Sterling stood as well. “What is it about this American that you dislike so much?”
Kincaid shoved his hands into his pockets where they curled into fists. “She’s far too impetuous.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when you lack the common sense to avoid danger.”
“Ah.” Sterling nodded in understanding. “The poor thing’s a bit daft, is she? I find the pretty ones usually are.”
Kincaid snorted. “Hardly. If anything, she’s too intelligent for her own good. But she’s also headstrong. Doesn’t listen to a damned thing I say.”
“Then why take her case?”
“A moment of temporary weakness that I’ve since regretted a thousand times over.”
“Personally, I’ve always been fond of bold, headstrong women.” A dimple that had made hearts flutter from London to Leeds flashed in Sterling’s left cheek. “Especially in bed. It was what first drew me to Eloise. That, and her laugh. Like wind chimes in the breeze.” His smile faded. “I need to find out who did this to her, Kincaid. For her sake as much as my own.”
“We will.Iwill.” His gaze skimmed across the crowded room, then returned to Sterling. “I’m going to question Eloise’s household staff tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you,” the duke said at once, but Kincaid was already shaking his head.
“I won’t get the answers I need with you hovering behind me. The servants won’t talk if you’re there.” Because details were important, he removed his journal from an inside flap he’d had specially sewn into his coat and asked a passing barmaid for something to write with. She returned shortly with a pencil, worn down to a nub and chewed at the end, but it worked well enough. “Did the staff come with the house you rented for Eloise, or were they hired after?”
Sterling frowned. “How the devil am I supposed to know that? Eloise was in charge of all those matters.”
Kincaid closed his journal. “It would help move the case along if you could providesomedetails.”
The duke gave him a hearty slap on the back. “That’s why I hired you.” He sobered when he saw Kincaid’s resulting expression. “They’re not excellent, are they? My chances of getting out of this without being charged for her murder.”
“No,” Kincaid said bluntly. “They’re not. Unless we can find the true culprit, you’re going to be brought before the House of Lords. I’d find a good lawyer now.”
“At least we have time on our side.”
“That, and little else.” Kincaid would have liked to reassure his friend. But having once been the unsuspecting recipient of false hope, he’d always rather give the truth. No matter how hard it was to hear. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything of note tomorrow. Try to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Aye,” Sterling said dryly. “After all this joviality, I’m sure I’ll sleep like a baby. By the by, I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you that not every woman is like Lavinia.”
“Duly noted,” Kincaid said, his tone unmistakably curt.
“She was awful,” Sterling went on. “There’s no denying it. And what she did—”
“I don’t care to have this conversation.”
“—there’s no excuse for it. Hell, there’s not even a good reason other than her being a scheming whore. But she’s a single fish in a large pond. Maybe it’s time you have a go at another. Who knows? You may even prefer the American variety.” The duke’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively. “Headstrong or not, I’ve heard they’ve quite a good mouth on them.”
The picturethatbrought to mind was not one Kincaid cared to contemplate.
Not unless he wanted to spring a cockstand in the middle of the bloody pub.
“Sod off.” He slapped a handful of coins onto the table to pay for their drinks and then walked out, Sterling’s rich laughter ringing in his ears.
*
Midnight found Kincaidlaid out flat on the bed in his office, scotch in one hand and regret in the other. Lifting his head, he tilted the bottle back and took a generous swallow before dropping it onto the ground where it rolled, empty, across the floorboards and under his desk.
He wasn’t a man who drank to excess. His set of skills required a sharp mind and quick wit, neither of which were conducive to drinking himself into oblivion. But once he’d finished his first glass of scotch, it seemed only right to have another, and after that was done, James, the rascal, had knocked the glass onto the floor and broken it, so what else could he have done but drink directly from the bottle?
A poor decision, that. One he’d regret more come morning, he imagined, as right now he found the heaviness of his limbs and the numbness in his skull rather pleasant. It was certainly a welcome distraction from his memories of Lavinia…and his thoughts of Joanna.
