“Yes, sir,” Timothy continued. “Even when he caught me sampling the dinner wine.” A chagrined look crossed the footman’s face. “Lord John didn’t say a word.”
“About that,” Mark replied. “Did you take the winedirectly into the dining room that night? After you took your last sip, that is?”
Timothy gulped but looked Mark in the eyes. “Yes, sir. I did. I poured a splash into me own cup, took a nib, and then hurried the rest directly into the dining room like I do every evening, sir.”
“Thank you, Timothy,” Mark replied. He’d seen a lot in his day, but a servant who couldn’t keep his hands off the wine thereby providing his own best alibi was a new one. This time Mark pulled three pounds out of the coin purse. He slid them across the desktop to the servant.
“What’s this, sir?” Timothy asked, eyeing the money with wide eyes.
“One for you, one for your mother, and one for your sister,” Mark replied.
The servant gathered the coins into his hands and nodded vigorously. “Thank you, sir. Mighty kind o’ ye.”
Mark quirked a brow. “If I hear you spent so much as a shilling of it on alcohol, I’ll beat you myself.”
The footman shook his head. “No, sir. No. I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” The young man jumped from his seat and nearly ran from the room, the money clutched in his fist.
Smiling and shaking his head, Mark sat back in his chair and considered the servants’ stories. He’d got no inkling from any of them that they’d been responsible for poisoning their employer’s drink. He doubted they even knew it had happened. Besides, the two footmen and the cook had no reason to kill John. They obviously liked him and he was responsible for their livelihood.
Most importantly the three servants had served aseach other’s alibis, which made Mark’s job less complicated. He no longer needed them to attend his uncle’s event in the country. But that didn’t put him any closer to knowing whohadpoisoned his cousin’s wineglass.
Mark absently flipped through the papers in front of him. He’d only ever been able to do such mundane tasks for so long. He wanted to get to Surrey and begin the investigation. His trunk was packed and he and Oakleaf had carefully discussed their strategy. A surge of energy flowed through him. He always felt invigorated before he went on the hunt for someone, whether spy or killer.
He stood and paced to the window where he looked out onto the street in front of the house. Yes, he was more than prepared for the investigation to begin. What he wasn’t prepared for was spending several days in the same bedchamber as his wife.
He groaned and scrubbed his hands across his face. He and Nicole had barely seen each other in the last few days, let alone touched each other. They were like strangers sharing a house. She’d spent her time shopping, exploring the house, and talking with the maids, while he’d been planning the investigation with Oakleaf and performing his duties managing the country’s spies. There was less work to do these days than there once had been. With the wars with France over, the last few years had been much less taxing. Of course there had been the odd attempt at restoring Napoleon to the throne. A grim smile curled his lips. One such attempt he’d thwarted with the Cavendish brothers last year, but for the most part, Mark had been working to stop smugglers, thieves, and others who threatened England’s shores.
He wanted to move into the political arena, and effect change through policy. The country needed a police force. The Bow Street Runners were stretched too thin. Nicole agreed with him.
Nicole?
Nicole probably thought he’d lost his bloody mind. She’d all but offered herself to him the other night and he’d turned her down out of spite… to himself. Which was stupid for more than one reason. First, he was denying himself the obvious pleasure, and second, he’d promised the woman he would impregnate her. Not only was he being an ass, he was being a dishonorable one, not holding up his end of the bargain.
He braced a forearm above his head against the wall and continued to stare unseeing out the window. Now things were simply… awkward between him and Nicole. It was about to get worse because they’d be going to Surrey to be glared at and dissected by the duke, the duke’s sister, Aunt Harriet, and his cousin, Regina, Harriet’s granddaughter, and God only knew who else. Damn it. He needed to get it over with and bed Nicole before things became even more difficult. Hell. It wasn’t as if it would be a chore. Spending time with Nicole had never been a chore.
***
The weeks after meeting Nicole at her grandmother’s ball had passed in a haze of stolen moments and even more stolen kisses. On leave from the army, Mark used every moment he could spare to court the lovely Lady Nicole Huntington. Curiously, her mother and grandmother allowed it. At first he’d been prepared for them to forbid it, but Nicole explained they’d told her theywere confident she would make the right choice. The right choice obviously being the Marquess of Tinsley.
For his part, the marquess continued to arrive at Nicole’s grandmother’s town house with the same frequency that Mark did, only the portly older man increasingly found himself outwitted by the corporal. Each time the marquess arrived asking to see Lady Nicole, it seemed Mark had already been there and taken her off to go riding in the park, or to get an ice at Gunter’s, or to do myriad other things that didn’t matter as long as they were together. It was exactly as Mark had planned it. He reveled in outsmarting the marquess and was often rewarded with a kiss from the fair Lady Nicole.
Less than a month after they’d met, they took a walk in her grandmother’s gardens. The sun had just slipped out of sight.
Nicole sighed. “I’ll have to go back inside now. Mother will be looking for me.”
They’d come upon the rose arbor where they’d shared their first kiss. Without saying a word, Mark stopped and turned to face her. He tugged her beneath the arbor and pulled her into his arms. The scent of roses perfumed the air. His lips swooped down to capture hers. She tasted like sunlight and strawberries.
Nicole wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back so passionately he’d have to take a cold bath later.
When he finally pulled his lips from hers, she rested her forehead against his chest and sighed again. “I always hope Mother will catch us doing that.”
“What?” he half laughed, half gasped.
“You know. So I’ll be ruined and you’ll be forced to marry me.” She pulled back and studied his face, a mischievous smile on her lips.
He chuckled. “That’s not necessary.”
“It isn’t?” She blinked at him.
