A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Mayhem - Manda Collins Page 0,53

sneezing fit. “All right.”

Then, gathering a protesting Ludwig into her arms, she asked, “But what about Eversham?”

“I have little doubt he was in the coach I heard leaving a few minutes ago.” Kate went over to the hot water and began scrubbing her hands. “He’ll be going to the shop where poor Mr. Green was found. We will be going to the man’s home. I intend to speak with his wife to find out whether she knows more about the letters than he told us. And tactful as Eversham is, I don’t think he’ll manage to get as much information from her as we will.”

“I’ll be back,” she heard Caro say just before the bedchamber door closed behind her.

Turning back to the mirror, Kate checked her hair once more and sent up a little prayer of hope that whatever they found at the Green house would help them find the man’s killer.

* * *

Eversham found a hamper of sandwiches and a jar of tea in Valentine’s carriage when he climbed in for the short ride into the village. Having missed luncheon, he was grateful for the sustenance.

The rain that had been threatening all day had finally come, and he tried to clear his mind of anything but the case as the well-sprung coach rumbled over the narrow lane toward Lewiston.

That Green had been killed so soon after speaking with him could be a sign that the murderer had been alarmed by whatever Green could reveal. But Eversham hadn’t had the feeling that the man was holding back anything more about the altercation with Jones or the letters. It must be something that he hadn’t even realized was connected to the killer’s identity.

If there was an unknown heir to Philbrick’s estate with whom Jones had been working, then there were only two options: one, that some distant relative who had been heretofore unknown had surfaced, or two, Philbrick had fathered a child. But in order to be legitimate, the child would have to have been born in wedlock and there was no record of the man ever having been married.

Still, a child of Philbrick’s body—even an illegitimate one—seemed more likely than a distant relation. For one thing, an illegitimate child would have reason to be angry. And there was a great deal of anger in the way Jones, and even the London victims, had been killed. For another, a child would not have been able to come forward at the time of Philbrick’s death.

He knew from his years with the police that most murders were due to either money or familial strife, and this case had the potential for both. Or at least the overarching motive seemed related to both. But unlike Jones and Green, he’d never been able to find a connection between the four London victims.

His gut said that these murders were also the work of the Commandments Killer, but if that were the case, then the motives had changed. Had the killer altered his reasons for killing, along with the location?

It was something to consider.

He closed his eyes, but as soon as he did, he was back in the folly with Katherine.

What a well-named site for his most impulsive mistake yet. Still, attraction had been brewing between them for weeks. And like a long-awaited storm, once the tension broke, there was nothing but relief. At least temporarily.

She’d been as sweet and passionate as he’d hoped. And if the footman hadn’t interrupted them, who knows what they might have done?

Though he did not intend to repeat the action, he was grateful to have gotten the need for her out of his system.

They were adults. There was no reason they wouldn’t be able to put the matter behind them. One good thing about Katherine was that she was just as invested in finding the culprit—whether he was the Commandments Killer or someone else who was copying his methods.

He felt a small pang of guilt at having left her behind to go to the village, but a murder scene was no place for a lady.

And if he knew her, she still hadn’t dealt with the trauma of finding Jones’s body.

The carriage drew to a halt, but before the coachman could let down the step, Eversham leapt down to the village street. He was only a few feet from Green’s shop, which was lit from within, the interior hidden from view by the drawn curtains in the window.

Just outside the door he saw the local constable, a Mr. Miller, who even in