The Secrets of Mia Danvers (10 page)

His mind involuntarily turned to Mia and he sensed they would have much more to discuss. Or rather argue about since she was rather stubborn with her ideas. And since she had no regard whatsoever for propriety and the rules of Society, she would probably kiss him right here on the dance floor.

He glanced back at his dance partner who was currently chatting about—horses? Is that what she was rambling about? It mattered not, he should listen. Her droning on and on would get his mind off of Mia’s kisses.

Her perfume was distracting, he’d give her that. It wasn’t so much that it smelled distasteful, but it was rather strong. Or perhaps that was her hair wash. How was it that Mia was able to detect such precise scents on people?

“It’s a new perfume,” she said.

He looked down at her face, confused by her words. “I beg your pardon?”

“I could see you,” then she blushed, “sniffing. I thought perhaps to answer your question so that you would not have to make the inquiry.”

He supposed he should be embarrassed, but he was so damned amused by the situation that he couldn’t muster up the shame, though he did his best to stifle his humor. “The perfume is lovely,” he said.

“And rose water in my hair, I suppose you could sense that as well,” she said. Then she frowned and he thought that she did look rather adorable in that moment. Much like a younger sister. “Oh, and I also have a scented facial crème. I don’t guess I know precisely what you were smelling. I do hope they are pleasant to you, though, Your Grace.”

“Most pleasant,” he said.

She smiled sweetly and nodded.

And then, suddenly, it struck him. He knew precisely how to help Mia decipher which distinct odor she smelled on Drew that matched that of the killer. Alex needed only to isolate the smells and have her select the appropriate one. They would conduct a bit of an experiment and Alex would present her with multiple options, and he could prove to her that while his brother was definitely an ass, he was not a killer.

They finished the dance in silence and Alex was most glad it was his last dance of the evening. He wouldn’t leave immediately, there was no reason to start gossip over an untimely exit. No, he’d return to Edward, talk with him a moment or two and then he could leave and prepare the experiment for Mia.

***

Edward Simms watched his friend deliver his dance partner back to her waiting mother, then turn and head back in his direction.

“I’m impressed,” he told Alex as he approached.

Alex’s eyebrows rose. “Impressed? Well, yes, she is very pretty.”

Edward chuckled. “No, that’s not what I meant. I was impressed you managed to endure the entire dance. I danced with Miss Beckinsale once and once was all I could tolerate.”

“You do not care for her?” Alex asked, a frown marring his forehead.

“As you said, she is very pretty. And polite, but she’s everything a woman is meant to be. It’s as if she was designed specifically to be an Englishman’s wife,” Edward said.

“I believe that was the intention. Is it not with most of these girls?” Alex asked.

Edward scanned the room and it was one colorful dress after another with crimped curls and baubles hanging from ears or throat, all in the name of beauty. And he was tired of it. Not one skirt in here stirred him. “I suppose you’re right. Still I found her conversation predictable. It was more than I could bear.”

“Are you ever truly looking for conversation?” Alex asked.

Edward chuckled. “Not anymore.”

“So you know, I do intend to propose to her,” Alex said.

“Someone so dull?” Edward asked.

“Dull is precisely what I need,” Alex said.

“I had not pegged you to settle for such monotony.”

“But those are the very reasons why she’ll make the perfect duchess.”

“I was not aware that dullness was a prerequisite for managing a household,” Edward said.

“I am pleased to inform you, then,” Alex said. “In truth, the Carrington name could use a woman bred to be a noble wife. We don’t need any more scandal.”

Well, this was awkward. Though Alex’s logic made perfect sense, Edward still didn’t see how anyone could marry a woman like that. Then again, Edward had no plans to marry. He’d asked a woman once, but she’d said no and he’d decided then and there to never again offer a woman his heart. So instead he found willing women and offered them his body and good humor.

“I feel as if I should apologize,” Edward said. “I meant no offense.”

Alex waved him off. “There is no need to apologize. I am not in love with the girl. There was an unofficial agreement between our families, though admittedly she was intended to be Stephen’s, but we both know how that ended.”

“Stephen never courted her,” Edward said. “At least that I ever noticed.”

“No, and he had no intentions to. He and mother fought about it many times. But my pending nuptials is not truly what I’d like to discuss. I’d prefer to ask you a question, if you do not mind. What have you heard about the recent murders? I asked my brother earlier and you and him have more socially active lives than I do.”

“Only what I’ve read or heard the gossips say.”

“Have you any thoughts on the matter?” Alex asked.

“It’s obviously the Ripper. He’s come back and gotten more brazen,” Edward said. “The police are fools if they think otherwise.”

“Indeed. I’m inclined to agree.”

“The first murder was on your property, was it not?”

“In the alleyway, not
on
the property proper,” Alex said. “Still, because of that, I’ve been working with the inspectors.” Then he smiled. “Do you know who the lead investigator is? Simon Jacobs.”

“Somehow I do not find that surprising. I suspect he’s a rather gifted inspector,” Edward said. “What have you discussed?”

Alex was quiet for several moments before he finally answered. He took a slow breath. “There was a witness to the first murder.”

“So it should not take the police long to bring him in. Who is the witness?” Edward asked.

“The woman who lives in the cottage at the back of my property. But her account has not identified the killer. She didn’t see him.”

“I don’t understand, was she hiding?”

“Yes, but she’s also blind.” Alex then proceeded to tell him the rest of the details about the woman’s witness of the crime and her hiding place in the bushes.

“She should be thankful he didn’t find her there.” Edward paused a moment. “So she’s blind and she lives alone in that cottage?”

“No, she has a companion. Her former governess, Rachel Webster, stayed on with her when her family deserted her at the cottage.”

Edward nearly spurted his drink out, but he forced himself to swallow. The champagne slid down his throat in lumps as if filled with stones. “Did you say Rachel Webster?” Edward asked. His heart had sped up and was beating so rapidly it was making it difficult to hear.

“Do you know her?” Alex asked.

“I used to.” He’d heard long ago that she’d become a governess. Chosen that route to provide her worthless father with an endless supply of gambling funds. Until the bastard had gotten himself shot outside a less than desirable gaming hell. Edward had tried a handful of times to locate her, though he’d never known precisely what he’d do if he found her. Tell her of the fortune he’d made for himself? For her?

Right now, what he would say to her didn’t matter. He only knew that he needed to see her again.

Chapter Ten

That night, when Alex had returned from the Travers ball, he’d quickly begun working on the experiment for Mia. The next morning he was putting the final touches on everything. He had carefully selected the individual scents he would use, even going so far as to riffle through the remainder of Drew’s belongings that sat idle in his old rooms, to borrow a few items.

Now Alex had small glass jars of different objects, each with a cork to capture and contain the smell. In doing so he hoped Mia would be able to identify which scent was the one that reminded her of the killer.

Alex had once again sent for Mia. He thought it best that a footman retrieve her rather than him going to get her himself. He was trying his best to keep things between them proper. So he stayed in his study, and the tray with the jars sat waiting on his desk.

Several moments later, Hodges brought in Mia, then closed the door.

“This is getting quite tedious,” Mia said as she entered the room. “Should I simply make a stop here every morning before I go about my own day?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

“That won’t be necessary,” Alex said, fighting a smile. “Where is Miss Webster?”

“At the cottage, she had mending to tend to and I didn’t see any reason her day should be interrupted as well.” Her hands fisted and rested on her hips. She was irritated, and for reasons he didn’t understand, he found it simultaneously arousing and humorous. “The footman was kind enough to lead me here, though I no doubt could have found it on my own. What is it that you need today?”

“I have an experiment for you,” he said.

Her sightless eyes narrowed. “I’m not certain I like the sound of that. What precisely does this
experiment
involve?”

“You simply need to sit and breathe and I shall do the rest,” Alex said. He stepped forward to lead her to a chair, but before he could reach her, she’d made her way to one as if she’d navigated this study as long as he had. Her fingers slid along the wooden edges of the furniture, then she gracefully stepped around one chair and settled in to sit in another.

“Very well, let us begin,” she said. “Contrary to what you might think, I do actually have things to do today.”

Evidently she was still surly with him from their discussion yesterday, yet he found her ire undeniably charming and alluring. There was something so refreshing in the fact that she didn’t seem bothered or affected in any way by his title. She cared not a whit that he was a duke and she a woman fallen from Society. It allowed her to jest with him and express her annoyance and damned if he didn’t find the combination attractive.

He moved the tray to a tea cart and rolled it over in front of her chair. He pulled the adjacent chair closer to hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“It occurred to me last night whilst attending a ball, that if I could isolate scents, you might be able to identify the one you smelled on the killer. Then we could give better, more specific information to Inspector Jacobs.” And he wanted to prove to himself what he suspected was true, that his brother, no matter the anger he stored, no matter his reckless behavior, was not a murderer.

“So how do we do that?” she asked. “How am I supposed to identify the smell?”

“I selected certain items for you to smell and hopefully from there we’ll be able to narrow things down.” He reached for the first jar. “When I tell you, I want you to inhale, tell me what you smell.”

She sat back briefly, her features rounding with alert. “You’re quite serious?”

“I am. Ready?” he asked.

She nodded and leaned forward. He removed the lid and held the glass jar beneath her nose. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted ever so slightly. Damnation, but she was tempting. He glanced down at the jar to focus on the task at hand. In selecting the things to put inside the jars, he’d picked items of Drew’s, some of his own and then a handful of other things he’d pilfered from the kitchen. If she could not successfully identify common scents, then she’d never be able to make a correct identification.

“Inhale,” he said, and his tone came out more intensely than intended.

She took in a deep breath, then a sweet smile touched her lips. “Lemons,” she said.

“Indeed.” He found himself smiling as well. “Here’s another.” He quickly reached for a second jar.

Again she breathed in and her nose twitched. “Coffee.”

“Correct. Not a drink you prefer?” he asked.

“No, not at all, smells horribly bitter,” she said.

She had clearly identified the easiest of the jars, now they needed to move on to the more challenging ones. One by one they went through the jars, him holding them to her and her identifying them.
Bourbon, hair tonic, rosemary, shaving lotion
. They got down to the last few jars and Alex was beginning to think his experiment would not work.

“Anything so far smell like the killer?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “Do you have more?”

“A few,” he said.

“Let us finish, then,” she said. Her anger had seemingly melted into excitement as the morning had progressed.

“Very well.” He held up another jar.

She grabbed his hand, her nimble fingers clutched against his as he brought the glass to her nose. The touch was innocuous, innocent in her eagerness to present him with a legitimate clue for the murder investigation, yet still the spark was there. Beneath her chilled fingers he felt only the warmth of his own desire. She inhaled again. An expression of sheer bliss settled on her features. “That smells divine.”

Desire shot through him. “Do you know what it is?” he asked.

Her eyes flew open and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a slight blush stained her cheeks. “I do. It is your soap, is it not?”

“Yes,” was all he could manage.

“Why did you include it?”

He cleared his throat. “I was testing you. As I did with the coffee and lemons, a way to measure your effectiveness at identifying scents.”

“And in doing so, now you know that I enjoy the way you smell.” She shifted her position in the chair.

He found himself smiling at her reaction. For a moment he thought to reciprocate the compliment, tell her that he enjoyed her clean, fresh scent, but thought better of it. It would do no good to flirt with her. He must remember there could be no dalliance between them.

“Are there any more?” she asked.

“Two more,” he said. He held up one, but it wasn’t familiar to her, either. Finally he grabbed the final one. He uncorked it and moved it toward her.

She recoiled. “That’s it. That’s the scent.” She leaned forward for another smell. “It is tobacco, correct?”

“It is.” Alex looked down at the jar in his hand. “Wait, let me try something just so we can be certain.” The tobacco had been the last thing he’d grabbed from Drew’s room. On his way out, he’d seen his brother’s snuffbox. But tobacco, though different, all smelled pretty much the same. If that was the scent she’d detected, it wouldn’t be of much help to the investigation. He walked to his desk and opened the third drawer and withdrew a box of tobacco. He himself didn’t smoke, but he always kept some on hand for guests who enjoyed the habit. He brought the box over to her, opened the lid. “Inhale,” he said.

“Tobacco,” she shook her head, “but it’s not the same. The other one, that’s the odor I smelled. I’d know it anywhere,” she said with certainty.

“It’s tobacco, they all smell the same,” he said.

“Not true. Here, let me show you. Give me the offensive one again.” He held it for her and she breathed in. “Now you.”

He did as she bade and inhaled.

“Do you smell the woodsy, almost piney scent, but here, it’s more acidic, more sharp?” she asked.

He smelled it again and then the tobacco from his own box and there in the background, if you really focused, he could detect a difference. It was subtle, but for someone like her who relied so heavily on her other senses, it was pronounced. “I can smell a difference,” he admitted.

“So this one, the one that smells like the killer, whose tobacco is it?”

“It’s my brother’s,” Alex said. “And it is a rather specific and expensive brand. It’s the only one he’ll smoke.”

“Is it very common? Do many men use it?” she asked.

“No, it’s not as common, but certainly he can’t be the only one in London.” Alex set down the jar. Drew purchased the tobacco from a shop down on Bond Street. It was imported from America and most men in London tended to favor European blends. If the killer smelled like the tobacco, then more than likely he purchased it from the very same shop.

Drew certainly had had the opportunity to kill those girls. But he also could just as likely have been anywhere else in London at the time of the crimes. What Alex needed to figure out was if his brother had attended the Pattysfield ball. But first, a trip to the shop could identify other possible suspects as well, ones that weren’t Alex’s relations.

***

“Do you believe he could be the killer?” Mia asked softly. She had no way of knowing how Alex felt about all of this. She knew that while she wasn’t particularly close to her sisters, and in fact hadn’t spoken to them in years, she probably wouldn’t take kindly to someone accusing them of a terrible crime.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Alex said, but though his words spoke of certainty, his tone seemed less so. If Alex had doubt, then that frightened her.

“Are you close?” she found herself asking.

“Drew and I? No, not now. Though there was a time when we were the best of friends.” He took a controlled breath, then was quiet for several moments before he spoke again. “I was in the military for so long and then suddenly I became the head of the family.”

Mia tried her best to ignore the pain she heard in Alex’s voice. She had been angry with him when she’d arrived today, and she’d much preferred it that way. It made being in the same confined space with him so much easier. But Alex’s clever experiment had intrigued her, and she could not ignore the underlying emotion hidden in Alex’s words.

And it wasn’t merely today and the subject at hand. Believing your brother to potentially be a horrific killer would dampen anyone’s mood, but it went beyond that. No, this was an underlying tone in everything he said.

His short, clipped words and proper speech were always there. But so was this other aspect, this subtle hint at something he kept hidden within him. Alexander Foster was in pain. He, like her, was imprisoned by something, perhaps merely the weight of his familial duties—regardless of what it was, she longed to soothe him, to run her hand against his skin and ease whatever inside him made him so pained. She hadn’t seen it at first, but now she’d been around him enough and she simply couldn’t ignore it.

As much as she wanted to comfort him, she also knew how much she didn’t care to speak of painful things so she decided to move their conversation back to that of the investigation. “So do you have any thoughts on the tobacco, do you think it will prove helpful?” she ventured.

“I don’t know. I have some further investigation to do.” He paused a moment before speaking again. “And you’re absolutely certain that’s the scent?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m positive.” She ran her hands down the carved arms of the chair, three grooves dug into the wood. It was a simple design, but no doubt lovely to the eye. It felt very smooth and sturdy, a contrast to the plushness of the rug beneath her feet, though they were both of excellent quality. Alex’s family had plenty of money and evidently spared no expense on their furnishings.

Mia was quiet for several moments, waiting for him to say something else or for her to think of the right thing to say. To soothe him in some manner. But there was nothing to say. And though the timing was dreadful, one thought kept flitting through her mind.

She wanted him to kiss her again.

But she couldn’t very well say that. Earlier, he’d all but admitted he thought kissing her was the worst thing imaginable. There was no need to further embarrass herself by admitting her own disruptive thoughts.

He stepped away from her and she heard the drawer at his desk open again. He must have put the tobacco away, then removed the tray as she heard him set it on something across the room. Then he returned and sat in the chair next to hers, for she heard the wood creak under his weight as he settled in. “Mia,” Alex said, then said nothing else.

It was only her name, but the way he uttered that one word caressed over her skin. She wanted to ask him to say it again, but instead she took a deep breath. “What is it?” she asked.

Silence filled the room before he spoke. “I desperately want to kiss you right now.”

Her breath caught and she held it briefly as his words came upon her. He’d felt it, too. Though earlier he’d thought it a problem, perhaps now he’d reconsidered. She knew his words drew a smile to her face and try as she might she could not remove it. “And this is a problem?” Mia asked.

“It is a
significant
problem,” he said. “You’re smiling.”

“And I shouldn’t be?” she asked, still unable to hide her mirth.

“This is not a casual dalliance,” he spoke softly, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “I am not a man to do such things especially with a lady such as yourself.”

“Should I be offended by that comment or reassured?” she asked. Mia sat and waited for him to answer. Anxiety clawed at her, but she tried her best to ignore it. He might claim to want to kiss her, but that did not mean he would follow through with such a desire.

He pulled her to her feet and for a moment she thought he’d kiss her right then, but instead he brought her over to the settee and sat down next to her. “I suppose you should feel complimented.” And then came the sound of fine bone china, tea being poured, a splash of cream, and two sugar lumps being dropped. He placed the cup in her hand.

It did not escape her attention that he already knew precisely how she preferred her tea, but she reminded herself that that meant nothing other than he was an observant host.

“I am doing my damnedest to keep your virtue intact,” he said, his voice low and deep and full of such desire that Mia lost her breath.