“Jealousy can be as good a motive as any,” Samantha said. “I just…didn’t get the feeling he was capable of something like that. He seemed genuinely upset about her death.”
“It could have been an act,” Adrian said, voicing the thought he’d had while speaking with Murry earlier. “Truth is we don’t know him. Our only interaction withhim has been one conversation, so who’s to say he’s not capable of conveying heartache when needed?”
“What we saw might also have been a reaction to what he did. Killing a person for the first time leaves a mark. There’s an emotional response right? I mean, when I killed those men I had to fight off thanks to Wycliff, I was incredibly shaken afterward. I cried, Adrian, and they were strangers to me, whereas Lady Eleanor—”
“She was someone Hutchins knew and cared for.”
“Precisely.”
Adrian leaned against the side of the carriage with a sigh. It seemed the more they discovered and the more they deliberated on it, the more confusing the case became. Most of the evidence pointed at Hutchins. He was, thus far, the only person with motive and opportunity.
Except for two things.
He shook his head. “Hutchins doesn’t make sense. He had no limp for starters, though I suppose that could have been faked to create a false trail. But even if that were true, the footman who was killed would have gotten nothing out of blackmailing him. And let’s not forget that in order to ask for five thousand pounds in exchange for his silence, he’d have had to recognize the person who fled Lady Eleanor’s room that night.”
“You’re right. That’s an excellent point.” She worried her lip between her teeth. “I suppose we’re looking for someone wealthy. Perhaps another suitor that neither Hutchins nor Mr. Lawrence knew of?”
“It’s as good a guess as any.” The carriage pulled up in front of Reed’s, and Adrian grabbed their bags before helping Samantha alight. “I received an invitation to the Avernail ball a couple of weeks ago. You and I were…having difficulties at the time so I dismissed it, but now I’m thinking we ought to accept. It will give us a chance to speak with Lady Eleanor’s circle of friends. See if they might have seen or heard something useful.”
“Melody did say Lady Eleanor was in high spirits during the time leading up to her death. I would have thought it was due to her plans of elopement, but maybe it was because of something else.”
They entered the boxing club with Adrian no more convinced they were on the right path than he’d been last week. His thoughts were becoming increasingly tangled, so it was a good thing they were here. He exchanged a few pleasantries with Reed, who appeared extremely pleased to see them both again, and went to remove his jacket and waistcoat while Samantha changed into a pair of breeches in the back room reserved for ladies.
A wicked grin curled her lips when she returned, the sway of her hips as she sauntered toward him – that gleam of danger brightening her eyes – instilling a thrill in him unlike any other. Lord have mercy, she was glorious. And he desperately needed to engage in the sort of sparing he believed he’d find with her as his opponent.
“She shouldn’t be in here,” one of the other club members shouted. Adrian recognized him as Mr. Drost,the owner of several cotton mills. “The women have their own room to practice in for a reason.”
“Agreed,” Baron Ramstead, who trained here daily, concurred. “She shouldn’t get special treatment just because she’s your wife, Croft. Wrengate said he made that point clear.”
The duke had said a great deal more. Were it up to him, Samantha wouldn’t even be here. Adrian stepped toward Ramstead. “It’s difficult for me to practice with her if she and I are in different rooms.”
Ramstead crossed his arms and stared Adrian down. “Can’t you go to the women’s room with her?”
Adrian glanced at Samantha. “I suppose that’s an option.”
She shook her head. “I came out here because there are other women changing in there. Didn’t want to bother them by making them rush.”
“Nevertheless,” Drost said, “it’s bad enough that we have to share the building with the fairer sex, but at least we had an agreement about separate rooms. I’ve got to protest if you plan on changing that.”
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal. Just for today.” Feet planted firmly in a wide stance, Adrian addressed the room as a whole. “Pick your champion – whoever you think most capable of winning a fight – and pitch him against her. If she wins, she stays in here with me, if she loses, she leaves.”
Ramstead laughed. “I’ll take on that challenge.”
“Are you sure about that?” Adrian scanned the room. There were eight other men present, all of whom hadstopped their practice in order to listen to the exchange.
“You’ve always had a reputation for being rougher than most, Croft.” Drost shifted his gaze to Samantha and swept it along the length of her body. He shook his head. “Volunteering your wife to engage in a fight with a man, however, is particularly distasteful. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
Adrian turned to Samantha. “Care to share your opinion?”
She shrugged, a careless movement conveying disinterest in the conversation as a whole. “I came here to spar with you. If I have to win another fight first in order to do so, then so be it. My only request is that nobody punches me in the face. I’ve a ball to attend in a couple of days.”
“This is madness,” Drost muttered. He threw up his hands and turned away. “If it means so much to you, Croft, we’ll let her stay in here for today. Won’t we, lads?”
“I don’t know,” Ramstead said, a flame of excitement burning bright in his eyes. “It’s not every day I receive the chance to topple a lady. Certainly not while others get to watch.” He smirked in response to his own joke. “Let’s see what she’s made of, shall we?”
“Come on, Ramstead.” Drost turned to him in annoyance. “Don’t be an arse.”
The rest of the assembled men echoed his sentiment but Ramstead refused to back down. He approachedSamantha, determination etched on his face, a haughty grin curling his lips.
