One Penny Surprise (Saved By Desire 1) (5 page)

With more questions than answers, Luke began to search the body in a desperate attempt to find some clues so his morning was entirely wasted. It irked him to realise that with the appearance of the body and the pick-pockets, he had forgotten to raise one very important question: what was he supposed to call her?

“How can you do that?” Poppy gasped in horror as she watched him search the corpse. When he glanced at her she nodded to his hands now resting on the motionless chest. To her, the mere thought of it was downright disturbing, but it didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest.

“Well, he isn’t any danger to me,” Luke replied matter-of-factly.

“Who are you?” she whispered, then wished she hadn’t spoken when she saw him flick a look at her that warned her he was going to ask her that same question. She knew, deep in her heart, that he was no gentleman out for a stroll. Whatever he was doing in the park so early in the morning was no more mundane than her reason for being there.

“I will explain later.” He wasn’t going to start that conversation just yet. Not until he could focus all of his attention on her and decide if she was answering his questions honestly or not. “This park is going to start to get busy soon. Let’s see what can find out about him, shall we? We can discuss other matters once the magistrate is on his way.”

Poppy shivered as a deep sense of foreboding swept through her. She had seen the way he had been covertly studying her bag. She didn’t like it – not one bit and glanced surreptitiously around them while she tried to think of a way out. It was a little disconcerting that there didn’t appear to be anyone nearby. That led her to question again whether the man at her feet was her supposed contact, or the handsome stranger. She studied him carefully as he dipped his hands into pockets of the dead man’s waistcoat. Was that why he was so interested in her bag? Was that why he had chased the pick-pockets off with such determination, because the money was his and he wanted to protect it?

No, it can’t be
. Her denial was instinctive. If he was Clarence’s creditor he had certainly not mentioned the money yet and had ample opportunity to do so. She frowned at that. For some reason, she just couldn’t see this man lending anyone anything, or even spending time gambling. From the way he had reacted to her squeamishness, he was a man who didn’t suffer fools gladly.

Don’t judge on appearances,
the small voice warned her.
You don’t know anything about the man.

Luke looked at her when she didn’t attempt to help him. “Do you want to do it?”

She threw him a dirty look and took a step backward. Luke allowed the silence to settle for a moment while he placed the meagre contents of the man’s pockets on his chest and pushed to his feet. There was nothing in the way of identification on him. No monogrammed cases, or pouches, or anything to indicate even what his initials were. It was perplexing if not a little worrying. Were the Star Elite going to be able to identify him? Luke suspected that the only people who might be able to were going to be Sir Hugo or Simon Ambrose, but didn’t see any reason to mention that to the woman.

“What’s your name?” Aware of the suspicion already building in her eyes, he tried to make the question sound as casual as possible but studied her carefully for any sign of evasiveness while he waited for her answer.

“Poppy,” she whispered reluctantly when she couldn’t summon up a fictitious name.

“Poppy? Poppy what?” When she didn’t answer he looked up at her and lifted his brows, silently warning her he would wait for as long as he had to until he got the truth.

“Poppy Cleghorne.”

“Is there a Mr Cleghorne nearby?” He looked pointedly at her ring finger.

She instinctively curled her hands into tight balls and silently willed herself to remain calm. “Just my father.”

“Married?”

“My father?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “You.”

“Oh, no. Why?” She frowned at him. Was that pertinent to their current situation?

“Just wondered,” Luke replied. It bothered him more than he cared to admit to find himself waiting far too intently for her to confirm her married status. He hated the thought of her being married. However, single or not he had to decide whether she could be capable of murdering the man at their feet. He knew that he had to consider her a credible suspect, mainly because she was the one who had ‘found’ the body. However his instincts warned him that she was innocent. Her clear revulsion of even touching the deceased was evident in the paleness of her cheeks, and the slight tremor in her hands she couldn’t quite hide. Not only that, but she looked as though she was about to cry, and there was a panicked expression deep in her eyes whenever she looked at the corpse that he suspected nobody would be able to fake.

Poppy. He quite liked it. It was soft, feminine, and reminded him of flowers; brilliant red ones full of boldness and resilience yet vulnerable to nature and the world. If only he could figure out why he should feel such a protective connection to her he knew he would have some idea of how to deal with the feelings that were leaving his world more than a little shaken. Just thinking of someone like Poppy being embroiled in the death of the man at their feet left him deeply disturbed in a way he had never been before, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

Poppy mentally sighed at her own weakness. She had tried to come up with a false name but her brain just turned to mush when she was pinned beneath those wonderful eyes of his. She had blurted out her real name before she could stop it.

“Poppy,” Luke murmured. “My name is Luke Brindley.”

“Mr Brindley.”

“Call me Luke,” Luke replied. “I think we should dispense with formalities after what we have shared this morning.” He nodded to the man at their feet. “I don’t think he is going to object.”

Poppy nodded. She wasn’t going to argue with him about anything as long as he didn’t attempt to look in her bag, or expect her to help him carry the body anywhere.

“How long do you think he has been in there?” she whispered as Luke poked at the few coins and a bank note that rested on the man’s chest.

“He is still slightly warm,” Luke replied thoughtfully. “Whoever he was; whatever he had been doing in the park this morning; he had most probably been alive an hour ago.”

He could see no reason to lie to her. Hopefully by telling her, she would think about what she had been doing an hour ago and remember something useful. After a couple of minutes of thoughtful silence he looked up at her, but was doomed to disappointment because she looked nothing more than sad. He turned his attention back to the body and tried to decide what to do now.

“The poor man,” she whispered, horrified at the very startling possibility that it could have been her floating face down in the river.

Luke looked up at her when she spoke, just in time to watch her glance around them far too furtively to convince him she was innocent. She had the look of someone who was extremely worried about something. Was she expecting someone to appear? Luke glanced around but couldn’t see anyone. For all intents and purposes they were all alone – for now. So what – or who - was she expecting? 

“Well, well, well,” he murmured as he drew the man’s cravat away from his neck and found dark, mottled bruising around the throat that had clearly been the cause of death.

That rules the woman out,
he mused with no small measure of satisfaction. Once again he had to stop and think about the quiet thrill of relief that surged through him. Rather than acknowledge any form of attraction to the intriguing bundle of trouble beside him, he buried his interest behind a deep scowl.

“What is it?”

Luke glared up at her. “Well, given these bruises are around his throat, I think it is safe to say it is the reason he is dead,” he said sarcastically.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” she declared with a sniff. “I don’t know as much about dead bodies as you apparently do.”

There was a hint of accusation in her voice that irked him. He pushed to his feet and glared at her. “Are you hinting that you think I had something to do with this?” he asked with one longer finger pointed at the corpse.

Poppy shifted warily. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea for her to raise her suspicions about his innocence right now, and with him directly.

“I am just saying that it is an odd time of the morning for a gentleman to be taking a stroll.” She glanced pointedly at his suit that was more befitting for a gentleman trader, maybe a shop owner, who should be at work by now rather than in a park. Sensing he was about to scold her, she tried to reason out her deduction. “You seem to be completely disaffected by that, him, and, well, you are tall enough, and strong enough to, well, you know.” She lapsed into silence, not entirely sure if she knew where she was going with this. She watched the cold flash of fury flicker in the depths of his eyes and shivered with a deep sense of foreboding.

“Well, you had better hope and pray that I am not the killer, my dear, or you are in serious trouble. You have seen me run after those street urchins not long ago. What makes you think that I can’t catch you, especially as encumbered by those long skirts as you are?” He studied the said skirts meaningfully for several moments before he allowed his insolent gaze to roam freely over her until he met her somewhat horrified gaze.

Poppy swallowed and stared at him. “I-I-I shall scream,” she threatened in a voice that shook with fear. She took a step backward. He took a step forward.

“Well, go on then,” Luke declared, holding his arms out wide to indicate the empty pathways. “I don’t think many people will be able to hear you, but feel free if it makes you feel better.”

“I am not saying you k-killed him,” Poppy countered. She wished now that she had kept her mouth shut.

“No? Really? It is better for you if I didn’t,” Luke retorted flatly.

He swore beneath his breath and decided there and then that he had pandered to her delicate sensibilities enough for one day. She had been stupid enough to wander around a park unchaperoned; so anything that happened to upset her was just her tough luck. He pierced her with a glare and pointed toward the body. “Do you know him?” He demanded when she didn’t seem inclined to say anything else. “Are you here to meet him?” His question lashed across the silence.

Poppy hated to do it but she looked at the body. She squinted until her eyes were nearly shut but peeped down at the pale face of the dead man. It was something of a relief to be able to declare quite pointedly:

“No, I do not know him.”

“Did you see him in the park this morning?”

Poppy shook her head. “The only people I have seen in the park have been you and those pick-pockets. I take it that’s what they were?”

Luke nodded. “Did they snatch anything from you?” Given the way she was clutching the handle of her bag with white knuckles he suspected that nobody was going to get that bag away from her and was unsurprised when she shook her head.

“They tried but then you turned up.” Poppy gulped. “Do you think they did it?”

“The pick-pockets?” Luke was already shaking his head. “The urchin who ran at you barely came up to your waist. I cannot see him having the capability of strangling someone of this size, can you?”

Poppy shook her head. If the only people in the park had been her, Luke, the pick-pockets and the dead man, and the pick-pockets hadn’t been responsible; she knew she wasn’t responsible. That left only one person. Not only did Luke have the size, he also had the strength. She gulped and took another step backward.

Luke watched her study his arms and turn her gaze back to the mottled bruising still darkening around the dead man’s neck. He knew from the look in her eye what was going through her mind and was as stunned as he was disgusted by it.

“Don’t think for one second that I am responsible for this. I was just walking through the park when I came across you and the pick-pockets.” He cursed again when she merely stared at him in silence that was more accusatory than anything she could have said.

He heaved a sigh and wondered where his colleagues were. While he hoped they had continued to chase the pick-pockets across London, he also hoped that someone would have been close enough to come to his assistance by now. At the moment, he needed as much help as he could get. The woman, as intriguing as she was, was next to bloody useless, mainly because he suspected she had an entirely different set of problems completely unrelated to the corpse. He suspected that her problems had more to do with the precious contents of her bag she was protecting as though her very life depended on it. He tried to decide whether it was worth pursuing; to find out what was in the bag, but then wondered if he was involving himself a bit too much. He had enough problems to contend with already. The last thing he needed was to get involved in some foolish woman’s idiosyncratic issues.

“Should we say a prayer or something?” Poppy asked suddenly. She had never found a dead body before and wasn’t sure what the correct thing to do was. Should she cross him, or say a prayer, or just run for the magistrate?

“Look, if it makes you feel better then yes, say a prayer. I don’t really care right now,” Luke groused.

Before he lost his temper with her completely and did something he would regret later, he turned his attention back to the contents of the man’s pockets. He tried to open the sodden mess that had once been a piece of parchment, but it was too wet to be of any use. Anything that had been written on it had long since been washed away by the river water. The coins were just loose change Luke himself usually carried in his pocket and, apart from a fob watch and chain there was nothing else on the man that gave any hint as to where he came from.