Page 44 of Cloaked in Deception
Miss Hayes.Constance. A twinge of disappointment and something else Leo didn’t quite like traveled their way through her, from belly to throat. It had been some months since Leo had last seen Constance Hayes, but she hadn’t forgotten how striking she was, how stylish and sophisticated. Leo raised a hand to pat the back of her head. Wisps of her dark brown hair had come loose from several pins over the course of the afternoon while assisting Connor with the autopsy of a middle-aged man. She had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Gavin Seabright, Mrs. Hayes, and little Edward that she had not stopped to consider how untidy she might appear.
She lowered her hand, hoping Jasper hadn’t noticed her insecurity. “Was her mother in?”
“Mrs. Hayes left London immediately after returning from her outing to Martha Seabright’s home. A servant confirmed she’d gone out for a few hours and was wearing a hooded blue cloak, just as you noted.”
“She has left London?” Alarm pitched her voice higher. “Where has she gone?”
“According to Constance, to their family home in Hampshire. Her father and younger brother departed for the country yesterday unexpectedly, and today, Constance discovered her mother had gone too. There were no goodbyes.”
“There is no question, then. Something must have happened,” Leo said, thinking of Martha’s home. Had Mrs. Hayes found something there? Something worrying enough to make her flee London?
“The servant I spoke to said Mr. and Mrs. Hayes had argued the night of the benefit dinner,” Jasper said. “Mrs. Hayes was heard accusing her husband of lying to her.”
“Gracious,” Leo murmured, her mind spinning with this new information. “I wonder how it connects to Martha Seabright.”
“It might not connect at all,” he warned. “I won’t know until I question them.”
“Are you going to Hampshire, then?” Leo eyed the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o’clock. “Not tonight, I hope?”
They were supposed to have dinner together this evening. She’d been anticipating it all afternoon, even if the promise of it made her feel a bit wobbly.
Jasper formed a slow, crooked smile. “Not tonight.”
Again, conscious of her bedraggled appearance, Leo pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear; it had been coming forward, tickling her cheek for a few hours. She hadn’t cared enough to pin it back into place, though now she regretted the decision.
“Are we still dining at seven?” she asked, next running her palm over her narrow belt and the rumpled green shirtwaist tucked into the band. “I’m not sure I’ll be ready so soon. I’m rather a mess.”
Jasper only continued to grin, his attention slipping down the length of her body, from where she held a palm to her stomach to the tips of her boots. When his eyes met hers again, she felt pinned in place by them.
“You don’t look a mess, Leo. You look beautiful.”
A gust of wind blew in, sprinkling her lightly with rain. She didn’t blink or flinch. She could only stare up at him, befuddled. Her first instinct was to deny the compliment. Beautiful wasn’t how she would have ever described herself. Awestruck as she was, however, she paused long enough to recognize sincerity in the way Jasper gazed at her. He’d meant it.
“No one has ever called me that.” Only once she’d spoken did she hear how pitiful the confession sounded. Embarrassment warmed her. Or perhaps it was pleasure from his flattering remark. She wasn’t certain.
“Never?” Jasper appeared doubtful.
Leo shrugged, wishing she hadn’t said it now. “Trust me, I would remember if someone had.”
Just as she would always remember this. Jasper, holding his bowler by its dampened crown, his honey-blond hair a shade darker from the rain that had soaked through the wool felt on his walk to the morgue. His dark green vest, the one that accentuated the color of his eyes. His brown tie, the knot loose after a long day.
He moved closer, narrowing the space between them. When his hand reached for the stubborn curl of sable hair that had slipped forward once again, his fingertips brushed her cheek as he tucked it behind her ear. Standing this close to him, breathing in the scent of his clothing, of his skin, was all so new and thrilling and terrifying. And yet, as overwhelming as it was, nothing could have induced her to back away when Jasper’s warm hand cupped the nape of her neck. Or when he angled his head nearer, and his lips lowered to hers.
He tested the kiss with a gentle press of his mouth, and after a heart-stopping moment, Leo met it with an answering nudge. Her palms lifted to the damp lapels of his coat, and she gripped them lightly. Through half-lidded eyes, she saw a flicker of lightning. The scent of ozone mingled with his musky sandalwood.
The details of their first kiss were locked as vividly in Leo’s memory as everything else, and yet she was surprised by what she’d forgotten—the galvanizing sensation of Jasper’s arm, hooking her waist and pulling her against him. How curiouslysmall and delicate she felt in his embrace. The magnetic need to rise onto her toes and meet his seeking lips.
The rolling thunder, the spray of rain against them as they stood near the open doorway, those things didn’t matter right then. And, as if the meeting of their mouths allowed her to read his mind, Leo knew Jasper did not care either. Her hearing went a bit muffled, the world muting beneath those sounds that were closest: Jasper’s uneven breathing and her own. The rustle of his coat under her hands. The scuff of his shoes as he slowly guided her away from the door’s entrance in the direction of her desk.
Whether he’d been kissing her for one minute or five, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. She’d become lost in the lovely marvel of it, of allowing him to pull her flush against him. Leo wanted the kiss to go on and on. Forever would have been acceptable.
As such, the pointed clearing of a throat took a prolonged moment to register in her awareness. Then, in a sharp and disorienting flash, Jasper’s mouth and the arm around her waist were gone. Leo staggered back a step as he released her to face the interloper.
Standing just outside the open doorway, holding an umbrella above his head, was Detective Sergeant Lewis. Mortification seared her, and Leo turned away, though not before glimpsing Sergeant Lewis’s chastened, though somewhat amused, expression.
“Roy,” Jasper said, his voice low and rough. There was no mistaking his annoyance even before he snapped, “What is it?”
“Sorry, guv. Woodhouse said you’d run out earlier. I thought you might be here.”
