Page 70 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
“And then he fell and broke his neck.”
He looked down at their hands locked together and finally lifted his eyes to hers. “I did not kill him, Paulette.”
She let out a tense breath. “Jenny won’t say much, but I know she’s terrified. She thinks he went looking for her.”
“Because it was her room.”
“Yes.” A chill went through her.
“And what do you think?”
“I…I told the innkeeper’s girl,” she frowned. “I told her, if anyone asked for me, to tell them I’d changed rooms.”
Mr. Gibson’s jaw hardened and moved and she went on.
“Where did she go? Was she working with him?”
“He paid her I think, to keep me out of the way. Which wouldn’t have worked, Paulette. I’ve no interest in any woman but you.”
A warm ripple uncurled in her and all she could manage was a strangled “Oh.”
Could that be so?
By Mrs. Everly’s laws, men were creatures who’d take any woman who came along, and such doings at inns were a common occurrence.
Could Mrs. Everly have been wrong? She’d been wrong about other things. Paulette shook off the thought until later.
“He was searching, wasn’t he? He’d upended their bag. What could he be looking for? Agruen already has my mother’s ring.”
“That wasn’t your clothing, then?”
She shook her head, and his fingers smoothed hair away from her eyes, his touch gentle and warm. It was close in the carriage, the windows shut tight and the shades drawn, and she felt beads of moisture coating her face.
“Perhaps he was looking for the letter of your mother’s you found.”
She turned away in her seat. The man noticed everything. The man forgot nothing. It had been a mistake to mention the letter. And yet…
“I doubt it.” She lifted the lap desk from the floor, undid the clasp and reached under the playing cards and the few sheets of paper. “Here. You may read it yourself.”
“I will. But later. Put it away.”
“Will you hold the letter for me? Will you keep it safe?”
“Yes. Certainly.” He stowed the paper into an inside pocket and kissed her again, this time more gently. “Is there aught else I should know about this puzzle Agruen mentioned?”
His eyes held hers, searching, and a sick feeling slid through her. They were marrying and he should know.
Except, her mother had scoffed at Jock’s talk of a treasure. It might not be real. She wouldn’t know until she knew.
“It must have something to do with whatever the solicitor is holding.”
His mouth firmed and he glanced away. Satisfied with the answer or not, she couldn’t tell.
The coach slowed and a knock on the roof warned them. Mr. Gibson opened the shades, while Paulette retrieved her bonnet. They were entering a hamlet.
“We’re almost to Brampton.”
“We’ve made good time.”
