Nicole pulled up the sheets to cover her chest. “How is the investigation going?” she asked to change the fraught subject of whether they’d thought about each other overthe last ten years. The way Mark’s head jerked when she asked it made her think she’d startled him from some deep memory. She suppressed a wince at the way her cheerful, conversational tone shattered the thick intimacy that had been hanging between them. “Do you still suspect Cartwright or Hillenbrand?”
Mark shook his head and hesitated before he spoke. “Hillenbrand is beginning to look better and better.”
“I spoke with Miss Lester,” Nicole ventured. She might as well admit it. If he became angry with her for participating, so be it. She’d never done his bidding before, and she wasn’t about to begin now.
“Miss Lester?” Mark’s voice held a note of surprise. “What did she say? Seems a mousy little thing.”
“She is,” Nicole replied. “But she did say something interesting. Something about Lord Hillenbrand.”
“Really? What?” Mark’s tone was interested. He leaned up on one elbow.
“She told me Hillenbrand did something peculiar the night John died.”
The outline of Mark’s attentive features was illuminated in the hint of light from the adjoining room.
“She said he brought the wine and insisted they all drink it,” Nicole continued. “Apparently everyone was surprised.”
Mark rubbed a hand along her arm, his brow still furrowed. “Surely John had plenty of good wine.”
“Precisely.” Nicole’s fingers crept up to trace the sharp edge of his jaw as if they had a mind of their own. “But according to Miss Lester, Hillenbrand wouldn’t allow anyone to refuse the wine he’d brought with him.”
“Thatisinteresting,” Mark replied, “and it matches what Cartwright told me.”
Nicole searched Mark’s face. “Which was?”
He reached up and pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. “He said Hillenbrand was more jealous than he let on about Lady Arabelle refusing him.”
“Was he?” Nicole tried to ignore the tingle that shot through her at the caress.
Mark arched a brow. “Sounds like both the perfect reason and opportunity to commit murder.”
“You’ll need proof, of course.” Nicole bit her lip. “I can help you get it. If I investigate a bit more, that is.”
Mark groaned. “Oakleaf and I are perfectly capable of—”
She reached out and traced the line of his eyebrow with her fingertip. “No one said you’re not capable. I merely said I can help.”
“Looking to return to your old profession?” Mark asked wryly. “Perhaps hoping to spend more time with Daffin?”
“Pardon?” Nicole’s brow furrowed. She snatched her hand away from his face. “Are you quite serious?”
“You said you’re an admirer of his.” Mark’s words were light, but she sensed the edge behind them.
Her jaw dropped. “You’re jealous?”
“Absolutely not.” He fell back against the pillow and folded his arms beneath his head.
“Yes you are.” The urge to laugh stole over her. “You’re jealous of Daffin. And it’s ridiculous becauseI’mnot the one who fancies him.”
Mark’s scowl was thunderous. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Regina can’t seem to keep her eyes off him, and I’m certain the attraction is mutual.”
Mark turned toward Nicole again and pushed himself up on his elbow. “No. Truly?”
“Yes, truly. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it yourself. You pride yourself on recording details and nuances between people. Where is your famed eye now, General?”
“Sitting in a cupful of jealousy, apparently,” Mark replied, groaning.
