Murder on Cold Street (Lady Sherlock #5) - Sherry Thomas Page 0,90

back to my desk.

“At midnight, the grandfather clock in the entrance hall strikes. I don’t always hear it as it strikes, but I will later realize that it has already struck. And that realization usually marks the moment I leap up from my desk to give my grandmother her medicine.

“As I said, that day I was particularly peeved at myself, because if I’d never left the desk after the alarm went off, that would have been one thing. But I had; I’d gone to the window and then returned to my desk, until I realized that midnight had already come and gone.

“Anyway, before I went to bed that night, I stood in front of the window in my bedroom, still thinking about my case. And that was when the brougham came back again. A fog was rolling in then, and the street was already rather scantly lit, but still, it was hard to miss a horizontally striped carriage. I thought it was simply there to pick up the same guests it had dropped off earlier. It never stopped; then a few minutes later it came back again from the other direction.”

Lord Ingram and Holmes exchanged a look. A carriage that was easily identifiable even at night? They could find this vehicle.

“What colors were the stripes?”

“They were black and white,” said Mr. Bosworth, looking with hope toward Holmes. “Is that—at all helpful?”

His hope did not go unrewarded. “We will not know until we look into the carriage,” said Holmes. “But we are most grateful to you, Mr. Bosworth, for a new avenue of inquiry.”

Mr. Bosworth smiled with relief. “That’s wonderful!”

“Thank you,” said Holmes. And then, with one last elder-sister look, “I hope you will do the right thing.”

Mr. Bosworth reddened. “You are right, Miss Holmes. I will be sure to rise the moment the alarm rings tonight. And I will apologize to my grandmother tomorrow for having failed to properly discharge my obligation earlier.”

* * *

As soon as their waiting hackney had pulled away from the curb, Lord Ingram turned to Charlotte and kissed her.

“What was that for?” she asked after several minutes, breathing unsteadily.

“Nothing. Just that I’ve spent a fair portion of today in your company and I’m happy about that. Also you looked ravishing when you demanded that Mr. Bosworth produce his two alarm clocks.”

She felt a smile rising up. She was vain enough to be thoroughly delighted at being called ravishing.

“Come to think of it,” he went on, “I’ve always thought you especially handsome in such moments. Do you remember when you showed up at the Roman villa at my uncle’s place that very first time?”

“Of course.” That would be the occasion on which she’d blackmailed him into kissing her.

“I demanded to know how you found my remote site, and you explained that you’d checked the debris on my Wellington boots, which had been left at a side entrance to the manor, against the results of a geological survey that had been done on the estate.”

She remembered. Very well. She’d “borrowed” the detailed survey from the office of the estate manager. And with that in hand, it had been easy to determine the only path he could have taken that would have accounted for both the red clay on the bottom of his boots and the fact that those boots had been in water almost high enough to submerge them.

“I’d noticed you before, of course—you were the girl who was always staring at me. Openly,” he murmured, tracing one gloved fingertip across her lower lip. “But that moment . . . that moment I was a bit stunned, and not only by your impeccable logic.”

Her heart thudded. She curved her own gloved hand behind his nape. “Are you saying, Ash, that you didn’t kiss me solely because I threatened to bring a horde of rowdy children to your site?”

He leaned in. His breath on the shell of her ear sent pleasure pulsing along her nerve endings. “Please, Holmes, I was excavating the site with the blessing of my uncle. I was his favorite nephew and you were a somewhat insignificant guest. Had I been merely concerned about the preservation of my site, I’d have reported you to him and had you expelled from the estate.”

The smile that had been rising and rising at last burst onto her face. “Oh, my.”

And before he could kiss her again, she pulled him to her and kissed him.

Fourteen

Robert Treadles had paced for miles.

In the narrow space between the desk and the bookshelves,