It was a chin that would clench with disgust if it knew her innermost thoughts. That would turn away from her if it discovered her plans for her sister’s killer.
“There.” Charles tucked one last corner of the blanket behind her. “That should work.”
Agent Hurst strolled over and examined her wrapped form. “Is this a Cleopatra kind of situation? Do we need to remove Miss Moore unnoticed from the building?”
Charles planted his hands on his lean hips. “You can still see her face, you sap skull. And Cleopatra was wrapped in a carpet.”
Agent Verity approached carefully, cradling a steaming mug in his hands. “I brought you some tea, Miss Moore. Just the thing to set you right up.”
Hurst elbowed him in the side, making liquid slosh over the edge of the cup. “Tea doesn’t solve attempted murder. And besides, you forgot the biscuits.”
“I can get those.” Wilberforce pushed off her desk. He hurried towards his office. “And perhaps just a nip of whiskey for that tea.”
“Stop.” Her voice still croaked, but it held authority. The men in the office turned to look at her. “You are all most obliging, but I do not need you to wait attendance on me.”
Charles rested his hand on the back of her chair. “Yes, if she needs anything, I’ll get it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I was speaking to you, as well. I don’t need a nurse maid. Nor a horde of big brothers to watch out for me.” She clawed her way free of the blanket. “I am most appreciative of your concern, but, please, treat me as you once did.”
She fingered the scarf she’d knotted about her throat to hide her bruises. It wasn’t just her injury that had changed the men’s attitude towards her. It was finding out about her sister. They worked with the families of victims day in and day out. Cassie had gone from coworker to injured party, and she didn’t much care for feeling like an innocent who needed protection.
“Your request is unreasonable.” Charles crossed his arms and glowered. “Circumstances have changed.”
Her cheeks heated. Between them, at least, he was right. And she saw now that by becoming his lover, she had put herself in a position where Charles would feel obliged to become even more protective. He might not know what box to put her in, but his sense of honor would compel him to guard a woman whom he’d bedded from harm.
She scraped her teeth over her lower lip. Just for a moment she let herself imagine what it could be like, a future between her and Charles. His steadiness soothing her raging emotions. Her impetuousness giving some excitement to his regulation. A lifetime of his kisses. His caresses. Even his frowns she found endearing.
She’d have to give up her quest for vengeance. That path led only to her death or imprisonment. To his everlasting condemnation. Charles would never approve of her taking justice into her own hands.
Her stomach clenched. That was the one thing she couldn’t do. She wouldn’t let herself forget what was owed her sister just to secure her own happiness. She set her shoulders. “Until notified otherwise, I am still an investigator’s assistant at this agency. That has not changed, nor should your attitude towards me.”
“Why are we treating Miss Moore differently?”
Everyone started at the voice. Lord Hereford must have the feet of a cat. It explained how he’d been such a successful thief. He’d entered the office unheard and caught the end of their conversation. Spinning his top hat about one finger, he looked at them expectantly.
“No one is to treat me differently.” She gave each man her most authoritative look, the one a disapproving nanny might give a misbehaving child. Hurst, Verity, and Wilberforce shifted their gazes. Charles glared back. Hereford merely cocked his head. His gaze dropped from her mouth to her scarf before flicking to her eyes. “Did you run into some trouble, Miss Moore?”
“Nothing that I can’t handle,” Charles said.
Wil sighed and gave Hereford a brief account.
Hereford dropped into a chair and kicked his legs up on her desk. “You are a surprise, Miss Moore. And I delight in surprises.”
Charles straightened. “She is no such thing.” He knocked Hereford’s legs off her desk. “I don’t care if you are a viscount. You’ll mind your manners where Miss Moore is concerned.”
Hereford grinned. “And do you think you have the ability to make me mind my manners?”
Charles clenched his hand, and Wilberforce hurriedly scooted between them. “The important thing is to find out who assaulted Miss Moore.” He turned to face her. “Who knew where you were going to be walking when you were attacked?”
“Only Misters Beaumont and Jones.” Cassie pursed her lips. “As I was following Beaumont, I didn’t know where I was going to be until I was there. But they saw me leave the coffeehouse. Oh, and Lord Wiltshire, but he’d left earlier.” And left in a hurry. He had said the matter didn’t concern him, but she would need to find time to speak to the earl, as well. Lydia had mentioned him in her letters, and he was seen dancing with her. How well had Lord Wiltshire known her sister?
“Choking is obviously this man’s modus operandi.” Wilberforce rubbed his jaw. “There might be other victims.”
“Are you suggesting my sister was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Tired of having to look up at everyone, she pressed to her feet. “That she wasn’t a specific target?”
Hurst snorted. “An unmarried chit with a babe on the way with several high profile suitors? It being random isn’t likely.”
“No, but a man who’d kill to protect his reputation once might very well find opportunity to do so again.” Wilberforce plucked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and began to fold it.
