‘No.’ She scrambled out of bed, pulled on her clothes and bent to jam her feet into the slippers. ‘Cal, there is this.’ She thrust the pillow into his hands. ‘And ivy from the castle tower around the coat of arms in the hall and your flag flying over this house. Traditions.’
He stared at her and she could almost see the thoughts chasing through his brain, the calculation and memories. ‘The Duke’s Spring. It has to be. Come on.’ He almost pulled her into the sitting room. Flynn and Hunt stood, but Cal waved them back down to their seats. ‘Jared, do you remember the Duke’s Spring?’ Hunt nodded. ‘Michael, who brought the water for the carafe? Did they say anything particular about it?’
‘No.’ Flynn frowned in thought. ‘Come to think of it, I didn’t notice it being brought up, or I would have checked it out, had a sip or two. Could have been the maid who brought the pillow with all the herbs in. She said something about how good it was to have all the old traditions again, but she was in here when I arrived. She might have had both the carafe and the pillow. I had the stuffing out of that and made sure it was safe, but its all ordinary herbs.’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I slipped up, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have missed the water. I was too busy thinking about Ransome.’
Cal shrugged. ‘We all had other things on our minds.’
‘I’ll get hold of the girl, find out who gave it to her to bring up.’
‘I can answer that, I think.’ They all turned to stare at Sophie as though the chair she was curled up in had spoken. ‘Mrs Fairfax.’
‘Mrs Fairfax? Never. I’ve known her since I was a small child.’
‘The Duke is back, so the housekeeper orders water from the spring for you, and you only. They will have been in turmoil, getting ready for the house party. They probably only spared someone to get the water yesterday. Flynn, it’s a spring up by the old castle, there is this superstition that only the Duke drinks from it.’
‘Which makes it a safe thing to target once it is in the house.’ The valet nodded in comprehension. ‘There should be no risk of anyone else drinking it.’
‘I’m not sure it is that.’ Cal frowned. ‘I am beginning to see a pattern. But leave it now – and no-one touch water left in this suite until we are certain. Michael, check Ransome’s rooms, leave no traces that you were in there at all last night. We all get back to bed and we wait for the alarm to be raised when the maids take in the morning tea trays. No, on second thoughts, you had best be passing and offer to take it in for the girl on that corridor, tell her he’s got a bit of a reputation and you don’t want her chased round the bed. We can spare her finding a body.’
The two men left, looking grim, and Cal opened the door into Sophie’s sitting room. ‘You had best get back to your own bed before your maid arrives.’
‘Cal.’ She caught at the lapels of his robe on the threshold. ‘That was murder. We cannot keep it secret and cover it up.’
‘If it was murder, then the nearest Justice of the Peace is my uncle, which is a slight problem. If it wasn’t, then I have an idea that at least needs investigating.’
‘Mr Tanner, the agent who investigated Jonathan for me, he will know all about his home and what relatives are still there. I’ll write to him and ask.’
‘And have the man know that your blackmailer has conveniently, and mysteriously, died? Tanner may be a good man, but I prefer not to give hostages to fortune. Some research in the library ought to locate likely Cornish Ransomes if there is nothing in his luggage. Sir Toby introduced him to me as “of Penzance”. We’ll have him buried here temporarily until we know what his family’s wishes are.’
He gave her a swift kiss. ‘Sophie, my love, this isn’t how I expect to wake up with you the first morning we had been together. Are you all right alone?’
‘Of course.’ Sophie, my love. Oh, Cal. ‘You go, I will be fine.’ He was already off elsewhere in his head, planning and calculating, she was certain. She went to her room, remembered where she had left her evening dress and hairpins the night before, ran back to Cal’s bed chamber, scooped everything up and fled before she was tempted to stay and fuss over him. Or kiss him.
She put away her pearls and the gown, piled her hairpins on the dressing table and got into bed because that seemed the best way to make it look slept in. Tossing and turning came quite easily, she found. Her body ached pleasurably in unexpected places, nothing like the soreness after Jonathan had lain with her. She had worried, a little, that it might spoil things with Cal, that she would be haunted by the image of the other man, of the misery of that experience. But Cal’s lovemaking was so different that it seemed something else entirely.
Learning to make love with Cal was going to be wonderful. She burrowed into the pillows, hugging one to her, but its softness was no substitute for Cal’s hard body.