Chapter Four
“Papa, are you at home with us today?” Mild curiosity rang in Charlie’s voice as he stabbed at the last of the scrambled eggs on his plate.
Mary glanced at her husband as they sat at the table in the morning room while finishing breakfast. The carriage clock sitting on one of the bookshelves softly chimed the eleven o’clock hour, which meant the first meal of the day had gotten off to a late start.
Since yesterday had been Sunday and they couldn’t go calling on strangers—especially to investigate a murder—she and Bright had been home with the children.
“I’m afraid not. Your mother and I are needed on a very important case.” He followed the answer by draining the contents of his coffee cup.
Something that sounded suspiciously like the croak of a frog came from beneath Charlie’s chair. At the age of nearly eight years, the child was completely enamored of all things bugs, reptiles, rodents, and other things that creeped or crawled.
Or hopped.
She tried not to think about that. “We shouldn’t be out all day, though. You and Cassandra will have a lovely time with Miss Alexander, though.”
“Doubtful.” The child frowned as he scratched a finger through his messy brown hair that was oddly full and thick like Gabriel’s. His eyes were of a similar brown hue even though the two were not remotely related. “Miss Alexander will make us learn something instead of letting us play.”
That struck her as funny, so she chuckled. “There is nothing wrong with learning alongside play. The mind requires both, and Miss Alexander is quite knowledgeable.” It was one of the reasons why they’d hired her for the position of governess.
“I like her,” Cassandra said as she pushed her empty plate away.
The girl had recently turned ten years old, and she was already showing a maturity Mary never thought possible when they’d first met her on the streets of London over two years before during a case.
“She knows many things, and the sound of her voice makes me feel good.” Her platinum-blonde hair had been set into two plaits, and her light blue eyes made her look as if she’d descended from Nordic royalty.
“Besides, we are going to work on watercolor paints this afternoon. It’s my second favorite thing to do after drawing. ”
“You are quite talented, Cassandra. We adore that about you,” Mary said with a smile. “One day this week, I shall take you out to a tea house.”
“What about me?” Charlie wanted to know with a slight frown. “I like tea… sometimes.”
She glanced at Bright, who winked. “You may come… if you can promise to sit still and act like a gentleman for an hour. And you promise not to bring any of your creatures with you.” They were still working with the boy on manners and how to treat others.
Lord knew he was trying and failing, but eventually she knew he would make a lovely young man.
“If I ain’t—aren’t—allowed to take my frog, I don’t want to come. I’ll stick with Miss Alexander.”
Cassandra shook her head with an expression of disgust while from somewhere beneath the table, another croak issued. “Frogs are disgusting.”
“Girls are disgusting,” Charlie countered.
“If you don’t learn your manners or how to spell, Mama will be sad and she won’t love you anymore,” the girl continued with nothing but honesty in her eyes.
Fright jumped into Charlie’s face as he turned his gaze to Mary. “You won’t love me? Because I can’t spell right?”
Her chest tightened. “Oh, dearest, that isn’t true at all.
” She left her chair to go around the table then slipped her arms around the boy.
“Yes, I want you to succeed and act like a proper little boy, but if you stumble a few times, I won’t love you any less.
” Then she found Cassandra’s gaze with hers.
“You either, Cassandra. We are a family of forgiveness. None of us is perfect. We all make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean the love isn’t always there. ”
“Nonsense, my boy,” Bright said with a look of indulgence. “We all have different potentials. Your mother and I will love you regardless.”
Another croak sounded then the frog darted from beneath the table, which made Cassandra scream and scramble upright onto her chair. Even Mary felt a twinge of disgust when the frog hopped close to her foot, but she tamped the reaction.
“Even when you insist on bringing your amphibian friends with you to the breakfast table,” she said in a somewhat breathless voice.
Then she kissed the boy’s cheek. “Retrieve the frog then go with your sister to the family parlor. No doubt Miss Alexander has arrived by now.” It was another reason why they needed a bigger house, so they’d have a dedicated schoolroom space.
“All right.” Charlie clung a few seconds longer to her neck, then he glanced up at her with tearful eyes. “I am trying my best, Mama.”
“I know you are.” She patted his cheek. “We all are.” Afterward, she helped him from his chair. “Now scoot. Your papa and I have a case to solve.” And frankly, she couldn’t wait to start. “We will see you before dinner.”
“And you will tuck us in,” Cassandra wanted to know as she peered at Bright with wide eyes.
The child practically worshipped her father, and who wouldn’t?
He was quite attractive and he did save her from a life of living on the streets.
Beyond that, he treated everyone—females especially—with respect and decorum.
“Wild dogs will need to carry me away before I’d miss that,” he said then scooped her up into his arms in a bear hug. When he set the girl onto her feet, they were both laughing. “Remember, learn one new fact so you can tell me tonight.”
“I will, Papa.” She looked at her brother. “Come, Charlie, and don’t touch me with your froggie hands.”
“Why would I want to touch you anyway?” the boy shot back as he grabbed the frog—who didn’t like that one bit—and loped after her.
Mary regarded her husband. “Life is certainly not dull.”
“No, it is not.” Once he closed the distance between them, he wrapped her in a loose embrace then brushed his lips over hers heedless of the highly amused footman standing near the sideboard. “But is our life, and I adore it.”
“As do I.” Perhaps with the income made from this recent consultation with Bow Street, they could now take the first steps toward gaining a bigger townhouse to accommodate their growing family.
Boddingford House
St. James Place
Mayfair, London
Mary frowned as Bright made a third circuit around the drawing room where they’d been shown a half hour ago at the Duke of Boddingford’s home.
“Do you think the duke is even at home, or have we been dumped here and forgotten about?” Everywhere her gaze fell, grandiose paintings in gilt frames were visible; the wealth on display in the room from the paintings to the rugs to the upholstery was there to remind others that the owner had the best of everything.
As was his due, and he no doubt lorded that over everyone who he met. Of course, she didn’t know that for a fact, but her instincts were never wrong.
“I think he is making us wait as a show of power,” Bright said on the heels of a frown. “No doubt he believes he—and his family—is above the law, and that means he’ll delay being questioned for as long as possible.”
“Do you know Boddingford personally?” Her husband was a member of the beau monde in that he was the second son of a viscount. His older brother held that title now, but he’d lived a different life than she had.
“Only by reputation, and that is an eye-opener.” In a bottle green jacket of superfine paired with a brown satin waistcoat, he was the very personification of autumn. “As if that or the theatrics will deter me.”
“Yes, you are quite stubborn in that and every other area of life.” To soften the words, she grinned at him from her place on one of the low sofas. “It’s just one facet of your personality that makes you fascinating.” To be fair, she’d never met a man like him.
“I appreciate that.” Pausing his relentless pacing at one of the windows, he clasped his hands behind his back and peered out. “And if we didn’t have this case…”
“…then we’d be without the ability to plan,” she quickly interrupted, for the sound of someone treading in the corridor beyond the door reached her ears, and she well knew Bright’s penchant for speaking with spicy intent.
Then an older man strode into the room with the bearing of command—or privilege—and a ramrod straight back.
His head of thick, nearly gray black hair was arranged into a popular style, and his clothing had been tailored within an inch of its life to his frame.
Clearly, from the richness of the fabric to the meticulous stitching to the silk of his cravat, this man was used to luxury and excess.
“Inspector Bright? I am the Duke of Boddingford.” His piercing gray gaze swept the room, trailed over her, and then just as summarily dismissed her. “My butler told me that you are here to ask me some questions regarding the untimely death of my son-in-law.”
Bright turned about, glanced at her, and when she gave him a slight shrug, he nodded.
“Ah, Boddingford, you have my condolences. We briefly stopped at Mr. Corbett’s parents’ home before this, but they weren’t in the correct head space to have a long, drawn out visit today, as you can imagine.
” He gestured at Mary. “This is my wife. Mrs. Bright is my partner in both marriage and investigations. She’ll take notes during our interview, for obvious reasons. ”
The duke’s gaze narrowed slightly. “It’s unseemly for a woman to take on a role meant for a man. That being said, though you are welcome to sit in on the interview, I will only speak with the inspector.”
What an arse.