Page 72 of Temptress in Disguise
Naomi was quick to notice, too. “A letter was sent to Madras, and you received a reply in the space of three months?”
Miss Cooper quickly scrambled to defend her error. “Mr Holland told us his sister planned to return. Mr Worth wrote to her but is still waiting for a reply.”
Again, she tried to shut the door but couldn’t.
“If Holland died at home, why is there no record in the parish register?” he lied. “There’s no headstone in the graveyard. There’s no record of him on the passenger lists for ships returning from India these past twelve months. We know because we’ve been hired to investigate his disappearance.”
The woman blinked in confusion but then jumped, remembering something important. “Mr Holland is buried on the grounds. In the old family crypt on the path near the woods. Come back tomorrow. Mr Worth will take you there.”
They couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Sergeant Maitland needed to hang someone for murder and didn’t care if they were guilty or not. The local magistrate could arrive at any moment with a warrant for Naomi’s arrest.
“Point us in the right direction, and we’ll find the crypt ourselves.” If he could prove the housekeeper was lying, he would return to the house and demand answers.
The housekeeper danced around the decision, her anxious gaze revealing every faltered step. “Follow the path through the gate in the herb garden.” With a shaky hand, she pointed to the left of the house. “I—I wouldn’t go down there. There’s all manner of ghosts haunting that place. Best you return tomorrow.”
Experience had taught him to be wary of people not shadows in the darkness. He stepped back from the door. “For your sake, I pray you’ve spoken the truth.”
The housekeeper repeated the need for them to leave and seek out Mr Worth, but Aramis gripped Naomi’s hand and headed off in search of the herb garden.
They paused at the kitchen window. There was no sign of a cook or maid, no fire in the hearth. A hunk of bread and a measly slab of butter were the only edible items gracing the wooden table.
The stables were empty.
“Miss Cooper is here alone.” He’d been expecting the grooms to attack them with pitchforks but the place was deserted.
“She wasn’t dressed like a housekeeper and seemed quite young to bear the responsibility. Perhaps she’s Mr Worth’s sister, and they’re taking advantage of the owner’s absence.”
“By owner, do you mean Mr Holland’s sister?” He scanned the herbs growing amid grass and weeds in the borders before opening the wooden gate. “I’m quite certain Mr Holland is dead. What I’m unsure about is how he died and where he’s buried.”
“Or why Miss Cooper would invent aspects of the story.”
They fell silent while following the path to the crypt. The grey stone mausoleum stood on the edge of the woods like it had been born of the earth, a doorway to the underworld.
Naomi clasped his hand tightly as they moved closer to the wrought-iron gate. “Do you think shield maidens admitted they were scared? How does one approach dangerous situations and not feel a tremor of fear?”
He peered through the bars at the stone steps leading down into an eerie blackness. “The rational mind plays tricks. There’s nothing frightening about the dead or the darkness. Fear stems from a story we’ve invented in our minds.”
She faced him, her curious gaze searching his. “Like the story you’ve told yourself about Aaron? You called out to him in your sleep last night. You said you were sorry for being so weak.”
He felt the dull ache of inadequacy. He was skilled at playing a hard-faced devil. Made sure no man thought him lacking. “It’s not the same. My opinion is based on actual events.”
“Events that happened when you let fear overwhelm you.” She placed her hand on his chest, covering his heart. “You’re not that boy anymore. You’re the most impressive man I have ever met. I’ve no doubt Aaron thinks so, too.”
He tried to make light of her compliment. “You’re biased, swayed by the way I make you feel in bed.”
A twinkle of desire danced in her eyes. “What happens between us in bed is magical. I’m referring to those qualities that make you the man I admire.”
He cupped her nape and kissed her deeply. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do.”
They kissed again. The profound tenderness in each stroke of her tongue was a balm to heal his wounds. Though he longed to discuss the future, he needed to wait to see how she felt once the case was solved and she was free.
“Would you prefer to wait here while I inspect the tomb?” He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “I’ll be a minute, no more.”
She glanced at the dense thicket of trees looming behind them. “I want to stay with you. Though we forgot to ask for the key.”
Aramis tried the gate and found it open. Inhaling deeply, he led Naomi down the moss-covered steps into a dim room. Stone plaques lined the damp walls. The solemn air carried the heaviness of grief.
