Chapter 14 #3
Emma thought of a cold marriage. A quiet morning writing letters. Planning dinner menus. A walk alone among the grounds. No one chasing her through the house, breathless and laughing.
She cast a covert glance at Hugh, wishing it were his mouth on her skin, his hands reminding her exactly why a loveless marriage held no appeal.
Mrs Hawke batted her husband’s hand. “Dominic, we have visitors.” She pushed out of his hold. “Hugh. What a pleasant surprise. If only you’d given us a little warning.”
“He’s found his meddler,” Mr Ramsey said, looking her way.
Mr Hawke turned his shrewd, faintly amused gaze on Emma. “You called the owner of The Sentinel a liar? More than once, I’m told. Using underhanded tactics to drive home your point.”
Good Lord. She’d said worse than that.
Emma lifted her chin. “There was nothing underhanded about calling a man out for his error.”
“I’m talking about your perfume. I don’t think I’ve seen Stanton this distracted in years.” Mr Hawke seemed to enjoy provoking his friend. “I’ve never known him obsessed with anything but his newspaper.”
Perfume? She should have offered a retort, but she thought of Hugh pressing his nose to her neck last night, breathing her in like opium. “I had to find some way to weaken his defences.”
“The fact you’re here together suggests you succeeded, Miss …?”
“Vane. Miss Emma Vane.”
“They want to stay the night,” Mr Ramsey said.
Mr Hawke looked at his wife, brow raised.
“We’ve emptied every bedchamber,” Daphne explained. She reached for her husband’s hand. “Beattie needed a new project, and we all needed a new beginning, even the house.”
“If Miss Vane doesn’t mind taking a room below stairs, I can stay at the inn in Kingston.” Hugh’s tone darkened. “I’d rather know she was somewhere safe.”
“Safe?” Mr Hawke’s shoulders stiffened, and she caught a glimpse of the man people feared. “What aren’t you telling me? If it’s help you need, why the hell haven’t you called before now?”
“We’re hunting a killer who means to silence us both. I’ll explain everything tonight. I’ve no wish to repeat the tale twice.”
Mr Hawke’s hand flexed at his side, but he didn’t ask why they’d brought trouble to his door. “Then you’ll both stay here. There’ll be no argument.”
Hugh didn’t hesitate. “We’ll sleep in the servants’ quarters if it means staying under the same roof.”
Emma’s heart missed a beat. She was torn between it being the most romantic thing he’d ever said and the worst. One day this investigation would end. She wondered if the we would vanish with it.
“There may be another solution.” Mr Hawke drew his wife aside. Their whispers and covert glances said they were plotting something.
Mr Ramsey snorted. “Whatever it is, Beattie won’t like it. Brace yourselves. Hawke never did extravagance by halves.”
They were led outside, past the quaint little cottage with its neat garden and full wood store, across damp grass still wet from the rain, to a rather magnificent marquee pitched in the garden.
The canvas structure was divided into rooms and furnished in the height of luxury: an oak table, padded chairs, oriental rugs, and a mattress draped in furs.
“There’s space enough to make two rooms,” Mrs Hawke said, as if there were nothing improper about hosting an unmarried couple in a tent. “You can take wood from the cottage to light the braziers, and the maids can prepare bed warmers.”
Mr Hawke erred on the side of practicality, too. “If you’re worried about leaving Miss Vane alone, this seems the best option. There are blankets enough in the house. And there’s room for Rowton in the coach house.”
Hugh stared at the bed for what seemed like a minute. “It’s either this or the inn.” He looked at her as though the decision was hers alone.
She nodded. “This will be more than adequate. And it’s only for one night.” Though one night with Hugh Stanton would test a nun’s resolve. “We’ll leave for Long Ditton first thing.”
She could almost hear Mr Hawke’s mind working. “I’ll be more than interested to know why.”
“And you will. Tonight.”
Mrs Hawke reached for Emma’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let me know if there’s anything you need. After supper, you must come to the cottage and tell me how you first met Mr Stanton.”
“I should like that very much.” She meant it. She might need a friend when this was over. Though she wouldn’t come here, where every memory began and ended with him.
Mrs Hawke smiled and let go. “We’ll leave you to organise the marquee to your liking, and will let Cook know there’ll be two more for dinner.”
The couple left them alone in a tent with one bed.
Hugh was quick to offer an apology. “I didn’t know about the rooms. I can stay at The Fox in Kingston. It’s no hardship.”
She found herself smiling. “We’re adults, far from home. I think we can make do. And I would rather know you’re close.”
His hand came to rest on her waist with an ease she was growing used to. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to a man who can’t keep his distance.”
“You appreciate the truth.”
“And what is the truth?”
She swallowed hard. “That there’s something between us that has nothing to do with murder and mines.”