Daphne cast Thorpe a sidelong glance.
One did not need to be an enquiry agent to know that his broad shoulders carried a heavy burden, something secretive, something from the past. What would it take to break through the hard shell? The only time he’d ever shown any sign of emotion was when she’d kissed him.
What would happen if she took him as her lover? Would the real Mr Thorpe reveal himself? Would she get to see what he hid beneath his confident facade?
The chandler appeared at the counter to drag Daphne from her musings. “Lily said I’m to show you upstairs. She said she’s been expecting you.”
The last comment proved worrying. A host of questions flooded Daphne’s mind. Had the woman been waiting to speak to them for three years? If she knew something why hadn’t she made contact before?
The white-haired fellow led them up a narrow stairway. Thorpe gestured for Daphne to proceed first, yet the feel of his heated gaze on her back made climbing a difficult task.
The chandler left them outside one of two doors on the upstairs landing. “You’ll find Lily in there.” He rapped on the door on their behalf as though the specific sound conveyed a hidden meaning, and then left them to their business.
With bated breath, Daphne waited to meet the woman her husband had entertained regularly. Would they be similar in looks? Did the lady have the one essential ingredient necessary to please a man like Thomas?
The golden-haired beauty who opened the door was Daphne’s opposite in every way: petite in stature, slight of figure with delicate elfin features. The woman cast an admiring glance over Thorpe’s masculine frame, and a pang of jealousy hit Daphne hard in the chest. Childish thoughts filled her head. The urge to claim him for herself being the most prominent. Lily had taken Thomas, but she'd not take Thorpe — the only man ever to ignite a fiery passion in her breast.
Lily’s attention moved to Daphne. “Mrs Chambers, please come in.” Her warm tone sounded sweet and gentle, but wasn’t that the way of every temptress? She stepped aside and gestured to the room beyond.
Daphne turned to the object of Lily’s fascination. “This is Mr Thorpe, my friend and colleague.” The description seemed inadequate. It failed to describe the complicated nature of their relationship. It failed to warn Lily to keep her beady eyes to herself.
Lily moistened her lips. “Good evening, Mr Thorpe.”
“Good evening, Miss Lawson.” The sudden feel of Thorpe’s hand on Daphne’s back as he ushered her into the room roused a blush.
With Thorpe at her side, it was becoming more difficult to focus on the case. While she should have been thinking about the link between Lily, the ghostly intruder and Thomas’ murderer, her need to learn everything there was to know about Daniel Thorpe had become a priority.
The small room above the chandler’s shop was on a par with Daphne’s parlour, although this space acted as bedchamber and kitchen, too. It was neat, clean but one glance around the cold, impersonal space confirmed this was a place to rest one’s head, nothing more.
Lily moved a wooden chair from around the circular table and placed it near the bed. Thorpe stepped forward to assist in moving the other one.
“Please take a seat,” Lily said gesturing to the chairs. “I shall sit on the bed.” The eloquent tone of her voice confirmed that this lady was no backstreet whore. “Can I make tea? I’m sorry to say I have nothing stronger.”
“No,” Thorpe replied as he waited for them to sit before dropping into the chair. “We will not take up too much of your time.”
His blunt response warmed Daphne’s heart. She liked that he was cold to everyone but her.
“We would like to ask you about your relationship with Thomas.” Daphne felt not the slightest hint of jealousy when she imagined Thomas and Lily together. But if the beauty batted her lashes at Thorpe one more time, she’d have to pull out the pepper pot. “We are aware he met you at the Mariner’s tavern on numerous occasions.”
“We are aware he travelled with you to France,” Thorpe added. “Of the close connection you shared.”
It took all the strength of will Daphne possessed not to gasp at Thorpe’s speculative comment. Was he not the one who insisted they focus on the facts?
Lily had the decency to avert her gaze. After taking a deep breath, she looked up. “Then you should know that ours was a working relationship. We were not lovers, despite how it might seem.”
Daphne did not know whether to be pleased or disappointed. Thomas was a loyal, honest man and she should have known he would never make a mockery of their vows. Yet it would ease the guilt she felt for her inability to love him had he sought solace elsewhere.
“When you say working relationship, I assume your shared venture was legal.” Thorpe never took his eyes off the delicate creature.
“Of course.” Lily offered a weak smile. “We were not smuggling tea and brandy if that’s what you think.”
Thorpe leant forward. “Then what were you smuggling?”
“Information,” Lily replied confidently. “For the Crown.”
Daphne slapped her thigh — it was better than shooting out of the chair and punching the air in satisfaction. “I suspected Thomas worked for the government.”
She’d suspected he was a spy to be more precise. She’d never believed his story about the cloth merchant. Spying was the only logical explanation to account for his regular trips to France, to account for the extra income that made life more bearable.