Lee ignored him and the black scowl on his face. "What are you doing here, Caleb? I looked for you earlier but no one seemed to know where you were."
"I had business in London. As to what I am doing here at the inn, I'm doing my damnedest to keep you out of trouble."
Lee turned her attention to the room at the top of the stairs. "One of our maids is up there. A woman named Marie LeCroix. I saw her sneaking out of the house. I didn't know where to find you, so I followed her myself. I could hear more than one set of footsteps so I know she isn't alone, but I have no idea who might be up there with her."
"Maybe she's up there with Oxley."
"Oxley?"
"That's right. The lieutenant's been bedding her every chance he gets. I wonder what she's been receiving in return for her favors."
Lee glanced toward the top of the stairs, wondering how many other secrets Caleb had discovered about the people at Parklands. "I don't think she's meeting Lieutenant Oxley. He was still in the drawing room when I retired and if she wanted to see him, all she had to do was go to his room."
"Good point. So she's probably meeting someone who isn't staying at the house."
"That would be my guess." She shivered, the damp cold seeping through her clothes.
"Dammit, you're freezing." Stripping off his riding jacket, he draped it around her shoulders. The coat retained his body heat. She snuggled deeper into the warmth and her shivering eased.
"Stay here. I'm going upstairs." Before she could remind him Marie was probably there for nothing but a lover's tryst, he was halfway up the staircase. He banged on the door and waited, but no one came to open it. He pounded again, tried the handle, then came racing back down the stairs.
"There's probably another entrance inside the inn. You stay here. If he comes out this way, try to get a look at his face. Whatever you do, don't let him see you. He might not want any witnesses."
Lee thought of Mary and sank deeper into the shadows. Caleb took off toward the front of the tavern and she counted the time it would take him to get up the inside stairs. There must have been another entrance for a few minutes later, she heard the wooden floorboards creaking and guessed Caleb was in the room.
When he didn't come outside, she left her post and ran after him, racing round to the front, then shoving through the tavern doors.
The inn was crowded, the low-ceilinged taproom smoky, and noisy with the clink of glasses and the rumble of the patrons' conversation. One of the tavern maids laughed and the sound rang across the room. Careful to stay at the edge of the crowd, Lee headed up the stairs at the rear of the inn.
At the top of the stairs, a long hall yawned to the right. She hurried down the corridor, saw that one of the doors stood open. Caleb knelt beside a slatted bed. The moment he saw her, he came to his feet and started walking toward her. He had almost reached her when she spotted the woman draped limply over the edge of the bed.
"Marie!"
Caleb turned her away from the grisly sight and his arms tightened around her. "She's dead, love. I'm sorry."
Lee pulled free of his hold, her gaze careening once more toward the bed. Across the mattress, the limp figure of Marie LeCroix lay pale and lifeless, her pretty blue eyes staring up at the ceiling above her head. Lee started shaking. Tears welled in her eyes as Caleb pressed her head into his shoulder.
"The man was gone by the time I got here. The bastard used her, then strangled her."
She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the sight of the lifeless woman on the bed. "Oh, God."
"He must have left through the tavern. It's crowded and dark. It wouldn't be hard to get away without being seen. I would have gone after him, but the forest begins just behind the inn and there's no way in hell I'd be able to follow his tracks in the darkness."
"Why… why didn't he go down the outside stairs?"
"I don't know. Perhaps he knew you were out there."
Her head jerked up. "Oh, my God! If I hadn't followed Marie to the inn—"
Caleb gripped her shoulders. "This isn't your fault, Lee. Whoever did this likely also killed Mary—or had a hand in it. Perhaps they knew too much. Perhaps they posed some kind of threat—I don't know." His features turned hard and his fingers dug into her shoulders. "You're lucky you didn't climb those stairs. If you had, you might be lying next to Marie on that bed!"
He was angry. More than that, he was frightened.
He held her at arm's length for a moment more, then jerked her hard against him and his arms came around her. A slight tremor ran through his body.
"Come on," he finally said. "We need to send for the authorities. I've got to talk to the people in the taproom, find out if anyone saw the person who came down the stairs."
"Yes… or perhaps the tavern owner can tell you who rented the room."
He nodded. "Let's go find out." With an arm securely around her waist, he started guiding her toward the door.
"What about Marie?" Lee asked softly.
"I'll see she's taken care of. You don't have to worry about that."
Lee said nothing more, just let him lead her out of the room and quietly close the door.
Graveside services were held for Marie LeCroix the following day, a solemn occasion that briefly put a damper on festivities at Parklands. Since Oxley had been in the drawing room with Colonel Wingate all evening, he was not a suspect. The sheriff, not privy to army information concerning the spy ring, believed the woman had been strangled by a jealous lover, someone who had discovered Marie's affair. But no one had the slightest idea who the man might be.
Constable Shaw came out from London, but the only connection between the murders of Mary Goodhouse and that of Marie LeCroix was the women's brief employment at Parklands.
No one in the tavern had seen anything the night of the murder and, as the upstairs room had been let by Marie, there were no clues to the man's identity.
Lee's birthday ball was postponed. While the Parklands's staff, Vermillion and her aunt, attended a brief churchyard service for Marie, Caleb and Major Sutton descended on Lieutenant Ian Oxley.
It was obvious the young man was shaken and very deeply grieved by the news of the young maid's death.
"I can't believe it… I just can't believe she is dead." Oxley sat on the leather sofa in the study. The doors were closed and the few servants who remained in the house were given strict instruction they were not to be disturbed.
"What did you tell her, Oxley?" Sutton leaned over the younger man. "Colonel Wingate has already told us he had key information about Wellesley's upcoming campaign. You were privy to that information. Now tell us how much of that information you told Marie LeCroix."
Oxley's eyes filled with tears. He was a pale young man, given to shyness, and obviously in love with Marie.
"We just… we just talked."
"In your bed, you mean, while you were overheated and desperate to get inside her."
Oxley swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down. "She was interested in the war. I suppose I might have… mentioned a few things."
"She was French, Oxley." Sutton bore down on him. "Did the fact never cross your mind?"
He shook his head. "She was only a little girl when she came to England with her family. She was raised here. She wanted the British to win the war. That… that is what she said." He gazed out the window toward the garden. "She was so beautiful. She never talked to any of the other men… only me. I felt so lucky. I just wanted to please her."
Caleb swore softly. "Do you have any idea, Lieutenant, who Marie might have been meeting that night at the inn?"
He glanced up. The grief etched into his face made him look older than he had the day before. "I thought there was only me. I thought she loved me."
"She used you," the major said harshly. "Just the way that bastard used her. You know what they were doing in that room, Oxley? You know what he did to her before he killed her?"