Sophie's Voice (Sex and the Season Book 4) (18 page)

She smiled. “If you insist.”

Zach leaned down and kissed her lips. “I do. And you will be due at rehearsal at nine o'clock this morning. My leading lady must not be late.”

“Just one more kiss…” She reached for him.

He was not made of steel. He descended to her. His shirt was still open, and his chest pressed against her stunning breasts. She parted her lips for him, and he delved inside, tasting of her sweetness. Far from wanting to, he broke the kiss.

“Sleep now, my sweet. I'll see you soon at the theatre.”

With all the strength he possessed, Zach rose from the bed, leaving his sleeping beauty there. Quickly, he adjusted his cravat and headed out.

U
pon returning home
, Zach lay down in his own bed for a bit, thinking of the previous evening. Sophie was a prize. How had some young gentleman not snatched her off the market yet? Her shy nature, most likely. It certainly wasn't her lack of beauty. The only lack of beauty was in her own mind. He checked his timepiece again and rose. Time to get to the theatre. He washed quickly at his basin, dressed, and was descending to the first level when a rap sounded at his door.

At this hour? He opened the door and was surprised to see two peelers standing there, one of whom he recognized, the brother of one of his actresses. “Harkins, what is it? What are you doing here?”

“Are you Mr. Zachary Newland?” the other peeler, sporting a moustache so orange it looked painted on, asked.

Zach nodded. “I am, as Harkins here can tell you.”

“I must ask you to turn around, sir,” Moustache said.

What in the world was going on? “Turn around? I don't understand.” Then he spied the handcuffs.

“I'm truly sorry about this, Newland,” Harkins said. “But you do need to turn around.”

Moustache cuffed him. “Mr. Newland, we're taking you in on suspicion of murder.”

S
ophie awoke
a couple of hours later, feeling more rested than she had in…well, her entire life. She welcomed the soreness between her legs and on her bum. She felt deliciously used. And used was a good thing, if she consented to it. It made her feel good, gave her immense pleasure. What could be wrong with that?

She summoned Hannah to help her with a bath and then clothed herself quickly in one of her weekday dresses, a light-green calico. She was a working girl now, and silk morning dresses would not do. She would save them for Saturday and Sunday mornings.

She strode to the stairs to descend for breakfast but instead decided to rise to the third level to check on Ally first. She rapped gently, so as not to wake Ally if she was still sleeping.

Ally's maid, Millicent, answered the door. “Lady Sophie, how nice to see you. Lady Ally is awake. Lord Evan has already left on business for the day. I know Lady Ally would like to see you.”

Sophie smiled. Thank goodness! Ally was the one person she could speak to about her amazing night.

Ally sat upright in her bed, baby Sophie at her breast. “Sophie! How lovely to see you this morning. I was hoping you hadn't left for the theatre yet.”

“I don't have to be there until nine o'clock. It's so good to see you awake, Ally. How are you feeling?”

“Sore. But that is to be expected. Honestly, I'm dying to get out of this bed, but Evan won't hear of it. I'm only allowed out to use the convenience, and quite frankly, it's becoming tedious.”

“Evan is right. You must take care of yourself.” Sophie gazed down at the baby, her heart warming. “And how is my little namesake doing today?”

“She is quite ravenous, as you can well see. I'm told by Mrs. Oakes that both babies are thriving. I could not be happier. Well, I could. If I were up and around and taking care of them as I should be.”

“The babies are in good hands. Mrs. Oakes is a treasure, and Mother and I dote on them whenever we can. You know that.”

Ally sighed. “Yes, I know. It's just… Well, can't be helped…”

“What?”

“I suppose you know that these are the only two babies I will ever have. I don't want to miss one moment of their lives.”

Sophie took Ally's hand. “So Evan told you.”

Ally nodded, a tear emerging in her right eye. “Last night. We both cried a lot. But then we both admitted to each other how happy we were that we had two perfect daughters and that fate had spared their mother.” The tear trailed down Ally's cheek as she smiled.

Sophie swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She summoned a smile for her brave sister. “I truly am sorry for that loss, Ally. But there's really nothing to mourn. You have your life, and you have two beautiful children. That is more than a lot can say. After all, Mother only had two children.”

“Yes, but Evan's father and mother had three, and Auntie Flora and Uncle Crispin had three. And the good Lord only knows how many Lily and Rose will have. I just always imagined myself having three children, possibly more. And I'll never be able to give Evan a son. He says it doesn't matter. And perhaps it doesn't. He doesn't have a title to pass on. But doesn't every man yearn for a son?”

“Ally”—Sophie patted her sister's arm—“not every man is our father. We may have paid a price for not being boys, but these two little darlings never will. Evan will be a doting and loving father to them. Why, he'll be so overprotective, he will probably never let them out of his sight, especially once they come of age.”

Ally sniffed and nodded, cuddling baby Sophie. “You're right, of course. That husband of mine is a true treasure. I am pretty much the luckiest woman on earth.”

Sophie smiled. Happiness for her sister welled up in her heart. Ally was indeed a lucky woman. Would Sophie ever be as lucky?

Only time would tell. Though Sophie desperately wanted to speak to Ally about her previous evening, she couldn't bear to at this moment, while Ally was mourning her loss. She stroked her sister's hand. “I must go down and have a light breakfast. I'm due at the theatre soon. I hope you're awake when I return this evening. I would love to have one of our long talks.”

“And I would love that as well, dear. I have missed you so much, Sophie.”

“
M
urder
?” Zach looked over at his shoulder at the peeler cuffing him. “Have you lost your mind? Who in God's name was murdered?”

“From the evidence,” Moustache said, “you know very well who was murdered.”

“I'm telling you I don't!” Zach resisted against the handcuffs, his heart thundering. “I'm not a common criminal, damn it. Harkins, tell him!”

“Newland,”—Harkins cleared his throat—“you may want to cease speaking until you see a barrister or solicitor.”

“I don't need a fucking solicitor. I need to be let go. I have a theatre to run, gentlemen. I have not murdered anyone.”

“Your theatre has been barred from entrance pending a criminal investigation,” Moustache said.

“My theatre? What exactly are you saying?”

“I am saying what you already know, Mr. Newland. Someone was found murdered in your theatre. Your cleaning personnel found the body this morning and called us.”

Zach widened his eyes. Someone had been murdered at the theatre? And now they had penned it off? How would they have rehearsals? How would they get the show ready? He reached to rake his fingers through his hair but of course could not move his hands. Here he was, under arrest. Perhaps he should be more worried about that than the fate of his production.

“May I ask who was murdered?”

Harkins cleared his throat again. “Your lead soprano, Nanette Lloyd.”

S
ophie descended
to the small dining room for a quick breakfast. Her mother was seated alone in the room, a plate of fruit and scones in front of her.

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Sophie, good morning. I trust you slept well?”

Sophie's cheeks warmed. She hoped her mother didn't notice the redness she was sure was present. “Better than I have in weeks, actually. You'll be happy to know that I just saw Ally. She was awake and feeding baby Sophie.”

“That's excellent news. I shall go see her before she falls asleep again.”

Sophie nodded and sat down, and a footman brought her a plate of breakfast and poured her a cup of tea. She murmured her thanks and was about to take a sip of tea when Bertram entered.

“Pardon my intrusion, my lady, but a new message has been delivered for you.”

“Another? At this hour in the morning?”

Bertram nodded, handed her the parchment, bowed politely, and left.

Sophie opened the parchment and read.

That bitch will no longer be a thorn in your side. You will be mine soon.

Icy tentacles gripped Sophie's neck. The penmanship was the same as the previous notes, which she had assumed were from Zach. Goodness, why had she not just asked him? This one could not be from Zach. She had no idea what it was even referring to.

Whoever was sending these notes had become a danger. She, timid Lady Sophie? An object of someone's obsession? How could this have happened?

The time had come to speak to her mother and the earl about this. Graves, as well. He could at least tell her who had been delivering the notes. She stood, no longer hungry, and headed to the foyer. When she found Bertram, she asked, “I beg your pardon, Bertram, but where is Mr. Graves this morning?”

“I'm sorry, my lady, but I do not know. He asked me last night to take his morning shift. As he is getting closer and closer to retirement, I am taking over more and more of his duties.”

Sophie nodded. “Thank you, Bertram. Did you happen to see who delivered this parchment this morning?”

“Just one of the young lads from Bath. I've seen him before, but he's one of several. A lad of about thirteen years, blond hair, blue eyes.”

No help at all. “Thank you, Bertram. It's time for me to leave for the theatre.”

“
I
demand
you take me to my theatre now. I need to see what kind of evidence you have against me.”

“Sorry, sir, but we have to handle this by the book.” Moustache wrinkled his nose.

“Damn it! We have to go by the theatre to get to your offices. I only wish to see what's going on. Nanette Lloyd left the theatre last night before nine thirty, at which time I left the theatre. And I assure you that when she left, she was very much alive. Angry, but very much alive.”

“I insist you stop speaking, Newland,” Harkins said. “You'll have a chance to talk to your solicitor.”

“For God's sake, I'm innocent of any wrongdoing here. You know me, Harkins. I'm no killer. I have no need of any solicitor. Now take me to my theatre.”

Harkins looked to Moustache. “You know, Benny, it
is
on our way. The fellow has a right to see why he's being charged.”

Moustache—Benny—furrowed his brow. “You always love to make your own rules, don't you, Harkins?”

“He's a good chap, Benny. He gave my sister an audition and a job. We've been to dinner at his home, for God's sake. He just wants a quick look at the scene.”

“The boss won't like it.”

“Please,” Zach said again. He had to find out what was going on. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

“Fine,” Benny relented, looking to Harkins. “But you owe me one.”

Zach breathed out a sigh. He would get to the bottom of this ridiculousness. Nanette couldn't possibly be dead. The bitch was too mean to die. This was one of her cruel hoaxes. She was trying to get him back. Well, it wasn't going to work.

Within a few minutes, they stopped at the theatre. It had already been roped off. Damn, what was he going to do about the production? He had put much of his benefactors' money and some of his own into the production. It was to be Sophie's debut. It had to go on.

“Could you unbind me please? There are people here that can't see me like this. I'm the owner and the manager, for God's sake.”

“I assure you,” Benny said, “the only people here are law enforcement. Everyone else was told to leave. This is a crime scene, and it is currently under investigation.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Zach huffed.

Harkins escorted him across the barrier and into his own damned theatre. The nerve of all of them. Several constables and inspectors milled about.

“I see nothing out of the ordinary, so far, except my doorman and my night shift are not here. I usually relieve them when I come in at six bells.”

“What you are looking for is not out in the open. One of your night persons is the one who called us at about four this morning.”

Zach knew where he had been at four in the morning. Of course, he couldn't tell the constables that. Sophie's reputation was at stake.

“I assure you I was not here at four in the morning, gentlemen.”

“Four in the morning was just the time when your worker found the body. We're not sure when the crime took place yet.”

The peelers escorted Zach through the hallway toward his office. His office door was open, and several inspectors and constables hovered around inside.

“Move out of the way, gentlemen,” Harkins said. “The suspect here wants to see the scene.”

“Laddie, he has no right. The boss won't like it,” one of the men said.

“Yeah, well, I'm not telling the boss, Jonesy, and neither are you. You owe me for bending the rules for you enough times. It don't hurt to let him have a look. I know him. He's a good bloke. Then we'll take him in.”

Jonesy relented, and the group of people parted.

Zach widened his eyes, his heart soaring to his throat, his stomach churning with nausea.

Nanette lay naked and prone, a pool of blood surrounding her. Next to her hand, on the wood floor adjacent to his Oriental rug, written in presumably her own blood, were three letters.

Z-A-C.