“But at least you will be alive to talk about it,” Mark reminded her. “Let’s not forget that this is a murderer we are talking about. It isn’t a spiteful gossip or a mugger, but somebody who is taking other people’s lives.”
Once inside, Mark took a seat in the parlour. While he waited for Harriett to return to him, he studied the room and found his eyes drawn to the spot where Minerva had died. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Harriett, who appeared in the doorway with a tray of tea things. He rose and put the tray on the table, and was pleased when she chose to sit on the settee with him rather than in one of the chairs before the fireplace.
As soon as tea had been poured, Mark resumed their conversation. He wasn’t prepared to let the matter drop until everything was out in the open. It wasn’t lost on him that he had yet to explain to her about Alice. Unfortunately though, he didn’t know where to start.
She took a breath and, although she had doubts, plunged in feet first anyway. She was driven by curiosity and the desperate need to know where she stood, preferably before her heart got broken. “I was in a rush at the time but, on the day I found Hugo, I could have sworn I saw you in the tea shop in Great Tipton. I was in a hurry and didn’t get the chance to take a closer look.” Harriett tried to keep her face politely impassive as she studied her tea cup far too intently. “What is the tea shop like?”
“Are you checking out the competition?”
Harriett’s brows rose. She wasn’t sure how to take that question. Did he mean the competition as in the mystery blonde woman, or competition as in the tea shop?
“I haven’t been to that particular shop, you understand,” she replied carefully.
He was more than a little relieved that she had broached the subject. “I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Mark sighed. “I had a cup of tea. There was nothing outstanding about it. The service was alright. It was a nice, albeit quiet tea shop. It was a little difficult, to be honest with you,” he sidled a glance at her and caught her searching look. He knew then that she was curious about Alice, and wasted no time in taking the opportunity to correct any misinterpretation she may have of what she had seen. “I was breaking up with my then girlfriend. I have been courting Alice, for a couple of months but it wasn’t working out. She was a little upset.”
Harriett nearly slumped with relief and was disconcerted by how much her hand trembled when she to
ok a sip of her tea. She valiantly tried to ignore the rattle of the cup as it settled back into the saucer. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“I am relieved it is all over to be honest with you. She was a nice lady, if a little manipulative.”
She nodded but didn’t pry. The last thing she wanted him to do was regale her with the unfortunate Alice’s shortcomings. “I wasn’t prying, I just wanted to apologise for not acknowledging you. I wanted to get home.” She frowned. She couldn’t say that hurt had driven her home because that would mean she admitted that she was deeply upset at the sight of him with someone else, which was ridiculous given the short space of time she had known him.
“Have you remembered anything else about that afternoon?”
“Nothing, I am afraid. I cannot remember seeing anyone or anything untoward and I have thought about it over and over again.” She glanced at him. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but what have you uncovered about Minerva Bobbington?”
“Just that she died of choking from the small square of muslin cloth that was lodged in her throat. She almost certainly drank it with the sherry she imbibed after the séance, but we don’t know how it got into her glass because there was no trace of muslin in any of the glasses or decanters. It looks like someone put the muslin in her drink on purpose and it killed her.”
“Do you think they were trying to frighten her?” Harriett wondered just what anyone would have to do to deserve to be tormented in such a way. She shied away from the thought that anyone at that meeting could be so ruthless, so cold-hearted, as to put a piece of cloth in a drink in the knowledge that it could actually kill someone.
“I think that if they were hoping to scare her, their plan went horribly wrong. Unfortunately, because of Mr Montague’s death, it looks as though Minerva Bobbington’s demise was not accidental.” He ignored the fact that they were alone and of relatively short acquaintance, and picked her hand up in his. “I know what you are going to ask next. Do you think it was intended for me? In all honesty, I really have no idea. I think that we have to take the threat made to you tonight very seriously, especially given the incident with the carriage earlier. Unfortunately, it is evident that the threat is still very real and your association with me is not likely to keep you from being the murderer’s next target if they are determined enough.” He cursed his choice of words when she gasped and looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. From this point onward I am going to escort you when you go out and about on your business. I am going to be the one who brings you home in the darkness. I am going to be the one who is visibly with you so everyone knows that you are mine.”
Harriett’s stared at the sheer possessiveness written on his face. “But you have work to do,” she protested weakly. “I cannot ask you to escort me everywhere I go. You need to catch the killer.”
“I know Harriett, but it is my priority now to keep you safe. If I am unable to escort you because of work commitments, I am going to make sure that Isaac, Detective Brown, or one of the other men in my team are here for you. Nobody is going to be able to get to you without having to wade through us first.”
Words failed her. His promise was written in his eyes. The steady green gaze was filled with gentle but determined intent. She didn’t know what to say to him. ‘Thank you’ seemed so weak and feeble in the wake of such a strong declaration.
Her heart hammered in her throat as his head slowly lowered toward hers. The meagre light from the gas lights gave the room a honeyed glow that seemed to wrap around them. His large, warm palm slowly slid along her cheek to cup the back of her head. The firm brush of his lips against hers made her jump and she looked up at the tender reassurance in his eyes. He paused and rested his forehead against hers for a moment while he studied her for any sign of fear or anxiety. The relief that swept through him when he saw her calm acceptance was all he needed to see and he slowly dipped his head again.
She watched his eyes close a second before his lips captured hers. Curiosity refused to allow her to draw away; desire made her sit perfectly still beneath the onslaught of his kiss. She began to tremble when his lips pressed more firmly on hers. The slightest of pressures eased her mouth open slightly and drew them closer together. She had no idea what came next, and didn’t even want to think about this moment drawing to an end. Instead, she tipped her head back to allow him greater access and moaned as he immediately responded to her acceptance.
Mark took advantage of her compliance and held her head still while he laid claim to her senses. He could feel the fine tremors that swept through her but was fairly certain that it wasn’t cold or fear. Passion hovered over them and he knew that it wouldn’t take much before it swept both of them away completely. His body began to ache uncomfortably but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow himself to deepen the kiss the way he wanted to. It was enough that she had allowed him to draw so close, so soon in their rather unusual courtship. He tipped his head this way and that as he sipped from her mouth.
Harriett almost cried out loud when his mouth eventually lifted. It took her several moments before she became aware of the metallic rattle of keys in the door and could do no more than stare at him. He took one of the last few moments they were alone to rest his forehead against hers and kiss the tip of her nose. “Are you alright?”
She nodded jerkily. For the life of her she couldn’t have spoken. She felt certain that she had written somewhere what she had just done and couldn’t seem to gather her wits about her, even when Babette appeared in the doorway.
“Are you two alright?”
Mark made no attempt to draw away from her. He sat a little too close to her than was usual, but didn’t bother to offer either woman any excuse.
“We are fine. We were just making plans to keep Harriett safe over the next few weeks while I uncover what is going on in Tipton Hollow.” He took a moment to explain what had happened with the carriage and measured the horror on Babette’s face.
“I am afraid that Harriett has to have an escort wherever she goes now. Nobody is to have any more séances for the time being. I have to tell you that I think that Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite are criminals who are wanted by Scotland Yard. I have seen enough of the contents of their bag tonight to strongly suspect that they are no more clairvoyant than I am, but I have yet to catch them red handed, so to speak. Until I do, we have to consider them a threat to Harriett’s safety as well. Unfortunately, when we returned to Beatrice’s house, we now have a short-list of potential candidates who may be involved with the incident tonight with the carriage.”
“Could it not be somebody else with a grudge or something?” Henrietta asked with a frown. “Why does it have to be someone from the Psychic Circle?”