The Wedding Night Affair--An Historical Mystery L.C. Sharp (i read books .TXT) 📖

would never fall. She would make sure of it. “The house was full. He could have pretended to belong to one of the guests.” She paused and placed her tea dish precisely on its saucer. “Are you sure the killer is a man?”

“Not certain, but fairly sure.”

“Why?”

“The force used to commit the deed would have taken power. Then we heard that your maid had a mysterious lover who was almost certainly connected to the Raven.”

“Then why even consider me as the killer?”

He smiled. She would notice that. “You had cause. That could have lent you the strength you needed.”

She nodded.

“If you will excuse me.” Smoothly, Ash got to his feet, bowed and left the room.

Amelia was the first person to break the silence. “Well! I must apologize for Ash. He sees the cases he takes as an intellectual exercise. I don’t think he has any finer feelings at all, at least not where his work is concerned.”

“Oh, but he does.” Juliana spoke with passion. How could his family not see it? “He left the room because he is distressed. Upset, or angry I don’t know, but I felt it. I think he is angry. But I also think he is as disturbed as we are.”

Her tears had gone, melted away by anger. “How dare this man kill whoever gets in his way? We should do everything we can to catch this Raven person! He meant to frighten us, to show how close he could get to us. Well, I for one am not intimidated. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that I was in the least concerned by what he did. And I will not allow him to distress Ash like this.”

Surely she wasn’t the only person to see how upset Ash was?

Juliana went straight to Ash’s study, knocked, and entered without waiting for a command to enter.

He had papers spread over his desk, unusual even when he was working on them. He looked up, his eyes glowing, a frown between his brows. “What is it?”

Ash had never spoken so harshly to her before, but Juliana had known worse. Far worse. She stiffened her spine and gave him her best aristocratic stare. “I came to help.” When he said nothing, she added, “Do you think the Raven killed Wood and my husband?”

He sighed. “You will stay even if I order you to leave, won’t you?”

She nodded, a small incline of her chin.

He didn’t seem impressed by her hauteur. Perhaps she was losing her touch. “Then sit.”

Not the most gracious invitation she’d ever received, but she liked him the better for his abruptness. The veneer of politesse that covered the most egregious insults was entirely absent in him.

She sank onto the chair he kept before the desk. While she was here, she might as well speak her mind. “I saw your distress and I applaud it. I feel the same way. I am angry. I didn’t like Wood, she was my father’s spy, but that is no reason not to mourn the loss of a life.”

He stared at her, his expression blank, but his eyes—they were full of life. He was angry of course, but she read more there, things she hadn’t associated with him. Doubt, for one. “While she was here she carried no tales to him. I don’t know why. But I had people watching for it.”

“You have very expressive eyes.”

He looked away. “Nobody has told me that before. I shall try to control it.”

“Don’t. Nobody else notices. I’m used to watching people, that’s all.” It was a private thing shared between them, and she didn’t want to lose it. She wanted him to know that she shared his concerns.

He stared at a pile of papers on his desk. “I should have known he would try something unusual. I should have guarded you better, Juliana.”

“From a man with a bow and arrow?” She laughed. “You think you should have anticipated that?”

His use of her name did not go unnoticed. A warmth, a connection linked them when he said Juliana. Not ma’am, or my lady. He used her name as if he’d been doing it forever.

He looked up. His eyes revealed nothing. “I want him stopped, and I want the murderers punished, because they don’t deserve to exist among us. But that means tedious work. I don’t think the Raven committed the crimes personally, although I could be wrong. He uses agents to do his dirty work, but we know he is involved. What I don’t know is why. Why would he want to kill your husband? What did Wood have to tell us that he would rather she kept to herself, or had she already told us, and he was punishing her?”

Plucking a pen from the pewter stand, he twirled it in his fingers. He tapped the papers with the nib of the pen. “These are documents I obtained this morning.”

“How?”

“I paid for them,” he told her frankly. “But I won’t tell you who I paid. I haven’t yet studied them, for obvious reasons, although I was about to. Will you help me?”

“Of course.” He didn’t need to ask; surely he knew that.

He pushed a sheet of paper over to her. She turned it, and took a look. It appeared to be a record of accounts, with the columns on the right, the details on the left. She knew that system well, so she set to reading the unfamiliar handwriting. “What are these?”

“Part of your late husband’s records. Left carelessly lying about and snatched up before, so now we have them.” He shrugged. “There could be a link, Juliana, something that binds your late husband with the Raven and his work.”

“So you don’t think he wanted me?”

He glanced up. “Oh, he wanted you. But killing your husband to get to you would rather be defeating his object, would it not? Who would ransom you then?”

Lifting her head, she stared at him. “Oh my goodness, I never thought of that.” The possibility flooded into her mind. “What