Chapter Twenty-five
Mary hurried down the hall that led from her small room. Mrs. Lane had alerted her about the murder.
“Find Mr. Talent,” she’d snapped in that brusque manner of hers. “Then both of you scout the house. If Isley is not here, one of his minions likely is.” And then she’d strode off to join the inspector.
Like hers, Talent’s room was below stairs, in a small corridor cordoned off for guest servants. As much as she’d like to turn around and not speak to Talent altogether, Mary’s steps did not slow as she went to him.
She had not seen much of Mr. Talent since being on board the Ignitus. He had chosen to ride a horse alongside their servant’s carriage on the trip to Farleigh. Upon arrival, he’d kept mostly to his room, and she was glad for it.
Drawing herself up, she knocked on the door, ignoring the way her heart clicked away beneath her ribs and the coldness in her fingers. A noise from within told her he was coming. She willed herself to be civil.
The door opened, and Jack Talent surveyed her. Hair mussed and shirt gaping at the collar, he’d evidently just risen and hadn’t the decency to fully dress before receiving her.
She pressed her lips together. “Mr. Talent.”
“Miss Chase.” His voice rumbled along her skin, followed shortly by a hot gaze that had her pausing.
“I…” She cocked her head and glared at him when the gaze lingered on her breasts. “There’s been a murder, Mr. Talent. Mrs. Lane requests that you search the grounds.”
Slowly his head lifted. “Is that so?” Smiling faintly, he leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Are you certain this isn’t simply a way to pay me a visit?”
“Do not be absurd.” What game was the bastard playing now? “Stop acting the idiot and get dressed.”
She moved to go when he was suddenly in front of her. He smiled again, not his usual one but a stretched and strange smile.
“Not so fast.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Why don’t we take our time? Perhaps start our search in here?”
She gaped at him. Jack Talent propositioning her? Hot fingertips brushed her jaw, and she stilled. His eyes were glazed over with heat and dark promises. She searched that lusty gaze and found nothing more. No anger, no resentment. No Jack.
Her mouth went dry as dirt. But she made herself cup his hand to her cheek. Such a hot hand. “Say my name again,” she said. “I want to hear it fall from your lips.”
Again he smiled. But he did not light up. “Mary. The lovely Mary Chase.”
His voice was flat, wrong. She forced a smile. “Right you are.” She patted his hand. “Now, behave yourself and get dressed.” She glided away, keeping a sedate pace as if all was right with the world. When she knew it bloody well wasn’t.
Taking Poppy’s hand, Win went directly to Tully, the butler of Farleigh. Like most butlers, the man was impeccably dressed, groomed, and mannered. He gave them a small bow as they approached. “Mr. Snow, I understand you are acting as investigator in this bit of unpleasantness. Is there anything I can do to assist you?”
“You can take us to your mistress directly.” Win was prepared to hunt her down if Tully proved uncooperative. However, the man simply gave another small bow.
“Your timing is exemplary, sir. Mrs. Noble has asked that you meet her in her private parlor.”
Win did not know exactly why the information that Mrs. Noble had sent for them bothered him, only that he grew weary of being batted around like a mouse trapped between a lazy cat’s paws.
When they reached the hall leading to Mrs. Noble’s personal parlor, Poppy halted him. “I think you ought to go in alone, Win.”
He glanced at the paneled walnut door a few feet off then back to her. “Why? She is expecting both of us.”
“Yes, but she wants you to tell the story. Not me. And there is the matter of questioning her in regard to Colonel Alden.”
He did not know if he liked the sound of that, nor the way she was offering him up like a shank of beef. But as Poppy never proposed anything without good reason, he did not outright protest. Not yet. “You think she will be more amiable in speaking directly with me, do you?”
The way her lips flattened in distaste gratified him somewhat. “I do. Never mind that I can then skulk about while you two talk.”
“ ‘Skulk’, eh?” He grinned. “How un-apologetically blunt of you.”
She looked at him askance. “I thought you would approve.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Go on, then.”
“Very well.” He gave her a short nod before muttering, “The things I do.”
He had almost got to the door when she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Her face scrunched up in a manner he knew to mean that she was struggling with some internal conflict. When she finally found her words, they came out clipped and efficient. “Mrs. Noble might have certain expectations should you go in there alone.”
Winston bit back his laugh, but he could tell by the way her lips compressed again that his effort to hide his amusement failed. So he let it show as he leaned in close enough to feel her soft breath against his cheek. “Yet into the lion’s den you send me.” When her scowl formed, he grinned, suddenly enjoying himself. “Do you know, Poppy Ann,” he said against her smooth cheek, “I do believe you are worried.”
Her straight, strong teeth closed over his earlobe and the muscles along his abdomen tightened in response. “And I believe that you like me worrying over you.” Her warm breath against his ear sent shivers along his skin. She nipped him then, hard enough to make him jump. “Behave, Winston Lane.”
His hand found its way to her neck, holding her there. His mouth touched her ear. “Then it would be wise not to give me a cockstand while I am working, wife.”