Chapter Eight
Caroline had a fitful night. At one point, she’d woken and wished to talk with Felix, only to find that he wasn’t on the floor where she thought he’d build a pallet. More heartsick than she’d been yesterday, she’d attempted to fall back asleep, but it was a pathetic prospect.
Perhaps he’d slept in another room or perhaps he’d decided to leave the cottage altogether.
She didn’t know, but her heart felt battered and empty, ever since she’d disclosed her relationship with Lord Danforth.
There had been shock and consternation in Felix’s eyes, but that was to be expected.
When she’d entreated him to give her comfort, he’d chosen not to, and that had wounded her.
Now, as she stood at the open window while plaiting her hair, she wondered if she hadn’t made a mistake in marrying Felix yesterday.
Where she had wanted to share her little secret with him, the thought of doing so now filled her with dread.
It would keep for a while; perhaps after the investigation was over he’d be in a better frame of mind.
If not? Well, she would puzzle out her next steps at that point.
Once her plait was finished, she wound that into a loose bun at the back of her head and secured it with pins.
The maid from yesterday was part of the staff hired at her parents’ rented townhouse and hadn’t come over with Caroline to the cottage, and she hadn’t wished to burden one of the maids here, for they were already responsible for doing so much.
By the time she wandered into the smallish room used for meals that was across the narrow corridor from the drawing room, she stopped short to find Felix sitting at the round wooden table that could seat six.
He had his notebook open in front of him, but the pencil rested on the tabletop.
A cup of coffee was at fingers’ reach; the robust scent of it filled the room and oddly made her stomach growl in hunger.
Blond whiskers clung to his chin and cheeks. Clearly, he hadn’t shaved yet today.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were here. I’ll leave, for I don’t mean to disturb you.” As she turned to go, his plea stopped here.
“Caro, please. Join me.” His voice sounded rough and wounded.
When she met his eyes, pain shadowed those brown depths. Lines of worry were etched through his brow. His cravat had been loosened—or never finished to begin with—and his hair was disheveled as if he’d shoved a hand through it.
“You, ah, seem scattered this morning. Are you well? Did you have any sleep last night?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Fitfully. There is much on my mind,” he answered as he reached for his coffee cup. “We should talk.” The rasp in his baritone sent shivers over her skin. “How did you pass the night?”
Dear God, how she needed him, but she refused to be the first to bend. He had been an arse toward her yesterday.
“Dreadfully, I’m afraid,” she responded with a nod.
What could it hurt if he wished to talk?
She’d already given him enough damning evidence to implicate herself in the crime she knew she didn’t commit.
With wary steps, she came into the room, and when he pushed out the chair next to him, she sat upon it, back straight, nerves wound too tight as she waited for him to begin.
The scent of his cologne wafted to her nose, made her knees weak with notes of cedar, citrus, and leather.
Where had things gone so wrong between them?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sipped his coffee. “As for if I’m well? No, no I’m not. I have a wretched megrim presently, brought on by excessive drinking last night before I retired.”
“Oh.” He only did that when he was out of sorts in his mind, which was to say rarely.
Events of yesterday must have driven him toward the brink.
Was he already regretting wedding her? The urge to cry welled within her chest, but she fought it off.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Did you wish to question me further, then?”
“I do not, at least, not at this time.” After another sip of his beverage, he set the cup down then met her gaze once more. “I don’t wish for us to remain cross with each other.”
“Neither do I.” As much as she wanted to blame him for the current rift between them, she couldn’t summon the energy, for she had withheld the information of the row she’d had with Lord Danforth. Yet she couldn’t quite forgive him right now.
For the space of a few heartbeats, he held her gaze as her pulse accelerated. “I apologize for how things are currently between us.”
“It isn’t your fault. As I’ve come to learn after being in your company for a year, murder doesn’t care whose lives it disrupts or destroys.”
Felix nodded. “True enough.” He scratched his fingers along the side of his jaw. “We will need to interview your mother today.”
Knots of worry pulled in her belly. “We? I thought you considered me a suspect. Isn’t that against the rules?” It rubbed her the wrong way, and as annoyance rose in her chest, Caroline sprang to her feet. “And you do things by the book no matter what, yes?”
“Please don’t harangue me today. I can’t bear it.
” Slowly, he stood, and when he tugged her into his arms, Caroline fought against his hold.
“Shh.” He made soothing noises while encouraging her to relax into him.
And drat it all, she desperately needed to rely on his strength in the moment.
As he held her head to his shoulder, he said, “You may think the worst of me, but I can only be what I am, and this is murder.” For a few minutes, they stood in silence.
“It needs investigating. I’m doing my due diligence. ”
“Yet you think I’m guilty,” she said as she curled the fingers of one hand into his lapel, her words muffled by his loose cravat.
“No.” He paused, and she heard the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat.
“I am clearing you as a suspect.” Then he settled her more comfortably in his embrace.
“I’m sorry I have already failed at being a husband.
” He pressed his lips to her temple. The gesture sent a tremor into her heart.
“I fear I’ll do it again before this is all over. ”
The honesty and vulnerability in the statement punched through her reserve and her annoyance.
“You haven’t failed, Felix.” Pulling slightly away, she peered up into his eyes.
“And if you have, I don’t hold it against you, because I’ve failed as well.
” Even now, she kept a vital secret from him, a secret he needed to know.
An imperceptible wobble of his chin was the only clue that he was under extreme emotional duress. “Thank you. I suppose we will puzzle our way through together.” Then he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his.
With a tiny sigh, Caroline melted into his arms. A sense of protection and safety swirled around her, and in that moment, she knew everything would be right as rain…
eventually. Seconds later, she clutched at his shoulders and did her best to return his kisses.
She’d missed him so much in this way, needed his assurance that everything would be well between them.
Then she pulled slightly away. “If we are to meet with my mother, you’ll need to clean yourself up. Perhaps ask Mrs. Andrews for some white willow bark tea to help soothe your megrim.” She patted his cheek. “Though, to be fair, you are rather rakish with the stubble.”
“Good to know.” Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back. “I’ll need an hour then we can seek out your mother. Together.”
“I’m glad I won’t do it alone. Mama is difficult enough when I’m by myself with her, let alone facing an inspector who she doesn’t care for anyway.”
“I’m not to everyone’s taste, and that doesn’t bother me at all. I matter to those who matter to me,” he said with a wink, seconds before he went upstairs to presumably begin his toilette.
No 6. Marine Parade
Brighton, England
Caroline fought against the urge to cast up her accounts as she and Felix tracked her mother to the morning room. Though it was nearing the noon hour, her father was apparently still abed, for he’d celebrated rather too much yesterday and was paying for it today.
“Is Andrew around?” she asked of her mother in an effort to quell the tension brewing between them.
“I haven’t seen him yet today, but he promised he’d come ‘round before we left for London.” Her mother glanced up from her embroidery work which was putting initials onto corners of lady’s handkerchiefs. “Have you come to say your goodbyes?”
Caroline cast a surprised look at Felix, who shrugged. “No, Mama. Remember yesterday, Major Kourier said he would need to interview you regarding Lord Danforth’s death?”
“Ah.” Though her mother nodded, annoyance reflected in her eyes. She methodically put her handiwork into the willow basket at her feet, then she folded her hands in her lap. “So you intend to go through this unnecessary interview.”
“Lady Beckham, you know how I make my living,” Felix said as he settled himself into a chair near her location. “I promise you this won’t be a long, drawn-out process if you cooperate and answer my questions.”
“As if I am the one who has done something wrong, when every moment of my time has been spent these past few months planning my daughter’s wedding.”
Caroline bit back a retort. Of course she hadn’t said “your ceremony to my daughter” or something along those lines.
In fact, she never included Felix in most things.
Her brother was the only one who had ever voluntarily spoken with him.
She sat on the low sofa next to her mother.
“This is standard procedure, Mama. He interviewed me last night.”
Not for worlds would she admit to having a row with him or not consummating their marriage. She held more secrets now than she had over the whole course of her life.
“Very well.” Her mother sniffed. “I suppose, if it doesn’t take too long. Beckham won’t be pleased if we leave too late.”