Chapter Eleven
Felix heaved out a breath as he and Caroline entered the tea café in the town of Brighton proper. As much as he adored being out in public with her at his side as his wife, it was maddening that they did, indeed, seem to be spinning about in circles regarding the case.
They’d decided to utilize the tea café again, for he needed somewhere away from the cottage to think, and since this was a popular location, he’d have a good chance of seeing more of the wedding guests who still lingered in the area.
“You are quite attractive, Major,” Caroline whispered after their tea and treats had been delivered to the table.
“Gammon. What do you mean?” He added a small lump of sugar to his cup and stirred it about with a silver teaspoon.
“There are a few glances from ladies pointed your way.” Amusement danced in her eyes. “I must say that I heartily agree with their approval.” She briefly touched his other hand with hers. “For an old man, you certainly are quite arresting.”
A grunt escaped him, for his age was something they often joked about. He was a good twelve years older than she. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Yet a curl of pleasure unfurled in his gut.
“You never do, but it’s true. With your golden hair and deep chocolatey eyes and those broad shoulders, you make a stunning image.” She winked as she put a dash of cream into her teacup. “In fact,” she said, dropping her voice to a barely there whisper, “I’d like to eat you up.”
Heat moved up the back of his neck while at the same time, hot interest shivered through his shaft. “We shall revisit this conversation later.” After a hearty swig of tea, he swept his gaze about the interior of the small shop.
“You are simply no fun, Major. I thought you might flirt a little.”
That was fair. Most of the time, he was a curmudgeon. Then his spirits plummeted somewhat. Another failure as a new husband. “I promise I’ll remember to do that soon.” Yes, he loved her to distraction, but did that mean he’d prove a good husband?
“Hush, Major. I am only teasing.” Caroline put a couple of pastries onto her plate, one of which was a small meat pie.
“Perhaps.” As he tucked into the selection he put onto his own plate, he continued to scan the patrons inside the tea café. Then someone else came into the shop, and he sucked in a breath. “I recognize that man,” he said in a low voice.
She followed his line of vision. “A wedding guest?”
“Yes, but also I worked alongside him years ago.” It was an excellent opportunity to interview the man.
He stood up from his chair, and when the man glanced at him and recognition shadowed his eyes, Felix gestured him over.
“I hope you don’t mind him sharing our table for a bit. I’d like to talk with him.”
“I don’t mind. It’s an interesting peek into your past. Since those details are scarce most of the time.” So saying, she scooted her chair a bit closer to his as Felix brought over an empty chair from a different table.
“Welcome, welcome,” he said as the man of average build and looks came to their table. “Mr. Foster, this is my new bride, Mrs. Kourier. Caroline, this is Mr. Foster. He used to work at Bow Street during the time I was there.”
“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Foster,” she greeted with a faint smile. “Do join us.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kourier.” The other man nodded as he slipped into the offered chair. After a few moments when one of the women who operated the tea café brought over another cup, saucer, and fresh pot of tea, they offered pleasantries back and forth.
“I’d wondered what you’d gotten up to since leaving Bow Street,” Mr. Foster said as he slathered jam onto a scone. “I remember you lost a leg. Dreadful luck there, and must make getting around difficult.”
He shrugged. “I make do,” he answered while touching his left thigh.
“Ha. Then I lost touch with the fellows over there. How’ve you kept yourself?”
“For a while I made a living with speaking engagements. I still do a bit of them, but recently, I’ve opened my own private investigation service.
” One of the things he remembered vividly about Mr. Foster was that even though he had been a Runner for a brief time, he was eventually sacked—after Felix had left the organization—for being a shoddy investigator and always hanging onto other men’s coattails. “It’s been surprisingly busy.”
And he wouldn’t change a thing, especially now that he had Caroline by his side in every way that mattered.
“Imagine that. Good on you, mate. Bow Street wasn’t where my passion was, I discovered. It took far too much out of me.”
“Indeed. So how’ve you been keeping yourself? What do you do for a living?”
The man shrugged. “Oh, this and that. Been doing the accounts of a highflyer in London. Numbers are interesting, a bit difficult like investigating, but it’s a steady income.
” Before Felix could ask another question, Mr. Foster grinned.
He poured tea into his cup. “Congratulations on your recent marriage. Never did think you’d step into parson’s mousetrap. ”
“Thank you.” Felix nodded then as he shot a brief glance at Caroline, he frowned. “Were you not a guest at the ceremony?”
“Not that, but at the wedding breakfast I was.” His voice was cheerful enough. After a sip of tea, he said, “Quite a spread, that. Lord and Lady Beckham threw quite the meal.”
“They did indeed.”
Caroline softly cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, who invited you, Mr. Foster? I can’t seem to place you as being friends with either Andrew or Debra.”
“Right.” Mr. Foster nodded as if used to being asked about his credentials.
His right hand drifted to his left pinky as if wanting to twist a signet ring, but there was no jewelry there.
Vaguely, Felix remembered he used to wear one.
It had a tiny ruby embedded in it. “I was invited by Lord Danforth. Distasteful business, that, seeing as how he’s dead now. ”
How fortuitous to bring up the murdered man. It was the opening Felix needed. “What were you to Lord Danforth?”
The other man shrugged. “A friend?” He helped himself to another seed cake. “I was surprised as you to receive the invitation. At least to the wedding breakfast.”
“Ah.” Felix narrowed his gaze on the other man. Why they’d hired him at Bow Street to begin with remained a mystery. The man was inept at everything he’d ever tried to do. “So you and Lord Danforth were friends?”
“More acquaintances than anything else.”
“How?”
“Oh, I’d met him during a case while at Bow Street a couple of years ago. Ran into him over the course of the investigation.”
“Was he a suspect?” That would prove interesting.
“Not that I was aware of. Merely a man we talked with to have a feel for the killer. Barely knew him, from what I remember, but lived down the corridor from him at The Albany.” He bounced his gaze between Felix and Caroline.
“It’s a horrid business, murder. I never understood why a man could kill another. ”
“The list is quite long of reasons. It is merely human nature and the ability—or not—to fight those base urges.” As he spoke, he crumbled the shell of his jam tart onto this plate until there was nothing left but a pile of smaller pieces clinging together with sticky jam.
“But surely you knew all of that; you were with Bow Street.”
“I was, but it was still distasteful.” Apparently, the subject matter didn’t upset his appetite, for Mr. Foster continued to eat heartily. “Anyway, since I didn’t already have something scheduled, I accepted the invitation.”
“But why would Danforth issue it at all?”
“Oh, his philosophy was it’s better to attend a wedding with a few unmatched mates, because it doesn’t look as bad if three go prowling than one.” He shrugged. “I also had the feeling he was up to scheming.”
“In what way?”
“Babbled on about how easy it was to fleece unsuspecting men from their coin. I didn’t pay much attention. But when he mentioned something about me talking with Lord Beckham about possibly being introduced to his daughter, I thought why not come.” His gaze went to Caroline. “Begging your pardon.”
A growl escaped Felix. “The evening before the wedding, were you one of the number Danforth was hanging about? Billiards and cards after being at the tavern in town for dinner?”
“I was.”
“Who else made up those numbers?”
Mr. Foster shrugged. “I’m not certain. I don’t know them all, but we were around the same age. Laughing and jesting. You know how things go at taverns.” He took a large swig from his teacup. “Me, Danforth, a Mr. Ives, some other chap, a captain or something.”
That was more or less what he’d already heard. “Were any of them acting in a suspicious manner? Did any of them have a row with Danforth either at the tavern or during billiards?”
“Not that I can remember. We were rowdy, of course.” Mr. Foster wiped at his mouth with a linen napkin. “Then that young Mr. Ives invited us back to his rooms.”
“Did you go?”
“I did. Wasn’t ready to turn in yet. On the way, Mr. Ives got loud with Lord Danforth, though. Had a bit of a row, I think.”
For the first time since Mr. Foster sat down, Caroline became animated. “Why would my brother argue with Danforth?”
“Your brother?” Surprise flitted across the other man’s face.
“Right, you were Miss Ives before you married.” He shook his head.
“Well, I don’t know the inside of his head, but your brother was proper angry at Danforth.
Kept giving him shoves on the way to his rooms. I only caught snippets, but he was angry about some sort of investment business. ”
Caroline frowned. “You didn’t ask?”
“Why should I?” He surveyed his plate as if trying to decide what to eat next. “It didn’t concern me.”
Some things never changed. Felix stifled a snort. Still a shoddy investigator. However, Andrew hadn’t disclosed the argument. That bore another look. “Well, thanks for talking with us. It was good to catch up.”
Mr. Foster nodded. “You done here, then?”