“Says who?” She countered with a dark scowl.
“We will keep you safe and out of Sayers’ clutches while we get to the bottom of this man’s murder.”
“But he cannot have been murdered last night, can he?” she protested.
Not when you tried to accost me at the Carmichaels, she thought as she studied Joe.
She realised then just how stupid she had been to allow her panic and fear get the better of her. She had not only let Joe into the house, the man who ha
d lied to her about his name, but she had also allowed two of his associates to come with him. Now she was in her home, her only place of refuge, alone with these three strangers. Men who were, from the look of them, just as dangers as Sayers.
“We need to get out of here,” he announced suddenly.
They didn’t discuss it in front of Marguerite but all knew that someone would be sent to collect the body later once Sir Hugo had examined the body in situ. It was more important for them to leave the house and any danger which may surround it.
Marcus covered the corpse with the blanket Margaret had used, coiled the rope, and put it on top of the body. It was a warning to whoever found the dead man of what they would find beneath the covering. With nothing else to be done, the men began to escort her down the stairs.
Their silent acceptance that she would just meekly go along with them was galling for Marguerite. While she went willingly, to begin with, her mind raced in search of a way to get out of leaving with them. She knew it would be a foolish thing to do, especially with so many questions nobody seemed willing to answer.
“The carriage is out back. Do you want me to go and fetch it? I will bring it around front. It is probably safer,” Marcus murmured, eyeing the fog swirling around the gardens with a frown.
“I think it would be best,” Ben added. “I will come with you.”
Joe watched the men leave and turned to Marguerite, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
“It’s going to be alright,” he assured her, but with little softness or real reassurance.
He wasn’t very good with soothing women. He usually left that job to the charmer of the group, Marcus. Uncomfortably aware of the growing awkwardness between them, he coughed.
“I am not coming with you,” she murmured suddenly.
Joe almost groaned upon hearing that and heaved a deep sigh.
That fuelled Marguerite’s temper. For the first time in a very long time, she felt her temper begin to boil.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she added. “Who are you?”
“I have told you, I am Joe,” he replied firmly.
“Joe who? From where? What do you want with me, and my father? Where do you think you are going to take me?”
Joe could hear the rising hysteria and hastened to reassure her.
“Look, I know this is all rather odd, but we need you to come with us because we have reason to believe your life is in danger,” he replied reasonably.
Marguerite looked at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to call him a liar but she just couldn’t do it.
“I am someone you can trust, I can tell you that much,” he added persuasively when she didn’t appear convinced.
“I am sure you think so, but I have to question your motives,” she replied. Sensing he was about to interrupt her, she began to tick her objections off her fingers. “Firstly, you have admitted to standing in darkened rooms listening to people’s conversations. Secondly, the Count, whoever he is, clearly has issues with you which go far beyond general annoyance at being interrupted. Thirdly, since you have appeared in my life I have been shot at, kidnapped, assaulted, and now have a very angry Russian, and his friends, chasing me across London. I have to say that you don’t instil much trust in people. Finally, you are clearly keeping secrets because you refuse to provide me with anything but the briefest of details about you yet you expect me to follow you out of this house without question and put my life, my trust, in your hands.”
Joe mentally winced and had to admit she had a point, especially when she reasoned everything out like that. She wasn’t wrong but, without taking her into his confidence, he couldn’t tell her what was going on, or about the Star Elite. How he was to go about getting her out of the house then was anybody’s guess.
“I am trustworthy,” he replied softly, aware of the jangle of horses’ harnesses outside. “I need you to trust me.”
“I can’t,” Marguerite replied. In spite of herself, tears began to fall. She tried to stop them, but they trickled slowly down her cheeks anyway.
Joe’s anger suddenly evaporated beneath at that soulful look she gave him. Muttering a blistering curse beneath his breath he stepped forward and hauled her into his arms.