came for information about our legacy.”
Stepping with caution, Vivienne followed Mr Sloane over the threshold. Her heartbeat settled upon finding no sign of the lawyer’s blood-soaked body. But the veneer side table with the mechanical drawers had disappeared.
“Someone took the table.” She pointed past the overturned bookcase to the space on the far wall.
“Perhaps Golding moved it elsewhere for safekeeping.” Mr Sloane sifted through the papers on the desk.
“You won’t find the black book. If Mr Golding didn’t take it, the intruder did.” Vivienne tried to remain positive. Mr Golding had kept the secret notebook for years and wouldn’t fail them now. And yet he could have given them fair warning, could have sent a note to Keel Hall or to the office of the Order to inform them of his sudden departure.
“We should leave and alert the constable.” Mr Sloane glanced at the ceiling. “Though not before ensuring the man isn’t a cold corpse in his bed.”
“A cold corpse?” She screwed her eyes shut briefly to banish the terrifying image. “You might have phrased it differently. Now my heart is thundering faster than a Derby contender.”
Without Mr Golding, how could they proceed with their plans? These last few days, she had grown more than accustomed to the idea of marrying Mr Sloane.
“Does your heart not race when you’re in my company?”
“Rarely,” she lied. Her heart thumped wildly just thinking about him, and she had done an awful lot of that lately.
He stepped over the upturned drawers and prowled towards her. “Have you grown tired of me already, Vivienne? Was the kiss we shared so unmemorable you have forgotten how good it made you feel?”
Heat rose to her cheeks. Lust pulsed between her thighs at the sound of his velvet voice. This man was a magician. He could turn fear into desire by uttering a simple sentence.
“It must have been an unmemorable kiss for you, as you’ve had no desire to repeat the experience. I understand. I lack the skill required to please a man like you.”
Indeed, his moods were unpredictable. Only last night, they’d been laughing while playing daring games until he became solemn and subdued. He’d left the room and returned as if nothing had occurred.
“Is that what you think?” He stood so close his breath breezed over her cheek. “The kiss exceeded my expectations on every level.” He captured her chin between his long, elegant fingers. “There’s a reason I haven’t devoured your sweet mouth again, and it has nothing to do with your lack of experience.”
The heat from her cheeks journeyed southward to pool in her sex. “Is it because I lack the usual feminine attributes?” Most men didn’t want a woman drinking their brandy or beating them at cards.
His gaze dipped to her breasts concealed in a pelisse, though he stripped her naked with his rakish stare. “Trust me. You have everything I need and more.”
Then, as quick as a wink, he released her chin and muttered a curse.
“What’s wrong?”
“While your arousal is evident in the amber flecks of your eyes, mine is evident in a more prominent place.”
Delighted to know she had an effect on him, Vivienne couldn’t help but glance at the noticeable bulge in his breeches.
“Avert your gaze, madam, for it feels like the teasing caress of your fingers.”
She swallowed past her desire. “Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand.” They could continue this conversation tonight while playing the question game. Now, they had more worrying matters to deal with.
“If you mean we should inspect the upper floor, you might have phrased it differently. I need your hand for a more important task than scouring through the discarded debris.” As if annoyed at himself for making the lewd comment, he shook his head and resumed a more business-like manner. “But you’re right. Let us make a thorough inspection before alerting the authorities.”
They visited Mr Wicks’ office next. The room stank of liquor, sweat, and stale tobacco. The contents of the shelves lay scattered about the floor. Upstairs, they encountered the same level of carnage. Discarded clothes. Slashed pillows. Hundreds of feathers littering the bed.
“We should be grateful Mr Golding isn’t home.” Vivienne searched the open armoire only to find more crumpled clothes and an empty valise.
“He can’t have left town. His shaving implements are on the washstand.” Mr Sloane scanned the room and gave a curious hum. “I’ve seen enough. We will alert the constable and continue as planned.”
Continue as planned?
Did he speak of their wedding or the visit to