Page 19 of The Detective and the Baroness

As Corrine climbed into the cab, she had no earthly idea of what to do next.

The roof hatch opened. “Where to, miss?”

“Carol Street, Camden Town.” She wanted to see Travis’s residence for herself.

As the cab lurched forward, Corrine started having second thoughts. A nurse would stand out in a crowd. Too late now.

Clasping her nurse’s bag tightly, she watched the bustling city pass by. What did she hope to find out? How impulsive of her to do this. Still, there was no use wringing her hands over it.

Once she arrived on Travis’s street, Corrine paid the driver, pulled the veil over her face, and then leisurely strolled along the walkway. Travis’s house was located at the opposite end. Walking up and down the lane more than once would draw attention. Shaking her head, Corrine lamented that she did not think this through at all.

The street consisted of tightly packed rowhouses. There wasn’t much of a vantage point to do a surveillance since there were no alleys, shops, or a park. Corrine had never been here before. The houses were modest and middle-class. What did Travis do before becoming the baron? To her eternal shame, Corrine never bothered to ask him about his occupation or past—another negative mark to add to her regrets.

She spotted a vendor selling gingerbread, crumpets, and raisin cake from his wooden cart. Everything looked and smelled delicious. As she passed, Corrine glanced at the goods, finding fresh bread and ginger biscuits. It was a good thing she’d brought a few shillings with her. She would buy some items on her way back.

Travis’s home finally came into view. She slowed her gait and had a peek. The draperies were open, and Corrine saw Travis sitting across from another man through the window. They were deep in conversation. Then the man handed Travis a sheath of papers, and he sat back in his chair to read them.

Good lord, was he meeting with a solicitor to begin divorce proceedings? She stopped and took a deep breath. Of course her fevered mind would race to that conclusion, but she knew it wasn’t likely. Corrine pretended to look up and down the street while snatching glances through the large window. There was more discussion, and the other man took notes. Standing before the costermonger’s cart, she pointed at the ginger biscuits. “How much?”

“Two for a penny, miss. One penny for a crumpet or slice of cake. Four pennies for the bread.”

“I will have twelve biscuits and a loaf of bread.”

“Right away, miss.” The costermonger was busy wrapping her goods in brown paper when someone approached her from behind and clasped her elbow.

Corrine gasped in response.

“What are you doing here, Corrine?” a male voice whispered in her ear.

Every nerve ending came alive at his touch and nearness. He called me by my name. Only one man caused such emotional turbulence within her.

“Good day, Mitchell,” she murmured in reply.

*

Mitchell could not believe it. He had been sitting in a carriage across the street, observing the comings and goings at the baron’s residence, when he spotted a nurse perambulating on the walkway. Although the woman tried to act inconspicuously, her movements sparked Mitchell’s suspicion. The more he watched her, the more it dawned on him that the woman was Corrine. Especially when every nerve-ending sparked to life. The sway of her hips and the confident way she strolled along the walkway, her head held high, also aided his conclusion. Now, he still held her arm at the elbow, and heat licked through his blood at the contact.

“Here, let the nurse go,” the costermonger snapped. He pulled a whistle out from around his neck. “Or I’ll call for the coppers.”

Mitchell released Corrine’s arm, reached in his pocket, and brought forth his ID card. He flipped the leather wallet open. “I am the police.” He shouldn’t be flashing his division card about while on medical leave, but right now, it was necessary.

After tucking his card in his coat, he again took Corrine’s arm.

“Can I at least wait for my purchase?” Corrine asked.

“Of course,” he replied.

The tradesman handed her the brown paper-wrapped parcel, and Corrine paid him.

The transaction was completed, and Mitchell steered her toward the carriage.

“Is this yours, Sergeant?”

“No. Doctor Hornsby’s family returned to their country home for Christmas, leaving this carriage behind for Doctor Drew’s use. He allowed me to borrow it today. Inside, my lady.” Mitchell opened the coach door and assisted Corrine inside. Then, with great difficulty, he climbed in after her, sitting on the bench opposite.

Corrine pulled the veil from her face. “How did you know it was me?”

Because every fiber of my body and soul is attuned to your every movement. “A lucky guess. Why are you here?”