Page 72 of One Wicked Secret
She stood and moved behind the chair to rub his shoulders. “We have plenty to do in the meantime. Tomorrow, we’ll visit the solicitor and ask about the documents my father mentioned.”
“That feels so good.” A deep hum rumbled in his throat as she worked his tense muscles. “And I’m meeting Daventry tomorrow night at that dockside tavern to question the patrons. His men have taken statements, but landlords often remember facts when you make yourself a nuisance.”
“It might be dangerous.”
He covered her hand with his own. “I hope so. I need a way to release this damn frustration before it consumes me.”
“There are other ways to forget about our problems.”
Perhaps he heard the husky edge in her voice. One moment she was behind the chair, the next he had hauled her into his lap.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten our unfinished business. I told Signora Conti I’ll take supper upstairs tonight.” He captured her chin and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “After you’veundressed me and helped me bathe. I need your hands on my aching body, Elsa.”
Lust coiled low in her belly. The sudden pulsing between her legs almost made her forget the clues she’d found.
“Then before the footmen arrive with the hot water, there’s something I must show you. I’ve been busy myself.”
He skimmed his hand down her skirts, slipping beneath her petticoats. “Plan on being busy the entire evening. I’ll shoot anyone who disturbs us tonight.”
She slid off his lap and tugged his hand, coaxing him to sit on the floor. After explaining her thought process, she added, “There’s a different message printed on the bookplates in each of my mother’s novels. Let me show you.”
Daniel took up the magnifying glass and obliged her, jerking in shock when he read the first three clues. “Who in blazes is Cynthia Wright?”
“I have no idea, but the date in August is my mother’s birthday.”
He met her gaze, his smile reflecting the relief that she had made progress. “Are there clues in the other books?”
“I’ve only checked three so far.” She located those she’d been about to inspect. “Use the glass and check the writing on the tome. The words are too small to see with the naked eye.”
He gripped the slim handle in his long fingers, fingers that had brought her untold pleasure last night, strong fingers that held an immense amount of skill.
“There’s another message here. A vicar’s name and address.” He handed her the book and the magnifying glass, their hands touching briefly.
The Reverend Preston-Jones
St Mary’s, Harrow on the Hill
She read the message aloud. “I assume the church is close to Harrow School. Lord Denby attended Harrow, whereas Magnus went to Eton.”
“Yes, the schoolboys attend Sunday service there.”
They were both eager to discover what was hidden in the next book. It was an address in Port Noir, Geneva.
A cold chill swept over her. “Where is the house Magnus rented?”
Daniel’s grave expression confirmed her suspicion. “Port Noir.”
She drew a sharp breath. Had Magnus already found these clues? Was he searching for the blackmailer, or was he the person she should fear?
A study of the last bookplate brought a final message. One that made every hair on her nape stand on end. One that forced her to question everything.
Gather the evidence.
Elsa, tell no one. Trust no one.
Your life depends on it.
Long, drawn-out seconds passed.
