Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
“Icannot make heads nor tails of this.” Adele frowned at the piece of paper she held in her hand.
She and Warner were walking back to his London estate in the early evening. They had arrived in London a few days before and had immediately set about investigating as much as they could.
Neither of them were wearing their usually finery, instead wearing clothes that suited merchants or other such professionals. Even in the more muted clothes of a merchant, Warner cut a striking figure.
Adele shook her head. Focus. She turned her attention back to the sheet of paper they had managed to procure from one of the chemists they had visited.
The man had made her skin crawl, and it had not taken Warner much convincing to get him to give him the details of the clients he had had for the last few months.
“It is some kind of cipher, unless I miss my guess. The man may have been a weasel, but it seems he was not a complete fool.” Warner took the paper from Adele. “More’s the pity.”
Adele felt a lump form in her throat. With each passing day, she had felt panic and despair start to settle over her. She felt like there was a sword hanging above her head, waiting to drop at any moment.
If they really had proof, you would already be arrested, she tried to reassure herself, but after yet another day of searching, her hope was starting to wane.
Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Warner took her hand in his. “You must not lose hope. The fact that there have been no more articles is a good sign. My own men tell me that no one has been able to trace this servant.”
Adele felt the warmth of his hand spread through her and squeezed it. “It is hard to feel hopeful when increasingly it feels like things are stacked against me. I should have listened to you when you tried to warn me. Perhaps if I had not behaved so recklessly things would not be so bad.”
“Usually, I would love to hear you tell me that I am right, but I find that right now it gives me little joy.” Warner ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing at odd angles.
“There are too many questions right now, and this cipher… Well, if he has taken the trouble to disguise things, perhaps that is something in and of itself.”
Adele resisted the urge to smooth Warner’s hair down with her free hand. “Hopefully we will be able to discover the truth of things once we return home.”
The thought of returning back to their estate with yet another pointless lead made her heart sink, and she found herself leaning against Warner. He did not pull away, apparently lost in his own thoughts as they strolled through the street together. The smell of sandalwood filled her nostrils.
“So many threads — but what is the connection?” Warner was mumbling. “And why can I not find this dratted servant?”
The sound of music and laughter drifted towards them, and Adele looked to see the warm light of a pub. The laughter only added to Adele’s dark mood, and her shoulders slumped further.
“We should go home, I might as well feed this dark mood in front of a nice, warm fire,” Adele tried to inject some humour into her voice, but it came out bitter and dejected. “Perhaps if we are home, I might be able to do something of use.”
Warner canted his head towards her, his brow creasing as his eyes traced her face. “You are being too hard on yourself.”
“Or not hard enough. You were the one who got the chemist to give you that. You are the one who tried to caution me.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “All I have done is make a mess.”
Warner opened his mouth, glanced at the pub, and then back at her. “I have no intention of letting you stew in misery. That will not help us solve this problem. I think it is time that we took a break.”
“What do you mean?” Adele frowned at him.
Warner gave her a frank look, gesturing at her, though his voice was full of kindness. “You are clearly exhausted, and in the mood you are currently in, dwelling on someone’s murder is unlikely to do you any good.”
“But —” Adele began, but Warner cut her off.
“Have you ever had the experience where you have been puzzling at a thing for days, and then the moment you do something else, the answer reveals itself?”
“Usually in the bath.” Adele’s cheeks flushed at Warner’s amused grin. “Or right before bed.”
“Exactly. And even if the answers do not reveal themselves, you will be of little use in this current state. Self-pity does not make for a good investigator.” He massaged his neck and rolled his shoulders back. “Nor does exhaustion, and I am beginning to feel like a rag that has been wrung out.”
“I suppose a rest might be a good idea,” Adele admitted. “Forgetting for a little while could be nice.”
Not that I think I will be able to. How could she forget about things when it felt like there was a noose around her neck? He held out a hand to her and jerked his head towards the pub and its open door.
“We are already dressed as other people, so let us put the Duke and the Duchess and all this sordid mess aside for a few hours.” A look crossed Warner’s face, but it was gone too quickly for Adele to be sure of its meaning.
“For a now, I am Mr. Maxwell Thatch, out for a pleasant evening with my wife, Mrs. Elaine Thatch.”
The weight of everything felt like a black cloud on her chest. Yet when her eyes found Warner’s blue ones, it felt like the first rays of sunshine on a cloudy day.
“Very well, Mr. Thatch.” She slipped her hand into his, suppressing the shiver that ran through her at their closeness. “Distract me.”
“You make it sound like a challenge.” He arched an eyebrow at her.
Adele shrugged. “It is either a challenge or an invitation.”
The pub was crowded with a fiddler playing folk music in the corner. The man was talented and played a lively reel that made Adele smile. Several people were clapping in time with the music, laughing and dancing.
They are so carefree. She let the sound of laughter wash over her as Warner ordered them two ales and led them to a table. He moved her seat back for her and gestured for Adele to sit.
“My Lady.” His eyes softened as he looked at her.
“Thank you.” Adele slid into the seat and took a sip of her drink.
The bitterness of the ale suited her mood, even as a warmth spread over her. Warner drank from his own mug, his eyes fixed on Adele as he did.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “And how much of that will end up on the floor?”
“Very little.” Warner massaged his neck. “I think we could both use a drink — a proper drink, perhaps two or three.”
“If I did not know any better, I would think you were trying to intoxicate me,” Adele teased.
Warner chuckled, his blue eyes dancing. “And why would I do that?”
“Why does any man do such a thing?” Adele shrugged.
The amusement fell from Warner’s face, his eyes going hard. “I am not that sort of man. If I wish to enjoy the companionship of the gentler sex, then I want her to be able to choose me.”
“And do they often choose you?” Adele stiffened, her skin prickling as she thought of women fawning over Warner. She had meant her words to sound joking, but the edge of anger betrayed her. What is wrong with me?
“I am a married man, Mrs. Thatch. I only want one woman to lavish me with her attention.” His eyes met hers, and Adele felt a thrill of excitement run through her body.
Such pretty lies. She wished he did not say things so convincingly. “I fear you missed your calling; you should be on the stage with skills like those.”
“I am not acting.” Warner’s blue eyes were like frozen pools, tempting her towards them with a promise of danger just beneath the surface. “Tonight, I only have eyes for you.”
“Why?” Adele’s mouth was suddenly dry.
Warner took a long drink before he answered. “You are my wife.”
In name alone. Adele swallowed at the intensity of Warner’s gaze and drank from her own mug. To her surprise, she found it nearly empty. When did I do that?
Warner was beckoning a serving girl over and ordering them another drink. Adele shifted in her seat, letting the familiar warmth and light giddiness that came with alcohol wash over her. A moment later, there was a mug of ale in her hand.
Adele took a drink and let her eyes drift around the room.
“Do you regret it — marrying me I mean?” Adele asked as her eyes fell on a couple giggling and laughing in the corner.
“No.” Warner’s voice was firm. “Do you?”
“No.” Adele’s eyes were still on the couple. “It was necessary, and being married to you is nothing like I expected.”
A part of her ached as she watched them. They seemed to be unaware of anyone else in the world. The woman’s eyes were soft and dark as she looked at her beau. The man pressed gentle kisses to her hand. What would that be like?
She could not imagine a world in which someone treated her like that. You mean Warner. He was kind and funny and so many things she had not expected, but he would never be hers.
“What did you expect?” Warner’s voice was gentle, and it drew her back to him like a moth to a flame.
“Loneliness, less laughter, less joy.” Adele met Warner’s gaze. Less wanting.
“I did not expect things to be like this either, but I find that I much prefer the sound of laughter over silence.” Warner swallowed. “It has been surprisingly enjoyable to have such a full house. It is not something I have ever experienced before.”
“Nor I.” Adele smiled at the memory of the chaos that had filled their halls. “I thought it would be overwhelming, and while it was at times rather rambunctious, it felt…”
“Cosy?” Warner offered.
Adele nodded. “It felt like home.”
“I am glad.” Warner took another drink. “I like the sound of your laughter.”
Her heart quickened. “I like it when you make me laugh.”
Warner’s eyes searched her face. There was a tension in his jaw, in his shoulder, even as the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. To Adele, it seemed like Warner was fighting something within him. You are just being hopeful.