Page 37 of Temptress in Disguise
Still, she saw a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.
“I didn’t do this, Aramis.” When a man had been betrayed by someone close, he approached every situation with an air of mistrust. “You have no reason to believe me, but I pray you’ve learned enough about my character to know I speak the truth.”
A tense silence ensued.
“Don’t ask me to explain why,” he eventually said, “but I believe you. Tonight, when we’re alone, you will tell me everything. Everything about your life at Hartford Hall. Everything about your sister and the reason you fled.”
Naomi swallowed hard and nodded. She wasn’t the only one guarding her emotions. He had secrets. Hidden feelings that would plague him if he did not give them a voice. “And you will tell me why you call for Aaron in your sleep. Why you plead with him and beg his forgiveness.”
The man who professed to be made of steel paled and braced his hands on the desk. “You said my words were incoherent.”
“I didn’t want to discuss it in front of Mrs Maloney.” It wasn’t just the words that had made her heart weep. The anguish clinging to every syllable had added to the torment.
“And I don’t want to discuss it now.”
In the name of fairness, most people would demand he concede. But if she was to win his trust, a different approach was needed.
“I vowed to be a shoulder of support. Remember that if you ever want to talk about your nightmares. Regardless, I shall tell you whatever you want to know about my life.”
She watched the tension leave his shoulders, the lines on his brow disappear. He quickly changed the subject. “I see nothing out of the ordinary here. We should question the actors and stagehands. We’ll collect the discarded papers before we leave.”
“Being a small theatre, most actors play two roles. Still, interviewing everyone will take most of the day.”
“Not if you permit me to lead the interrogation.” With his demons safely back in their cage, his vigour was restored. “I’ll play the devil. You can be the angelic voice of reason. We’ll begin with that fop Kendrick.”
They found the thespian in the auditorium, attempting to help Matilda act like anything but a shrew. With his frustration evident in every swirl of his silk banyan, Mr Kendrick was glad of the distraction.
“There’s no hope for that girl,” he said as they moved to the farthest seats in the house. “She sounds more like an irate harpy than a passive maiden. How on earth is she to gain the audience’s sympathy?”
Naomi snorted. “The same might be said for my sister, sir.”
“Like a chameleon, Miss Fontaine can adapt to any situation.”
“I doubt she would appreciate being likened to a lizard.”
Mr Kendrick laughed, unaware Aramis was about to hit him with an accusation. “I’d wager you killed Budworth. You had much to gain from his death. Like Thespis, you longed to step out from the crowd and take centre stage.”
Mr Kendrick’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s where you’re mistaken. This theatre is my life. Why would I risk it closing? I’ve merely accepted the role of manager until our fate can be decided.”
“By whom?” Aramis snapped.
“By Mr Budworth’s brother Edwin. He cares about one thing—money.”
“Where is Edwin? Why is he not here attempting to find his brother’s murderer?”
“He rarely v-ventures to town. He has a house in Uxbridge. I assume someone sent for him.”
Aramis towered over the actor. “Do you have an alibi?”
“Yes. I was at the Dog and Duck with Miss Gray. With Miss Fontaine missing, she hoped to take a more senior role and desperately needed a tutor.”
“I watched them leave,” Naomi said in Mr Kendrick’s defence.
But Aramis came at the man with another timed swipe. “You have a key to the premises and could have returned.”
“No one other than Mr Budworth has a key. He kept the spare set in his apartment above the theatre. I took them when we decided to open tonight.”
“Then who found the body?”
