Page 88 of The Last Chance
“Try again,” Aaron said, stalling. “She might be sleeping. Try the other bedchambers. She complained the upper floor was cold.”
The entire house was cold. It was November, for heaven’s sake. But Joanna had used it as an excuse to draw him out of the dark and force him to express his feelings.
Delphine nodded and hurried upstairs.
To buy time, Aaron told the magistrate what he knew about the murder weapon. “It was stolen from Mrs Flavell’s home in Grosvenor Place. She will confirm Miss Lovelace attended her first function this week to gather evidence and couldn’t have stolen the dagger.”
The magistrate came to the wrong conclusion. “An attractivewoman living alone will doubtless have a lover. He may have stolen the weapon.”
“Miss Lovelace is not that sort of woman,” Aaron snapped.
“What sort of woman?” came a feminine voice behind him.
Daventry’s eyes widened. “Miss Lovelace. Good evening.”
Miss Lovelace?
Aaron’s heart stopped beating. He turned slowly, fear forming a lump in his throat. Their eyes met, and the sudden ache in his chest was overwhelming. “Miss Lovelace. There you are.”
What the hell are you doing here?he wanted to yell.
Rothley looked furious.
While Aaron was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.
She smiled like she didn’t have a worry in the world. “I was out in the yard, taking some air, and didn’t realise it was eight o’clock.” She brushed dust off her blue pelisse and patted her hair. “It’s a little windy out tonight.”
Feeling the pressure of their relentless questions, the magistrate gestured to the door. “As you’re dressed for an outing, it’s best we leave now.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” Aaron noticed Sigmund lingering behind Joanna and hit him with a stare hot enough to sear his soul. “I request a few days grace. Rothley will act as surety. Miss Lovelace is not a flight risk. If she were guilty, she would have escaped over the yard wall.”
“I will assist with the investigation,” Daventry assured the magistrate. “I’ll ensure your office shares the credit if we catch the killer.”
The magistrate considered their proposal.
Joanna stepped forward. Her clothes smelled of musty seats and road dust, not sweet like roses. Still, Aaron’s muscles firmed with the need to carry her upstairs and make love to her until dawn. Which is precisely what he would do once they’d got rid of the magistrate.
“With Sigmund’s help, I remembered a few pertinent points about the night at The Jade,” she said, admitting to seeing Miss Goswell creeping upstairs. “She’s a spinster who joined the club recently, though no one knew her. Despite her pleasing countenance, none of the men recognised her, either.”
“I know most people in society,” Rothley said when Joanna gave a brief description. “I don’t know anyone named Miss Goswell.”
Daventry turned to the magistrate. “Perhaps your men could interview Howard’s staff and see if they know her. Maybe ask at his club. With Miss Lovelace’s help, I’ll question her guests.” He paused. “Shall we agree to meet in my office at noon on Saturday and compare notes?”
A heavy silence followed.
Daventry sweetened the deal. “I will ensure we have the Home Secretary’s full support, though you must lift the imposed curfew.”
With a persuasive nudge from Rothley, the magistrate conceded. “You have until noon on Saturday. If no further evidence comes to light, I will speak to Miss Lovelace at the Thames office.”
Everyone agreed.
Aaron showed the magistrate out.
Anger simmered. He had never relied on other men to solve his problems. He had never stood mute and left his fate in other men’s hands. As God was his witness, it wouldn’t happen again.
He faced Daventry and Rothley. “Call in the morning at ten. We’ll decide what to do from there. My brothers will assist us.”
The men nodded and lingered, as if expecting the offer of brandy.
