Page 34 of Never a Duchess
“Hence why we’re relieved Miss Ware didn’t sniff the poisoned perfume. Being slight of frame, the consequences may have been dire. I confess, I cannot fathom why Daventry sent you there.”
Miss Ware was quick to defend their position. “I have already explained. We were to gather names, nothing more. And I agreed to follow Mr Daventry’s advice to the letter.”
Masters motioned for Callan to sit in the empty chair, not next to Miss Ware on the sofa. “Still, you must inform Roxburgh of recent events, else I will.”
Miss Ware’s eyes widened in horror. “I’ll not trouble my brother. He has a lot to contend with at present. Give me a few days. Once things are settled at home, I shall explain everything.”
Devon Masters gave a curt nod.
“Your Grace,” Mrs Masters began, “I cannot help but wonder why a Scottish duke would act as an enquiry agent. Surely you have pressing business at home.”
The lady was as shrewd as her husband, just not as direct.
“A woman was dragged from the garden at knifepoint. I must know if she is alive. In following a lead, my closest friend almost died. Forgive me, but I cannae rest until both villains are in custody.”
Mrs Masters glanced at the blue-eyed temptress seated on her left. “How commendable, but why do you need Miss Ware’s assistance?”
Callan thought the lady deserved the truth. “Because Miss Ware has an adventurous spirit. I’d rather her solve a crime with the aid of professionals than scramble on her hands and knees through ancient Egyptian tombs.”
Though the last image raised something other than alarm.
“Why should it concern you, Your Grace?”
“Because we both witnessed the crimes,” Miss Ware interjected. “And we have a common interest. We both care about Lord MacTavish.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “Now, can we begin the interviews? Might I remind you that you’re leaving for Whitstable tomorrow?”
Masters stood abruptly. “Very well. I shall summon Hastings.”
“We’re to conduct the interviews in the drawing room?” Callan expected to be shown into the servants’ dining room.
“Miss Ware thought they would be too comfortable below stairs.”
Mrs Masters stood, a twinkle of mischief in her brown eyes. “We should leave you alone for a few minutes, so you might compose questions and devise a strategy.”
“We do need to decide how best to proceed.” Callan wasn’t referring to the questions, though he made a mental note to repay the lady’s kindness.
“We shall send the butler to the drawing room in five minutes.” Mrs Masters closed the door, leaving Callan alone with Miss Ware, though he could hear a mumbled conversation in the hall as the lady tried to placate her husband.
Miss Ware placed her teacup on the side table. “I’m glad we have a moment alone. I—I need to talk to you about ourresearch.”
Dread left him momentarily numb.
“Oh?” He stood when she did, anticipating the worst when he watched her bite her bottom lip and wring her hands like a maid might sodden washing.
She struggled to look at him. “I’m not sure how to say this.”
“I’ll thank ye for being honest.”
“Yes, hence why it is so difficult.”
“Lies only add to the confusion.” He was already inventing stories in his mind. Preparing himself for the worst.
“It’s just this is the last thing I ever expected to say.”
Based on all that had occurred during the last few days, she should be used to the unexpected. “Ye’ve decided against writing a book?”
“Good heavens, no! The information will be invaluable.” She looked at the closed door for a third time. “What I have to say is specific to our research.”
If the lady wanted others to understand her theories, she had to learn to be more succinct. “Are ye unsatisfied with my teaching methods?” She’d kissed him with a passion that had exceeded his expectations.
