”

“We all must start somewhere, and remember, this season in life won’t always be your lot.”

Adelaide came to the door. “Thank you, Aunt Mary. I appreciate it.”

“You are quite welcome. You too, Miss Madison.” Then, with a wave, Mary continued along the corridor to her shared suite.

Once inside, she went immediately to the dressing room where Maggie had just taken out a gown for Mary’s use.

“Miss Madison has had an unfortunate tear in her gown. Could you bring her one of my older ones so she can take dinner with Adelaide tonight?”

“Of course, Mrs. Bright.” Maggie nodded. “I know just the one from last year—perhaps two years ago—she can have. I believe it’s stored in one of the trunks in the attic.”

“Thank you, Maggie.”

“I’ve pulled the marigold gown for you to wear at dinner tonight. You are so vibrant in that yellow-gold color.” The maid smiled. “Do you need me to help you dress?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question, Maggie,” Gabriel said as he came into the dressing room with a cheeky grin.

Of course he was already dressed for dinner in his customary dark clothes including his tailcoat.

Truth to tell, he looked quite delicious.

“I assist Mary should she need it. Lord knows I haven’t served in that capacity for some time. ”

A blush went through the maid’s cheeks. “Very well, Inspector.” With a glance at Mary, who shrugged, the younger woman fled the suite.

“Why must you always embarrass the poor girl so?” she asked as she went around him to close the door. “She must think the worst of us.” Not that she minded, for she was well aware of Bright’s motives and desires. Most of the time, they aligned with hers.

“She can think what she wants; it has no bearing on how I feel about you, and besides, assisting you in dressing is one of my favorite things to do.” Then he whisked her into his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss that had the power to curl her toes.

He pulled slightly away and peered into her eyes.

“Can I help it if I find it satisfying to kiss my wife whenever the mood strikes?”

Mary smiled as she rested her palms on his chest. The desire in his brown eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

“Have I ever said that I minded?” She tugged on the folds of his cravat to bring him even closer.

“For that matter, I do still need to dress for dinner. Care to help me with that? Or perhaps I should find a way to assist you with becoming a bit undressed?” she asked as she slid her hand down his chest, over his abdomen, to gently cup his semi-erect member.

“Ah, you know we don’t have time for that.” But he took her hand and pressed it against that rapidly hardening organ. “Perhaps after dinner?”

“I wouldn’t mind having a piece of you for dessert.” A gentle squeeze of his equipage had him sucking in a quick breath. “Perhaps I can procure some honey?”

“Dear God, Mary, you’re going to make me far too randy. I can’t show up at dinner with a raging cockstand, not in front of Adelaide and her guest.” Then, with a growl, he pulled her close once more and crashed his mouth down on hers.

This was the man and his mood that she liked best, the man whose whimsy extended to carnal endeavors, the man who didn’t care one whit that he’d learned how to share his emotions even if society told men that wasn’t the way.

When Bright was in this loving sort of mood, there were no doubts in her mind that she had always been destined to cross paths with him, that her future and his had been woven together in the tapestry of time.

With a sound of encouragement or surrender—she couldn’t be sure which—Mary slipped her hands up his chest to twine about the breadth of his shoulders as she pressed her body into his.

Again and again, she returned his kisses, for he was well and truly talented, and far too soon, their tongues met and tangled.

Before she could explore his form, he’d pulled the laces at the back of her day dress, and the garment was flung to the floor in a thrice.

No sooner had he tugged loose the laces of her stays and bared a breast from her shift than there came a knock at the door.

“Ignore it,” she whispered against his lips. With a hand, she wrenched the shirt tail from the waist of his evening breeches. Shivers shot down her spine; need danced through her veins as he closed his lips around that pebbled nipple.

Except the knocking grew more insistent.

With a growl, Bright pulled away. He stomped across the room, and at the door, he wrenched it open. “Someone better be dead or dying.”

Quickly, Mary turned about and righted her bodice. “Who is it, Inspector?”

“It’s Collins.” From the amount of annoyance in his tone, he was in quite the waspish mood at being interrupted. “What is it?” he practically snarled at the poor butler.

“There was another missive delivered for you, Inspector,” the older man said, and as Mary went into the adjoining dressing room, she cast a glance at her husband.

“Damn.” He shoved a hand through his hair, which upset his valet’s work. “Thank you, Collins.”

“The courier waits belowstairs, Inspector. He requires an answer straightaway.”

“Of course he does.” The sound of paper ripping reached Mary’s ears in the adjoining room. “Well, shit. Tell the courier I will leave for the site straightaway.”

“Very good, Inspector.”

“And please inform Cook that Mary and I won’t be present at the meal this evening. Ask her to leave out some cold cuts or other quick things for us to grab when we finally come in.”

“I will.”

When the sound of the door snicking closed reached her ears, Mary came into the bedroom. “What’s going on?” She immediately presented her back to him, for she needed him to do up the buttons on the back.

“Here. From one of the superiors at Bow Street.” He shoved the missive into her hands. “Another damned body.”

Quickly, she scanned the note while he manipulated the buttons. Third body found. This one in Mayfair at the shops. Fourth girl taken. Come when convenient. “Do they know the identity?”

“Unless I miss my guess, it’s the daughter of the jeweler… not the daughter of the man who tried to knock me on my arse earlier today.” When he pressed his lips to the crook of her shoulder, he sighed, and the warmth of his breath skated over her skin. “I’m afraid dinner will need to wait.”

“So will anything else, it seems.” Such was their life of late.

He chuckled, and the deep rumble tickled through her chest. “We’ll find the time. I assume you’ll accompany me?”

“There is no place I’d rather be. Just help me finish my toilette. We can leave once we check in on the children.”

Madame Devy’s

16 Grafton Street near Bond Street

Mayfair, London

Gabriel frowned at the tableau before him.

The body of the young woman had been arranged in the front window of a modiste’s shop as if she were a marionette doll, hastily dressed in one of the shop owner’s creations.

One hand had been posed upward over her head while the other hovered at her waist, hung suspended by a string.

One of her feet had been raised upward as if she were about to take a step.

Her red hair had been upswept with a black ostrich feather stuck into her coif.

But it was the garish whore rouge and lipstick on her face that took him aback.

“This is quite a gruesome scene.” He glanced around the immediate area, but the constable had done an excellent job of keeping passers-by off the street and away from the shop. “And this was how you found her?”

The constable, who was tall with a barrel chest, nodded. “Shops had just closed. Foot traffic had thinned as people went home for dinner. I’d made a circuit and by the time I came back ‘round, there she was.”

Mary scribbled a few lines in the leatherbound notebook. “Did you see anyone else around the shop between your rounds?”

“No, ma’am. There were closed carriages on the street, but none had stopped.”

“Where is the modiste?”

The constable shrugged. “She closed the shop an hour early. Said she had an appointment with a client in St. James Place.”