“I deserve to know.”
She was right. He lowered his voice. “Mr. Ashcombe was apparently polite and friendly and raised no suspicions from anyone who met him during the few days he was at the inn.”
She gave him a tight smile. “I could have informed you of that.”
Someone collided with him from behind, and he reached instinctively for Kate. He turned, placing her behind him, only to find a drunken sailor who could hardly walk in a straight line. Ignoring the man, he tightened his arm beneath Kate’s grip, searching for danger. If his suspicions were correct, then Kate had not only stumbled on a body, she had uncovered someone’s secret.
He led them toward the waterfront, where the crowds were thinner. “We are alone here,” he said softly, slowing his pace, the noise of the crowd fading. “We can speak freely.”
Kate tensed, leaning closer until their shoulders brushed, stealing his concentration. “Then you did discover something about Mr. Ashcombe?”
He exhaled. “I have. And I am afraid it does not make matters any clearer.”
“Tell me.”
“First, you were correct. Mr. Ashcombe was murdered.”
Kate shivered. He longed to hold her as he had at the inn, to shield her from the worst of it, but if she were going to involve herself in this, she needed to understand the threat before her.
He continued. “However, no one seems to have seen or heard anything. The magistrate and I questioned guests at the inn, but we learned nothing that would help us identify his killer.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line.
“But I did learn a few things of interest. It seems Mr. Ashcombe was headed to Dover.” He maneuvered them around a pile of cargo, careful to avoid the ropes strewn about as they neared the docks.
“Then it would seem someone made sure he would never arrive,” she observed.
The implication of that settled like lead in his chest. “He was a retired merchant captain, just as you said. His former employer, however, is of particular interest.”
They turned a final corner. Ahead, a large warehouse wall proclaimed in black paint that it belonged to The Great Dover Shipping Company. The scene was a bustle of activity. Sailors hauled crates, clerks rushed about with papers in hand, foremen barked orders, wagons rolled in and out, and the air was a pungent mix of salt, sweat, and spices.
“You mean,” she whispered, gripping his arm, “that this building may have been Mr. Ashcombe’s destination?”
“I believe so. There are too many coincidences to ignore.”
They stood in silence while James studied the building for exits and timed the guard’s movements. If the company was involved in traitorous activities, he would get no direct answers by questioning anyone openly. There were also far too many people about for a proper search.
“We cannot go in there. Not now,” Kate said.
Had she read his mind? She had assessed the risk as quickly as he had. He was loath to admit it, but she had the instincts of a spy.
“No,” he agreed, “but I can return after dark.”
Kate’s expression cooled. “You mean to leave me behind?”
He drew her aside, away from the activity. “I mean to keep you from a place where men like Ashcombe’s killer may be waiting.”
Her mouth tightened, but she glanced at the warehouse and seemed to think better of arguing with him in public. They had caught the attention of a few men working around the warehouse, one in particular watching Kate with too much interest. Unease prickled up James’s spine. He pulled Kate closer, standing between her and the man. It was time to leave.
They adopted a brisk pace back toward the inn, the brittle silence between them tightening with every step. He could live with her anger. He would rather risk her feelings than her life. Tonight, he would return to the docks and whatever secrets waited there. Kate would remain safely behind.
Chapter 16
Kate
Kate crouched lower, watching, waiting. The stack of water barrels by the stable wall hid her from sight but allowed her a clear view of the servants’ entrance. The eerie glow from the lantern hanging in the yard could not reach her here.
She adjusted the clasp of the navy wool cloak, the fabric itching at her neck. The selection at the nearest shop had been meager, according to Tess. Kate could not tell her maid that itching was not conducive to keeping watch, so she accepted it with thanks. All that mattered now was the darkness of the fabric.
