Only a small negative in a list of positives, it had to be noted, but still, it must be uncomfortable. Especially if you were handsome, like Detective Fletcher and her brothers. Not that she’d ever tell Leo or Alex that.
“Please find whoever killed my darling nephew, Detective. We cannot rest until you do.” Miss Denton held out her hands to him, and Ellen stifled a snort at the look of panic that came over his face.
“Ah, of course.” He held the tips of her fingers briefly and then stepped back and bowed. “Come, Miss Night. We must leave.” His words sounded urgent.
“I have my son’s latest account ledger here, Detective Fletcher. You said you’d like to see it,” Mr. Nicholson said. “If you’ll come this way, I’ll get it for you.”
Mr. and Mrs. Nicholson went through a door with Olivia. Gray followed, and Ellen prepared to do the same.
A hand on her arm stopped her.
“Is Detective Fletcher married? Do you know, Miss Night?”
“Detective Fletcher is a very private man. He does not speak of his personal life, Miss Denton.”
She smiled, her hand going to Ellen’s wrist, where she squeezed gently. “Come, Miss Night, from one woman to another. You must tell me what you know of him. He is quite simply divine. So handsome, and those shoulders.” She made a humming sound. “Does he have a woman in his life or not?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Ellen said.
“How disappointing. I shall have to make enquiries for myself.”
Relieved the detective chose that moment to return, Ellen dropped into a curtsey and murmured her goodbyes demurely. She was rarely demure. Once it had been expected of her, but no more. Her uncle and aunt encouraged her to be outspoken and loud if it was her wish to do so.
Detective Fletcher helped her into the carriage, aware that eyes were on them. Ellen took his hand and stepped inside. She then settled on the seat. He joined her, and soon they were moving.
“What did you see?” he sounded irritated.
“Your tone would suggest I’ve done something to annoy you?”
“I’m—”
“Because you’ll pardon me if I’m wrong, Detective Fletcher, but didn’t I just sit there quietly, observing as you’d asked me to?”
“Miss Nightingale—”
“A please would have been nice, considering what I saw made me nauseous,” Ellen added, knowing she sounded testy.
He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to speak again.
“If you will allow me to talk,” he said in a rigidly polite tone. Ellen nodded. “Forgive me, I find that kind of thing difficult.”
“Interviewing parents of a son who was murdered or the flirtatious aunt?”
His eyes narrowed. “Whichever way I go will be the wrong way with that question.”
She laughed, and he replied with a smile.
“I’m sorry, and thank you for being there. Are you all right? Can I get you anything? Are you still nauseous?”
“That apology was very well done, and I’m sure didn’t hurt you too much,” Ellen said.
“Are you always this annoying?” He frowned.
“Yes.”
This time it was him who laughed. A great bark of it that seemed to surprise him. Ellen wondered why the detective didn’t laugh much because it suited him. But then again, perhaps considering how appealing it made him look, it was better he didn’t. Women like Miss Denton would be falling all over him.
“Will you please tell me what you saw in the Nicholson household, Miss Nightingale?”
