When he rode up the drive to his home, Patsy and Veronica ran out of the house. He stopped the horse, and keeping Nicole in his arms, maneuvered carefully off the animal. Patsy and the other servant rushed to help him, but he shook his head. “Go get her bed ready, and pour her a hot tub. She is cold.”
Ashton peered down into Nicole’s face. She stared at him through glassy eyes. Her body still trembled, but thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as before. Suddenly, he had the urge to kiss her forehead and assure her he’d always protect her. But before the words could leave his mouth, he bit them back. However, he did press his lips to her forehead, even if it wasn’t a real kiss.
As he carried her up the stairs to her room, he pondered over his feelings right now. From their first meeting until now, she had always made him feel like a gallant warrior—like her protector. Because this emotion was foreign to him, he cherished the times she made him experience this. He didn’t want to stop feeling that way no matter how she’d hurt him.
Perhaps he was the weak man his father had always accused Ashton of being, because right now, the ache in his chest wasn’t from her betrayal, but realizing that if he lost her, he’d never feel this way again.
Chapter Sixteen
Strange how so much bed rest could rejuvenate a person, but Nicole finally felt as if she had more strength now than when she’d walked to town. Even if she felt better, she wasn’t going to push herself as she had the other day. Setbacks were not good for her healing process. She was a busy woman and had a case to solve, and she couldn’t do it lying around all the time.
During her father’s visit the other day, they had discussed her staying here until she was fully recovered, mainly so she could learn more about Ashton in order to prove his innocence. With any luck, she would also discover the thief as well.
While in bed for the past twenty-four hours, she did a lot of sleeping, but when she was awake, she had time to think. With a heavy sigh, she frowned. She’d been stupid to leave Ashton’s house and walk toward town knowing that she didn’t have the strength. Then again, if she had stayed here, she wouldn’t have seen the exchange between Joseph Donnelly and Mrs. Larson. And she wouldn’t have been able to have Ashton come to her rescue.
She’d hurt him terribly with her lies, and although he acted as if he were still upset with her, she knew he still held some deep feelings for her. Why else would he rescue her the way he had? Why else would he have carried her so very gently up the stairs to her room when she had lost her strength?
During her bed rest, Ashton had only visited her once, and that was while Patsy was still here. He’d asked his servant about Nicole’s welfare and then left. She really needed to talk to him, and now that she had more strength, she’d make certain they had their chat, even if she had to wait late at night until his return.
While he was gone, she had penned a letter to Mrs. Phelps, requesting to speak with her. Nicole hoped Ashton’s servant delivered the letter promptly as requested.
Nicole had wandered his house and even outside to his lawn, but that hadn’t cured her boredom. His library surprisingly held many volumes of books, but she couldn’t concentrate long enough on the story to get any sort of enjoyment out of it. However, she jotted down notes and thoughts as she tried to piece everything together about this case.
Time slowly ticked by as she sat in the sitting room. She hated being this bored. Her mind wandered to the framed paintings on the wall. One was a Rembrandt, and the other was a James Whistler. She had loved art and as a child, she tried her own hand at painting. Although she was quite good, training to be a detective came first and foremost in her life at the time.
Outside in the hallway, the floor creaked and Nicole moved her gaze to the doorway. Patsy stepped inside and smiled.
“Miss Nicole, ye ‘ave a visitor.” She motioned her hand behind her.
Nicole peeked behind the larger woman and recognized a familiar face. “Let her in,” she said quickly.
Mrs. Phelps moved around Patsy and entered the room. Nicole stood and reached her hands out to her friend.
“I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you terribly,” she told the other detective.
Angela nodded. “I’ve missed you, as well.” Her gaze wandered to the paintings, to the floor at the Persian rug. She eyed the rosewood cushioned wooden chairs a little slower, and then moved her focus to the beige chaise lounge with walnut trim. “I must say, Mr. Lee has an impressive home.”
“Indeed, he does.” Nicole smiled. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
Nicole met Patsy’s gaze again. “Would you bring us some tea and refreshments?”
“I sure will, Miss Nicole.”
Once the housekeeper left, Nicole and Angela sat on the blue and gray, high-back sofa.
Angela patted Nicole’s hand. “You are looking well. I’m happy to know you’re recovering quickly.”
“Yes, I am, and it’s a relief to finally be on the mend. So, tell me,” Nicole lowered her voice, “how is the investigation coming along?”
Frowning, Mrs. Phelps shook her head. “This one really has us baffled. We still think Mr. Lee is our main suspect, yet there are other obstacles in our way that make us believe otherwise.”
Nicole breathed a heavy sigh. She wanted so badly to get at least one detective on her side in believing Ashton was not the thief. With any luck, she’d be able to convince Angela. “Have you found more evidence?”
“Indeed, we have.” Angela took a breath and then opened her mouth to continue, but when Patsy bustled in carrying a tray holding the teapot with two cups, and a plate of bite-size tea cakes, the detective closed her mouth. Nicole took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of raspberry within the cake.
“Oh, thank you, Patsy.” Nicole smiled. “That will be all.”
