Leaning forward, she captured his mouth with hers. He responded instantly, tangling his tongue with hers in languid strokes that had her body thrumming once more.
He pulled back with a groan. “Good,” he breathed. “Neither do I.”
She gave him a smile then reached for the carriage door’s handle.
“Wait,” he whispered urgently. His eyes clouded. “Please be careful. Francis will return, and he is known to carry a grudge.”
A mirthless laugh escaped her. “Indeed.” She squeezed his hand in hers.
Jasper nodded, and with one last glance, Maria exited. The oil lamps that lit the street for her familial home scarcely permeated the mid-night opaqueness. A shiver travelled up her spine, and her breath escaped in visible puffs. For a night in spring, it was rather cold.
Marching up the steps to her home, she gave a parting glance to Jasper’s waiting carriage before she enclosed herself within the familiar warmth. The servants and her family were to bed, leaving the building silent and still.
She made her way into her bedchamber and stashed her costume in her travelling satchel before she settled in at her writing desk to pen the article forThe Morning Herald.
* * *
Dim light creptpast the curtains in Jasper’s bedchamber as he was slowly pulled from sleep. Memories of the past evening filtered through his mind, making his morning erection throb with eagerness. Bedding Maria had been impetuous, but he could not bring himself to regret it. The woman did sensational things to his body and mind, and he was eager for more.
Breathing deeply, he caught the scent of their sex and smiled. He hoped Maria’s scent lingered on his bed for days—though Lord knows one of his new ‘maids’ would likely wash it before then.
A faint screech echoed through the corridors, and Jasper sat bolt upright in bed, his pulse abruptly racing and his chest tightening with alarm. A second scream joined the first, followed by some lower voices.What the devil?—?
Jasper tossed aside the bedclothes and bound from the bed, hastily donning stockings, a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a waistcoat before a knock sounded at the door.
“Yes,” he called, fastening the buttons on his waistcoat.
The door crept open, and a red-faced footman stepped forward. “My apologies for the interruption, Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “But there’s been a…disturbance belowstairs. Harris sent me to fetch you.”
Jasper nodded with a jerk of his head. “I’ve heard the commotion. Please lead the way.”
The air in the corridors was sweet with the scent of Mrs. Ross’ morning baking and the gentle fragrance of fresh garden flowers. Jasper breathed deeply of the aroma, bolstering himself for whatever it was that had occurred.
They descended the stairs into the foyer and followed the high notes of weeping and the low voices of Harris’ men. A group of them turned their worried gazes on him as he neared his library. A maid he didn’t recognize sat upon the floor, weeping into her arms while two footmen crouched helplessly at her side and attempted to offer comfort.
Christ. What had happened? Taking the last few footsteps at a run, Jasper darted through the doorway. In an instant, the comforting fragrance of home was replaced by the cold scent of whisky…and death.
There, standing in the centre of the library was Harris, his eyes dark with concern and anger. And at his feet was the form of a woman, pale and still.
Jasper cursed soundly and rushed forward. “Is she…?” But he already knew the answer.
“I’m afraid so,” Harris murmured.
He nodded.Fuck.
“Ought we to summon a doctor?” Jasper stepped closer, and his heart all but stopped. “Holy hell. I know this woman.”
“Do you?” Harris asked, his eyebrows lifted. “That poor maid found the lady in the mews. Having just concluded our shift change, the men were exchanging information when we heard her scream. It began to rain, and in order to preserve any evidence on her person we thought it best to bring them both inside. Haven’t been able to get a word from the maid since.”
“This is my neighbour, Lady Cartwright. Damn. I thought her to be out of town with her husband,” Jasper said on a breath. He knelt next to her but was unwilling to touch her lest he disturb something.
He scanned the scene. Poor Lady Cartwright. Her lips were blue and surrounded by a dried white crust, her eyes wide and entirely devoid of life. Fear dipped her eyebrows and puckered her forehead, and a responding swoop of sympathy dipped his stomach.Poisoned, his inner voice whispered.
“You don’t suppose…” Jasper began, unable to complete the thought.
“Indeed, I do,” Harris responded, clearly having reached the same conclusion. “I’ll leave the suppositions as towhyto you and your runners, but the lady was on your property, Your Grace. From my perspective—and I have some years of experience—I would take this as a message. The lady was your neighbour, she was seen as close to you, and that made her a target.”
A grimace pulled at Jasper’s lips. Regardless of the means or reasons, the poor woman was deceased, and he must now answer for it. Hell, as much as the thought grated, there was another person that must be a part of this.
