He wished now he had not suggested Brixton join him for the remaining interviews.
Frederick swallowed and thought quickly. “I see. Well. Thank you for telling us, Billy. Now, I want you to promise not to tell anyone else, understand? As you said, it is not right to gossip about a lady. Mrs. Somerton wouldn’t approve, and nor would I. There is very likely some ... respectable explanation for what you saw, and I intend to find out. In the meantime, let’s keep this between ourselves, all right? Have I your word?”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “Yes, sir.” Although he’d agreed, he looked puzzled and perhaps a little disappointed.
Frederick hoped he could count on his silence. Brixton’s too. He also hoped the boy was mistaken.
The young page left, and Brixton departed to look in onthings at the bakery. Frederick, however, remained sitting in the small office, alone and motionless.
His emotions and resolve, however, swung back and forth like a pendulum.
There is a reasonable explanation, he told himself, much like he had told Billy.Do not jump to conclusions or sully her reputation based onone lad’s tale.He reminded himself that he trusted Miss Lane and knew her to be virtuous.
The next moment, doubts chased each other through his brain. Yes, he’d known her as a girl, but really, how much time had they spent together in recent years? Very little since he married and none at all in the last two years. She may have changed.
His all-too-capable imagination conjured a vivid picture: a young man entering her room at night wearing a familiar smile. At the thought, jealousy wrenched his gut. He clutched his hands tight, striving to subdue the emotion. Had he been foolish to believe her the same sweet innocent he’d once known—to trust her?Mr. Dodge, my eye.
In the back of his mind, he realized his own past fueled the potency of his reaction. Suspecting a woman of meeting a man in clandestine fashion—a man not her husband—brought back all the old sickening feelings of betrayal.
His wife had played the innocent too. Lied straight to his face. Took other lovers and laughed behind his back.
Miss Lane is not Marina, he scolded himself.
And yet ... she was definitely hiding something.
With great effort Frederick mastered his composure.Stop it. Calm down. Talk to her before you do anythingyou might regret.
Rebecca put on her outdoor garments, preparing to walk to the lodge to talk to John and reassure Rose. Would her brother tell her the truth?
Did she really want to know?
Someone knocked on her door, and Rebecca jumped. “Wh-who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Brixton, the constable.”
Alarms rang in her brain. She pressed a hand to her lurching heart and opened the door, endeavoring to look as composed as possible.
“Yes?”
“Good morning, Miss Lane. I’m on my way home, but first wanted to ask you a question.”
She hesitated. “I am in a bit of a hurry myself.”
“Will just take a moment. It’s rather important.”
“Very well.”
He looked around to make sure they were not being overheard, then began, “Thing is, we have a witness who says he saw an unknown man enter your room the night before Mr. Oliver’s death.”
Her stomach churned. “A strange man... in my room?”
“Yes, miss. I understand it’s ... delicate. But I wonder if you could tell me who it was. In case it might have some bearing on Mr. Oliver’s death.”
She shook her head. “I invited no strange man into my room, Mr. Brixton.”
He looked over her shoulder as if trying to see inside. She swung the door wide. “You are welcome to search if you like.”
“You deny it?”
