Chapter 7
We meandered back to our cabin, enjoying the crisp winter air and snow-covered trails.
It was the perfect backdrop for falling in love with your soulmate.
Though we were technically off the case, the details kept swirling through my mind.
Why had Alex returned to the amphitheater on New Year’s Eve?
What was the big deal about the Celtic ring?
Who besides Wickham would have wanted him dead?
Though I was pretty sure the band members were innocent, could one of them have had a hidden motive, and why did they try to set fire to the bakery?
Back in our little cabin, we prepared to test out the hot tub. I wore an aqua bathing suit—the cut was amazing—and a white wrap-around cover-up that tied around my waist. Wickham donned navy trunks and a matching swim shirt.
Before we stepped outside, Wickham’s phone rang.
My heart rate picked up a little as he showed me who was calling and signaled for us to sit down on the leather sofa.
It was Darcy, of all people, and I couldn’t fathom why he was calling Wickham.
Whatever the reason, it was probably something serious. They weren’t exactly on speaking terms.
I heard only Wickham’s side of the conversation, but I got the gist of it.
We’re at a little resort, why do you ask?
Is that so? They don’t need to worry. We thought it would be fun, adventurous, you know . . .
It’s not like that. What do you mean?
Wickham looked at me with wide eyes. He cupped his hand over the receiver and whispered, “The gossip machine is rolling. Says we ran off because of my guilt.”
My heart rate picked up even more than before. That’s what it was like to live in a small town. Everyone knew everything and had an opinion about it. Even with the crackling fire, I felt a chill in the air and grabbed the throw on the side of the sofa to wrap around my body.
Darcy must’ve been speaking a lot, because Wickham quietly listened for some time. His face grew sterner as the minutes progressed. I was dying to know what he was saying, but telling him to put the phone on speaker seemed presumptuous, even for me.
Now, Darcy. I don’t like what you’re implying. Wickham glanced at me, raising his shoulders. Well, it sounds like you're implying something. Of course, I’ve been honest with her. I . . .
He paused and looked at me, cheeks bright pink. Apparently even George Wickham could be deeply embarrassed.
I’m willing to do whatever’s necessary to avoid these issues, but I resent your accusations.
Darcy continued to speak, but I’d lost the meaning of the conversation.
Wickham spoke again. I understand. That’s rather generous of you.
He paused for more instructions.
No, I don’t object. It’s just that . . . well, are you sure that’s what I—we—should do? Let me talk to her about it. You’ll have my answer tomorrow.
He hung up, set down his phone, and sat without saying a word. After several moments passed, Wickham sighed heavily and spoke. “Did you hear anything Darcy was saying?”
“No, what was that all about?” Part of me didn’t want to know. Obviously, word about our little rendezvous had spread through the entire town.
“No matter where I go, my shadow still follows me. Even here with you.” Wickham walked across the room, picked up a log and added it to the fire. He leaned over it, looking wearier than a man his age deserved to be.
I couldn’t stop myself. I stood up and hugged Wickham. He paused for a moment, then hugged me right back.
“Feel better?” I finally asked and stepped back to see his face. Whatever the problem was, we’d figure it out. Together.
“Yes, but we should be careful.” He nodded, and his grin made a brief appearance. “You know how to cheer a guy up, don't you?”
“You gonna tell me what Darcy said?”
“I don’t know if you want to hear about it.” Wickham’s voice was gruff, like his conversation with Darcy danced the line somewhere between a ridiculous joke and a declaration of war. But there was a mysterious spark in his eye all the same.
“I know you want to tell me.” I flopped back down on the sofa.
Wickham paused, gulped, and took a slow breath. “You know how small towns are—gossipy, suspicious, old-fashioned. I’m not sure how Darcy caught wind of all this, but people are saying things.”
“Oh, Wickham. Don’t worry, I’m not worried about my reputation. It will be fine.” People sometimes. Seriously.
“Well, it's a bit more than our reputations at stake; he mentioned something about your sister's job. There are some who are insisting that we left town together because we killed Alex together—they’re blaming you now too. I don’t know why he cares so much. But . . . he’s presented me with a solution. ”
My stomach turned. The idea of Wickham and me killing someone was ridiculous, but even false rumors did a lot of damage, and that could put Lizzy’s job in serious jeopardy. “What’s he going to do, bribe the police for us?”
“Not exactly.” Wickham took my hand like an old-fashioned gentleman. “He’s suggested that if we had a really good and morally sound reason for running off, all would be forgiven and people’s attention would turn elsewhere to place blame.”
“I don’t understand.” Wasn’t trying to escape from a potential killer sufficient reason for ditching town?
Wickham took a steady breath. “He’s suggested that we elope.”