Page 73 of Honor Unbound

Marie’s jaw dropped open. “You were what?”

“Teaching me my letters, she is.” The boy sat up straight, lifting his chin. “Every night this past week. When Peg don’t have a customer, she’s helping me to learn.” His shoulders drooped. “Only reason I’m not up with her now is I dropped my book in a bucket of water I was carrying for the maid.”

Marie rocked back on her heels. “Miss Rogerson is teaching you how to read?”

The tone in her voice matched the disbelief Brett felt. Peg didn’t seem the charitable type.

“I’m getting good,” the boy said, eyes narrowed.

“I’m certain you are.” Marie patted his shoulder, then used the edge of the desk to pull herself to standing. “And you’re absolutely certain it was two nights past that you were with Miss Rogerson?”

The boy scowled. “It was only two nights ago. Course I’m sure.”

Brett pulled some coin from his pocket and gave it to him. He hoped it was enough to keep the boy from telling Mrs. McKendrick that Brett had been poking about her books. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.” Taking Marie’s arm, they left The Red Chemise.

Marie blew out a breath as they climbed into the waiting hackney. “I believe him.”

“Yes.” He settled next to her and bumped her shoulder with his own. “This is a good thing. We’ve managed to eliminate a suspect.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, and something in his chest squeezed. “You’re right, only it doesn’t have the same satisfaction, does it, eliminating a suspect as it does catching the culprit?”

Brett pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That will come.” As for him, he was done chasing murderers for the night. All he wanted was to go home and make love to his wife.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Marie

“Ireally needto be getting back.” Edith shifted to the front of her seat even as she stared longingly at the biscuit on the neighboring table.

Marie sighed as her reticule became even lighter. “Oh, you have time for another treat, don’t you? Perhaps a tart this time?” She waved for the server.

The maid of Mrs. Trent’s sister eased back onto her chair. “Well, one more won’t hurt.” She rubbed her soft abdomen. “Besides with this being moving day, I need my strength.”

Discovering the night before that Miss Rogerson had an alibi had made Lady Mary want to redouble their efforts with the remaining suspects. Well, that, and the attempt on Lady Mary’s life. So she had sent Marie to chat up Mrs. Shaw’s and Mrs. Trent’s maids to see if anyone would notice a bloodstained garment. Another stabbing meant another ruined coat or gown.

Unfortunately, the day Lady Mary assigned for the task was the same day Mrs. Trent was moving from Mrs. Shaw’s back into her own home. Most of the maids were too harried to speak with Marie. Remembering Edith’s fondness for sweets had made seducing her from her duties a bit easier.

Edith ordered a strawberry tart and Marie another hot chocolate.

The bakehouse they were in only had three small tables wedged in one corner. People mostly bought their items to takehome. But Edith’s familiarity with the server indicated they had at least one customer who liked to dine in.

“I was so happy when this place opened.” Edith sighed. “Between it and the confectionary shop, I’m never short for sweets.”

“You’re fortunate your mistress allows you time to get away.” Marie leaned forward to whisper. “Lady Mary isn’t nearly so lenient.”

Marie was glad when the server arrived at the moment to distract Edith with her new treat. It was an idiotic statement. She’d realized it the moment it left her mouth. As Marie was currently in a bakehouse drinking chocolate, the words were obviously false.

Edith dug into her tart, red sauce dribbling off her fork. “Oh, Mrs. Shaw doesn’t know I’m here. I’ve learned which moments I can sneak away.”

“How is the move going?” Marie blew on her chocolate. “Is Mrs. Trent particular about how her gowns are folded?”

“Beth, her lady’s maid, told me she used to be.” Edith brushed crumbs from her lip. “When she first married Mr. Trent, she was a right harridan. Beth even thought about quitting. This last year, however, she’s softened up apparently.”

Did Mrs. Trent’s new behavior coincide with her meeting Mr. Driscoll Gray? Or when they’d decided to murder her husband? Marie couldn’t imagine such a plan making anyone kinder, but then she couldn’t imagine murdering anyone, either. A killer’s emotions must be vastly different from her own.

“I remember when I last helped my mistress with a move, one of her gowns was lost,” Marie lied. “There was such a to-do over it, searching every inch of the house for that gown.”

Marie paused, hoping the other maid would take the bait. She merelyhmmedwhile she ate more tart.