Minerva knew that when one got down to it, her inheritance made her an excellent suspect. High on the list, as she put it. That she had permitted their passion was a testament not to his great skills as a seducer, but to her indomitable spirit that even now wanted to be free of that horrible time, completely.
“Is she at home now?” he asked.
“She’d think it odd that I went out if she were. She left to go to the City. Had to visit some office about ships.”
“Do you remember which office?”
Beth shook her head and began retracing her steps. “She mentioned it, but I don’t remember. In the City, though. Something to do with packets.”
“I thank you for telling me this.”
“There was more, but not fitting for you to hear.” With that she walked away from him.
He didn’t need to hear it. He could imagine it. Finley had probably been a brute in bed too. A man looking for a victim would not stop at that.
He remained where he stood for a long time, looking out over the park but seeing nothing. Anger came in waves, and each time he had to force control on it. He should have known this. Should have guessed, or at least suspected, especially after she told him about her husband’s failures in bed. If Minerva had been timid or fearful or other than the self-possessed woman she was, he might have at least wondered. Instead she had defeated the mouse that Finley had tried to make her, and turned into a tigress. Margaret Finley had indeed become Minerva Hepplewhite, even before she assumed the new name.
He swung up on his horse and turned it toward the park’s gate. She was looking into ships. Packets. Hell, maybe she was planning to leave England.
* * *
Minerva closed the tome and sat back in her chair. Normally she was excited when an inquiry yielded the results she expected. This time she hated it.
She should tell Chase about this. She would not, however. Soon enough he would look into where everyone had been that night the duke died. He would want to confirm their stories. Then he would learn what she had just learned, that Kevin Radnor had not been in France that day. He had been right here in England.
She could not spare Chase that discovery, but she did not have to be the person who told him, either.
She thanked the clerk who had aided her and stood, brushing the dust off her dress and pelisse. She removed her bonnet and gave it a good shake. She made her way out of the building only to find her way blocked. Standing just outside the portico, his arms crossed and his face set in an expression of concern, stood Chase Radnor.
He saw her emerge and stepped up to where she had paused. His presence made an exquisite, sad yearning flutter inside her.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes dark like lapis lazuli, his rough features refined by the patrician angles they formed. His gaze demanded her entire attention.
“I do not think you had anything to do with the duke’s death,” he said. “I know this as surely as I know I’m standing here.”
“Yet you have no proof of it, and some evidence that disagrees.”
“Iknow, Minerva. I have no doubts about it.”
He did know. She saw the truth of that in him. Her throat tightened. To be believed by anyone was not something she ever counted on.
“Come with me,” he said, offering his hand. “I would like to talk with you if you will permit it.”
They strolled along the City’s streets until they arrived at Lincoln’s Inn. The gardens there offered some privacy and they sat on a bench. Barristers walked by in their robes and clerks hurried back and forth.
He took her hand, discreetly, so anyone walking by would not see. Glove on glove their interwoven fingers nestled between their hips on the bench.
“Beth spoke with me.”
“I wish she had not.”
“I am glad she did. Everything she told me fit with what you had already let me know. I was just too stupid to see it.” He squeezed her hand. Again that frown, and a troubled expression. “Beth said he hurt you badly.”
To speak of it, to give particulars, would revive memories she had learned to forget. All the same a chill ran down her back, like the old days. “We both feared one day he would go too far. It seemed a high price to pay for the satisfaction of knowing he would hang.”
“I am grateful that he did not have that chance. Relieved and grateful.”
“He didn’t have the chance because I found a way to leave him.”
