William looked up at the sky, then noticed her trembling. “Wait inside the store, and I will summon your carriage.”
She smiled. Ever the gentleman.
It took only about ten minutes for him to return, carrying an umbrella he must have taken from his own carriage, which was now behind hers. She linked her arm in his, and they huddled under the umbrella to avoid the rain that had suddenly turned into a downpour.
He helped her into the carriage, holding the umbrella over his head. “What time would suit you tomorrow?”
“Ten o’clock? Perhaps you can call for me and we can take a stroll in the Pump Room at the Baths.” She looked at the wind whipping against the carriage and the water dripping from the umbrella and smiled. “If the weather has improved.”
“I assume you do not wish to speak in your house?”
Amy nodded. “Yes. I prefer not to, since Mr. St. Vincent was killed in my garden. I do have to be careful. Even though I trust all my employees, one can never be too careful.”
“A wise decision. If we are unable to venture out to the Baths tomorrow, I will await your missive with a new time and day.” With those words, he backed up, closed the door, and slapped the side of her carriage as a signal for the driver to begin the journey home.
* * *
Amy poured over her notes the following day as she waited for William to arrive for their trip to the Baths. The sun had awakened her earlier, making their trip possible. The Pump Room could be quite crowded this time of year, and if such was the case today, they could stroll the outside of the building, along the path surrounding the Roman Baths. They could even talk quietly at the Abbey nearby if they found no other private place.
Earlier, as she gazed out the window while getting ready for the day, she had been amazed at how clean and fresh everything appeared after a rainstorm. As far as she could see from her room, all the buildings looked scrubbed clean, the grass had a deeper green color, and new buds had sprouted almost overnight on the trees, which had just recently shaken off the shroud of winter.
Despite the trouble that hounded her, she couldn’t help but feel hopeful with all the signs of spring and new beginning surrounding her. This was the time of year she generally took a break from writing to just enjoy the warmer weather and allow the cobwebs in her brain to clear.
This year there would be no respite while she investigated a murder. Not a fanciful one for a book this time, but a real one that had her front and center as the main suspect. Her current novel was almost finished and would soon be sent off to her editor. She was currently transcribing the manuscript from her written version to the typewriter.
The previous evening she’d soaked in the bath, dreaming of the long vacation she would take when this matter was cleared up. Somewhere exotic. Perhaps the Orient. Or maybe even one of the islands in the South Pacific that were rumored to have naked people inhabiting them. As she lazily dripped water over her leg from the flannel, she’d wondered if she would be daring enough to go naked were she to travel there. What it would feel like to have the sun and soft wind on her bared body.
“Milady, your young man has arrived.” Lacey interrupted her unseemly thoughts. The maid regarded her. “Are you unwell? You are a bit flushed.”
Amy jumped up, feeling as guilty as a young girl facing Cook with two stolen biscuits behind her back. “Yes. I am fine.” She waved her hand, wishing—nay, praying—the redness in her cheeks would fade before she had to face William. “Please tell Lord Wethington I will be down directly.” As Lacey turned to leave the room, Amy added, “And he is not my young man.”
She found William in the drawing room, flipping through a book. “Good morning.”
He looked up, a bright smile covering his lips, his eyes taking her in with pleasure. “Are you feeling unwell, Amy?” He frowned and closed the book as he walked toward her.
“No,” she snapped. She raised her chin. “Are we ready?”
He blinked twice at her abruptness. “Yes. Of course. Shall we go?”
“I apologize, William. I should not have snapped at you. ’Tis a small matter that had me a bit disconcerted, but all is well now.”
“Good.”
She sailed past him out of the drawing room, not waiting for his escort as she made her way from the front door to his carriage. She waited, not too patiently, until he caught up to her. “My goodness, you are in a hurry today.”
Thankful that she seemed to have recovered her normal demeanor, she nodded. “Yes, I have interesting things to tell you.”
He joined her in the carriage and tapped on the ceiling to alert the driver. “For privacy, we could just ride around the city and share information and make notes.”
Amy shook her head. “No. Even though I am not of an age to need a companion, I don’t want to do anything that would be reported back to Papa and have him insist on hiring someone to trail me like some barely-out-of-the-schoolroom debutante.”
“Very well. ’Tis such a pleasant day, a stroll around the Baths area will be lovely.”
“What do you have there?” She gestured toward the tome he’d been flipping through when she joined him in the drawing room.
He grinned and held it up for her to view. “It’s the book that brought me to your house the night St. Vincent was murdered.”
&n