Page 63 of Temptress in Disguise
“Only until she married,” Theo corrected. “Then her uncle and stepmother are under no obligation to care for her.”
Aaron raised his hands in mock surrender. “I mean no offence when I say this, madam, but perhaps you should return to Fortune’s Den and allow me to accompany Aramis to Northwood.”
It was the act of subterfuge Aramis had been expecting.
A means to separate him from his wife.
While the suggestion of Aaron fighting beside him had merit, he wished to be the man who floored their opponents. Protecting his wife was his responsibility. Yet he knew Aaron’s conscience plagued him, and the desire to heal his brother’s wounds was great indeed.
He could leave the decision to Naomi, but he was no coward. “I’ll not deprive my wife of an opportunity to avenge her father, but there are things you can do to help.” They needed Lord Bedlow’s statement.
Someone had to watch Lydia and her lover Chivers.
And they had to locate the solicitor’s clerk Mr Piggot.
Aramis mentioned the tasks to his brothers. “With your help, we might solve the case sooner rather than later.”
He knew the statement would appease Aaron. His brother sought normality. He wanted Aramis to return to the fold, to stop gallivanting about town with the woman he’d married.
But Naomi was more than his wife.
She was his friend, his confidant, his lover.
All the things he never wanted.
All the things that never mattered.
All the things he couldn’t live without.
ChapterFourteen
Hounslow, Middlesex.
There were many cottages dotted along the road leading to Whitton Park. It might have taken hours to knock on every door and enquire after Mr Maddock—assuming that was his real name. But, not for the first time during the investigation, fate granted Naomi a boon.
“Wait! Have Mr Gibbs stop the vehicle.” Naomi pressed her nose to the window and peered at the man tending the garden of the thatched cottage they’d just passed. “I’m quite certain that was Mr Maddock digging the overgrown beds.”
Aramis rapped on the roof to alert Gibbs. “If the investigation had gone this smoothly in the beginning, we’d have the murdering blackguard behind bars now.”
Though she nodded, she was glad the villain had led them astray. The thought of solving the case filled her with dread. While she wished to avoid a trip to the scaffold, the days spent with Aramis were amongst her happiest.
Her husband did not share her reservations. “Let’s pray Maddock has information that will lead to an arrest. Then we can put this sorry business behind us.”
Mr Gibbs brought the carriage to a halt on the roadside, and they alighted. If Mr Maddock noticed them, he gave no clue and remained hunched over his spade, working the tool into the soil.
“What if he uses the spade as a weapon?” she whispered as horrid images flashed into her mind. Mr Maddock had the strength to beat a man with a marble bust. Would he put up a fight if they were forced to take him into custody?
Aramis snorted. “I hope he does. He’ll struggle to keep his balance when wielding a weapon of that size.”
Mr Maddock did not curse, threaten them or raise the tool to warn them away. He didn’t throw it to the ground in a panic or vault the stone wall and sprint through the open fields. The instant their gazes met, his shoulders sagged. He thrust the spade into the ground and left it standing, brushed dirt from his hands and stood waiting at the garden gate with a glum expression.
“I’m glad it’s you what’s come, Miss Grant,” he said, his voice brimming with regret, though he observed Aramis with an edge of unease.
“And why is that, Mr Maddock?”
“Cause you ain’t one to judge. Cause you won’t use fancy words to tie me in knots and make me say things I don’t mean.”
She wasn’t sure who he was referring to, but Lydia often belittled the man for his poor use of the King’s English.
