Poppy wondered if they were all being a bit melodramatic. “I think I would be better off going back to Cumbria.” She held a hand up when Luke tried to object. “The rest of my belongings were left in that house. If they are still there, I could speak to the new owner about purchasing them back. Whatever, if I am not in London then the killer won’t know where to find me, nor will Clarence for a while. I will have enough time to get there, do what I must, and then move on.”
“Take it from me, Poppy, that any one of them could be watching the coaching inn. Once you leave London we cannot protect you. There is nothing to say that they won’t wait for you to get off at one of the stops and accost you there. You could be left stranded with no money and no means of getting help. At least here you have a roof over your head, money in your pocket, and your cousin, Peter, not too far away.”
Poppy wanted to cry. She wanted to argue, and insist upon returning to Cumbria, but couldn’t. There was no credible argument to his logic. The last thing she could bear would be to find herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with no place to go and nobody to turn to for help.
“For now, then, I think I have no choice, do I?” she replied reluctantly.
“No,” all three men replied in unison.
“Come on, let’s store this in the front room,” Luke suggested. He pushed away from the table and stood beside her chair. Once he had settled her back onto the chaise in the front room he set about moving a panel on the wall beside the fireplace and revealed a rectangular space perfect for hiding things like her bag. Once the bag was safely tucked inside, the panel was secured in place with such perfection that if she hadn’t just witnessed them hiding the bag she wouldn’t believe it was there.
“What now?” she asked, looking at each man in turn.
“Now we wait,” Barnaby replied quietly.
Two weeks later, Poppy was still waiting. She was going quietly out of her mind with waiting. Boredom had long since taken root in her life, and she was thoroughly fed up with having nothing to do with her day but pace, worry, and fret about Luke. All concerns about Clarence had long since faded into the background.
Luke. She sighed and stared out of the window. What an enigma he has turned out to be, she thought ruefully, not really aware the rather quaint street scene outside.
With a shake of her head, she turned back to the room, but didn’t really see that either. The entire focus of her being was locked firmly on Luke. She had to wonder just how much more of the sensual tension she could stand. She knew he felt it too because she often found him simply watching her with a hint of something in his eyes that made her feel feminine and all too aware of herself. She didn’t feel anything like the same with his colleagues. In fact, all three of the men, Jeb, Marcus and Barnaby were friendly, helpful, and the epitome of perfect hosts. Luke was too, in his way. However, with Luke there was an undercurrent of sensual awareness that positively crackled in the air, and had driven her to distraction.
Even this morning before he had left for the day he had placed his mug on the table between them. Their hands had brushed, and the now familiar flush of warmth stole up her arm and made her gasp. He had looked at her knowingly, but been distracted before he could say anything. Minutes later he had swept out of the door without a backward look. She, meanwhile, had been a bundle of quivering nerves that was now unable to settle until he returned.
Sensing movement in the kitchen, she silently thanked the heavens that someone was around for her to talk to, and hurried into the kitchen to greet the men. When she got there though, they were already deep in conversation.
“I need to speak to Simon about releasing Joshua Samson’s body,” Barnaby announced when they had finished. “The family are asking for it now because they want to get the funeral over and done with. Once I have sorted that out I am going to go to visit a family in Storton. News is in that Rupert Balgravia has vanished.”
“Vanished?” Luke lifted his brows in disbelief.
“He was sitting in front of his fire last night. When his wife went in to say good night he was nowhere to be found. The French doors were locked tight and there was no sign of forced entry, but he has not been seen since. The house has been searched from top to bottom but there is no trace of him.”
“What else?” Luke prompted. He knew from the look in Barnaby’s eye that there was more.
“A large painting worth about a thousand pounds has gone too.” Barnaby sighed.
Marcus nodded. “I am going to re-join the search of the house and the gardens. You need to speak with the pick-pockets as soon as possible. The sooner we can get them to keep their eyes and ears open for this painting the better. I have already sent word that I need to meet with Toby, but am now needed to help search Balgravia’s house instead so you have to go, Luke.”
Luke nodded. “I need to ask Toby if he has been successful in locating the man’s house.”
“The man?” Barnaby asked.
“The one I chased out of the woods when Samson’s body was found. He may be the killer.”
Everyone nodded. Luke turned to the woman who had just entered the kitchen. He felt so in tune with her that she didn’t even need to speak for him to know she was there. When she sat beside him, he smiled and offered her some ale.
He didn’t dare leave her in the house by herself. Although Clarence hadn’t been seen or heard of for a while, nobody was prepared to consider that he had gone away completely. With everybod
y busy there was nobody to stay with her. Luke had to be the one to go to see Toby because he was the only other person in the Star Elite who Toby and Lucy would recognise. That meant only one thing – he had to take Poppy with him to meet them.
“What?” Poppy asked when Luke sat watching her. She suspected she wasn’t going to like what he was about to suggest.
“I need you to come with me.”
She was right; she didn’t. She glanced nervously toward the rapidly thickening smog outside and began to shake her head. “I will stay here. You said it was safest for me to remain indoors. I will wait for you here. Really, I will be alright by myself. You needn’t worry.”
“You cannot be left here alone, Poppy.”
“Why?” she challenged, determined not to have to go outside again unless the house was on fire.