Page 36 of Temptress in Disguise
“Good lord! Why would anyone think I was capable of this?” She moved into the room. The lingering stench of bodily fluids almost made her retch. “Mr Budworth had his faults but did not deserve to suffer such a horrific death.”
“Would you like me to deal with matters here?” Aramis’ hand settled on her back, moving in soothing strokes. “You could begin by interviewing Miss Gray.”
She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around his waist and sag against his hard chest. “No. I shall need a witness when taking Matilda’s statement.” The shrew would throw a tantrum and seek to avert suspicion to those threatening her advancement up the ranks. “And I must steel myself against such horrors if I’m to deal with Melissa and my uncle.”
Mr Kendrick retrieved a few papers from the floor. His gaze narrowed as he handed her the blood-spattered pages. “They’re part of the script for the short play you wrote. It appears Mr Budworth had decided against staging it during Thursday’s matinee.”
She understood the veiled implication. As plain as day, someone had scribbled cancelled across the opening scene. “I did not kill Mr Budworth because he decided not to stage my play. Doubtless that was the price for spurning his advances.” But who would trust her word?
“What’s the play about?” Aramis asked while rifling through the desk drawers. Nothing in his tone suggested he shared Mr Kendrick’s suspicions.
“Betrayal.” She paused, unsure what he would make of the plot. “It explores an important question: why people fear footpads and scoundrels when the villains are often closer to home.”
Aramis glanced at her. “I can relate to that.”
“Most people can.”
“I’d be interested to hear more.” He knew she’d drawn on personal experience and wanted names and precise details.
“It’s a story you know.”
“I’m not sure it is.” His gaze turned pensive as he studied her face. “Permit me to remind you of the clause in our contract. A clause you added. A clause about truths.”
I ask that you’re always honest with me.
I shall afford you the same courtesy.
“I have no intention of ever breaking my vow. As it has no bearing on the case, we will discuss the matter later.” Not wanting to give him a reason to doubt her, she would tell him about Melissa’s sordid plot to ruin her.
“Tonight?” he pressed.
“Tonight.”
“You can use Miss Fontaine’s dressing room after the performance,” Mr Kendrick suggested. “I’d advise against leaving the building straight away. Those keen to visit the scene of a gruesome murder will be packed into the stalls as tightly as soldiers in a Trojan horse.”
Aramis was quick to address the man’s illusions. “Given recent events, I’ve advised my wife against taking to the stage. I suggest you leave us to conduct our investigation. Use the time to coach Miss Gray. That’s an order, Kendrick, not a request.”
Aware Aramis could not be intimidated or his opinion easily swayed, Mr Kendrick said he would be in the auditorium if they needed him. “Your heart would swell with pride if you saw her perform.”
“Our relationship is based on truths,” Aramis barked, “not the ability to put on a show.” He rounded the desk, ushered the actor into the corridor and slammed the door. “Now we might examine the scene without interruption.”
Naomi’s gaze dropped to the papers scattered across the rug. “We have a dilemma. The comment on the script gives me a motive for murder. We have no choice but to mention it to Sergeant Maitland.”
Aramis seemed unfazed. “We will gather the papers and take them with us. We’ll give Maitland the evidence once we’re close to catching the culprit. I’ll not give the fool a reason to doubt your innocence.”
His desire to protect her confirmed he was a gentleman, not a rogue.
“The blood splatters suggest the pages were thrown to the floor before the murder. The evidence points to an argument about my play.”
A shadow of annoyance darkened his features. “Did Budworth mention the play before you hit him with the stool?”
“Of course. He tried to use it to seduce me.”
Aramis scanned the floor. “Where is the stool?”
She inspected the room, a little alarmed to find it missing, for it added an element of doubt to her tale. “When I hit him, I threw it on the floor and left. Perhaps the coroner moved it.”
Aramis rubbed his temple but said nothing.
