Rules of Murder (12 page)

“Did your father have any idea who might have killed her?”

“No.” Min’s voice was hard again. “He say only it was someone who did not break in.”

Nick had been very uncooperative when Madeline asked where Drew had gone. She hadn’t forgiven either of them for not taking her to Chelsea with them. Now it was well into the afternoon, and she still hadn’t seen Drew. Impatient, she rang for Anna.

“Do you know when Mr. Drew is supposed to be home?”

“I believe he’s in his room, miss.”

Madeline thanked the girl and went down the hall and into the west wing. She found the door to Drew’s bedroom standing open and him sitting cross-legged on the floor, the towel on his lap full of sleeping kittens. He looked up, and a smile lit his face. “Hullo.”

She forced herself not to smile back. “I should be very angry at you, leaving me behind this morning.”

“Now, darling, don’t be cross. Come see.”

She went over to him, unable to keep from cooing over the babies. “The little angels. And where’s Minerva?”

“Anna took her down to the kitchen for a treat. In the meantime, Denny has cleared the cupboard of the trousers she was nesting in. He’s just now arranging a much more suitable blanket of some sort for her to sleep on.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Yes, well, I’m not altogether certain he’s forgiven her for her choice of a place to bring her progeny into the world, but I told him if he was to retrieve the trousers, he’d have to arrange a suitable replacement himself.” Drew patted a spot beside him on the lush Turkish carpet. “Pardon me for not getting up, but I’d love for you to join me.”

She stood there a few seconds longer, smiling after all. As flawless as he had looked the night of the party before the rain had ruined his eveningwear, she thought him even more so now. Lounging there before the huge open windows in a white shirt and wheat-colored slacks, the soft breeze teasing the dark locks of his hair, and the lazy summer sunlight spilling over him and his tiny charges, he was irresistible. She had to make this moment of perfection last. It would be gone too soon as it was.

“What is it?” he asked finally, and the addition of a puzzled smile to his handsome lips made him all the more appealing.

“Nothing.” She tucked her skirts under her and sat on the floor beside him. “Just that you look cute.”

“Cute again, is it? Hmm. I suppose that’s better than ghastly.”

“It certainly is. How are the children?”

“Doing very nicely, Mummy. All as fat as ripe little plums.”

“And napping in Daddy’s lap, not a care in the world.”

She laughed, and his eyes met hers.
“I’ve already grown terribly fond of you.”
He’d said it before, there in the garden on that terrible night Lincoln was killed. It was written still on his face. She felt a warm flush creep to her cheeks, knowing his expression was a mirror of her own.

“I wanted to let you know . . .”

Her voice sounded unsteady, even to herself. How could she say what she didn’t ever want to say?

His smile had faded, replaced with that pensive uncertainty from the day of the funeral. “What is it?”

“I’ve been talking to Carrie and Muriel,” she said, and she knew he could hear the reluctance in her voice.

“I suppose you’re all going.” His lips were pressed in a firm line now. There was nothing soft and laughing about them anymore.

“We’ve had our reservations for weeks and weeks now.”

“I thought you were going to help us solve the case.”

“If it were just me, I would stay until things were figured out, but Carrie and Muriel have wanted to tour Europe for a long time. They only came down here to Hampshire for a few days to please me.”

“Of course, that’s to be understood. You’ll be wanting to see London and Paris and all, not just some stodgy little village where nothing happens.”

Much more had happened here at Farthering Place than she would have expected even from London or Paris, but those events had been tragic and harrowing, not at all the pleasant vacation they had planned. And there was much more that she hadn’t anticipated.

“I hate to leave.” Her blush deepened. “Leave Uncle Mason, I mean.”

“He’ll understand. He’s that way, you know. Never expects anyone to bother about him.”

“Please don’t.” Tears burned behind her eyes. Did it have to be tears? This was awkward enough.

“Don’t what?”

She couldn’t tell if his carefully controlled expression covered anger or hurt or indifference. No, it wouldn’t be indifference. Indifference never made an effort to strike back.

“Uncle Mason—”

“I’ll look after him. Truly, he’d be the first to tell you to go on your holiday. There’s nothing you can do here anyway, especially if you don’t care to stay.” He smiled a little once more, and the hardness had gone out of his expression. “Truly.”

“It’s not that I don’t care to stay,” she told him, and he looked down at the sleeping mound of kittens in his lap.

“They’ll miss their mum.” He put his hand over hers. “As will I.”

With a little sob, she pressed her face against his shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, slipping his arm around her waist. “Don’t go.”

“But—”

“Your uncle needs you,” he breathed against her hair. “Darling, I need you.”

He kissed away the tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye. Then he touched his lips to hers, and she could taste the faint saltiness on them.

“You can’t go,” he told her, and she pushed away from him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Never mind that she had wanted him to. “You know it doesn’t mean a thing.”

There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “I don’t know that, actually.”

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Drew. It’s been fun,
but we both know it’s nothing more than a little holiday fling. I have to go back. If I don’t go now, if I stay until the police have everything figured out, I’ll still have to go back before long. You’ll pick up with someone else, and—”

“No.” His gray eyes were stormy now. “Do you think I’m this way with every girl I meet? I know it’s utter madness. I know it’s far too soon. But I also know I can’t bear the idea of you walking away when you haven’t given me a chance to prove I’m serious.”

“Maybe I’m the one who’s not serious.”

That hurt him, she could see it, but he only nodded. “Fair enough. I won’t presume to say that you don’t know your own mind. But be honest with yourself. If you won’t be honest with me, be honest with yourself. Are you sure there isn’t something? Something real?”

She bit her lip and looked away from him. “I won’t say I don’t have feelings.”

“Feelings?”

She dropped her head. “For you. About you. But we’d both be foolish to make any permanent decisions based on something as fleeting as feelings, don’t you think? After just a few days?”

He touched one finger to the underside of her chin, turning her face up to him. “And what if they aren’t fleeting?”

She shook her head, unable to say anything.

“I’m not asking you to make any promises, Madeline. I just don’t want you to go. Unless you’re already sure there’s no future for us.”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m not sure of that, either.”

“Then, please, stay awhile at least. Truly your uncle does need you. He’s bound to have it rough these next few days. You’re all he’s got left. Stay and have a bit of fun with me. If that’s all it ends up being, at least you’ll know.”

“Oh, Drew.”

“You can’t go,” he told her again. “Not until you’re sure. You can’t go.”

She shook her head, clinging to him. “I can’t go. Oh, Drew, I can’t go.”

“Not yet, darling. Not yet.”

She didn’t like to make promises, not so soon, but it did feel right, so very right, to be with him, to tease and romp with him, to find comfort in the shelter of his arms and taste the warmth of his lips. They were on hers again, and she closed her eyes, drinking in the sweetness of it all.

A moment later, he flinched and then chuckled. She opened her eyes to see Minerva standing with her front paws on his leg, inspecting her kittens and looking annoyed to find that they had been tampered with. She nudged one with her nose, and an instant later all five were awake, protesting their late dinner with a cacophony of piercing cries. Minerva picked up the little white one by the scruff of the neck, meaning to carry it off, but Drew quickly took it back from her.

“Hold on, old girl. Hold on. Denny? I say, Denny?”

There was a clatter from the dressing room and then Dennison appeared, coatless and rubber-gloved to the elbow. “Sir?”

“Have you finished in there? Minerva’s getting a bit restless.”

The kittens were still crying piteously, and Minerva was pacing back and forth beside Drew, meowing and trying to get at them.

“Just done, sir,” Dennison said. “Your cupboard has been sanitized and lined with oilcloth, a generous portion of lamb’s wool, and a down comforter. The nestlings should be quite at their ease.”

“Excellent.”

Drew stood, cradling the towel full of kittens in both hands, and followed the butler back into the dressing room. Minerva
ran a few steps ahead of him, only to come back and try to insinuate herself between his feet.

“Steady on, girl,” he said. “We’ll soon have the family reunited.”

He was as good as his word, and a moment later Minerva was settled in the newly refurbished cupboard, with her kittens greedily making up for the delay in their noon repast.

“You did a fine job, Mr. Dennison,” Madeline said, but the butler merely sniffed.

“I fear, miss, that all was not good news.”

“No?”

“The cheviot trousers were quite past redemption.”

The next morning, Dennison arranged for Carrie’s and Muriel’s things to be packed into the trunk of the little roadster that had brought them to Farthering Place.

“I wish you were coming,” Carrie said for the hundredth time as she and Madeline stood in the front drive and hugged in farewell. “You know Muriel and I need someone to referee for us.”

Madeline tried not to think too much about what she would be missing by staying behind. “The two of you will have a wonderful trip. Just take lots of pictures, send me a ton of letters, and no whirlwind romances.”

Carrie laughed. “You should talk.”

Madeline giggled and then followed Carrie’s glance up to the top of Farthering’s front steps to see that Drew and Nick were there. Nick was looking particularly glum.

“I’ll try to behave,” Carrie promised her, and Madeline could have sworn her friend’s voice was just the tiniest bit louder now, “but if I end up eloping with a lord or something, it’ll be because you didn’t come along and keep me sane.” She glanced at Nick
again and then scampered up the steps. “It’s been awful nice meeting you both.”

“A delight, Miss Holland,” Drew said. “I hope you’ll forgive us for robbing you of a very charming traveling companion.”

Madeline smiled. Drew was such a dear.

“But you must also ask pardon,” he added with a bow to Carrie, “for robbing us of a very charming houseguest.”

“How you do go on, Mr. Farthering,” Muriel said as she hurried out the front door. “You English boys sure do know how to talk to a lady.”

She held out one hand, gloved in a leopard print, and Drew bowed dutifully over it.

“Miss Brower, it’s been a revelation.”

Muriel smirked and flounced down the stairs, swaying her hips. Drew gazed heavenward.

Carrie laughed and shook her head, then turned to Nick, her eyes soft and warm. “I’ve had such a good time. I mean, besides all the trouble, you know.”

“It’s been grand,” he said, clasping the hand she offered him. “You must come back one day, when things are a bit less out of order.”

“I hope I can.”

He hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t release her hand. “Please don’t.”

“What?”

“Marry a lord, I mean. Don’t do that.”

“He’s right, you know,” Drew told her. “You’ll end up with half a dozen offspring just like our friend Bunny.”

She laughed. “Bunny?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Clive St. John Pontisbright Marsden-Brathwaite. Bunny when at home. He has the brain of a peahen, but lots and lots of money.”