Page 34 of The Detective and the Baroness

Mitchell laid her hand against his cheek, rubbing his face against her palm. The heat that moved through him was something he had never experienced before. Complete and utter bliss intertwined with a blast of desire strong enough to bring him to his knees. “I will wait for you for as long as it takes.” He wanted to say so much more, to tell her he absolutely adored her. Though Mitchell had never felt this way before, he knew now was not the time to explain what was in his heart. For now, this was all he dared show and say concerning his prevailing feelings. Their acquaintance had only been for a few weeks. Were they progressing too fast? Many in society would claim so, but Mitchell didn’t give a hang what anyone thought.

Corrine nuzzled his hand, then took it and softly kissed it before releasing it. “I will speak with Travis right away.”

“Do you wish me to continue with the surveillance?”

“Allow me to speak to him first. If needs must, we will continue from there. I will tell him about the hooded man.”

“Yes, do so. Gauge his reaction. Ask what he knows about his distant cousin, the late baron—if anything.”

“I should go.” Corrine stood as she gathered up her wayward glove. “Thank you for the tea and the lovely biscuits.” Then she gave him a shy smile that jolted his heart. “And for expressing your feelings. For I feel the same.”

Mitchell chewed on his lip, stopping him from saying more or pulling her into his embrace. He stood, leaned on his cane, and assisted her with her cape. For a brief moment, he leaned in and, barely making contact, gently nuzzled her neck, inhaling her evocative scent. Then he offered his arm. “I will hail a hansom cab for you.” Walking her to the door, he felt a strange mixture of elation at her divorce announcement and her acknowledgment of reciprocated although vague emotions, as well as a subtle feeling of dread, as if their path forward would be fraught with obstacles—and possible peril. He tried to shrug it off. Sensing danger at every turn was just one of the hazards of being a detective.

Once outside, Mitchell hailed a hansom and assisted her, closing the folding doors behind her, then stood on the walkway until the cab disappeared from sight. With a sigh, he reentered the house to find Drew standing in the hallway, holding an enamel mug.

“Done with your appointment? Any tea and biscuits left?”

“Yes, there is. In the library.”

Drew followed him into the room, sat on the sofa, and poured tea into his mug. He added milk and sugar, then snatched a biscuit from the plate. “Your case must be nearing its end, or is it?”

Mitchell sat, picked up his cup, and sipped the tepid tea. “I believe there is more going on than I’ve discovered. There is a mystery man who wears a long, hooded cloak and seems to want something from the baron.” Mitchell explained the sightings.

“Curious,” Drew murmured.

“What?”

“When I went to the police station to give the inspector an update on your condition after you had been shot, they took me into Inspector Stanhope’s office. On his desk were a few items they retrieved from the scene. A pistol, a knife, and a long, hooded cloak, well-charred.”

Mitchell’s heart skipped a beat. “What? A cloak?”

“You might want to speak with Rett Wollstonecraft, Tensbridge’s cousin. He was at the precinct giving his statement while I was giving my medical report.”

Oliver’s cousin? Right, he was there that night. But who wore the cloak? Danaher? If he had, it would have burnt to a cinder along with his body. But when Mitchell had arrived with the police officers at the crime scene, Danaher had not been wearing a cloak. Not that Mitchell had gotten a good look at the man. In fact, he couldn’t have physically described him even if he tried. The room had been dim and smoke-filled.

Danaher was dead; Mitchell had heard his scream when he’d fallen through the floor into the flaming cellar below. Could it be Danaher’s son looking for the baron, collecting on a debt belonging to his dead, criminal father?

“I will call on the viscount’s cousin soon. It’s quite the reach to connect the cloak found at the fiery crime scene to the man lurking about the baron’s residence.”

“But it has piqued your interest enough to look into it,” Drew replied.

“Yes. It has.”

Was Danaher alive? It was beyond all common sense. But Mitchell had learned early in his policing career to never rule anything out, no matter how fantastical. In Mitchell’s experience, strange men showing up at one’s door never led to anything good.

Right now, he had only one concern—to keep Corrine safe.

Chapter Thirteen

Corrine’s hand still tingled from Mitchell’s touch. Her confusing emotions had her doubting her decision-making abilities. Open flirtation with another man? She had not thought herself capable, but it appeared so. What were her feelings toward Mitchell?

Physical attraction caught her attention at first. There was no denying she found his fair good looks and sky-blue eyes appealing, along with his muscular build. She had caught a glimpse of his well-defined chest when she’d nursed him during his fever. But it was more than that. The man inside also fascinated her, and her feelings were growing deeper the longer she was around him. Mitchell was honorable and brave, and she believed that beneath the detective sergeant’s stoic exterior, a passionate man existed, a side he did not show to anyone. But he had given her a glimpse of it today.

And it was because of all of that, that she must seek out Travis as soon as possible. It wasn’t fair to either man for her to stay in this emotional limbo, torn between her intensifying desires and her dutiful vows and legal agreements. Corrine did her best to remain purposely vague whenever discussing emotions, and Mitchell did, too. It was apparent they were restraining themselves from making any hasty declarations or indulging in passionate embraces. But today was a decided step forward.

Remaining emotionally detached was also the way she dealt with her situation with Travis. Regardless of rapid decisions and regrets, the time had come to admit and rectify her failings. She liked Travis, what little of him she knew. But they could not go on like this.

The hansom cab pulled up in front of her home. She paid the driver and hurried toward the front entrance. As usual, Thomason was there to open the door.