“Who are you?” she whispered, then wished she hadn’t spoken when she saw him flick a look at her that warned her he was going to ask her that same question. She knew, deep in her heart, that he was no gentleman out for a stroll. Whatever he was doing in the park so early in the morning was no more mundane than her reason for being there.
“I will explain later.” He wasn’t going to start that conversation just yet. Not until he could focus all of his attention on her and decide if she was answering his questions honestly or not. “This park is going to start to get busy soon. Let’s see what can find out about him, shall we? We can discuss other matters once the magistrate is on his way.”
Poppy shivered as a deep sense of foreboding swept through her. She had seen the way he had been covertly studying her bag. She didn’t like it – not one bit and glanced surreptitiously around them while she tried to think of a way out. It was a little disconcerting that there didn’t appear to be anyone nearby. That led her to question again whether the man at her feet was her supposed contact, or the handsome stranger. She studied him carefully as he dipped his hands into pockets of the dead man’s waistcoat. Was that why he was so interested in her bag? Was that why he had chased the pick-pockets off with such determination, because the money was his and he wanted to protect it?
No, it can’t be. Her denial was instinctive. If he was Clarence’s creditor he had certainly not mentioned the money yet and had ample opportunity to do so. She frowned at that. For some reason, she just couldn’t see this man lending anyone anything, or even spending time gambling. From the way he had reacted to her squeamishness, he was a man who didn’t suffer fools gladly.
Don’t judge on appearances, the small voice warned her. You don’t know anything about the man.
Luke looked at her when she didn’t attempt to help him. “Do you want to do it?”
She threw him a dirty look and took a step backward. Luke allowed the silence to settle for a moment while he placed the meagre contents of the man’s pockets on his chest and pushed to his feet. There was nothing in the way of identification on him. No monogrammed cases, or pouches, or anything to indicate even what his initials were. It was perplexing if not a little worrying. Were the Star Elite going to be able to identify him? Luke suspected that the only people who might be able to were going to be Sir Hugo or Simon Ambrose, but didn’t see any reason to mention that to the woman.
“What’s your name?” Aware of the suspicion already building in her eyes, he tried to make the question sound as casual as possible but studied her carefully for any sign of evasiveness while he waited for her answer.
“Poppy,” she whispered reluctantly when she couldn’t summon up a fictitious name.
“Poppy? Poppy what?” When she didn’t answer he looked up at her and lifted his brows, silently warning her he would wait for as long as he had to until he got the truth.
“Poppy Cleghorne.”
“Is there a Mr Cleghorne nearby?” He looked pointedly at her ring finger.
She instinctively curled her hands into tight balls and silently willed herself to remain calm. “Just my father.”
“Married?”
“My father?”
Luke rolled his eyes. “You.”
“Oh, no. Why?” She frowned at him. Was that pertinent to their current situation?
“Just wondered,” Luke replied. It bothered him more than he cared to admit to find himself waiting far too intently for her to confirm her married status. He hated the thought of her being married. However, single or not he had to decide whether she could be capable of murdering the man at their feet. He knew that he had to consider her a credible suspect, mainly because she was the one who had ?
??found’ the body. However his instincts warned him that she was innocent. Her clear revulsion of even touching the deceased was evident in the paleness of her cheeks, and the slight tremor in her hands she couldn’t quite hide. Not only that, but she looked as though she was about to cry, and there was a panicked expression deep in her eyes whenever she looked at the corpse that he suspected nobody would be able to fake.
Poppy. He quite liked it. It was soft, feminine, and reminded him of flowers; brilliant red ones full of boldness and resilience yet vulnerable to nature and the world. If only he could figure out why he should feel such a protective connection to her he knew he would have some idea of how to deal with the feelings that were leaving his world more than a little shaken. Just thinking of someone like Poppy being embroiled in the death of the man at their feet left him deeply disturbed in a way he had never been before, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.
Poppy mentally sighed at her own weakness. She had tried to come up with a false name but her brain just turned to mush when she was pinned beneath those wonderful eyes of his. She had blurted out her real name before she could stop it.
“Poppy,” Luke murmured. “My name is Luke Brindley.”
“Mr Brindley.”
“Call me Luke,” Luke replied. “I think we should dispense with formalities after what we have shared this morning.” He nodded to the man at their feet. “I don’t think he is going to object.”
Poppy nodded. She wasn’t going to argue with him about anything as long as he didn’t attempt to look in her bag, or expect her to help him carry the body anywhere.
“How long do you think he has been in there?” she whispered as Luke poked at the few coins and a bank note that rested on the man’s chest.
“He is still slightly warm,” Luke replied thoughtfully. “Whoever he was; whatever he had been doing in the park this morning; he had most probably been alive an hour ago.”
He could see no reason to lie to her. Hopefully by telling her, she would think about what she had been doing an hour ago and remember something useful. After a couple of minutes of thoughtful silence he looked up at her, but was doomed to disappointment because she looked nothing more than sad. He turned his attention back to the body and tried to decide what to do now.
“The poor man,” she whispered, horrified at the very startling possibility that it could have been her floating face down in the river.
Luke looked up at her when she spoke, just in time to watch her glance around them far too furtively to convince him she was innocent. She had the look of someone who was extremely worried about something. Was she expecting someone to appear? Luke glanced around but couldn’t see anyone. For all intents and purposes they were all alone – for now. So what – or who - was she expecting?