“I didn’t think so.” Strait cocked one hip against the desk and nudged a small well of ink towards her. “Take notes of my observations, please. It does help to mark my recollections down in writing.”
Cassie pressed her lips together, but pulled a sheet of paper and a pen from one of the cubby holes. If she wanted to remain at the Bond Agency for any length of time, she needed to keep the people she worked with happy.
Even when they were overbearing prigs.
He droned on, reciting nearly every conversation he’d had, until she ran out of paper. “So, you didn’t learn anything of significance then, either.” She searched for another sheet without much enthusiasm. Why take notes of irrelevant information?
Mr. Strait frowned, his dark, coffee-brown eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Oh?” She found another half sheet wedged in a crack of the desk and pulled it out. “Market tips and the arrival in Liverpool of the first steam-propelled ship to cross the Atlantic have relevance to the investigation?”
A tiny muscle ticked in his jaw. His clean-shaven jaw. Had the man picked up a razor again before sneaking into her room? He wasn’t interested in gaining her favor, this she knew. Was he so concerned about appearing unprofessional, disheveled, in anyone’s presence as to shave shortly before bed?
“I won’t know what information is significant until it becomes significant, Miss Moore. We gather and record everything, and eventually the threads will come together.” He pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time.
Cassie scraped her thumbnail along the shaft of the pen. Or perhaps he had shaved for a particular person. Perhaps he had an assignation with a woman after he left her room. A woman whose favor he did wish to gain.
The mutton she’d had for dinner sat heavily in her stomach. Would he…would he have amorous congress with a woman to assist in solving the case? And how far would she go to solve hers? She’d never considered trying to seduce information from a man.
A man would most likely laugh at her attempt.
She blew on the ink before folding the papers and handing it to Mr. Strait. “Do you have any theories?”
“A few, but no suspects.” He took the notes, his fingers brushing over hers. Crossing one ankle over the other, he stared down at her.
Her heart beat quicker under his gaze, though she didn’t know why. Contrary to her appearance, she was no shy miss. She didn’t wither under a man’s scrutiny. “Am I a suspect?” she asked archly.
Mr. Strait slid the papers into his breast pocket. “Not for this case, no, but I do find your presence curious. Why did you seek employment at the Bond Agency? If you need blunt, there are other, more suitable modes of employment for a woman such as yourself.”
“A woman such as myself?” Her heart pounded so loudly now she was sure he must hear it. This was why she became agitated around him. Mr. Strait had the power to have her removed from the Bond Agency. And if the owners knew she was Miss Cassandra Moore, daughter of The Honorable Cecil Moore, and not Miss Cassandra Moore, daughter of a merchant, she would be gone quicker than a guinea in a back slum. Lady Mary had told her that not even her considerable powers of persuasion could find her employment at the inquiry agency if the owners knew she was the daughter of a gentleman.
“A woman of some intelligence.” He cocked his head as Cassie bit her tongue at that comment. “With some breeding. Soft. Your situation has never been so dire that you have become hardened with want.” He shrugged. “Typically when women need employment they look to laundries, become a trader, or go into domestic service. They don’t apply for work at inquiry agencies.”
She shut the flap on the desk with more violence than needed. “Perhaps the limited amount of intelligence you grant me is sufficient to make me want a position where I am neither breaking my back nor wiping the noses of children who are not my own. An inquiry agency suits me.” It suited her goals, at least.
“Yes, but how did you even hear of the agency?” Mr. Strait ran a hand through his dark hair, the ends curling slightly over his fingers. “It is not as though we advertise in The Times.”
“I did some work for Lady Mary at her women’s club.” She had helped her sort the books in the club’s library one afternoon. It wasn’t technically a lie. “She knew I was looking for a position. She told me about the agency and aided me in obtaining an interview.”
He huffed. “Lady Mary did more than get you the interview. We heard her henpeck Lord Summerset into giving you the position.”
Cassie’s spine stiffened. “That may be so, but it is up to me to perform well so as to retain the position. Do you have any complaints as yet?”
He looked like he might say yes. Like he wanted to say yes. But finally, he sighed. “Not as yet. But we are only on day one of your part in the investigation,” he reminded her.
Cassie stood. “Then let us get our rest so as to be prepared for day two.” She guided him to her bedroom door.
He pressed a hand against the wood, preventing her from opening it. His body was close behind hers, his chest brushing her shoulder. “Let me see if the hallway is empty,” he said in a low voice. Carefully, he opened the door an inch and peered out.
She turned her head. He was very near, closer truly than she had ever been to an unrelated man before. And he was so very big. His large frame crowding about her made her feel small in a way she never had before. Vulnerable.
Because she was at risk in a way she never had been before. Her previous life had been safe. Protected as only the child of a gentleman’s family could be. She hadn’t even left the family’s country estate for the past five years, except for visits with neighbors and into the nearby town.
Now she was alone in a bedroom with a strange man. Her father and mother didn’t even know where she was and definitely not what she was doing.
And she was searching for a murderer.
For the man who had killed her sister.
