“I have no idea who Parson is, and we don’t need to thrash that out again here, Bram.”
“He’s Ellington’s son.”
The breath hissed from Mungo’s mouth. “She worked for him?”
“It was her last day, but I’m sure she can tell you the story.”
“I’d ask you to remember how you’d feel if we kept things from you, Mungo,” Bram added.
Mungo snorted. “As if anyone in this family can manage to keep their gob shut for longer than a second.”
“Harsh but true. How are you, Mungo?” Leo asked.
“Well.”
Ram and Alex followed, and then Captain Sinclair came next. Miss Downing, he noted, stayed back.
“You have my thanks,” Mungo said.
“It was a slow day,” Captain Sinclair said. “You’ve added some excitement to it. Now I must return to see what mayhem my family has created, which will likely need my mediation. It’s my hope to see you again soon at a Crabbett Close wedding.” The man’s words were followed by a wink, which Mungo had no idea how to interpret.
He left, and Bram, Leo, and Alex began to interrogate the officers, which left him alone with Miss Downing.
“Thank you.”
They both spoke the words at the same time.
“It was me you saved that night, so thank you again, Mr. Fraser,” she rushed to add. “I’m unsure what would have happened had you not arrived when you did.”
He knew exactly what would have happened, but he kept that thought to himself.
“You’re welcome, and thank you for speaking out today on my behalf. I know that can’t have been easy.”
He’d thought her eyes were brown, and they were, but so dark, they were almost black. Eyes a man could get lost in, Mungo thought. An auburn lock had escaped her bonnet and was curled over a shoulder. He had the foolish urge to reach out and touch it to test the texture.
“It was the right thing to do, and Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale have been kind enough to allow me to stay in their employ?—”
“Why would they not?” He was close enough that her scent reached him. Nothing alluring like some perfumes women wore. No, hers was clean, like starch and soap.
She didn’t lower her eyes but kept them steady on his face. Her voice had a faint trace of something he couldn’t pinpoint. Well-spoken, polite, but he’d heard her fire that night of her attack. This was no meek maid as her facade suggested.
“Many blame the staff for any and all the things they do not like that happen within their household, sir.”
“You owe Miss Downing a great deal, Mungo. I hope you’ll remember that when you return to Crabbett Close and start ordering us about again,” Alex said, stepping into the conversation like he had every right, which was usual for anyone in this family.
“I have thanked her.”
The fear was leaving, even if his hands were still clenched. He needed to walk. Get out onto the street and move. Be free to do what he wished and know he could. He was no longer trapped in that cell.
“So, what I want to know, Sergeant Haversham, is what is to be done about this travesty?” Bram said behind him.
Alex moved away to join the conversation, leaving him alone with Miss Downing again.
“Are you all right, Mr. Fraser?”
“Aye.”
“Your hands are clenched,” she said so only he could hear.
