The Reluctant Duchess (4 page)

Montgomery indicated Sara with a nod. “Lady Sara Emerson received a letter today, delivered by you.”

Moore's suddenly frightened gaze flickered to Sara.

“Tell us who delivered the letter,” Ross said, tired of everyone beating around the bush.

Sara shot him a disgusted look.

What? he mouthed to her, holding his hands out to the sides. The woman certainly knew how to say a lot without using one word.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Mr. Moore. “It's very important that we know who delivered the letter,” she said in that soft way of hers that instantly put anyone at ease. Even Ross. She was so bloody calm. How could she be so calm after receiving those letters? She should be a weeping mass of hysteria. Instead she was standing toe to toe with him and diving straight into their investigation, when he'd specifically told her to return to her home.

“I'm so sorry, my lady, but I have no idea who delivered the letter. It was sitting on the front desk when I arrived at the hotel today.”

Sara's shoulders visibly drooped. “I see.”

“Surely someone saw something.” Ross refused to believe that the letter had mysteriously appeared and no one had seen anything.

“I could not say,” Mr. Moore said.

“Would it be possible to question a few of your employees who were here this morning?” Montgomery asked Mr. Smithy.

“Certainly,” Smithy said.

“Stay put,” Ross growled as he passed Sara to follow Smithy, Moore, and Montgomery out the door.

“Of course, Your Grace. Anything you wish, Your Grace.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “This wouldn't be a problem if you had gone back to Hartford Lake, like I asked.”

“I don't believe you asked me to do anything,” she shot back. “You demanded and assumed I would do your bidding. Besides, you asked me to move into your home.”

“Only because you wouldn't return to
your
home.”

To his surprise she smiled up at him, amusement dancing in her brown eyes. It took him aback; instead of inflaming his anger, it cooled it somewhat. “Why are you smiling?” He lowered his voice so the others couldn't hear him.

“You amuse me,” she said.

He drew back. “I
amuse
you?”

“You do. You act as if no one has naysayed you. It confuses you.”

“It does not confuse me, and yes, people rarely naysay me. I'm almost always right, and the smart ones recognize that.”

Her smile widened. “You're trying to bully me by insulting me.”

He sighed. “Lady Sara, I am
not
bullying you. I am merely concerned for your safety.”

She patted his arm. He wanted to yank his arm away, but that would be childish, and she would probably be even more amused. Never would he admit to her that he liked her touch. While he might amuse her, she did something else entirely to him.

He leaned forward, bemused that she stood her ground and didn't lean away from his proximity. “Do my bidding in this, at least. Stay in this room. I will keep James on the door.”

“Very well.” Sara waved her hand at him and turned away but not before he saw her purse her lips. “Oh,” she said, turning back. “It's Hadley Springs.”

“Pardon?” he asked, his brow wrinkling.

“I live in Hadley Springs, not Hartford Lake.”

“Huh.” He walked out, still bemused. This woman was a conundrum.

“There isn't anything else we can do here,” Montgomery said to Ross after they had questioned nearly all of the hotel employees. Ross had allowed Montgomery to ask the questions, since people tended to be intimidated and put off by his brusque manner; however, that didn't mean he had no questions.

While Montgomery had talked to the hotel employees, Ross had observed the surroundings, noting that anyone could have walked in and dropped the letter on the desk without an employee noticing. The hotel was a popular place not only for tourists to stay but for Londoners to visit. They had a remarkable tearoom that visitors flocked to. People came and went at will, and the lobby was never deserted.

The letter writer had picked his place well. They wouldn't find a witness here.

Montgomery put his hands on his hips and looked around the lobby, just as Ross had been doing. His keen eyes took it all in—the sweeping staircase, the busy front door, the bustling staff, and the ladies and gentlemen strolling in and out. He shook his head and cursed almost silently. “Makes our job harder,” he said.

Montgomery had almost always included Ross in Meredith's murder investigation, referring to it as their investigation instead of his or Scotland Yard's. At the beginning Ross had pestered the poor man endlessly, until Montgomery stopped by each night with an update. They would talk over whiskey. Eventually, their talk would turn away from the gruesome murder into personal territory, until Ross considered Montgomery a close friend, and there was nothing left to update.

“Do you think the person writing the letters is connected to her murder?”

“I don't know,” Montgomery said. “It seems suspicious, but I'm not ruling the thought out.”

The letters were vague enough that it could be a prankster trying to attract attention. If so, it was a cruel way to get attention, and it stirred Ross's anger. He didn't like seeing Sara so upset, and he didn't like the feelings it invoked in him—the anger and guilt. Especially guilt.

“We should collect Lady Sara's belongings and gather her and her servants as well,” Ross said.

“I'm surprised you're allowing her to stay with you.”

So was he. He'd made the offer reluctantly, but instead of feeling relieved when she'd originally declined his invitation, he'd been angry. The woman had his head spinning. But he'd found that he didn't like the thought of her with only a footman and a maid in the large hotel. And the thought of her at her father's townhouse didn't sit well with him, either.

The idea of her in his home, sleeping under
his
roof, left him more than uncomfortable. But it seemed the best solution, and he would rest better knowing she was safe within the walls of the Rossmoyne townhouse.

“What am I to do?” he asked. “Turn her out into the cold?”

“Send her back to wherever she came from.”

“I tried.” Ross grimaced.

Montgomery's expression was of mock shock. “Have you found someone who refuses to bow to your demands?”

Ross thought of her smile and the amusement in her eyes when she'd told him he amused her. He didn't believe he'd ever been accused of such a thing by anyone, let alone a woman of his acquaintance. Not that there had been many female acquaintances since Meredith's death. “I believe I have,” he said.

Montgomery laughed out loud. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

“That's enough, Montgomery.” He didn't want to amuse two people in one day.

His friend continued to laugh. “She is very different from her cousin,” he said after he'd calmed down.

“Yes.” Ross stared at the door to the private sitting room where Sara was. It was difficult not to compare the two women when they were so very different. And yet he found he liked Sara's quiet strength, her stubbornness, and her elegance. Meredith had been a bright star, burning out quickly even before her death, but Sara was like the sun—constant and comforting. However, he had a feeling that she could easily burn him, just as the sun did.

He shook his head. What foolish thoughts. He had no interest in getting involved with anyone right now, let alone Meredith's cousin. Utter nonsense was what that was.

“Let's collect Lady Sara,” he said, striding toward the private sitting room. “We can discuss this in greater detail and much more privacy in my carriage.”

They found her sitting in a chair, flipping through a periodical too quickly to be reading it. As soon as they entered, she stood up. “Did you find anything?” She anxiously searched Ross's eyes for some sort of answer.

“Nothing. No one saw anyone place the letter at the desk.”

She screwed her lips to the side as if in thought, then nodded. “I'm not surprised. The hotel is a very busy place.”

“I've instructed James to tell your maid to pack your belongings. I will send a carriage around for both of them. Let us leave now.”

He'd taken a few steps toward the door before he realized Sara wasn't following him. Montgomery was standing off to the side, his eyes nearly watering from the laughter he was keeping inside.

“What now?” Ross asked in exasperation.

“Does everyone do as you command?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She studied him for a long moment before she pressed her lips together and gathered her shawl and reticule.

Ross shot Montgomery a confused look, but his friend was busy studying the tips of his shoes.

Ross's carriage was out front, the driver waiting for them. The tiger jumped down from the back and opened the carriage door.

Just as Ross was handing Sara up into the carriage, an urchin burst out of a clutch of people and came running toward them. “Mister! Hey, mister!”

Ross took one look at the bedraggled, dirty lad and nearly pushed Sara into the carriage. “Get in,” he said.

Sara, being Sara, planted her hands on either side of the door and dug her heel into the step. “Wait a moment.”

The lad stopped before them, placed his hands on his small knees, and bent over to draw in deep breaths. His face was barely discernible under the dirt, and his hair was sticking out in all directions. He probably was infested.

“What is it?” Sara asked, climbing down from the carriage so she could kneel in front of the child. Ross could only stare in bewilderment. He knew no lady of quality who would stain her skirts to speak to a waif like this. This woman constantly baffled him.

“I need to speak t'the guv.” He peered around Sara to look wide-eyed at Ross.

Ross quickly inventoried the jewelry Sara was wearing to make certain she walked away with all of it. To his surprise, she was wearing naught but a simple gold chain with a locket.

Sara twisted around to look up at Ross. “He wants to speak to you,” she said.

“I heard him. What do you need, boy?” Probably money.

The boy shrank away from him, hiding behind Sara.

“Well, out with it,” Ross barked.

Sara shot him a dark look before turning back to the boy. She ran her hands up his arms as if warming him. His clothes were so ragged and dirty that Ross feared they would disintegrate in her hands.

“I 'eard you be askin' 'bout a man deliverin' a letter to the 'otel.” He looked between Sara and Ross. When he spied Montgomery standing off to the side, his eyes widened even more.

“What about the letter?” Ross asked sharply. Word certainly spread quickly, didn't it?

“I brung it,” the boy said, ducking quickly behind Sara as if Ross might strike him.

“
You
delivered the letter?” Sara asked.

The boy nodded, locking his gaze on Sara.

“Who told you to deliver it?” she asked.

“A gent did.”

“Did this gent give you a name?”

He shook his head.

“Can you describe him?”

The boy seemed to think for a moment, screwing his face up and squinting as if doing so would nudge his memory. “He was tall. 'Bout as tall as him.” He pointed to Montgomery. As if they'd never seen him before, both Sara and Ross studied Montgomery's height. About average. Maybe a little over.

“The clothes were like his.” He pointed to Montgomery. “Not like his.” He pointed to Ross.

Once again all three turned to study Montgomery. The man cleared his throat and shifted, looking slightly bemused by the attention.

“How in the world does he know the quality of a gentleman's clothing?” Sara asked.

“He's a thief. It's his livelihood,” Ross said.

While Montgomery dressed well, the fabrics he wore weren't as dear as the fabrics Ross wore. The lad had a discerning eye when it came to clothing.

“Where did you find this gentleman?” Sara asked, nearly taking the words out of Ross's mouth. He had to hand it to her, she was asking all the right questions. All the questions that Ross would have asked and in a much more effective way than he would have.

The boy shrugged one bony shoulder. “Was standing over there.” He pointed to a stone column that indicated the entrance to a small park. “He comes up to me and asks me to take the letter into the 'otel. Easy, like. T'weren't no hardship, and he paid me a whole bob.” The child's eyes lit up and then narrowed, as if he knew he'd made a mistake in announcing he had an entire bob on his person. A veritable fortune for him.

“What's your name?” Sara asked softly.

“Thomas.” He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his tiny chest. “Named after me pa.”

“Well, Thomas, you have been very helpful. It was very brave of you to tell us that you were the one who delivered the letter.”

“Was it bad?” he asked, suddenly sounding like the youngster he was. He couldn't be more than eight years old. “The letter? Was it a bad letter?”

Sara took a deep breath. Her smile was kind and soft. Just like her. “Not at all, Thomas.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Good. Well, bye.” He waved dirty fingers and scampered off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving Ross, Montgomery, and Sara staring after him.

Ross helped Sara to her feet.

“So we know the man looks like me and dresses like me,” Montgomery said.

“You and half of London's male population,” Ross said, once again handing Sara up into the carriage. Her hands were warm, and for a strange moment he wished he could feel her skin beneath her gloves.

“Hey! Hey, mister!” Thomas came barreling up to them, pushing his way past a gentleman and a lady strolling by. The gentleman yelled at the urchin, but Thomas paid him no mind.

“I saw 'im,” he said, panting, his chest heaving. He pointed down the street. “Down thataway. I think he was watching us.” His eyes were big, and the gleam of excitement was dimmed by a touch of fear.

Ross turned to Sara. “Get in the carriage and stay there. Don't move.” He turned to Thomas. “Show me which way he went.”