Page 6

Chapter Six

They had spent the last two nights at Edenberry, creeping through the rooms with their oil lamps aloft, making sure Magnus hadn’t missed a vital clue before they widened their search.

Her father’s journal wasn’t hidden under the beds or at the bottom of a blanket box or armoire. The book wasn’t tucked beneath the lid of the Broadwood grand piano or concealed inside the dusty suit of armour in the hall. They had checked every curtain lining and tapped on floorboards to ensure none were hollow.

Now, on this their third night playing investigators, Elsa teetered on the top rung of the library ladder, scanning all the blue books on the highest shelf, praying for a clue so they might see their beds before dawn.

“Do you see anything like the book your father had in the hothouse?” Daniel said, keeping a firm grip on the ladder so she wouldn’t fall. “The top shelf would be a sensible place to hide one.”

“Green covers look blue in the dim light.” She scanned the gold lettering on the spines, squinting to read the titles. “These are my mother’s novels. Father insisted she kept them out of sight.”

“Come down, though mind your step. Let’s think about this logically.”

She descended slowly, her stomach flipping when Daniel set his hands on her hips to guide her descent. Dressed as servants, the heat from his palms seeped through the scant layers of her maid’s garb, a barrier to fool outsiders but no protection from the warmth he stirred inside her.

They hadn’t kissed since their waltz on the terrace. Despite sleeping in adjoining rooms, the door remained locked. They were striving to rebuild their friendship, yet with each passing day, the desire to be close to him deepened.

Daniel took her lamp and placed it on the desk. Having spent an hour searching every drawer and hunting for a secret compartment, they’d had no luck there, either.

“We are going round in circles.” Brushing dust from her hands and grey skirts, she sat in her father’s worn leather chair. “No wonder Magnus left for Geneva. He must have driven himself mad. Whenever we finish searching a room, I feel like we’ve overlooked a vital clue.”

He perched on the desk, his quiet dominance unsettling and intriguing her in equal measure. “What are we missing?”

They sat in companionable silence, racking their brains. No one had wound the clocks for months and the house was deathly still.

“Your father must have known his enemies would come looking for the journal. What’s baffling is why he would knowingly place you in danger.”

She had asked herself the same question countless times these last few nights. “My father made foolish mistakes and took reckless risks. But he loved us in his own way. He wouldn’t have placed us in a precarious position on purpose.”

Daniel’s raised brow said he doubted that was true. “As his man of business, surely Carver knew about your father’s shady investments. The killer may have assumed he had the journal. It would explain why Carver was desperate to elope.”

She gave an exaggerated scoff. “Perhaps he was secretly in love with me.” She didn’t believe it, but she had been so wrong about Daniel and was hardly a good judge of a man’s wants and desires.

“If he loved you, he wouldn’t have given you laudanum and left you in a compromising position.”

“You assume Mr Carver was a willing participant in my shame. What if he’d acted under duress?” She didn’t want to think about that night but lock the memory away, bury it deep. Yet they had to consider every possibility, no matter how painful.

Daniel folded his arms across his chest and thought for a moment. “Is there a chance you didn’t fall in the woods? Could someone have crept up behind you and hit you with a blunt instrument?”

“No, I caught my foot on a protruding root and gave a startled cry before tumbling forward.” She touched the spot on her head where the lump had been, her fingers pressing against smooth skin. “I recall nothing after that.”

“Then we will assume Carver found you. You were gone for four hours before the staff at Edenberry raised the alarm.”

“I used to spend countless hours roaming the woods bordering our estates.” That day, she’d heard Daniel was home from London and planned to wander as far as Thorncroft, hoping their paths would cross. “What time did Magnus send for you and demand you bring your two shillings? ”

“Six o’clock.”

“I left the house around noon.” What had happened to her during those missing hours? One thing was certain. Someone killed Mr Carver while she slept beside him. “Did Magnus not check Mr Carver’s cottage before summoning you?”

“Magnus was a nervous wreck when I arrived. He was pacing and mumbling like a bedlamite. I was the one who suggested we do a thorough search of the grounds while he wept and blamed himself.”

She imagined Daniel bursting into Mr Carver’s bedchamber and seeing her sprawled naked like a gin-swigging harlot. If he hadn’t made the pact with Magnus, would he have left and never looked back?

“Thank heavens you were visiting Thorncroft for a few days. You’ve hardly spent any time there since your father died.” She’d felt like she’d lost a friend long before they married.

A shadow crossed his face as he wrestled with the answer. “It’s a critical time for trading companies. My presence was required in town.”

“Imperial Shipping has the monopoly on spices sourced from the East Indies. Lord Rothley said you’ve been involved in government, debating the new Charter Act.”

The marquess had spent an hour extolling Daniel’s fine virtues.

“Once the act goes through, it will end the East India Company’s dominance in the tea and opium trade. We’ve been increasing our fleet and preparing to compete in the open market.”

The fire of ambition in his intelligent eyes made her shiver. He never looked more irresistible than when fighting for a cause. Daniel Dalton could control a room with a single glance. She imagined him arguing fiercely in parliament, leaving lesser men mute.

“You deserve every success and shouldn’t have borne this burden. The last thing you need is a wife complicating matters.”

He approached but didn’t tower over her. He crouched beside her, the breadth of his thighs a pleasing distraction. “Elsa, nothing is more important to me than ensuring you’re safe.”

And loved , she imagined him saying.

Could you ever learn to love me, Daniel?

“I’ve ruined everything by going to town,” she said.

“No. You dared to do what I couldn’t. We’ll deal with this together, as we should have done in the beginning.”

She managed a smile, though she wanted to tangle her fingers in his ebony hair and push him onto the Persian rug. She would be on him in a heartbeat, kissing him wildly, twining her limbs with his.

“Then we mustn’t waste a single moment. We’ll work day and night, so you can put this terrible business behind you and return to town posthaste.”

He held her gaze, a single frown line creasing his brow.

Had she said something wrong?

Time stretched uncomfortably before he spoke. “Let’s return to the last point you made.” He moved to sit in the chair opposite her. “Based on morbidity, Carver had been dead for two or three hours when we arrived. Either he saw you walking in the woods and found you quickly, or he stumbled upon you later and was killed when he entered the cottage. The real question is: Why didn’t he carry you back to the house?”

She tried to think logically and imagine this had happened to a stranger, not her. “Perhaps he was afraid to carry me that far, yet he didn’t race to the house for help either.”

Why hadn’t he alerted the servants?

Daniel dragged his hand through his hair and sighed. “We need to question the staff without letting them know Carver is dead or that we found you at his cottage. We need a timeline of his movements that day.”

Again, they took to pondering the information.

Another important question entered her mind. “We need to consider why I’m still alive.” She fought against a wave of nausea. How close had she come to dying? Had the villain loomed over her, the blade hovering an inch from her throat? “Either the killer wanted to frighten Magnus into giving him the journal, or he thinks I know where it’s located.”

It all came back to the same thing.

Without the journal, they were clueless.

“It’s more likely the killer used you to blackmail Magnus,” Daniel said. “He expected your brother to produce the journal, not bury the body and flee the country.”

“Then why hasn’t the murderer targeted you? There’s a record of our marriage. You have friends in London and numerous businesses. Why not blackmail you for information?”

“There have been attempts to sabotage my shipping company: a mystery surrounding a wrecked vessel, stolen cargo, whispers of corrupt officials, but no one has made a direct threat.”

It could be connected to the new Charter Act. “The East India Company may be looking to destroy their competition.” It was known the company used intimidation and bribery to achieve its goals.

He let out a slow breath. “I can’t think about that now, not until we’ve found the journal.” He glanced at the shuttered library window as if hearing a noise outside. “I’m not sure if the hired thugs are watching the house but we mustn’t be complacent.”

She looked towards the open library door, a cold sweat prickling her skin. “We shouldn’t linger. I have every right to be here, but what if the villain’s plan was to lure me back to Edenberry?”

Daniel rose and crept to the door. He stood motionless, head tilted, breath held, his impressive shoulders tense with anticipation.

Long seconds passed before he beckoned her closer and whispered, “We’re like sitting ducks here. We’ve spent too long in the house. We will extinguish the lamps and move to the garden. I sense someone outside, but it could be Rothley on the prowl.”

“Won’t we be more exposed outside?”

He reached for her, his hand settling on her elbow, strong and firm. Despite everything, he still acted like her protector. “We’ll go to the hothouse. It’s easy to hide there, and we can watch the garden. I need you to walk me through what happened when you saw your father with the journal.”

She had recounted the event twice last night. “There’s nothing more to tell. I saw him. He put the book in his pocket and started talking about my mother’s roses.”

“Is it possible your father meant for you to find him there?” Daniel paused to listen for unexpected sounds, continuing when met with deathly silence. “Could something he said be a clue to the book’s whereabouts?”

She thought back to the reason she had visited the hothouse. “It was the second anniversary of my mother’s death. I liked to pick a Bourbon rose and place it on the memorial stone in the garden.”

“And your father knew this?”

“Yes.”

“Was he surprised to see you?”

“Not really. Though he ignored me when I asked what he was reading. He found a knife and cut the perfect rose.”

He had accompanied her to the marble obelisk and talked fondly of his wedding day. Theirs had been a love match, not a marriage based on old brotherly pacts and intimidation.

“And he never alluded to the journal again?”

“No. Surely if my father wanted me to have the book, he would have left it to me in his will.”

“How could he? After probate was granted, anyone could apply to read a copy. You would have been a target.”

“The same would be true of Magnus,” she added.

He pursed his lips, holding back a retort. Yet the lines on his brow hinted at his suspicions.

“What is it?” Her heart stuttered. “If there’s something you wish to say about Magnus, don’t let me stop you.”

Daniel winced as he spoke. “I did wonder if Magnus had found the journal and taken it to Geneva for safekeeping.”

“Surely he would have told you.” Magnus didn’t keep secrets, though a whisper of doubt drifted into her mind. Would Magnus sacrifice her to protect the estate and the family name? “Unless the book contained something so incriminating, he was ashamed to tell you.” Something so damning Magnus could never come home.

“I wrote to him before we left London, although it will be two weeks before I receive a reply.” Daniel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of failure a heavy burden. “Let’s pray he offers some insight. ”

Despite the emotional distance between them, she was overcome with the need to comfort him. “Until then, we’ll assume the book is still missing. Let’s visit the hothouse. You’re right. Something trivial might lead to a clue.”

Daniel agreed. “We’ll stay another hour, no more.”

They moved through the dark halls, treading carefully to avoid making a sound. Dust lingered in the air, mingling with the damp scent of neglect. In some rooms, sheets draped the furniture like forgotten shrouds. The house lay in a timeless sleep, holding its breath, guarding its secrets while they fought to end this nightmare.

They slipped out through a servants’ door and crept along the garden’s edge, keeping to the shadows and the weed-choked path, half-expecting a figure to emerge from the gloom. The darkness pressed in, so dense she clung to her husband’s arm, her steps tentative.

A warm feeling flooded her when they came upon the grand ironwork hothouse, a glass palace that was her mother’s sanctuary.

Daniel scanned the garden before making for the door.

Once inside, she breathed in a variety of familiar smells: the sweet floral scent of jasmine and gardenia, the damp foliage and a hint of citrus. The air still clung onto the day’s heat, the faint warmth from the stone floor enough to chase the chill from her toes.

Daniel drew her to where the first flush of Bourbon roses bloomed, the petals soft, pink, and pretty. “You said you found your father standing beside the roses when you entered.”

“Yes, exactly where we’re standing now.”

While he knelt, tapping on the wooden planter in search of a hidden compartment, she asked the question that had slipped her mind last night.

“How is the hothouse thriving when the garden is overgrown and showing signs of neglect?”

“Magnus said the hothouse holds a special place in your heart.” He didn’t look up but continued knocking on the wooden slats before straightening and taking a glove from the basket to inspect the soil. “My gardener visits daily to ensure nothing dies. He’s taken cuttings from all the flowers to cultivate in the orangery at Thorncroft.”

Elsa stared at him, her heart breaking into a gallop.

Amid a myriad of problems, he had thought about her. The news was like the glimmer of a distant beacon, a guiding light in a treacherous storm.

She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “That’s extremely thoughtful of you.” A priceless gift she couldn’t possibly repay.

He met her gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “Your welfare has always been at the forefront of my mind.”

“I wish I had known that,” she breathed, longing to feel the warmth of his mouth again, but this invisible wall they had built was too high to climb.

“Why? Because you wouldn’t despise me quite so much?”

“I don’t despise you, Daniel.” The ache of loneliness came over her again. If she could just find the courage to lay her hand on his chest. “I understand the reasons behind everything you’ve done.” His sacrifices became more apparent by the day. “I’m just surprised you took care of the flowers.”

“Then you will hate me when you hear my next suggestion. I fear we may have to dig them up.”

Horrified, she shrank back. “Dig up my mother’s roses? That would be like taking a hammer and chisel to her epitaph.”

“How else will we know if your father hid the journal here?” He looked at the gorgeous blooms. “I can ask Albert to move them to new planters tomorrow.”

“Albert?”

“My gardener.”

Hearing the sudden crunch of gravel outside, he discarded the glove and pressed his finger to her lips. He quickly hauled them behind the towering Areca palms, their dense fronds and tall trunks offering the perfect cover.

The footsteps grew louder.

The light of a lantern shone softly through the glass panes.

Muffled voices seemed to echo all around them.

“Hush,” Daniel whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear as he held her tightly against his chest. “Don’t make a sound.”

Her breath quickened, though not from fear.

The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne, the strength in his embrace—it was too much. Everything about him was divine. Desire coiled low in her belly, its heat spreading into a deep, persistent ache.

“I reckon I saw a light in the house,” came a gruff voice in a mild West Country accent. “We’d best go inside and check no bugger’s about. Master’s orders.”

She tried to remain as quiet as a mouse when Daniel tightened his arms around her, but it took every effort not to whimper.

The harsh scrape of the iron latch preceded a creaking groan as the blackguard pushed open the metal-framed door.

“Happen I heard a noise in here.” His boot struck the stone floor with a hollow thud. The swinging lantern created moving shadows that danced like demons in the dimness.

The other fellow gave a husky chuckle. “Perhaps the plants come alive at night. Reckon you’ll blame them for eating my meat pasty.”

“I know one thing. It weren’t the roses what drunk my ale. You’ve been burping like a babe for an hour.” The voice was that bit closer now. “I can smell something sweet.” He sniffed the air, a bloodhound trying to catch the scent. “Like lavender soap, something pretty and fresh.”

Elsa hugged Daniel tightly, willing the men to leave. Had they been patrolling Edenberry for six months? Had they pilfered items from the house? Small sentimental things no one would notice?

“It’s the roses, you dolt. Perhaps you should take one for Irene to soften that stone heart of hers.”

“It ain’t the roses, that’s for certain.”

The slow pad of footsteps sent a ripple of fear to her toes, but the sudden arrival of another man saved the day.

“What the devil are you doing in here?” the Marquess of Rothley demanded, his tone threatening. “This is private property. My property. Who are you? Explain yourselves before I arrest you for trespassing.”

One miscreant gasped.

The other took a defensive stand. “Who the devil are you ? We’ve been paid by the owner of this here house to stop intruders while he’s away in town.”

Elsa raised her head, but Daniel mouthed, “Don’t move.”

“That’s a blatant lie. The agent would have mentioned your employment as part of the sale. Give me your employer’s name, or I’ll have you hauled to the nearest gaol.”

Lord Rothley could whip the skin off a man’s back with his sharp tongue. He was born to command, his aristocratic tone carrying a quiet threat. Some said the marquess was as dangerous as he was refined.

“How do I know you ain’t here to rob the place?”

“Allow me to present my calling card.” The snap of metal said the lord had retrieved a card from his silver case. “I’m the new owner of Edenberry. I purchased the house and its entire contents.”

Elsa felt Daniel stiffen.

“He’s only a bleedin’ marquess,” one thug whispered before addressing the lord. “We ain’t touched a thing, milord. Like I said, we’re here to make sure no harm comes to the place.”

“Well, while my coachman accompanies you off the premises, you will tell me who you’re working for and where you’re staying. Be warned, as suspected thieves and poachers, I’m well within my rights to shoot you.”

The men panicked and gave a list of fumbled excuses. The click of the hothouse door preceded the distant mumble of voices as Lord Rothley led the men away.

Daniel met her gaze. “Wait here a little longer. Whatever happens, Carver’s killer mustn’t know you’ve come back to Edenberry. Rothley will return for us when the coast is clear.”

She didn’t protest.

Why would she? She had waited years to feel the warmth of Daniel Dalton’s embrace. It might be months before she would be this close to him again. And she could feel every hard line of his body through the maid’s muslin dress.

“Are you angry with the marquess for intervening?” she whispered, aware his muscles were tense. “I know you told him to observe from a distance, but we were in danger of being caught. ”

His eyes dipped to her lips, remaining there a second too long. “I’m not angry. Rothley knows protecting you is a priority.”

“Perhaps you want to leave me here and throttle the truth from the louts yourself.”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone in the dark, Elsa.”

“Well, something is troubling you.”

He searched her face, his hand moving in a slow, tantalising circle on her back. “Don’t you know why I’m gritting my teeth so hard they’re likely to break? Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why I’m afraid to move an inch?”

She inhaled deeply, her breasts rising against his chest. “Aren’t we hiding from those who want to hurt us?”

“Oh, we’re hiding,” he said, his voice husky and hot against her lips. “And we’re fighting, Elsa. We’re fighting hard to keep our desire for each other at bay. Tell me I’m not alone in this battle. Tell me your strength is faltering, too.”

Oh, she was a heartbeat away from surrender.

Every fibre of her being yearned for his touch.

Lust flowed between them like a raging river, unstoppable against their measly defences. But what if she allowed herself to be swept along with the tide? What if he set her adrift again? Or left her alone on a deserted shore while he sailed away into the sunset?

“I’m afraid to move, too,” she confessed. “I’m afraid to dip my toe in the water for fear I might drown.”

“Ask me to release you and I will.”

She heaved a breath. “I can’t.”

“Ask me to kiss you, Elsa.” He stroked her cheek, his voice insistent. “Tell me you want my mouth on yours and I’ll devour you the way I should have done on our wedding day. ”

The temptation to taste him was too great. She couldn’t fight these powerful feelings. She couldn’t deny the truth or deny him.

“Kiss me, Daniel. Kiss me as if nothing or no one has ever come between us. Kiss me like this isn’t hello or goodbye.”

The tentative brush of his fingers against her throat made her heart skip a beat. They curled around the curve of her neck, holding her gently yet firmly. He tilted her head back, giving her no choice but to meet his gaze. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like this.”

The air between them thickened as his lips hovered just above hers. A tremor of anticipation rippled through her. The moment she’d longed for was finally about to unfold.

I’ve dreamed of this, too.

She wanted Daniel Dalton.

She always had—always would.