Chapter Twenty
Marie
The game of loo had dwindled to just Ernest, Jane, Mr. Burton, and Marie. Lady Mary had joined them at the table when the last of the other servants had gone up to bed to watch them play.
“And you’re certain no hackney driver picked up or dropped off anyone near the Trent residence that Friday night?” Lady Mary scratched behind Southey’s ear.
Ernest played a trump eight. “None that I’ve spoken to. But it will take a while to talk to every hackney in London. I’ll keep asking around.”
Marie shook her head. Burton had more trump cards than Ernest and was sure to win the pot if the driver kept playing as he did. The idea of Burton winning didn’t bother her as it once might have except it meant that she would be losing.
“Thank you, Ernest.” Lady Mary turned to Burton. “And you still don’t think Miss Rogerson is our culprit? I understand crazed people, even women, can have preternatural strength.”
“She would have to in order to overcome Mr. Trent. Unless he was heavy in his cups.” Burton laid down a trump nine, earning a groan from Jane and Ernest. “I also don’t think Miss Rogerson has the instincts of a killer. Words I think would be her weapon.”
Jane rose. “Well, that’s it for me. I’ve lost all my petty cash for the week.”
“Besides, you’ll need to be up in a few hours to greet the milkman,” Lady Mary said.
Jane scowled. “Don’t be taking that tone with me. Just remember who knows all your secrets.”
Lady Mary grinned into her teacup.
Ernest stood. “It’s to bed with me, as well. I’ll see you all on the morn. Lady Mary,” he nodded and followed Jane from the kitchen.
Marie gathered up her winnings. Burton had a pile of them too, but hers was larger, she noted. Her feet tapped out a victory dance.
Lady Mary sighed. “The problem is we have too many ifs. If Trent was intoxicated, a woman could have killed him. If Miss Rogerson or Mrs. Trent worked with a man, the murder could have easily been accomplished. And then there is the infernally nagging question, why did Trent want to see me? What could that have to do with his death? I don’t know anyone in his circle. ”
“If Miss Rogerson is so charming, perhaps Mr. Trent merely opened his arms and let her stab him.” Marie gathered the cards together in a pile.
Burton swore under his breath. “I didn’t say I found her charming, only that I could understand how others might.”
That distinction didn’t impress Marie.
“Come on, Southey.” Lady Mary rose and stretched her back. “It’s past your bedtime, as well. I learned the name of Trent’s attorney for the lawsuit. I’m going to try to track him down tomorrow. I’ll need my rest if I’m to talk with a barrister. Good night.”
Marie waited until the older woman had left the kitchen. “Will you be going back to The Red Chemise tomorrow? I’m sure you must have ever so many more questions for Miss Rogerson.”
“Marie. Miss Murphy,” he corrected. “You have the wrong idea.”
“So we’re back to Miss Murphy now, are we?” She shuffled the cards, her fingers needing the activity.
“Marie.” Burton planted his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “You know Lady Mary asked me to go speak to Miss Rogerson. It would not have been my choice. Though I can’t say I’m upset knowing it made you jealous.” The edges of his lips curled upward.
“Jealous?” Shuffle, shuffle. “Me? You value yourself quite ’ighly, don’t you?”
His grin widened. “I also like that you start dropping your h’s when you get flustered. It’s quite endearing.”
She concentrated on shuffling the cards. Flustered? Hah. Yes, his presence agitated her a bit, but that was merely because he was irritating. She was hardly flustered.
He pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the table. “I noticed your cards were showing their age a bit. I got you these.” He pushed a rectangular tin toward her using his index finger.
“A new deck?” She pulled it close, her lungs squeezing.
It was a small thing. Just a deck of cards.
But she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her a present when it wasn’t her birthday or Boxing Day.
She opened the tin and pulled out the cards, bringing them to her nose. They even smelled fresh. “Thank you.”
Burton leaned closer. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.” The cards were stiff so she gave them a couple of bends.
“Can I ask you two more questions?” His knee brushed against hers under the table.
“Go on.”
“Do you want to make London your permanent home?”
The cards exploded from her grip and rained down on the table. She quickly swept them back up. “What an odd question.”
“Not from my position.” He rested his hands over hers, stilling her fingers. His hands were big and warm and made hers tingle. “Not when I want to know what my future will look like.”
Her heart pounded, like a wild animal beating against a trap. “I don’t understand.”
“I think you do. I know it might take you longer to make up your mind about me than it did for me about you, but you know what we’re about.
” His thumb traced a pattern on the back of her hand.
“Now for my part, I think I’d like to move back to the country to raise a family. I’m a provincial in my heart.”
She ignored the bit about family. She did know what he was about but as the idea of it brought her a faint feeling of panic, she focused on something else.
“You’re a provincial?” Marie huffed out a breath.
“You grew up in a town near Birmingham. I come from a village of just two thousand. My mouth didn’t close the first full month I came to London for how new everything was. ”
Brett held her gaze. “Do you miss it? Your home?”
Marie blinked. There were parts she did miss, very much. The beauty of the countryside. Cream straight from a cow. But she knew joining Lady Mary’s household was an improvement in her station. “Yes, sometimes. And you?”
“Constantly.” Brett blew out a breath. “My family has either been in the military or in service. I did both. My parents are very proud that I’m an under-butler for such a fine lady. It’s allowed me to send some money home to them. But I don’t think I’m meant to remain in such a large city.”
She leaned closer, the table’s edge digging into her abdomen. “Why did you come?”
He shrugged. “The opportunity presented itself. I saw the advertisement in the paper and something told me I should apply. That I’d find something here.” The edges of his eyes crinkled. “And I did.”
She swallowed. “You’ve known me for less than a month. Don’t say such things.”
“Sometimes a man knows in an instant. You’re loyal. Smart. Determined.” He nodded. “I like that.”
“And that’s all there is to it?” Her stomach fluttered.
“Yes. Why not?”
She could think of a whole shipload of reasons why not. They need look no further than the murder victim and his wife. They’d probably started their marriage thinking the best of the other, thinking they needed nothing more than love.
Or had they? Perhaps the marriage had merely been a businesslike decision. Marie’s own parents had married after only a six-week courtship, and they’d been very happy for nigh on thirty years.
She looked at their hands. At some point, she’d turned her hands palms up, clasping his, fingers intertwined.
Her hands felt good in his. Right. Brett’s impetuousness made her want to throw caution to the wind, as well.
To go with what her heart had been telling her for some time now even though she hadn’t wanted to listen.
But that would be foolish.
Brett squeezed her hands. “It’s all right. You don’t have to be certain. I’m certain enough for the both of us.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Awfully cocksure, aren’t you?” she asked lightly.
He grinned, making something inside of her clench. “How about a gamble of our own. Let’s make it easy. Draw a card. High card wins.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Wins what?” There wasn’t opportunity for her to stack the deck in her favor, not without a couple more shuffles.
“If I win, I get a kiss.”
The hair on the back of her neck raised. She squirmed in her seat. “And if I win?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “You get a kiss.”
She laughed. He truly was incorrigible. And after all, it was only a kiss. She cut the deck about a third of the way down and held the bottom of it up. The eight of clubs.
Brett cut the remainder of the deck in half and held up his bottom card.
The ten of hearts.
She tried to slow her breathing. It was only a kiss. It didn’t have to mean anything.
Brett stood, circled to her side of the table, and straddled the bench, facing her. He brushed a curl away from her cheek. “Have you ever been kissed before, Marie?”
“I don’t think I should answer that.”
His lips twitched. “It doesn’t matter if I’m not your fist kiss. I’ll be your last.” Slowly, achingly slowly, he lowered his head. His breath danced across her lips a moment before they touched.
Her skin tingled. Her mind blanked. Long moments passed before they pulled apart.
“Well,” she said, her blood pulsing through her veins, “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”