Manning would never have taken his own life.
“More like someone wrapped a rope around his neck and throttled him until he was dead. There’ll be an investigation.” Though who the hell would want justice for Mortuary Manning?
A conversation he’d had with Daventry and Sir Malcolm in the miller’s cottage flitted into his mind. Both men had assured him Manning would never see the light of day. Both men assured Beatrice there would be no need to spend sleepless nights fearing Manning might call.
“Do you feel cheated?” she said, stroking his chest. “Did you want to see him stand trial for murdering your parents?”
“They couldn’t have tried him for the crime. There’s no evidence other than your testimony, and I refuse to put you through the distress of seeing Manning in court.”
No, everything had worked out for the best.
She came up on her toes and kissed him. “Let me give you my gift before we climb back into bed.”
Dante arched a curious brow. “Gift? It’s not the silver tea tray, is it?”
Clearly excited, she hurried to the chair and retrieved the small rectangular object. “A tea tray big enough for one cup? No. It’s something Mr Bower helped me find. He’s spent two days trailing around every trinket shop in Bermondsey.”
“Trinket shop?” A lump formed in Dante’s throat. “Not the trinket shop where Babington sold my father’s cheroot case?”
“Thankfully, the owner had taken a liking to it and kept it for himself. I’ve paid far more than expected. The man described Mr Babington perfectly, so I’m sure it’s the right one.”
Dante stared at her, his heart ready to burst.
“Mr Bower meant to give it to me yesterday, but what with all—”
He kissed her, kissed her like she was the air he needed to breathe.
When he straightened, she had tears in her eyes.
“Please open it. If it’s not the right one, you’ll be disappointed.”
“I won’t. My mother gave my father the gift because she loved him. I recall the look on both their faces when he opened it.” He looked down at the wrapped case. “Love prompted you to give me this gift. Regardless of what it is, I shall treasure it always.”
He wiped a single tear from her cheek and set about ripping the paper.
He had not cried since he was eight years old, yet the thought of losing Beatrice had drawn a tear from his eye. Seeing the hunting scene painted on the case, seeing the image of his father sitting proudly on his mount, brought another tear trickling down his cheek.
“Is it? Is it the same one?” she asked eagerly.
Dante inhaled deeply and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Yes, it’s my father’s case.” He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and she lay her head against his shoulder. “My mother used to say he loved those hounds more than anything. But she knew he would never love anyone the way he loved her.”
“Mr Sloane told me Farthingdale is for sale. Perhaps you might like to purchase a house in the country.”
For a heartbeat, the idea seemed appealing. But he’d spent his life living in the past. “I would rather focus on our future, rather we started anew, let our parents rest in peace.”
“We need to let them go now,” she agreed.
A vision of him clutching his mother’s body flashed into his mind. Perhaps a part of him would always be the heartbroken boy at the roadside. Perhaps a man was the sum of all his experiences.
He kissed her hair, inhaled her scent. “Were it not for the tragedy, we might never have met.” He could not bear the thought of that either. And so he made a vow to stop inventing stories.
She sensed his disquiet. The dainty hand on his chest began moving in caressing strokes, healing his scars, soothing his fears. She dipped fractionally lower each time, her fingers grazing the hard contours of his abdomen until she dared to slide her hand down the length of his cock.
“Come to bed,” she whispered. “Let’s spend a few hours here, and then you can take me to Gunter’s. You can feed me lemon ice despite the fact it’s cold outside.”
This woman knew how to flood every dark memory with a ray of sunshine.
He turned to face her and smiled. “Pineapple mousse would be my choice for you, my love.”