As Mrs. Lester quit the room, Daffin passed her onhis way in. The large woman pushed past him, forcing him to step aside.
Daffin came to stand in front of Regina, who was still sitting on the settee, while Nicole stood next to her. He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at both of them. “What was that all about? She seemed in a hurry to leave.”
“She was,” Nicole replied, waving a hand in the air to dismiss the unpleasant encounter.
“Why?” Daffin asked.
“I don’t think she liked the questions we asked.” Regina offered Daffin a small smile that grew as she locked eyes with him.
Daffin slid onto the settee next to Regina. “What did you ask her?”
“We asked if her daughter was unhappy to be tossed over for Lady Arabelle,” Regina replied.
“You didn’t,” Daffin said, the grin still sitting on his handsome face.
“Oh, yes, we did,” Regina replied with a laugh.
“And?” Daffin lifted his brows.
Regina shrugged one shoulder and sighed. “And she looked as if she wanted to slap both of us.”
“I’d have come to your aid if she had, my lady,” Daffin replied, in his most charming voice.
Regina met his gaze. “I can handle myself, Mr. Oakleaf.”
“No doubt, Lady Regina,” the runner replied.
Nicole felt like an intruder. She quietly started for the door, but Mark briskly entered the room, saving her. He gave her a half-cocked smile, and an unexpected jolt of lust shot through her. Blast. She was in far more troublethan she’d even guessed. She was already remembering him with his clothes off and his mouth—
No. Not helpful.
She cleared her throat. “There you are, Mark. What did Lord Hillenbrand say? Did he admit to bringing the wine?”
“He admitted it,” Mark replied, giving Nicole another smoldering private look before coming to stand next to the settee where Daffin and Regina remained seated. “But he insisted they all drank from the same bottles and said it doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“What about his pursuit of Lady Arabelle?” Nicole asked, steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she stared purposely over his wide shoulder.
Mark shrugged. “He said there were many other women to be had. No use crying over just one of them.”
“And you believe him?” Regina asked, tearing her gaze away from Oakleaf.
“I do,” Mark said with a nod.
Nicole tapped her slipper along the rug. She supposed Hillenbrand’s excuses rang true. “What about Mr. Cartwright?”
“He’s an odd case,” Mark replied. “Definitely angry over losing the title.”
“But usually if someone has something to hide, they act as if they’renotangry,” Daffin pointed out.
“Unless they simply cannot help themselves,” Nicole replied. “Remember Lord Hartwell?”
“Ah, yes,” Daffin replied. “You’re right.”
“A case you two worked together, I presume,” Mark said, a combination of sarcasm and a hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Ooh, I want to hear all about it.” Regina folded her hands in her lap and leaned closer to Daffin.
“It’s a hideous tale, actually,” Nicole began. “Lord Hartwell had choked his wife to death. But he acted the doting husband until we asked him some specific questions about his wife’s activities. He couldn’t control himself. He was so angry he nearly had an apoplectic fit.”
