The Earl of Her Dreams (7 page)

C
hristian watched Kate pale and stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Janson’s body.

“When did you find him?”

Gordon gave him a look edged with suspicion. “Just a few moments before I ran into the inn.”

He had to think like a Bow Street Runner. However that was. If he could get through this, he would have a legitimate excuse to search
Freewater’s room—barrier free. He could already feel the leather-bound journal in his grasp.

“Were you in this part of the stables before you found him?”

“Yeah, I do rounds at dawn and get the horses warmed up for the road.”

“And you didn’t notice the body then?”

“That’s what I told you. I found the body when I began mucking out the stables and pitching hay.”

Christian searched the ground close to Janson’s body. He could see no bloody weapon nearby. He straightened, glancing at the tack hanging from the walls and rails, lots of potential weapons here. The stable was remarkably neat and clean. Well-cared-for saddles, harnesses, bits, bridles, and blankets were neatly stacked. Nothing seemed amiss or bloodstained.

Christian walked the long, brick-lined path between the stalls, speaking softly to the horses as he passed. They were restless and didn’t look exercised in the least. Kate seemed more than happy to follow behind and away from Janson’s body. Her light eyes were creased near the edges. The urge to smooth the worry lines from her face rushed through him.

He licked suddenly dry lips and turned to Gordon. “You took the horses out?”

“We were going to, but we were already snowed in at that point. Nowhere to take them.”

Of course they hadn’t taken the horses out. It had been a stupid question—Mr. Wicket must be rubbing off on him. It couldn’t be nerves. Christian hadn’t had a case of nerves since he had stopped caring.

“You said ‘we.’ Who else was here?”

“Me and Tom.”

“Did Tom discover the body with you?”

“No, he was in the inn with the rest of you.”

Tom must have been the square, bulky man near the door. “So how many times did you enter this building?”

“What difference does it make?”

“We need to ascertain what you were doing.”

“I told you what I was doing.” Gordon looked a bit shifty as he stared at the ground. “I did my work and found Janson, poor bloody bastard.”

“So you didn’t like Janson?”

“What? No. The man was an ass,” he said bluntly.

“Did you ever feel like murdering him?”

“What? No!”

“Your account of the events seems awfully suspicious, Gordon. You haven’t answered the question of how many times you were in here this morning.”

“Cuz it makes no difference.” Gordon kicked a stray piece of hay.

“You couldn’t be more wrong. Runner’s Code Number Thirty—determine the whereabouts of the person who discovered the body.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Kate react, but he ignored her for the moment. Gordon seemed to believe him, and he noted a thin film of sweat had formed on the man’s brow.

“I entered the barn twice, but until a bit ago never to this section. Don’t know nothing else.”

“Was anyone else in here?” Kate asked quietly as they walked back to the body.

“Just Tom. He won’t know nothing neither. He lives on the upper floor over the stable office. Uses the straight stairs at the other end. Janson probably got drunk, grabbed his things, wandered outside, and bashed his head into the wall.”

Christian looked dubiously at the body with its broken leg and bashed skull. “Are you saying that he somehow managed to bury himself beneath the straw too? A talent, that.”

He watched Kate inhale deeply before crouching
down beside the body. She tried unsuccessfully to turn Janson over.

“He’s stiff, Mr. Kaden. No use you trying to do anything with him.”

Kate ignored Gordon and continued to examine Janson. Christian didn’t know what she thought she would find—she was less an investigator than he was. She gave him a pointed look, and he crouched down next to her.

He poked through the man’s pockets. A pocket watch and two quid were inside one, a letter in another. Kate seemed to be engrossed in examining rips on the front of Janson’s shirt, so Christian tried to assist her by moving Janson’s stiff right arm. It didn’t budge. Pushing to the left, the corpse shifted, and Christian was nearly struck by Janson’s stiff left arm.

Beaten by a dead guy. He was sure he would never have lived that down.

Something in Janson’s fisted hand caught his attention. A swatch of green was clutched in his fingers.

Kate watched intently as Christian pried the slip of cloth from Janson’s hand. He caught her eye, and she shrugged in bafflement.

“Gordon, does this look familiar?”

The servant peered at the cloth. “No.”

Christian handed the cloth to Kate, lightly brushing her fingers. She shivered, shook her head, and stuffed the cloth into her pocket.

A search through his scattered belongings turned up a snuffbox, some extra clothes, but little else. Christian sat back on his heels.

“I think it’s time to search the rooms.” He was anxious to get into Freewater’s, and had little notion of what else to do about Janson.

“Don’t you think we should move the body back to the inn?”

“Why? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, and we don’t want the body to warm and decompose.”

“What if the killer comes back to dispose of it? We may need it later.”

“Need it for what? The man’s dead.”

“To find the killer.”

Christian glanced at Gordon, who was observing their exchange with interest.

“Um, I know you are new to this, Mr. Kaden, but Section Fourteen of the Runner’s Code states that the body should not be moved. We’ll just have to leave Gordon to guard it.”

Gordon’s eyes went wide. “What?”

Christian stood from his crouched position. “Don’t worry, my good man. We will send one of
the maids with food and something warm to drink.” He patted Gordon on the shoulder as the man sputtered.

“Surely you aren’t going to leave me here with…with him?” he said, pointing to Janson.

“Well, you and the boys do need to care for the horses, don’t you?”

“But there’s a dead body in here!”

“He won’t hurt you. But don’t lose him. Section Fourteen A says you can be held responsible for the loss of the body. Must keep away the body thieves.”

“Body thieves?”

“Very dangerous, you know. But I’m sure you’re up to the task. And the snow should keep them at bay for a few days. Good luck, Gordon. We’ll be by to check on you later. Oh, and don’t move the body. Thanks.”

Christian walked out the door, Kate scampering after.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Solving the murder, of course.”

“You think this is all a joke.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“You do. It is evident in every syllable you utter. Every statement you make.” She poked him in the
arm, the tip of her finger barely making a dent in the heavy coat.

“I’m just going by the Runner’s Code.”

“The Runner’s what? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Are you a Runner?”

“No.”

“Well, there you go.”

“I think neither are
you
.”

“Course I am. Wouldn’t know the Runner’s Code otherwise, now would I?” He waved a hand as they neared the inn door.

“You struck me as a charlatan yesterday, and nothing has yet to change my impression.”

“I’m wounded, Kate.”

“Don’t call me that!” She was starting to remind him of a cat—cute, cuddly, and with hair bristling in every direction.

“If you stop calling me a charlatan, I may remember not to call you Kate.”

She paused with her hand above the knob. “Duly noted.”

They walked back into the inn, a crowd of anxious faces greeting their return.

“What did you find?”

“How’d he die?”

“Who did it?”

Kate looked across the sea of faces and shivered as she removed her coat. Christian held up a hand to silence the crowd.

“Folks, please calm down. We are all stuck in the inn for today and tomorrow at the very least. I’m sure Mr. Wicket would be more than happy to accommodate anyone in the taproom. Billiards, cards, dice, backgammon, and refreshments will be available. I’m going to begin a room-to-room search, and it would be better to have everyone down here.”

“Why?” Mr. Desmond demanded. “What do you hope to find?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? Someone murdered Julius Janson. We need to determine if one of you did it.”

“Now see here—”

“I ain’t murdered nobody—”

“Not having some two-bit Runner go through—”

“We’re trapped with a murderer?”

“What happened to Julius?”

“Will I still get to test my invention?”

Everyone turned to Nickford, who smiled brightly.

Christian looked unnerved for a moment. “Er, if we rule you out as the murderer, yes.” He cast a glance around the room. “Right, then, I’ll start the search and Mr. Kaden can take statements.”

Desmond looked irritated and Lake’s expression was unreadable.

“Hold a minute. Shouldn’t you take statements too?” someone asked.

“Yes, send the boy to search the first rooms, I want to talk to you,” Mr. Crescent said importantly.

“What if the boy goes up there to poach our things?”

“Too true. Send the Runner.”

“What if the Runner poaches our things?”

Christian had the gall to look affronted. “I’ll have you know, Runners don’t poach.”

“But how’re
we
to know?”

“You need to have faith in your law enforcement.”

Kate’s brows drew together. “We
should
really have someone else with us when we search, at least until everyone can return to their rooms. That way people can be relieved of their concerns.”

“Capital idea, boy!”

Christian looked irritated. “I assure you, that’s not neces—”

“Send the boy and someone from the inn with the Runner.”

Christian glared at Mr. Crescent, who, Kate noticed, had the presence of mind to back up a step.
“If you say one more word about this investigation, Mr. Crescent, I can assure you that things will not be pleasant.”

But it was too late, as others murmured their agreement with Crescent’s plan. Christian scowled and searched the crowd. “You, boy, over here.”

Kate watched as a wide-eyed Benji, a twenty-year-old servant who was standing with Mary, Sally, Bess, Daisy, and several male servants, shuffled forward. “Yes, sir?”

“You will be assisting us.” Christian turned to the innkeeper, authority underscoring his voice. “Keys, Mr. Wicket?”

“Should I be going with you as well, Mr. Black?”

Christian waved off the innkeeper. “No, no, this fine lad will do. In the meantime, you’ve the inn to run and people to tend. Just remember my instructions from earlier—no one is allowed in or out of the inn. I trust you to find a good excuse if someone outside should ask.”

Mr. Wicket quickly handed over the key ring.

Christian walked from the room, with Kate hurrying to catch up, and Benji trailing awkwardly behind.

“What is the plan?” she asked.

“First we are going to change out of these wet
clothes, and then we will search Mr. Freewater’s room,” he responded, climbing the stairs.

“Why his room? We know he was there all night.”

“Do we? I, for one, do not.”

“The man was making enough racket to wake the dead.”

“Or make the dead.” He flashed a brilliant toothy grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

She frowned. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know. I’ve gone and ruined my boots.” He made a production out of examining them before searching for the room key.

“You aren’t a Runner. I know you aren’t. You could get into a lot of trouble posing as one.” She glanced over her shoulder as he opened the room, but Benji was lagging behind and had just reached the top of the stairs.

“Benji, is it? Could you get us some paper and ink while we change?” Christian asked.

The young man nodded and hurried away, seemingly very glad to be leaving.

Christian entered their room. “Who said I wasn’t a Runner? And if you don’t want to be involved, don’t be. I don’t remember inviting you along to search rooms. That fool Crescent did.”

She shot him a dirty look. “You are the one who
brought me into this by making me a scribe for your mad scheme, whatever it is. And besides, unlike you, I want to know what happened.”

“Why?” He was already stepping out of his clothes. Kate quickly turned her back, caught off guard by both the question and his state of undress.

Why
did
she care? Perhaps because last night she might have seen the murderer with Janson on the balcony. That gave her cause. But she cared little about Janson himself, so that was not reason enough. Justice? She had always been a proponent, but had never involved herself in its workings before. Was it because Christian had gotten involved? She firmly pushed that thought away. Irritating man.

Or perhaps her motivation was to put closure to some element of her life, as she had thought earlier? She shut her eyes. She just wanted to feel happy again. She just needed some spark to keep her going.

She finally responded. “Someone has to care.”

He snorted. “No, someone does not. Have you ever been to London? There’s an entire town full of people who don’t care.”

“Oh, really, that is quite a ridiculous statement.”

“You can turn around now, Kate. And that
would be a no to my question. You would think otherwise had you been there.”

“I’ve been to London,” she scoffed, moving from one foot to another to try and avoid the snow turned to slush that sloshed in the bottom of her boots.

“Really.” It was a sardonic statement instead of a question.

“More than once.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“I have! My aunt rents a house for the season. I have visited her there several times.” She gave up and hastily removed her wet boots and rummaged through her portmanteau for some extra hose.

“Part of the ton, is she?” he asked casually while pulling on a dry pair of boots.