Page 45 of One Wicked Secret
“Magnus disposed of them, along with his shaving implements.”
“You should have sent for the coroner.”
“You know why we didn’t.” Even if a jury believed she was innocent of the crime, she would be ruined in the eyes of society.
“Are you sure none of the servants saw you?”
“We used the woods and burnt the blood-stained bedding at Thorncroft. We sprinkled Carver’s cologne on the new soft furnishings to disguise the metallic tang of blood and make it seem like he’d slept beneath the new blankets.”
Elsa jerked to attention. “Mr Carver didn’t wear cologne. He had an aversion to strong smells. He told me he used Castile soap because perfumes caused a rash.”
“We found a full bottle on the chest of drawers. There was a handwritten card beside it from James & F. Green detailing the blend, with an address for a hotel in London scrawled on the back.”
“Then it must have been a gift from someone.”
Daniel frowned. Magnus said nothing about Carver not wearing cologne. “Was Carver’s aversion common knowledge?”
Elsa shrugged. “He told me because he couldn’t stop sneezing.” She glanced at the chest of drawers. “What happened to the bottle?”
“Magnus took it.”
A heavy weight of suspicion settled in his chest. Did Magnus know more than he had divulged? Was he on his own mission to find the culprit? Had he killed Carver after finding Elsa in the cottage and used Daniel to help him hide the crime?
“I’m beginning to question your brother’s motives in asking for my help,” he confessed, having sworn not to lie to her again.
Elsa didn’t defend her kin. “I don’t blame you for having suspicions. There’s far more to this than meets the eye. I’m just sorry I can’t recall anything useful.”
“We have found one clue.” If Carver didn’t purchase the cologne, who did? “I kept the card and have the name of the perfumer. Perhaps the killer bought Mr Carver a gift.”
Chapter Nine
Elsa spent the journey to London thinking about the mystery and making notes in her old journal, adding two more questions to the growing list. Where did the hired thugs get the keys to Edenberry? Had Mr Carver lied about his aversion to cologne, or had he left the bottle as a clue—a message from beyond the grave?
Their brief detour to The Grange raised other important questions. Why had Finnegan and Mrs Tate deserted their posts, leaving Cook and the maids to cope alone? Why had none of the servants informed Daniel?
The answer became apparent when Daniel strode out of The Grange, gritting his teeth and growling, “When I find Finnegan, I’ll wring his blasted neck. I’ve no patience for cowards.”
Even hours later, as the carriage rattled along the Great West Road past Hounslow, the air inside was thick with tension. His clenched jaw and rigid posture betrayed his fury—but somehow, it only sharpened his appeal and fed her growing attraction to him.
He sat opposite her, his legs spread wide, a stray lock of sable hair falling rakishly over his brow, and scared her half to death when he suddenly said, “What are you writing?”
“Me? Just a few notes on the case.” She spoke softly so as not to wake Clara, who didn’t care if she dribbled in her sleep now Lord Rutland was travelling with the marquess.
“May I see them?”
Good lord, no!
What if he flipped through the pages and found ‘Mrs Elsa Dalton’ written a hundred times—or read the entry about the night he almost kissed her? Foolish words, penned before she understood even the wildest fantasies could come true.
Instead, she read the list aloud, finishing with, “Did Mr Carver meet his killer at the hotel named on the back of the perfumer’s card? It might be an important clue. We could question the porter.”
“Only people involved in adulterous affairs stay at The Raven. Couples use the iniquitous den for illicit trysts and stolen pleasures.”
She let her gaze drift over her husband’s fine physique. It wasn’t the first time she’d imagined peeling off his waistcoat and sliding his shirt up over his muscled torso.
“Perhaps Mr Carver’s lover came to visit him at Edenberry, saw me in his bed and killed him in a jealous rage.”
“If she were truly that enraged, she would have killed you, too. Besides, I doubt Carver invited the murderer into his home.” He averted his gaze as he always did when guarding his thoughts. “But we’ll visit The Raven as you suggest.”
