Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,52
to Lord Westing’s death.”
It was far too much coincidence for her, but Katherine didn’t have the wherewithal to argue. “Very well. We’ll say I discovered evidence that sheds suspicion on Dr. Gammon’s death. Then, all we need to do is make certain that Lord Westing’s daughter, Dr. Sumner, and Mr. Gammon hear these rumors. Knowing that I’m helpless, they will come here to try to steal the notes!”
“Did you injure your head along with your ankle?” Wayland barked. He rounded on her, eyes blazing.
Katherine shrank back in her seat. She had never seen him so furious.
“It’s too dangerous.”
His snipped words rang in the air. However, Katherine refused to back down. She didn’t want to remain idle for the rest of the investigation. She met his gaze squarely. “It is not too dangerous if you are hiding in wait to apprehend the killer before they can harm me.”
Lord Annandale cleared his throat.
Heat chased onto Katherine’s cheeks, and she ducked her head. “All of you, I mean. You’ll all wait to intercept the murderer. You’ll listen while I coax a confession. Once I do, you may reveal yourselves and subdue him. We’ll hand him over to Lyle for a trial.”
Pru looked dubious. “But if Lord Westing’s daughter lives out of town, how could she come…”
Katherine wrinkled her nose. “Do we know for certain that she is out of town? Perhaps that’s only what she wants everyone to think. She might have spread a rumor of her own to prevent suspicion. Even if she is truly out of town, she might have hired someone to perform the deed. They might hear the rumor and come in her place. And if Dr. Sumner committed the murder, his absence from society could indicate a desire to wait until the murder investigation quiets. He has a successful business in London; he cannot wish to relinquish that entirely.”
Grudgingly, Lord Annandale nodded. “We can spread the rumor around the men’s clubs. That might draw him out.”
Katherine gazed from one person to another. “Then you’ll do it? You’ll spread the rumor?”
Pru nodded in confirmation. “We’ll spread the rumor.”
Darkly, Wayland added, “And we will be here this evening to see if it bears fruit.”
Chapter Sixteen
Katherine balanced on her good leg, shutting her eyes and taking several deep breaths until the shadow of pain in her injured ankle subsided. Only once she had regained her composure did she open the door. She craned her neck back, looking up into Wayland’s scowl.
“What do you think you’re doing answering the door?”
Katherine glowered back. She wasn’t in the best of moods to begin with, confined as she was to the house and her chair. “Harriet is busy.”
“She’d best be bleeding, to let an injured woman perform her tasks.”
Katherine gritted her teeth. “I have hands and one good leg. I can do for myself.” When he opened his mouth, no doubt to argue again, she hobbled back and ushered him into the house. “Why are you here so early? The others won’t arrive for another three or four hours yet.” They had agreed to meet after supper. Outside, dusk was just beginning to fall.
Wayland shut the door, keeping out the waves of cold air assaulting them both. Katherine adjusted her shawl and hopped on her good leg, using the wall for support.
He studied her dubiously. “You are not in the least bit capable of walking around on your own yet.”
“Don’t coddle me. Why are you here?”
He raised his eyebrows. “We’re going out.”
Katherine let out an exasperated huff and turned to limp back into the parlor, where she had been confined for the entirety of the grueling day. He stopped her. One moment, she had both feet on the floor… mostly. In the next, he’d swept her up into his arms.
At the shocking change, she gasped for breath and clutched at his shoulders. Although her grip made her knuckles creak, he didn’t protest. Nor did he seem in danger of letting her fall. However, his touch was… disorienting, to say the least. The last time he had held her this way, the pain in her ankle had rendered her insensible to the intimacy. Now, she was entirely too aware of him.
Breathlessly, she demanded, “Put me down.”
Instead, Wayland lifted his head and shouted, “Harriet?”
A moment later, Harriet scurried out the narrow corridor, a wooden spoon in her hand. Her eyebrows were low slashes across her eyes. “Yes?” Her voice was polite, but only just.
Wayland didn’t appear to notice her harried mood. He stepped toward the staircase. “Katherine