The squire wetted his thick lips, his gaze shifting between her and Wick. Wick was being good to his word and letting her take the lead. Leaning back in his chair, a boot propped over one knee, he was observing the unfolding events with a faint curve to his lips.
Crombie started up again. “Now what was it you wanted to see me about, Miss Brown? If it’s about that fence—”
“Actually, it’s about my barn.” She didn’t have time for shilly-shallying. “It caught fire the night before last.”
“Ah, yes. I did hear about that.” Was she imagining the smugness in Crombie’s tone? “Unfortunate business, I’m sure, but accidents do happen. I fail to see why you’ve come to me about it.”
“Because it wasn’t an accident.”
His veiny jowls reddened. “If you’re accusing me, sirrah—”
“I make no accusations, merely observations.” Opening her reticule, she withdrew the pocket watch and placed it on his blotter.
Crombie’s brow furrowed. “Why are you showing me a pocket watch?”
His bafflement seemed genuine.Dash it.
“It isn’t yours?” she prodded. “It bears your initials on the cover.”
He squinted at the front cover, then picked up the watch. “Demme, if it don’t. But it isn’t mine. Although if you know where to find a fine timepiece like this, I wouldn’t mind commissioning one of my own. The one the old squire gave me has seen better days.”
Fishing around in his waistcoat, he retrieved a pocket watch. Scratched and dented, it was indeed a poor relation to the one Wick had found.
“I’m afraid I do not know the watchmaker,” Bea said tightly.
“Too bad. The workmanship is top-notch, wot.” Crombie was still examining the watch, a covetous gleam in his eyes.
Bea held out her hand. “I’ll have it back, if you please.”
“Still don’t see what the watch has to do with anything.” Reaching across the desk, he slapped it into her palm. “Now back to your slanderous remark—”
“Pardon, Crombie. Did you injure your arm recently?”
The query came from Wick. He was looking at Crombie’s wrist. When the squire had reached forward, his jacket sleeve had caught, revealing the cuff of his shirt…and the bandage poking out beneath.
An injury.Suspicion bled through Bea.From setting the fire?
Hastily, the squire tugged the sleeve of his jacket back in place.
“It’s a scratch. Cut myself in the kennels when I was checking up on the hounds.” He rose, wheezing at the sudden movement. “Now if there’s nothing else, I’m a busy man.”
Since Bea had no proof of his wrongdoing and no further questions, she got to her feet as well.
She inclined her head. “I appreciate your time, squire.”
“Then next time,” Crombie said with a harrumph, “don’t waste it.”
14
“ShallI style your hair as usual, my lady?” Lisette asked.
It was later that evening. After returning from Crombie’s, Bea had wanted to strategize the next steps for finding the arsonist, but Wick had insisted that she go up for a nap first. When she’d protested that she wasn’t tired, he’d chucked her on the chin and said thathewas.
They’d gone to their separate chambers and, apparently, the events of the past two days had affected Bea more than she realized. She’d slept so soundly that Lisette had had to rouse her to dress for the supper that she was hosting for her two guests and the Sheridans, who would be arriving shortly.
Now she was seated at her rosewood dressing table. Typically, she would have told her lady’s maid to do the usual topknot with side ringlets partially covering her cheeks. Yet tonight she had the urge to see if she might try something…different. For obvious reasons, she did not have mirrors mounted on her walls; why torment herself, after all?
“Lisette, do you have a hand-held looking glass?” she asked.
