Page 51 of The Detective and the Baroness

“Understandable. You could always come and share a repast of turkey or roast beef with Drew and me,” Mitchell suggested hopefully.

Corrine squeezed his arm, causing a blast of desire to tear through him. “I would love that, but I had best not.”

Disappointing, but she was correct. “As to what we do next? See about a solicitor. I will ask Drew. That is a start. We will take the rest as it comes.”

They located Drew’s carriage, and Mitchell assisted Corrine inside. He climbed in after her, biting his lip to stem the jolt of pain tearing through his leg. Though he faithfully followed Drew’s daily rehabilitation exercises, he had not seen any improvement, at least not enough to make a marked difference. Sighing, he knocked on the roof. The window slid open.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Thirty Wimpole Street.”

At that, the carriage lurched forward. Corrine patted the bench seat beside her. “Is it terrible that I wish you to sit beside me? And hold me?”

“Not at all.” Mitchell crossed the small space and slid his arm about Corrine’s shoulders, pulling her close. Try as he might, he couldn’t resist kissing her forehead.

Corrine sighed softly. “I feel safe when you are near like this. I never thought a man would ever make me feel this way.”

“I will do anything to keep you safe. Anything,” he whispered fiercely.

They held each other close until the carriage slowed. Reluctantly, Mitchell moved over to the opposite bench. Pushing the curtain aside, he peered out onto the quiet street.

“Your place is in darkness.”

“It’s past nine. Thomason may have gone to his rooms.”

A tug of caution pulled at Mitchell’s gut. “I thought butlers didn’t retire for the night until everyone in the house was accounted for?”

“That’s true in a larger household. Not so much ours, especially where the other servants do not live in. I will be fine. I have a key.”

“I should come in with you.”

“You had best not. Someone could see. A strange man coming into my house past nine o’clock? I do not want to give Travis anything to use against me. Believe me, neighbors see all sorts.”

“It’s pitch black outside. No one will see much of anything at all.” Mitchell frowned. “But I will not argue the point. I will stay here until you give me the all-clear sign. Just come out on the front step and wave, then I will depart.”

“Very well. Send me a note once you talk to Drew about the solicitor.” Corrine took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Good night.”

Mitchell watched closely as she unlocked the door and stepped across the threshold. But what momentarily caught his attention were the number of people coming out of their residences on either side of Corrine’s. And across the street. How odd. It seemed she was right about being seen. But something told Mitchell this was more than just a case of meddlesome neighbors. Something had occurred on this street, and everyone was looking in the direction of Corrine’s house.

*

Corrine removed her gloves and stuffed them in her cape pocket as she inched along the hall. Blast it, it was dark. “Thomason?” How strange that he wasn’t nearby. “Thomason?” she called out loudly.

The only reply was a drawn-out groan. Corrine followed in the direction of the wounded animal sound. Travis’s study. As she reached the doorway, a distinct odor slammed her senses, a smell she was well familiar with. Blood.

When exposed to the air, blood took on a copper or iron metallic smell. That salient fact was one of the first things she’d learned when studying to be a nurse. And in this room, the scent was overwhelming. Corrine took three steps toward the gas light wall sconce when she slid on something and lost her balance. Down she went, falling hard on her side. When she got up, she realized she’d fallen into a pool of blood on the floorboards. And now, she was covered in it. Horrified, she came to her knees and crawled into the hall, then managed to stand.

As she raced for the front door, she glanced downward. Part of her gold gown was coated in blood. She stood on the front step and yelled, “Mitchell! Come here!”

He was out of the carriage and at her side at once. As he took her arm, a voice called out, “Baroness, we heard loud booming sounds from your house not more than a few minutes ago.”

“Do you have a telephone?” Mitchell asked the man who stood wearing a coat over his dressing robe.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then call the police immediately.”

The man turned and hurried into his house as more neighbors converged on the walkway.