Five
Pierce stood outside her door and took a shaky breath. He was glad to leave the stables for the warmth of Eliza’s rooms. Of course, the heat of the fire was not the only reason he wanted to see her or the only warmth he craved. He’d lain on his cot in the cold stall, the sound of those dreadful horses all around him, and thought about what he would do to her when he was with her. Those naughty books had given him so many delicious ideas, but he knew the one he wanted to try most of all.
He raised his hand and paused. What if she didn’t want him any longer? She’d been about to argue something when they’d heard that shot. Were his efforts to seduce her into agreeing to marry him all for naught? He couldn’t stand the thought of that. He couldn’t stand the thought of living the rest of his life without her.
Was that love? Was fear at the prospect of losing her the same thing as love? Perhaps it was, but he felt there should be something more. Some sort of deep, accompanying emotion. He wasn’t an emotional man. Perhaps he couldn’t feel love. Did Eliza feel love? She said she wanted him to marry her for love, but she’d never said whether or not she loved him. The thought of Eliza loving him, being in love with him, made him feel as though he could take on anything—a band of pirates, a horde of thieves.
No one loved him.
Surely his parents had, but they were dead now. Who loved him now?
He was still standing outside her door—careless that—when it opened suddenly. Eliza stood in the frame, hands on her hips. “Will you ever knock?” she hissed.
“I was just about—”
“Then come in before you’re seen.” She grabbed him and yanked him inside.
“How did you know I was out there?”
She closed the door quietly and locked it. “I’ve worked with spies for years. I have ways.”
That was intriguing. What was also intriguing was that she’d changed into her nightgown and wrapper again. Did that mean she wanted him to ravish her?
“I think we should discuss our mission and nothing else.”
“Very well.” He caught a glimmer of disappointment on her face, but then she offered him one of the two chairs by the fire, taking the other. Her feet were bare when she curled her legs under her. Trying not to think about how much he wanted to see those bare toes again, Pierce reiterated the coachman’s description of the highwayman. “That description fits any number of men.”
“Yes.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Only two of our original suspects were not accounted for at the time of the attack—Wilson and Freeland.”
“I agree. I would suggest we focus our efforts on those two, but I worry we might be ignoring other suspects. What if it’s not someone who frequents The Duke’s Arms at all? It might be one of the men who lives in Hopewell-on-Lyft.”
“I’ve thought of that,” she admitted. “The coach does travel directly through the village.”
“All mail coaches travel on regular schedules. Everyone has access to that information and might lie in wait.”
“True.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Pierce could not stop his gaze from traveling to her legs, where those pink toes were safely tucked out of sight. It appeared they would need to investigate the townspeople and make a list of possible suspects there as well. They might be here days or weeks more. That thought cheered him. He had plenty of wicked pleasures to show her to fill up the nights of those days and weeks, if she’d allow it.
“He took that older woman’s ear-bobs,” Eliza said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
She lowered her leg, and Pierce followed the movement. When her toes peeked out from the hem of her nightgown, he pulled at his cravat. The damn fire was too hot.
“That older woman and...was he her husband?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Howard? Passengers on the coach today?”
“Was that their name? She told me the highwayman took her ear-bobs. She was quite distraught because they had once belonged to her grandmother.”
“That is too bad.” Pierce admired Eliza’s tender heart, but what did she expect a thief to do? Of course he would take a woman’s ear-bobs.
“No, don’t you see?” she said, her hands fluttering with animation. “The Howards had to have been traveling inside the coach, and when the highway man ordered the coachman to stand and deliver, Mrs. Howard would have clutched at her husband and sought his protection. She was doing so when I spoke with her.”
“And so the ear-bobs would have been difficult to see.”
“If not all but impossible inside the dark coach.” Her voice had risen in volume and pitch, and she bounced in her chair. “Our man had to have been at the inn at some point when the passengers either arrived or withdrew in order to know to demand the ear-bobs.”
She was clever, very clever. He’d always known that. She had to be to design the weapons she crafted. Now, watching her mind at work fascinated and aroused him.
“And that brings us back to Wilson and Freeland,” he said.
She sat forward. She was so far forward in her chair now, he half-worried she would topple out of it. Or perhaps he hoped. She would fall directly into his arms.
“I would wager all on Wilson.” She cut her hand across the air. “Remember I saw him in the yard before the coach departed. He had no reason to be out there unless it was to take a look at the passengers. He never came in to visit with his aunt. The poor woman sat coughing by the fire for most of
