Page 45 of Temptress in Disguise
Naomi found the courage to speak up. “Before we left the emporium, Mrs Boyle said she saw a man lingering in the alley on the night of the murder.” She described him as tall with a broad frame but could not see his face. The lady had been reluctant to say any more. “She places him there at midnight, about the same time witnesses can place us at the Copper Crown.”
They had visited Bow Street and relayed the information to Sergeant Maitland, who confessed to having no new evidence. They made no mention of the journal or finding her chemise tangled in the bedsheets.
“How convenient.” Aaron’s tone rang with mistrust.
“By witnesses, you mean the rogues fighting in the yard,” Theodore said. His sinful smile could make a nun’s heart flutter. “I’d have liked to see the look on their faces when you put the giant on his arse.”
Aramis grinned proudly. “When this is over, I say we visit the Copper Crown and ask for a rematch. You can fight the giant this time. That way, the stakes will work in our favour.”
Naomi remained silent.
When this was over, where would she be? Living at Hartford Hall with Lydia? Left to fight her own battles, win her own wars? The thought filled her with dread, not hope. Without a husband or children, she shivered against the stark vision of a lonely existence.
Quick to douse his brothers’ fiery excitement, Aaron said, “Theo has just returned from the solicitor’s office in Northwood. Farquhar retired five months ago. No one has seen or heard from him since. Without an admission of guilt, it will be impossible to prove fraud.”
The news came as a dreadful blow. She struggled to catch her breath against the rising panic. Mr Farquhar was in his forties. Where did he get the funds to retire? “Surely his replacement has access to the files. Perhaps the clerk can attest to the solicitor’s dishonesty.”
Aaron gestured to Theodore, who sighed and said, “There are no files. The office is closed, and the windows are boarded. I spoke to the landlord of the local tavern. Farquhar’s clerk moved to London, though no one can recall his name.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes. She fought to keep them at bay while thinking of a solution. “For a small fee, we can examine a copy of the will at Doctors’ Commons. It will provide us with the names of those who bore witness to fraud.”
“Fraud carries the death penalty,” Aaron said smugly. “And a proctor at Doctors’ Commons must have proved the will in the Prerogative Court. Lawmen at that level won’t risk their neck to save their conscience.”
Aramis came to her defence. “But a witness might. We gather the names and use one against the other to secure a confession.” He made intimidation sound simple.
Aaron reached for his wine. He took a sip, savouring the taste while lost in thought. “Theo will assist you and gain the information from Doctors’ Commons. The sooner this matter is dealt with, the better.”
He wanted rid of her.
He wanted her gone from the table and their lives.
An awkward silence descended, one broken by the sudden sound of raised voices in the hall. Naomi strained to hear the argument.
Aaron’s lethal stare remained fixed on the door.
It swung open, and an attractive woman no older than thirty marched into the room, her golden hair fastened in a simple chignon. With a flash of anger in her eyes, she stormed to the head of the table and threw a handbill in Aaron’s lap.
“Forgive me for spoiling your dinner. But as you refuse to see me at a reasonable hour, I had no choice but to force my way in.” She gestured to Delphine, who looked more than intrigued. “Miss Chance said I should be persistent.”
Aaron glanced at his sister. “Did she?”
Sigmund appeared, offering his own apology. “While I’d happily throw a man to the pavement, I’ll not lay my hands on a woman.”
“We have a viewing hatch for a reason,” Aaron countered.
“Miss Lovelace seemed upset.”
“I am upset,” she said without compunction.
Aaron snatched the handbill and stood slowly. He perused it for longer than necessary. “You’re upset because men wish to fight in my basement? We hold a monthly contest. The prize draws contenders from as far afield as Lancashire.”
The lady stared into his obsidian eyes. “I’m upset because that’s the night I plan to reopen The Burnished Jade. The Denson Quartet is to perform a recital. Madame de Rosso is to sing. How are ladies meant to relax in tranquil surroundings when men are shouting and brawling in the street?”
Aaron’s mouth curled into an arrogant grin. “You should have opened your ladies’ club elsewhere. How are men meant to relax when being spied on by spinsters?”
“Spinsters?” Miss Lovelace stepped forward, her face so close to Aaron’s their breath surely mingled. “Only you could make freedom sound demeaning.”
The close proximity had a marked effect on Aaron Chance. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and he inhaled deeply. He tried to step back, but the chair blocked his retreat.
