Bedford Street Brigade 01 - Where the Lady Belongs (3 page)

C
ora could only remain at the table so long before her nerves forced her to leave. She would have found their conversation interesting if they’d been talking about something that didn’t involve her. But their thought process as to how they would go about trapping the killer was more than a little unsettling. Especially after everything that had happened today.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said, placing her napkin beside her plate, “I think I’ll retire for the evening. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course.” The three men rose to their feet.

Mr. Wallace stepped to her chair. “Allow me to escort you to your room, Miss Lane.”

“Thank you,” she said, then placed her hand on his arm. Before she left, she turned to face the men standing at the table. “Thank you for everything you did today. I appreciate your assistance.”

“Our pleasure, miss,” Quinn said. “Rest well. There’s nothing to worry over while you’re here. You’ll be well protected.”

“Thank you,” Cora said again, then left the room on Mack Wallace’s arm. Neither of them spoke until they reached the top of the stairs.

“The bags your sister sent over have already been taken up,” Mr. Wallace said, “and Elsie has unpacked them. She’ll take care of anything you need, so just ask.”

“Thank you. And thank you for everything else, Mr. Wallace.”

“Please call me Mack. And I’ll call you Cora if I may.”

“I’d like that,” Cora said. “Thank you for everything, Mack. I’m not sure what I would have done had you not been here.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that. I’m here.”

Cora lifted her gaze. He had a strong face with solid features. There was a look of honesty about him, an indomitable determination to discover the truth.

For several long moments, they stood near each other. Cora couldn’t seem to move. Mack didn’t seem willing to. Then his gaze lowered to her mouth, and she knew what he wanted.

She was shocked to realize that she wanted it, too.

How could she feel such a connection to him after just one day? How could she feel such a closeness to him after meeting him only hours earlier? She attributed her yearnings to the excitement of the day, to the danger she was in, and the fact that Mack Wallace had become her knight in shining armor.

He held her hand a moment longer, then lifted his gaze as if he was reconsidering the appropriateness of kissing her.

“There is a large library downstairs that you are welcome to use whenever you’d like. And you may visit the gardens in the back anytime you want. They are cordoned off from the outside world and will be well guarded. Feel free to go there to draw, or read, or just sit and enjoy the flowers.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Before he released her, he lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Sleep well, Cora. Elsie will be close by in case you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t.”

The corners of his mouth lifted to form the same facially altering smile she’d seen earlier. Two creases deepened on either side of his mouth. His features softened, and Cora was again struck by a strange sensation that swirled in the pit of her stomach.

He executed a smooth nod of farewell, then turned.

“Mack?”

He turned.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He smiled again. “You’re welcome.”

And he left her.

Cora knew she must have fallen asleep but wasn’t sure for how long. The darkness outside was still deep, with no hint of encroaching sunlight. She lay in bed for several minutes listening for the strike of a clock from below. Finally, it heralded the hour. It was three of the clock.

Although she knew she’d no doubt slept all she was going to for the night, she forced herself to remain abed in case she fell asleep again. But she could only remain beneath the covers a few more minutes before she felt the need to escape the confines of the bed. The confines of the room. She threw back the covers and rose to her feet.

She wasn’t sure what she intended to do. Perhaps go to the library in search of a book. Perhaps step out onto the terrace and sit under the stars. Perhaps sit in the garden and breathe in the fragrant smells of the flowers. She wasn’t sure. She simply knew she couldn’t sit still. She needed to move.

Cora slipped on the robe and slippers her sister sent, then left the room and walked down the stairs. She knew the library was to her left, but the thought of reading a book held no appeal. She needed freedom. She needed the out-of-doors.

From earlier, she knew there was a way to the terrace from Mack’s study, so she headed in that direction.

The room was dark, with only the soft rays of the moon shining through the large French doors. Cora made her way across the room and stepped out onto the terrace. The sense of freedom she felt excited her.

She closed the doors behind her and took another step into the nighttime air.

“You couldn’t sleep?” a voice said from her right.

“Oh,” she gasped, clasping her hand to her breast.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Mack Walker stepped out of the shadows so that she could see him clearly.

“I just didn’t expect anyone to be here. Couldn’t you sleep, either?”

“I sent Quinn home to get some sleep. Jack is standing watch at the front of the house. I’m watching the back.”

“Do you expect there to be trouble?”

“I’d be a fool not to. We’re dealing with a man who has already committed murder.”

“Yes, we are.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”

Cora lifted her gaze to look at him. “No, I appreciate your honesty. I don’t want to be shielded like some child. I want to know what we’re up against and what you expect to happen.”

“I thought you would. You don’t seem like a shrinking violet.”

“I’m not.”

Mack offered his arm. “Would you care to walk?”

Cora took his arm, and they strolled down a cobbled path. For several moments neither of them spoke. Cora broke the silence first. “What are your plans tomorrow?”

“I intend to visit Sir George Grey in the morning. Since our victim was in his employ, I’m sure the reason for his murder is connected to some piece of legislation, or some controversial item. Then I’ll check with Briggs and Roarke.”

Cora turned to look at Mack. These were names with which she wasn’t familiar.

“You haven’t met them yet,” Mack said. “They were both investigators with me, and I asked them to guard the Koh-i-Noor.”

“You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

There was a wrought-iron bench a few feet ahead of them, and Cora pointed to it. “Could we sit?”

“Of course.”

Cora sat first, and Mack sat beside her. Being with him was very comfortable. Sitting so close to him gave her a sense of security, safety.

“Tell me about your friends,” she said. “Especially about how you came to know each other.”

“There’s not much to tell,” he said, then he stopped and smiled. “No, that’s not true. There’s a lot to tell.”

“I thought there might be.”

Mack sat back in the bench. “All of us worked for the Metropolitan Police at one time or another. Some for longer periods of time, some for shorter.”

“Were you one of those with them the longest?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a guess.”

“Yes, I was with them the longest. I grew up fascinated by the tales of the men referred to as Bow Street Runners. I was only sixteen when they disbanded in ’39, and their dissolution broke my boyish heart. When I was old enough, I joined the Metropolitan Police Force and served as an investigator with Scotland Yard.”

“Are you still connected with Scotland Yard?”

He shook his head. “I work on my own now. The same as Quinn and Hugh and the rest.”

“And you were hired to protect the diamond.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure you didn’t expect things to turn out as they did,” Cora said, watching a frown deepen across Mack’s forehead.

“No. But none of us can ever anticipate what obstacles will be thrown in our path.”

Mack’s statement was so true.

“What about you, Cora? What do you do in London to occupy your time?”

Cora looked out at the variety of flowers before her. It was fall. Many of the blooms had lost the vibrant colors of spring and summer and were now foretellers of the winter to come. She rose, as if she needed at least a foot or two of separation between them. “I keep busy. I have several interests. After my disastrous encounter with love, I could have remained in the country, but I’m not such a martyr as to deprive myself of a life. I enjoy the theatre, opera, and concerts too much to deny myself the things London can provide.”

Cora turned. “What about you? Do you enjoy the opera?”

He leaned back against the wrought-iron bench and smiled. In the moonlight, his gleaming smile was brilliant. A churning of emotion shifted in her chest and slowly settled low in her stomach.

“I will share my secret, but only if you swear never to tell anyone.”

“By anyone, do you mean the other investigators?”

“
Especially
the other investigators. They would never let me live it down.”

Cora nodded. “I promise.”

“I love the theater. Especially the opera.”

Cora met his smile with one of her own. “I thought you might.”

“Did you? Why?”

“I don’t know. I just did.”

Cora turned back to look out over the moonlit garden. Neither of them spoke for several moments. His soft voice was the first to break the silence.

“Are you happy here?”

Cora wasn’t sure when he’d stepped up behind her. She hadn’t heard him or realized he’d moved. When she turned, he was there.

“Yes, I believe I am. I am very content.”

“Content is not the same as happy. In fact, it is far from it. And you are much too special to settle for anything less.”

With the moon shimmering above them, Cora knew that Mack was going to kiss her. A small voice told her they weren’t acquainted enough for her to allow him such liberties, but that wasn’t true. Time was irrelevant. She felt as if she’d known him forever. She felt as if the bonds that connected them were steeped in something that was more lasting than mere minutes, hours, or days.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

Their meeting was exactly as she’d imagined it would be. The emotions that erupted inside her were exactly as she’d expected them to be. The connection that bound them together was as compelling as she’d anticipated it would be.

He held her and kissed her, then lifted his mouth from her and brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “You are very special, Cora.”

He placed his finger beneath her chin and lifted, then brought his mouth down over hers and kissed her again.

His lips were firm and warm atop hers. His kiss a tender meeting that connected them with unbreakable bonds. Then he deepened his kiss and encouraged her to give him more of herself.

Cora met his demands with the eagerness of a starving man offered his first meal. Of a man dying of thirst being offered a drink of water. She met his pleas for more with challenges of her own.

Mack Wallace kissed her with the same fervency with which he faced every task in his daily life. He took command of the situation the same as he did every responsibility he was given, the same as he took control of every involvement. But she wasn’t like any woman with whom he’d ever been involved. She was ruined. It was important that he understood that from the beginning.

She placed a palm on either side of his face and pulled away from him. She separated her lips from his, then stopped him from leaning in to kiss her again when he tried.

“This isn’t wise.”

“But it’s inevitable.”

Cora shook her head. “It can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“You know my past. Know that I am ruined.”

“Only in your eyes.” And he lowered his head and kissed her again.

Their kisses were consumed with passion. Their breathing became as one. Their bodies burned as if on fire.

When she could no longer breathe on her own, she let him provide the air she needed to breathe. Then, as if she couldn’t survive if their kisses burned hotter, she forced her lips to lift from his.

“Bloody hell, woman,” Mack whispered as he cradled her in his arms and held her close.

Cora placed her cheek against his chest and smiled. His heart thundered beneath her ear as if a train engine were rumbling through his chest. For the first time she felt as if the barriers had been removed from around her heart.

“We’d better get you inside,” he said after several minutes. “If we stay out here any longer, I’ll kiss you again.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “And this time I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

W
hen Cora woke the next morning, the house was quiet. Shortly after she was up, Elsie brought in a cup of chocolate. The maid told her Mr. Wallace was already up and gone.

Cora knew he’d no doubt gone to see Sir George Grey. From there he intended to check on the two investigators guarding the Koh-i-Noor diamond. He would no doubt be gone for most of the day, so she made plans to keep herself busy. She’d never been one to sit idle, and she wasn’t about to start now.

She went down to breakfast. Harper was waiting at the door to the dining room and showed her inside.

“Did Mr. Wallace say how long he might be, Harper?”

“No, miss. But he said you were not to worry. Mr. Baxter and Mr. Walker are outside.”

Cora placed some coddled eggs and toast on her plate, then sat at the table. “Have Mr. Baxter and Mr. Walker eaten, do you know?”

“I’m not aware, miss.”

“Well, they must.” She looked at the puzzled expression on Harper’s face. “What is the name of Mr. Wallace’s cook?”

“Just Cook, miss.”

“I know. But what is her name?”

“Mrs. Ramesdale, miss.”

“Very good. Would you ask Mrs. Ramesdale to please send out two small containers? I’m going to fill two plates, and we’ll set them outside where Mr. Baxter and Mr. Walker will find them.”

“Are you sure, miss?”

“Oh yes. Quite sure.”

Harper went to do her bidding while Cora ate her breakfast. When he returned, she filled two plates, then nested them in the containers.

“Please take this hamper and put it outside in the front of the house. Someplace where Mr. Baxter or Mr. Walker won’t be seen when they retrieve it.” She handed Harper one of the containers. “I’ll place this one just beyond the gate. I’ll be perfectly safe. Mr. Wallace said I could go out to the garden when I wanted.”

“Yes, miss, but—”

“Not to worry, Harper. I’m sure Mr. Wallace wouldn’t expect his friends to go without food.”

Cora carried the hamper to Mack’s study. She already knew where she would place it. There was a gate on the far side of the garden that opened up to the street. It was kept locked, but the bolt was on the inside. She would open the gate, set the container beneath the nearest bush so that it would be hidden, then slip back in before anyone saw her.

She quickly made her way to the garden, then to the gate. The bolt didn’t move as easily as she had hoped, but a moment later she slipped out of the gate and set the container beneath a pine tree whose boughs reached to the ground. It was the perfect hiding place.

She quickly slipped back into the garden and locked the gate behind her.

“Miss Lane,” a voice said from the other side of the wall. The man sounded out of breath, as if he’d run to catch her. “Was that you?”

“Yes.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh no. Not at all. I brought you a plate for breakfast.”

“You what?”

“It’s beneath the pine tree. Eat it before it cools. Eggs are best eaten hot.”

Quinn started to say something more, but Cora rushed back to the house. She didn’t want to carry on a conversation with Mack’s friend while his food got cold.

There wasn’t much she could do to help them catch the killer, but she could at least make sure the men protecting her didn’t go hungry.

After she entered the house, she went directly to the kitchen. Now that there would be several more mouths to feed, she was sure Mrs. Ramesdale could use her help.

Mack stepped into the foyer when Harper opened the front door. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Miss Lane, you mean?”

“Who else?”

“She’s in the kitchen, sir.”

Mack stopped. “The kitchen?”

“Yes, with Cook. Miss Lane decided Cook might need her help.”

Mack didn’t wait to hear any more of Harper’s explanation. He walked to the kitchen and threw open the door.

Before he could step inside, he stopped to listen. Laughter. There was laughter coming from inside.

He cleared his throat and both women looked up.

“Oh, Mr. Wallace. We didn’t hear you come in, did we, Mrs. Ramesdale?”

“No, sir. We didn’t.”

“Have you had lunch, Mr. Wallace?”

Mack was at a loss for words. He’d been prepared to reprimand Cora for putting herself at risk by taking plates of food out to Quinn and Hugh. He’d been prepared to remind her of the danger of her situation, but seeing her with flour smudged on her cheek and her face flushed from the heat of the ovens in the kitchen stole his bluster.

“No, not yet,” he answered. “But it’s getting late, so I’ll wait for dinner.”

“Nonsense.” She lifted her apron over her head. “Mrs. Ramesdale and I have had a busy day. We’ve made a peach cobbler, an apple pie, raspberry tarts, and a delicious coconut cake. You go into the study, and I’ll bring in tea and a few samples of our delicacies. Except don’t expect any coconut cake. That’s for later.”

He stared at her openmouthed. He couldn’t believe what he saw. Cora Lane moved around his kitchen like she’d always been a fixture, and Mrs. Ramesdale—he didn’t even know that was Cook’s name—had a smile on her face that made her appear ten years younger.

“Go on now, Mr. Wallace,” Cora said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mack left the kitchen and went to the study. After the afternoon he’d had, the idea of a glass of brandy held more appeal than a cup of tea and a raspberry tart. But the thought of spending time alone with Cora made tea sound extremely inviting.

“Here we are,” she said, bustling into the room carrying the tea tray. She set the tray on a table, poured him a cup of tea, black, like he liked it, and put a raspberry tart and a piece of apple pie on a plate, then handed it to him. After he’d taken the plate, she walked to the door and closed it.

“You don’t look like you’ve had a very good day,” she said, sitting on a chair beside him.

“I haven’t,” he answered. “Not all that bad, but not good, either.”

“I take it Sir George didn’t have any information to offer.”

“Not only did he not offer any information, but he refused to believe that the attempt could have been aimed at him. Or that it was anything other than an attempt to steal the diamond.”

Cora poured herself a cup of tea and sat back in her chair. “I see. Then we’ll simply have to convince him otherwise.”

Mack stopped with his fork midway to his mouth. “Who’s this
we
you’re talking about?”

“Well, I mean you and the other men … and perhaps me when I can be of help.”

“Like you were of help this morning, then again at lunch, when you sent food out to Quinn and Hugh?”

She smiled. “Yes. I knew they would more than likely be hungry.” Her smile faded. “Didn’t they like what we sent out for lunch?”

“Oh, they liked it very much. In fact Hugh said it was delicious. But it wasn’t necessary. They’re both used to going without meals when they’re on a job.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have to. Not when there’s food not more than ten steps away.”

Mack put a fork with apple pie into his mouth, chewed it, then swallowed. “Do you take care of everyone in your family?”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Have you always been the one to take care of everyone else?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose I am. After my mother died, my father declined rapidly. I think he found it impossible to go on without her at his side. And yes, I was the one to care for him. Bridgette and Father had always been very close. When he got sick, she couldn’t bring herself to watch him decline like he did. She would visit him, of course, but she couldn’t take care of him.”

“So you did.” He studied her expression. She was giving his words a lot of thought. “And what exactly is your job in your sister’s home?”

“My job? Well, I take care of Bridgette’s social calendar and care for the children when she and Baron Preston go out, and plan the menus when Bridgette can’t.”

“Is that why you went in to help Cook today? Because you thought she needed your help?”

“It wasn’t that I thought her incapable. She’s highly skilled. You’re fortunate to have her. I simply didn’t want Mrs. Ramesdale to be put to extra work on my account. I thought she might need an extra pair of hands, since there were more mouths to feed.”

Mack finished the food on his plate and stood. When he reached the window, he turned to face her. “Do you know I intended to reprimand you when I arrived home?”

The look of surprise on her face was priceless. “Reprimand me? Whatever for?”

“For taking such a chance by delivering food to Hugh.”

“There was no risk involved. If anyone took a risk, it was Harper. He took food to the front. I simply slipped out the garden gate and dashed right back in.”

“Oh, Cora.”

She tilted her head and studied him. Finally, she asked, “Why didn’t you reprimand me?”

“How could I when I walked into the kitchen and found you with your cheek smudged with flour, and you and Cook laughing as if you had known each other for years?”

She quickly wiped at her cheek to erase any hint of flour, then walked to where he stood. “Would you do me a favor, Mr. Wallace?”

“
Mr. Wallace?
”

“Yes,
Mr.
Wallace.”

“Yes, Miss Lane. What can I do for you?”

“Would you please hold me?”

Mack couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. “It would be my pleasure, Cora.” And he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

She breathed a deep sigh, then tilted her head to look at him. Mack found himself drowning in her deep brown eyes.

“Then would you think it terribly forward of me if I asked another favor?”

Mack looked at the hunger in her eyes and knew what favor she intended to ask. “That’s a request you’ll never have to make of me,” he whispered, then lowered his head and kissed her.

It had been nearly two weeks since the murder of the Home Secretary’s Undersecretary. Mack and his fellow investigators had followed every lead they’d discovered, but everything led to a dead end.

Cora drew more sketches, and Mack and his investigators showed it around in every place they thought the man might be known. But no one recognized him. At least, no one
claimed
to recognize him. Mack said he was sure one or two of the men he’d questioned seemed to know the man, but they refused to say anything.

Cora sensed Mack’s frustration grow every day. He left early each morning and came home late each afternoon. Their days and nights took on a routine. Cora got up early and took breakfast out to the men who’d stood guard all night. Then she helped Mrs. Ramesdale cook and bake for the day ahead. She and Harper took out a meal at lunchtime; then each evening she and Mack ate a late dinner. Usually two or more of the investigators joined them. That’s when Mack and the other investigators discussed the results from the day’s work and made plans for the next day.

After they left, Mack and she would walk through the garden. They would sit together beneath the beechnut tree where they’d first stopped, and they would talk. Sometimes their topics were insignificant, and other times Cora considered their subjects filled with meaningful information that provided her with greater insight as to what made Mack the man he was.

The most relevant information she gathered was that Mack Wallace was a remarkably unique individual. She’d given up on love long ago, but Mack Wallace had awakened emotions she thought were long dead. In fact, she was afraid she’d already given him a significant portion of her heart that she would never get back.

It had been fourteen days since the murder, and tonight Mack was consumed in thought. Cora was sure the day hadn’t been as productive as he’d wanted it to be, and she overheard him tell his fellow investigators that he felt as if they were wasting their time. That unless they came up with something soon, they were going to have to try a different approach.

Cora wasn’t sure what that different approach might be, and she didn’t want to ask.

After the brigade left, she walked with him through the garden in relative silence.

“Are you sure you want to sit out here, Cora? I think it’s going to rain.”