A Most Naked Solution (7 page)

Rarely did he meet a person who would take his bluntness without prevarications and lies. Or great offense.

Sophia had given him honesty.

He wanted to push the limits of that honesty. What would she say if he asked if he could kiss her lips? There was something simmering between them. An awareness. A connection. And for a moment by her door last night when he’d been tempted almost beyond sense, she’d wanted it, too.

Or at least he thought she had. Hell, his friends were right—he did need to get away from his studies more.

“My husband had numerous affairs. Perhaps it was a former lover or mistress.”

Again, the urge to shoot the bastard surprised him. Although the army had taught him to use violence with great efficiency, it wasn’t normally his first impulse.

But he would have made an exception for Harding.

Huntford had better arrive soon to take over this investigation. Camden was growing less fond of it by the second. But he didn’t have the luxury of waiting, not when her life might still be in danger. “Do you know the identities of any of them?”

She set down her fork again. “A few—”

Rafferty spoke from the doorway. “There’s a cart here to pick up Lady Harding.”

“We will claim her ourselves, thank ye very much.” Wicken barreled past Rafferty, a determined look on his face.

“You were asked to wait outside.”

Wicken snorted. “I intend to ensure her ladyship leaves this house safely. Some madman shot at her yesterday and then we get word that she’s somehow become stranded at this house, in need of clothing, all without ever calling for the carriage to come here. We”—he nodded to the groom that had appeared behind him—“mean to make sure she is able to get home where she belongs.”

Rafferty drew himself even straighter, a feat Camden wouldn’t have believed possible. “I assure you that Lady Harding’s arrival at this house was entirely voluntary and any insinuation otherwise—”

Sophia rose to her feet, stepping between the two men. “Wicken, thank you for your prompt arrival, but Rafferty is correct. I desired to speak to Lord Grey but became trapped by the storm.”

Wicken frowned, searching her for any hidden injuries. When he was apparently content, he bowed to Camden. “Begging your pardon, sir. In that case, we have information for you.”

Camden raised an eyebrow at the switch in topic, but nodded. “Information?”

Wicken tapped the side of his nose. “Indeed, sir.” He leaned back out of the doorway. “Haws!”

The tavern owner inserted himself in the group of people blocking the door.

“Tell him, Haws,” Wicken said.

Belatedly, Haws pulled the battered hat off his head. “I had no idea when I spoke to you yesterday that anything had happened.”

“What had happened?” Camden asked.

“Why, that Lady Harding had been shot at. I would have told you at once. I want no harm to befall her ladyship. And I want it to be clear that I had nothing to do with it.”

Camden shoved the graphs and numbers in front of him to the side. “Told me what?”

“That my rifle was stolen yesterday.”

Sophia’s eyes flew to Camden’s. He tried to ignore the small spurt of satisfaction that it was his opinion she sought. “When?”

“Careless old mule,” Wicken muttered, even though he must have had Haws beat by at least a decade.

Haws folded his arms. “I’m not careless. Most of the time it’s right by my feet under the bar. But I took it out Wednesday morning to clean it like I do every week. I set it on the bench by the kitchen door while I got my supplies. When I returned, it was gone. Mayhap about nine in the morning?”

Plenty enough time to for someone to steal the weapon and sneak to Sophia’s house. “Who knows when you clean the gun?”

Haws stroked his hand through the bristles on his chin. “Can’t rightly say. I do it every week. Anyone around the livery stable would have seen me.”

Then everyone in the town was a suspect. “Who in the town wants you dead, Sophia?” Camden lowered his voice so it reached her alone.

She shook her head slightly. “I didn’t think I had enemies.”

“You do have one,” Wicken interrupted.

Apparently Camden’s question hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. “Who?”

“Eugena Ovard. That evil harpy of a housekeeper.”

“Why does she hold a grudge against you?” Camden asked.

When Sophia hesitated, Wicken spoke. “Ovard was close at one point with his lordship when he were young, if you catch my meaning, sir. It were when she was a housemaid and he a lad. Grew bitter over his lordship picking a wife, not that she should have believed the promises he’d made. A man like that uses promises like cheap ale. But Ovard went out of her way to add to the master’s cruelty to her ladyship, to punish her. Told him lies about her. Ordered the servants not to tend her when her ladyship was hurt.” Wicken grunted. “Not that we listened.”

Mrs. Ovard had been quick to cast blame on Sophia, too. Covering her own crime, perhaps? Jealousy would give her a strong motive. “I’ll pay her a visit,” Camden said.

Sophia stood. “I’ll go with you.”

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

“L
ike hell you will,” Camden said.

Wicken cleared his throat rather forcefully in the doorway. Sophia watched as the color climbed up Camden’s throat. But his gaze held firm. “You’ll go home, where you are safe.”

“I wasn’t safe there yesterday,” Sophia pointed out. This wasn’t an argument she wanted to have in front of everyone else, but she wasn’t about to back down simply because he expected her to obey. She knew the people of this town far better than he did. Especially Mrs. Ovard. Sophia needed to be there so she would know what the nasty woman was telling Camden. She’d borne her slander during three years of marriage, and she wasn’t going to let her ruin the first tentative friendship she’d had in years with lies.

Or worse, the truth.

“You’re welcome to stay at my house until I have assured you are safe.”

“I’ve had experience with her. I can be of assistance.”

Camden tapped his fingers on the desk. Finally, he stood. “Rafferty. Have the coach brought around.”

“You should be leaving on the cart with me, Lady Harding.” Wicken’s brows drew tight. “You shouldn’t have to face that woman.”

“She doesn’t frighten me. Not anymore.”

“She frightened all the others. Still does.”

“Come, Wicken.” Haws patted the man on the shoulders. “She don’t need your protection. Lord Harding’s as dead as they get. He won’t hurt any others.”

Finally Wicken’s shoulders drooped. “I have your word she won’t come to harm, Lord Grey? I want your word as an officer. The word of a gentleman don’t count for much.”

Richard would have struck a servant for such an insult. Camden instead nodded, the lines of his face serious.

Wicken, Haws, and the groom shuffled out.

The room was suddenly silent. Camden walked around the desk and moved to her side. They’d been alone ten minutes ago, yet it was different to have started off alone with a man than to be left alone with one. If she reached out, her fingers would brush his chest. She wanted to rest her cheek against it to claim the memories she’d missed last night during her sleep. Her heart hammered so loudly she inched away so he didn’t hear.

“Why are you letting me come?” she asked, needing something to distract her from his crisp, male scent. From the crease between his brows she’d memorized.

After all, he hadn’t renewed their acquaintance by choice. He’d had years to do that, and she’d never heard from him. He’d only sought her out because he thought her a killer. She might have changed his mind, but that didn’t mean he desired her.

“Were you hoping I’d be more stubborn?” He rubbed absently at the new ink on his fingertips.

“No—expecting, I suppose. I’m not used to being listened to.”

“I listen,” Camden said, his fingers stilled. “Besides, I have no desire to face that woman alone.” His hand grazed her cheek, but unlike last night, there was no doubt he’d touched her. She felt the warmth of his hand. The tickle against her cheek. “And I’ll know you aren’t getting into trouble.”

His hand dropped back to his side and she wanted to lift it, to turn her lips against his palm. What would he do if she did?

Almost, she had enough courage to find out. Almost.

“I’m not a woman who gets into trouble.” As much as she might wish to.

Camden lifted an eyebrow. “You have been a veritable thorn in my side.”

Sophia couldn’t help grinning at that.

“That wasn’t entirely a compliment,” he said, his eyes narrowed, but a slight smile played about his lips.

“I have never mattered enough to anyone to be a thorn.” As much honesty as she’d given him in the past hour, she hadn’t intended to give him that much. Besides, it sounded far too much like she wanted his comfort.

She didn’t.

She spun toward the door. “Shall we go?”

It wasn’t until she had walked down the front steps that she realized she still wasn’t wearing shoes.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

M
rs. Ovard had the kind of pinched, bitter timelessness that made it impossible to tell if she was forty or seventy. Her high cheekbones must have given her a striking look as a young woman, but now they carved gaunt hollows in her papery cheeks.

Camden respected Sophia’s courage all the more, facing this woman. He certainly didn’t ever intend to come back and visit the former housekeeper unless forced to.

“—despicable manners. Perhaps I will send you back to my sister and you can starve with all the rest of her squalling brats.”

The young maid—apparently a niece as well—who had let them into the cottage trembled under the old woman’s wrath. “Shall I fetch the tea—”

“Did my fool of a sister rut with a donkey to produce you? No. No tea. These people are not guests and will not be staying.” She whirled on them, or rather on Sophia. “I don’t know what you think you have to say to me, but I have no desire to hear it.” Her lip curled as she surveyed Camden. “And you, apparently, failed to listen to my warnings.”

“I heard your accusations. I just failed to find any truth in them.”

“How did she convince you of her innocence?” The vulgar accusation in the woman’s tone made her suspicions clear.

Camden moved closer to Sophia, trying to shield her from some of the woman’s cruelty.

But Sophia spoke, her voice calm, her back straight. “The evidence did that.”

“Are you sure you didn’t beg?” Her sneer spread wrinkles over the entire left side of her face. “You were good at that, I remember. I’ve always wondered if that’s how you convinced Richard to marry you—or if you just spread your legs.”

Sophia stiffened but did not reply.

Mrs. Ovard crowded her. “I want you out of my house, you worthless thief.”

Thief? That wasn’t the epithet Camden had expected. Mrs. Ovard must have seen his interest because she planted her hands on her waist. “Lord Harding had a large amount set aside for me in his will. But did I ever see a penny of it?”

“There was no money,” Sophia said, resignedly. “He didn’t leave any money for anyone despite whatever promises he made. As I’m sure you know. His solicitor finished settling the estate last week. I know you met with him.”

“The pension you gave me isn’t enough for a dog.”

Sophia had provided her with a pension? The woman should have been turned out into the gutter. In fact, he almost hoped Mrs. Ovard was guilty. He wouldn’t have any qualms sending her to prison. “Where were you yesterday morning?”

Mrs. Ovard stiffened. “What business is that of yours?”

“Someone tried to shoot Lady Harding.”

The color fled from Mrs. Ovard’s face, leaving it a sickly yellow. “I was here. My maid will vouch to that.”

Camden glanced over at the maid, who was staring at Sophia. As he watched, the young girl straightened, copying Sophia’s bearing and expression.

Mrs. Ovard drew back as if she’d been slapped. “Don’t go getting above yourself, Margaret, and do not dare lie. Liars burn in hell.”

Margaret’s courage lasted for another minute, then crumpled along with her face. “She was here. She wrote letters and had tea with the vicar’s wife.”

Mrs. Ovard collapsed into a nearby chair.

“You could have hired someone. Like you hired someone to kill Lord Harding,” Camden said, not feeling particularly merciful.

“I wouldn’t have killed Richard.” For a moment she clutched her chest, grief twisting over her face. “He may have been fool enough to marry her. But at least he realized his mistake.”

Margaret spoke up again from the corner. “If the killer was hired, it couldn’t have been her. She spends every last pence her ladyship pays on laudanum. Stirs it in her tea. Even when the vicar’s wife is here.”

Mrs. Ovard leapt to her feet, lunging for Margaret, her fingers curving into claws. “I’ll beat you for your insolence.”

Sophia stepped into the housekeeper’s path. “My husband may have been large enough to beat me, but you are not. And you will have to pass through me to get her.”

Camden wasn’t entirely sure. Mrs. Ovard was a good six inches taller.

But then he saw Sophia’s eyes.

Mrs. Ovard had no idea the danger she was in.

Or perhaps she did, because she froze, her hands dropping to her sides.

“My husband may have been allowed to strike me, but if you so much as lay a hand on Margaret, I will press charges.”

Mrs. Ovard inched backward, her knees bumping against her chair. “Oh, will you? And what will you do if I tell the court every little dirty thing I know about you and your husband?”

Sophia gave a half smile. “You and Richard really would have been perfect for each other. But I no longer care what the world thinks. And for everything you say against me, I will reveal one of your secrets. Come, Margaret. I find myself in need of a new maid.”

“What?”
Mrs. Ovard shrieked. “You worthless, gutter—”

Neither Sophia nor Margaret looked back.

But Camden did. “You seem to labor under some confusion, Mrs. Ovard. Lady Harding is no longer defenseless and without a protector. Your foul abuse of her character will cease at once or I shall take a close look at the inventory of things that went missing at the same time you were let go from Harding House. Understood?”

Her silence was the closest thing he supposed he’d get to acceptance. He followed Sophia out into the street, feeling the need to pull clean air into his lungs. She stood a few yards down next to the coach, her head bent over the young girl’s. Margaret nodded, her braids bouncing before she practically skipped away.

Camden stopped at Sophia’s side, speaking her name softly so he didn’t startle her before placing his hand on her lower back to assist her into the coach. She still she spun toward him, though, but this time her cheeks flushed with triumph and her sapphire eyes sparkled. “I did it. I faced her.” She accepted his hand and climbed into the forward-facing seat.

Unlike her normal serenity, she shifted excitedly in her seat as if the elation in her fought to free itself.

She could have no idea how alluring her courage in defense of the maid had been.

Or the fantasies her fierce defense had inspired. How he’d wanted to pick her up and carry her to the privacy of his carriage where he would follow her triumphant flush past the neckline of her gown and see how far he could make it spread.

He only wished her defense of herself had been as staunch.

She grinned, leaning forward. “You can have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Then suddenly she stood, and before he could ask her what was amiss, she leaned forward, braced her hands on his knees, and kissed him. Her lips were quick, soft, fierce. Obliterating his paltry fantasies with the throbbing ecstasy of reality. “And that as well.”