Gabriella blinked. Had she truly addressed him by his given name in the middle of the street without his giving her leave to do so? As though she had the right? Good grief. A knot was already starting to form in her throat. She couldn’t breathe.
And now he was turning, so slowly a sketch artist could have captured his every movement without any issue. His face slid into view, surprise and confusion warring to dominate his expression. “Did you just…?”
The words trailed off. He was staring at her. Gawking, more like. As though she’d just dropped from the sky.
A quick jerk of her chin answered his question. She set her mouth in a firm line and walked to where he stood. “I’ve decided we’ve known each other long enough and that our relationship—” she cleared her throat “—has developed enough to allow it.” His answering frown made her blurt, “Unless of course you disagree, in which case we can forget all about it.”
There. She’d shown her position and given him the chance to do what he wished with it.
Instead of responding right away, he studied her with a quizzical look, then scratched the back of his neck. Heavens, she was tempted to leave him there and go hide in the carriage. Better yet, race back home and dive under her bed.
“It’s not really Bow Street protocol.”
“Kendrick it is then,” she hastened to add, doing her best to look happy about the way in which this discussion was going.
She prepared to brush past him.
His hand caught her arm. “Hold on.”
Drawing breath became a laborious chore. She dropped her gaze to the spot where he held her, felt the heat of him seep through the layers of fabric between them. “Yes?”
He waited until she raised her gaze to his once more, until he could look her straight in the eye. Only then did he say, “I would be honored to have you call me Peter in private.”
“Then you must call me Gabriella in return.”
His gaze heated as they stood there, staring at each other, silently acknowledging what had occurred. The calm that followed made Gabriella forget all about the agitation she’d known before. Suddenly, it felt like all was as it should be, with a great deal more to look forward to later.
But for now…
His thumb stroked over her arm a few times, as though he had no wish to loosen his hold. However, they had come here for a reason and had already lingered in front of the door much longer than what was normal.
“We can discuss what all of this means for us later,” he said as he pulled the door open. “Agreed?”
“Yes. Of course.” She managed to send him a smile and to catch the one he gave her in return before he ushered her into the building.
A wide-open space with checkered tiles greeted them. The white plaster ceiling was held up by dark wood beams. Massive paintings of military figures surrounded by gilded frames hung on the walls. A large desk stood directly before them. Seated behind it was a young man dressed in military attire.
Peter approached him, the heels of his shoes clicking against the floor, the sound echoing through the vast space. “Chief Constable Kendrick.”
The young man stood. “A pleasure, sir. I’m Corporal Tobias Moore. How can I be of assistance?”
When Moore glanced in Gabriella’s direction Peter gestured toward her. “This is my associate, Miss Hastings. She and I have come in regard to an investigation. It’s our understanding that a Mr. Stewart Warren was enlisted here. Any records you have on him would be a great help.”
Moore considered them both with a serious mien. “Has Mr. Warren committed a crime? If so, we have our own court.”
“I am aware. Unfortunately, a crime was perpetrated against Mr. Warren,” Peter explained before adding, “He was murdered.”
A shadow fell over Moore’s face. “I’m terribly sorry to hear it.”
Peter nodded. “Our findings suggest he may have been enlisted with the army. If that’s correct and we’re able to locate his record, we may find valuable information that could help catch his killer.”
“Then we’d best not waste any time,” Moore said. “Follow me. I’ll show you to the records room and introduce you to Sergeant Wilkins.”
Moore led the way while Gabriella and Peter walked a few paces behind. Even though her attention was now on the case, a lingering flush from earlier still heated her cheeks. More so when Peter ushered her through the door to the records room, the palm of his hand gently touching her back.
She glanced at him and was briefly rewarded by a look that made her soul flutter with unrestrained delight. And then they were introduced to Wilkins and all was once again appropriately serious — professional — while Moore explained the situation to him.
Peter thanked Moore who took his leave, then produced the calling card he’d collected from Mr. Warren’s pocket. His approximate age was provided to further aid Wilkins’s search.
