“When the dog barked,” she explained. “He poked his head out the window for a look. It was just for a moment, and the angle was not the best, but I caught a glimpse of his profile.”
“Describe him,” said Lynsley quickly.
Kate gave a wry grimace. “Brown hair, neither long nor short. A neatly trimmed mustache. Regular features.” She lifted her shoulders in oblique apology. “I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes. My impression was that they were dark.”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t help narrow down the possible suspects to a manageable list,” said Lynsley dryly. “I can’t set my operatives to trailing half the men in Austria.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s a pity that I do not possess Lord James Pierson’s talent for sketching. Words don’t create a good picture, but there was something about the set of his mouth. I—I am quite sure I would know him again if I saw him.”
Silence settled over the room, punctuated by the drip of the tallow and Cluyne’s heavy breathing.
Kate looked down at her lap and studied her hands, trying not to think of what they had been doing a few short hours ago. She had known that the feeling of profound peace would be fleeting. Like the eye of a hurricane, the moment was an illusion, a tantalizing hope before the raging storm once again darkened the skies with its fury.
Marco finally cleared his throat. “Sir, I have a suggestion that might actually solve both of our problems.”
“Well?” barked the duke.
“I am all ears,” murmured Lynsley. “What do you propose?”
Kate, too, swiveled around to listen.
“Marriage,” he replied bluntly. “Not to you of course, sir,” he added in a joking tone. “But to Miss Woodbridge.”
Too shocked to speak, she could only stare in open-mouthed wonder.
Why was the rogue trying to do the honorable thing?
Her first reaction was to laugh aloud. But somehow the burble seemed to catch as her throat constricted and her chest tightened, forcing the air from her lungs.
She suddenly felt a little woozy. Her sleep-deprived brain was simply fogged with exhaustion. As was his. They would both come to their senses shortly, and she would shake off the silly twinge of longing. Still, it was rather… touching that Marco felt obliged to make the offer.
However, the ominous rumble in Cluyne’s throat did not bode well for her grandfather’s opinion of the idea.
“Wait and hear me out,” said Marco quickly. “It would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“That is putting it mildly,” said Kate under her breath.
He ignored the interruption. “To begin with, it would clear the cloud of suspicion from Miss Woodbridge. I’ll request a private meeting with the magistrate and swear that she and I were together the night of the murder. The explanation can be that we had a secret engagement and were just waiting to get the duke’s approval to make it public. It’s embarrassing, yes, but not unheard of. Seeing as I am a titled gentleman, he’ll have to take my word as a witness.”
Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose.
“We can marry by special license,” continued Marco. “Today, as soon as you can arrange it.”
Kate’s heart gave a lurch.
“And then depart immediately for Vienna. My taste for revelry is well-known. No one will question why I have brought my bride to partake of its pleasures. What sybarite wouldn’t want a romantic honeymoon amid the sumptuous splendor of the biggest party ever thrown in Europe?” he pointed out. “Once Miss Woodbridge identifies our quarry, I can eliminate the threat, as it were.”
Lynsley pursed his lips. “I confess, it could work. And would solve our problems rather nicely. Though it seems a little hard-hearted to ask Miss Woodbridge to take such a drastic step.”
Kate looked at her grandfather. He tried to look stoic but she saw the obvious pain in his eyes as he agonized over the difficult choices. He had been far more emotional of late, allowing his feelings to melt the mask of ducal reserve. Mistakes and misunderstandings had kept them apart for so long. Could their fragile friendship weather another family scandal?
The sting of salt and acrid smoke clouding her eyes, Kate darted a look at Marco. His expression was inscrutable, impossible to fathom. She wasn’t sure that she would ever plumb the depths of his character. And yet, despite all the unknowns, she felt a compelling urge to say yes.
She couldn’t help recalling his lovemaking, his gentleness, his sense of fun. Life would