"She's a little dab of a chick. He could have hit her with the gun and made his escape. A woman committing a crime of passion wouldn't think like that."
"Known many murderesses, have you?"
Daniel was adamant. "Stands to reason a female would drop the gun and run before Amanda could identify her. They must be acquainted."
Mrs. Burton was the only female on the list, but she was neither a thief nor an acquaintance of Amanda Carville's. Rex wondered why the Aide had included her name, since there must be scores of women with L.B. as initials. But women coldhearted enough to blow away a man's brains? Sir Frederick was not known to keep a mistress, despite the silk stocking in his room, and such affairs were usually common knowledge, no matter how discreetly conducted. Sir Frederick would not have wanted to spend the money, either. His sister and daughter were accounted for. The housekeeper was not a suspect, by her own true words. Besides, Rex still needed a motive for the killing.
He decided to leave that for the morning, too, along with finding a place to stay in London. Tonight he needed a good rest. With his hair still damp from his bath, Rex climbed into his bed with his lists beside him. Then he got out, dragged one of the blankets to the floor, and told Verity to get down. The dog's snoring was as bad as Nanny's. He was not sharing his bed with anyone who chased rabbits in her dreams. His own dreams were plaguesome enough.
Amanda did not hear the cousins come home, she was sleeping so soundly. She did hear Dodd and the single footman grumble about having to haul hot water upstairs at such a late hour, and she heard them carrying coal to warm the rooms for bathing. Then she heard them carrying tubs away, clanking the tin pails as they went. She tried not to imagine Rex in his bath, washing himself with the sandalwood soap whose scent he always carried, lying back to relax until the water cooled. She tried very hard not to picture him climbing onto his bed, dismissing his valet, and blowing out the candle, leaving him limned in the embers of the dying fire.
She tossed off the top blanket on her bed. It was a pretty picture, a masterpiece of a fantasy, even if the details were inexact. After all, she had never seen a man at his bath or asleep in his bed. Or naked. Gracious, how did her room get so very warm?
Was the wound on his leg still raw and painful? Did he sleep on his side or his stomach or his back? She rolled over again.
None of the conjectures were going to help her fall back to sleep. Thinking about her own situation was less soothing, and less pleasant to contemplate. How was she supposed to fall back asleep counting days until the trial, instead of sheep?
Maybe his lordship had discovered something helpful tonight. According to Nanny, the cousins were looking for clues, but mostly they were rightfully staying out of the house to protect her reputation, the noddies. She had no reputation since Sir Frederick lied to Charles Ashway. She foresaw no future for herself where a spotless name mattered. What mattered was having any future at all.
Rex could not be asleep yet, and he might know something that would relieve her own mind. Of course going to his room might be the stupidest thing Amanda had done since picking up that gun in Sir Frederick's study. Too bad. She was already lighting a candle.
She ought not. Heavens, no lady would even think of visiting a gentleman's chambers, much less at night, knowing he was abed, whilst in her undress, in secret. Very well, she was a fallen woman just thinking of stepping down the hall. Where were her slippers?
Lady Royce was on her way; such loose behavior was no way for Amanda to repay her hostess. But now, before the countess returned, Amanda could repay what Rex had done for her by showing her… friendship. He'd saved her life. She knew she would have died in jail, from hunger or the fevers or despair. She might still die, unless Rex saved her again. Life, especially her life, was too short to worry about propriety and guest manners.
Amanda found her robe. And her honesty. Rex cherished the truth. He kept urging her to speak without guile, so she would, to herself. She wanted his reassurance, yes; she wanted to learn his news, certainly; she wanted to thank him, naturally. And she wanted more of his kisses. Fiercely.
She changed into something more suitable.
Rex was making notations on his list of names and initials when he heard the soft scratching at his door. The butler and footman had left, complaining of the hour, so Murchison must be coming to tell him that Daniel would live through the night.
"Enter."
The door immediately opened, which only proved Murchison could hear as well as speak when he wanted to. Instead of the small, tidy gentleman's gentleman, a vision stood in his doorway, then quickly entered the room and closed the door behind her.
Her? "Good grief, Amanda, what are you doing here?" He pulled the sheet up over his bare chest. "Is something wrong? Where is Nanny? Is she injured?"
"Nanny Brown is with her sister below in the housekeeper's apartment, fast asleep, I have no doubt. The stairs were too much to ask of the dear old soul."
"Then you? Are you ill? Are you having a relapse?"
"Yes."
"The fever?"
"Yes. I feel very warm."
She sure as hell did not look warm in that sheer negligee she wore with nothing over it, nothing under it as far as he could tell by the fire's dying embers, his bedside lamp, and the candle she still held in trembling hands. He would have jumped out of bed to wrap her in his blankets, but he needed those blankets to preserve his modesty and her innocence. He fumbled at the foot of the bed with one hand, clutching the sheets with the other, to where Verity had insisted on sleeping-on top of his robe. "I'll go fetch Nanny. She'd know which medicine you ought to take, and how much."
"That is not what I need."
His hand paused over the sleeping dog. "Uh, what is it that you do need, then?"
"I… I need you to hold me."
Damn. "Here, I'll give you my dog." He pushed Verity to her feet, mumbling about what a poor watchdog she was anyway. "That's what you said you wanted before."
"Is that too much to ask? You did not mind this afternoon."
Mind? What mind? He blinked, as if that would change the image in his head, the scent of her, the feel of her body, the silkiness of her curls, and the warmth of her lips. Oh, lord. "You should not be here, saying such things!"
"Why not? I have nothing to lose, do I? Why should I not take some comfort where I can, while I can? I am not some foolish heroine in a dreadful novel, wanting to experience the marriage act before she succumbs to some mysterious evil. I admit I am somewhat curious, but that is no reason to betray a lifetime's teachings. Nor am I here to show my gratitude, although I am more than indebted to you. I… I liked your kisses. I could forget everything else, in your arms."
"You do not understand. A proper lady-"
She held up one slender arm, bare to the shoulder but for one narrow ribbon of a strap. "Do not say it. You and I both know my reputation will never recover. I do not consider myself a lady anymore, and I am glad of the freedom."
"But I am a gentleman, despite the gossip." He tapped his chest. "I am a gentleman here, where it matters." He tapped his head. "And here. I could not accept what I think you are offering without making an honorable offer in return."
She did not deny her intentions, instead making them clear by fingering the diamond necklace at her throat. No woman wore her finest jewels to sleep alone. She looked like a figure from an erotic dream to him, and he could feel his body straining toward her. "It is against all notions of decency."
"Pooh, no one will know."
"I will."
"But if I hang, you will not need to sacrifice your freedom for me."
"You will not hang!"
She stared at her toes, which he noticed were bare, tiny pink buds peeking from under the hem of thin white lace. "Would it be so terrible to ask me, then? I would never hold you to an engagement unless there were a child."