Page 20 of Honor Unbound

“Here you are.” Miss Murphy handed him the pad and lead. Her face had gone nearly as pale as the corpse’s. “I believe I caught all the details.”

And probably detail enough to disturb her sleep for the next fortnight. “Thank you for the information, Mr. Hall. It was very helpful.” Brett took Miss Murphy’s arm and guided her from the room. He most likely shouldn’t have let her come inside. Should have insisted she remain in the hackney. Short of tying her to the seat, however, he didn’t see how he could have kept her there.

One corner of his mouth tilted upward. Miss Murphy was unique. And Lady Mary was unlike any other woman he’d ever worked for. He hadn’t expected his new post to be quite so interesting.

And now there was a murder to solve.

Brett waved at Ernest to keep his seat and he opened the carriage door himself, lowering the steps. He gripped Miss Murphy’s hand. “Up you go.”

She frowned, looking down at their joined hands. “I can climb up unassisted.”

“Can you?” He examined her face. “You’re still looking awfully pale and wobbly.”

She yanked her hand free. “How absurd. I’ve never been wobbly in my life.” She lifted her pert chin, glared at him from the corner of her eye…and bumped her head against the top of the carriage doorframe as she climbed in.

Brett strove to keep his lips even. “Are you all—”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said crossly. Her face was no longer pale but a charming pink. She ducked inside the coach and flopped down on the seat, staring out the opposite window.

He let his lips smile freely as he raised the steps and jumped in himself. He settled himself across from her, his leg brushing Miss Murphy’s skirts.

She tucked her legs tight against the seat, keeping her gaze focused out the window.

Warmth spread through Brett’s chest. His mother had warned him he’d regret moving to London. Said he’d have nothing in common with city folk. That his days would be lonely and dull.

He’d have to remember to write her to tell her just how wrong she’d been.

Chapter Eight

Marie

Although a tincan factory was a much nicer surrounding than a coroner’s studio, it still wasn’t a place Marie had expected she’d be visiting when she’d accepted employment with Lady Mary. Due to the circumstances of their meeting, however, Marie should have learned to expect the extraordinary when it came to her employer.

“I’m here to speak with Mr. Driscoll Gray,” Lady Mary shouted over the din of the machinery to a man wearing oil-covered overalls.

The man took off his cap and scratched his head. “Who’re you?”

“Lady Mary Cavindish.”

The man seemed impressed with the title and scuttled away, hopefully to inform their quarry of their arrival.

“Do you think he’ll talk to you?” Marie said.

Lady Mary cupped her ear, and Marie repeated the question, raising her voice.

“He’ll talk.” Lady Mary poked her walking stick into the dust-covered floor. “And if he doesn’t, well, that will tell us something about the man, too.”

“But what if…” The sounds from the floor cut off abruptly, leaving Marie’s words hanging loudly in the air. She lowered her voice to a normal level, her ears still faintly ringing. “What if Mr. Gray did”—she looked around to make sure no one couldhear her—“kill Mr. Trent,” she whispered. “There looks to be a hundred different ways he could kill us here and make it look like an accident.”

Lady Mary gave her an arch look. “Are you saying we should have brought Mr. Burton with us for protection?”

That was definitely not what Marie was saying. She scowled. “I don’t need that man to protect me.” She’d had a brother. A very good one who’d snuck her sweets when he could and thrashed the farmer’s son who’d taken liberties. She blinked, the backs of her eyes burning. Yes, she’d had an excellent brother and she didn’t need another man trying to be her protector.

Lady Mary’s lips quivered. “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”

Marie frowned. It sounded like her mistress was quoting from a book. Obviously, it was a very silly book.

“It’s good I sent Burton to try to befriend George Platt’s manservant, then, instead of accompanying us here.” Lady Mary pushed her spectacles up her nose. “I am curious to know just how angry Mr. Platt was with his brother-in-law for stepping out on his sister. It doesn’t seem the kind of thing someone would even challenge another to a duel over any longer, much less murder, but I believe in being thorough.”