Calliope threw back the covers and closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him. "Me too."
He hugged her tightly and then looked into her eyes. He let her go and walked to the decanter of brandy. He poured a finger, capped the bottle, uncapped the bottle and poured a bit more. He swirled it in the glass without taking a sip.
"Did Lady Willoughby go to the lake by herself?" Calliope asked.
"That is what she claims."
"And Roth was the first one to arrive?"
"That is what he claims."
"Odd, I didn’t take Lady Willoughby as the fast type."
"She’s not. I have no clue as to what she is doing here, in fact. She may be a widow, but she is a respectable widow. Never heard a single piece of gossip attached to her," James said.
"What do you suppose happened at the lake?"
"With Roth and Lady Willoughby? Or with Ternberry?"
"You think Roth and Lady Willoughby were there together?" Calliope asked.
"Yes. I’m as surprised as you."
"What were they doing?"
James gave a half smile. "They claim they weren’t together, remember?"
Calliope laughed. It felt odd, but good. She perched on the arm of the sitting chair and curled her cold toes under her nightgown. "What about Ternberry? Did you learn anything from his… from the body?"
"Ternberry wasn’t dead long. His face wasn’t bloated."
Calliope shivered. "What does Ternberry have to do with this? What does he have to do with my… father?"
"Other than being part of Salisbury ’s last mission? I don’t know. Ternberry wasn’t a member of our inner circle. He was always a bit on the outside. We were surprised when Holt chose him as secretary."
"Who was Ternberry close to?"
"No one on our list. Roth probably interacted with him more than anyone besides Holt. But Holt isn’t close to anyone. He can’t afford to be, in his position."
"Must be lonely. "
"Maybe that’s why he chose Ternberry."
"Ternberry came back to meet someone tonight, didn’t he?"
"All signs lead to him meeting the person who stabbed him. He wasn’t taken by surprise; there was no evidence of a struggle and he was stabbed from the front. He didn’t announce his return to Pettigrew or anyone else in the house, that anyone will admit."
Calliope mulled this information but the Salisbury connection kept intruding.
"What… when did you meet my father?"
"He took Stephen and me under his wing when we finished Oxford."
"What was it like? Working with him, I mean."
"He was very intelligent. Very dedicated. Never did anything half measure. I see a lot of him in you. He earned all of our respect and loyalty. "
"That’s why you were so angry last night when we were speaking of him."
James nodded. His eyes softened as he looked at her. "We’ll sort the mess when we find Stephen." He seemed to consider his words and then nodded to himself, as if emphasizing the when in the statement.
The old feelings for her father resurfaced, but not as strongly this time. She felt a little better, wound a little less tightly than usual. "All right. I agree."
His shoulders relaxed a bit.
"We should talk to Ternberry’s servants," Calliope said.
The clock struck five.
"We can discuss our plans in the morning."
"It’s nearly dawn. This is the morning."
James grimaced. “I know. It will be a long day. "
"Are we going to stay here for the day?"
"No, I think we should return to London quickly. I don’t think there is much to uncover here."
Calliope nodded and padded over to the bed, snuggling into the covers, which were beginning to cool again.
James took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He put the full glass of brandy on the table.
He grabbed the blanket, which was folded on the settee, and shook it.
Calliope bit her lip. "James, why don’t you sleep here?"
He stilled and looked at her.
"Just to sleep," she added quickly.
He didn’t move for a long moment. He started undressing and her breath caught. Couldn’t he sleep in his eveningwear?
He left his undershirt and trousers on and slipped in beside her. Her heart was racing so fast it nearly popped out of her chest and smacked against the wall.
The bed, which had seemed ample before, now felt tiny. She didn’t dare move or she’d be plastered against him. She spent a few fretful moments trying to decide how to sleep.
What position to lie in? She settled on her side near the edge of the bed. What to do if he turned toward her?
The feelings he had stirred in the garden returned. She had never expected anything remotely like what she had experienced for the brief moments on the bench. No wonder the women whispered and giggled. Calliope had thought them mad.
She peeked over her shoulder, but he was still lying on his back, one knee in the air. His breathing was even.
He was asleep!
The rotter.
Chapter 13
A number of guests had wandered downstairs dressed for an early morning ride to examine the scene at the lake. Many couples had already left for London, eager to be among the first to town with the news of Ternberry’s death. James found Calliope waiting near the front entrance conversing with Lady Willoughby. Rogers and Betsy had finished loading the baggage and would follow behind them.
After saying their farewells, he helped Calliope into the carriage.
The coach bumped and swayed as his driver negotiated the ruts that had become more rough and dangerous with the spring rains. They had been on the road for more than five minutes and Calliope sat quietly, fiddling with her hands and staring out the window. James kept silent waiting for her to compose herself.
She finally turned toward him. "Thank you."
He raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
She shook her head and said, "Just thank you."
He nodded, and she sagged against the cushions. "I need to get to the theater. I’m worried about my family."
"Will they leave?"
She paused and then slumped fully into the seat. "No. Both of my adoptive parents are performing this evening, and regardless of threats, they would never leave the show. "
She absently moved her fingers across her brow. "They’re unaware of the potential danger. I’m frightened for their safety. They may be caught unawares."
James reached over and patted her knee. "They will be fine. I have men watching the theater. When we get back to the city, I’ll see what they have to report."
James had stationed a man at the theater as soon as he had learned of her ties there. The connection between Calliope and Salisbury was still too strange to be a coincidence. There were twists and links in the puzzle and everything seemed to point to Calliope.
"We’ll return to Stephen’s townhouse for the night and have another look through his files and belongings."
The effort would probably be pointless. They had searched thoroughly before. But she must have felt a bit better because she shifted her position and relaxed her shoulders.
James figured it was as good a time as any to catch up on missed sleep. Leaning back, he allowed his eyes to close. Calliope squirmed, attempting to make herself more comfortable against the plush seat. He cracked open an eye, watching her shift positions. After several minutes of fidgeting, he leaned forward, plucked her off the seat and deposited her next to him.
"What are you-"
Her mild shriek was cut off as he wrapped her in his arms.