And she’d always enjoyed trying to solve things.
Family secrets. Murders. Stubborn detectives.
What was the difference, really?
After questioning three more servants, none of whom had any information to give, they saw themselves out.
“I believe that went well,” Joanna remarked as they headed back towards the office. “At least we’ve several suspects. Are we going to call upon the Duke of Hanover next? From what Miss Groshen said, he was the last person to see Miss Bancroft alive.Andhe had reason to see her dead.”
“What reason?” Kincaid said curtly. “Eloise was his mistress. By all accounts, they were happy together.”
“Yes, but Miss Groshen indicated there was another man in the picture. Perhaps Hanover suspected something illicit was going on, and he became jealous.” Joanna’s eyes lit up. “A crime of passion. After it was done, he panicked and disposed of the body. Just like inThe Mysterious Murder of Madame Madelynn.”
“The Mysterious Murder ofwho? Never mind,” Kincaid said before she could answer. “You’ve an active imagination, Miss Thorncroft, but your theory is misguided. The Duke of Hanover is innocent.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the duke hired me to find Eloise’s killer.”
Joanna stopped short. “You’re working for amurderer?”
“Sterling—the Duke of Hanover—did not murder anyone.”
“You sound absolutely positive.”
“I am.”
“Why?” she asked, confused. “Do you have any evidence that clears him of wrongdoing?”
“Not exactly,” he hedged.
“Then how can you be so sure?” This may have been Joanna’s first attempt at crime solving, but even she knew that evidence—or lack thereof—was a strong indicator of guilt. The Duke of Hanover had an intimate relationship with the victim. There was no indication he’d left the residence untilaftershe was killed. Client or not, he had to be their number one suspect. And yet, Kincaid did not seem to be of the same opinion.
“I’ve known Sterling for a long time.” Kincaid’s mouth settled into a grim line. “He is more than a client, he is a close personal friend. Which is how I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt and despite all the clues to the contrary, that he no more harmed Eloise than you or I did.”
Joanna studied Kincaid closely. The indent between his brows. The lines of tension in the corners of his eyes. The steady throb of his pulse underneath his jaw. “All right,” she said simply. “I believe you.”
He blinked at her, visibly startled. “You do?”
“Are you surprised?”
“It takes an innate sense of trust to believe someone when all of the facts point in a different direction.” There was an endearing note of bewilderment in Kincaid’s tone. As if he couldn’t understand why anyone would have such faith in him.
Sweet, stubborn man, Joanna thought with affection.
Why could he not see what she did?
That he was worthy of her trust…and so much more.
“If you say the Duke of Hanover is innocent, then he is innocent.” Seeing the top of his shirt had come undone, she reached out to fix it, and their hands collided as he did the same. Wordlessly, his fingers slid over the top of hers as she bent her head in concentration and slipped the small wood button back into its hole, then pressed her palm to the middle of his chest where she could feel thethump thump, thump thumpof his heartbeat. “There. Now all we have left to do is prove whoreallykilled his mistress.”
Kincaid stiffened beneath her touch. “There is no ‘we’, Miss Thorncroft.”
She gave a light laugh. “But of course there is. Without me, you wouldn’t have learned about the man with the black eyes or Hannah’s coincidental disappearance. We may not be partners, but we make an excellent team.” Lips curving, she peered up at him from beneath her lashes…and her smile froze in place. “You’re being serious.”
“This is amurderinvestigation. With the murderer still at large.” Taking her hand, he deliberately moved it away from his chest. For an instant, his fingers remained locked with hers. Then his countenance hardened, and he released his grip. “I gave you the courtesy of accompanying me today, but—”
“Thecourtesy?”
