“Could there be more?”
“Unlikely.” He chuckled even as he shifted, uncomfortable with her close regard. The idea of her seeing him as more was unsettling. “Please don’t expect any heroics from me or you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“Hmm.” The unclear response suggested she didn’t believe him.
But he knew all too well he’d eventually disappoint her. It was past time to return the conversation to business. That was the only part of their relationship that mattered. “In any event, I don’t want anything to put the publishing of your next book with our company at risk.”
She stepped back as if stung by his words. Good. He needed her to keep her distance since he didn’t seem able to do so.
“Excellent reminder,” she said with a single nod. “We’re of the same mind. Business first. What more did you discover about the murder?”
“The report from the Thames Police matches the murder in your book in disturbing details, including a red button in the man’s suit coat pocket.”
She stilled at the news. “One has to doubt this is all a coincidence.”
“Unfortunately, they don’t yet have any suspects.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would do this.” The news clearly upset her.
“Nor do I. I cannot think of what anyone would gain by doing so.”
“Did they release the name of the victim?”
“Yes. Joseph Smead.” Saying his name, a man he knew, made this all too real.
“You knew him?” Something in his tone must’ve given him away.
“Not well, but yes.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her gloved hands clenched into fists as if the news pained her. “What are we going to do?”
“You have no reason to apologize.” He took her hands in his, rubbing them gently despite his intent to keep his distance. “I’m certain the police will find whoever did it soon.”
“And if they don’t?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug, unable to tell her what she obviously wanted to hear. He had no experience investigating crimes. “They will.”
He hoped it was true because he certainly wasn’t capable of solving a murder. As he’d already told her, he was no hero. Only a rogue with few skills to his credit. The police were their best—and only—hope.
~*~
Annabelle smiled with satisfaction as she wrote ‘The End’ on the fair copy of the manuscript. A Murder Most Foul was complete. It was her best work to date. She felt it in her bones.
Now she need only deliver it to Artemis Press.
Two days had passed since that kiss on the terrace at Louisa’s ball. In those two days, she’d done her best to distance her thoughts from Thomas, but the task had proven impossible.
Nor could she get the murder out of her mind. Each day she checked for an update on the crime in the broadsheet but had yet to see anything.
Hoping the police were making progress, she’d concentrated on finalizing the story, only to catch herself wondering what Thomas would think of certain passages and plot twists. That was an ineffective way for an author to work. She needed a clear mind to focus on the details as well as the story in its entirety. That was the very reason she intended to avoid marriage and love and men in general. If she weren’t careful, she might lose the drive to write completely. Then who would she be?
The question made her shudder. Writing consumed the majority of her waking hours. If she wasn’t writing, she was thinking about writing. Without that... She couldn’t bear to finish the thought.
It was nearly time for luncheon she realized as she glanced at the clock on her desk. Afterward, she’d take the manuscript to the publishing office and hope Thomas had news on the murder. Then she needn’t see him for several weeks until he determined what edits were needed.
Distance from the man would do her good. She’d already written notes on her next story and she’d focus on expanding them. She wouldn’t allow Thomas—or his dimples—to cross her mind.
Her previous notion that seeing him more often would reduce her reaction to him now seemed ridiculous. Especially after that kiss. The memory of it caused her mouth to go dry while liquid heat filled her entire being. How could a simple meeting of lips cause her to feel so much?
It was terribly inconvenient to be this attracted to the publisher of her book. Why Thomas of all people? His looks certainly played a part in it. Those dimples, of course. But there was a depth to him she’d noticed from the start. A shadow in those green eyes