Page 7 of The Detective and the Baroness

“Baroness Addington.”

A sharp bark of cynical laughter left the strange man. “That old goat remarried? Trying for another heir, is he? He has more gumption than I thought.”

Another heir? Old goat?

Then it struck Corrine what the stranger meant. “You must mean Gilbert Addington. He died five months ago. My husband, a distant cousin, is now the new baron.”

The man’s head snapped up briefly, as if shocked by the information. Corrine could see scarring on the left side of the man’s forehead. He lowered his head and stepped back. “Then I’ll seek out the new baron. I’ll be back. And soon. Tell him to expect me anytime.”

Corrine wasn’t about to inform a stranger that her husband had temporary living arrangements elsewhere, for there was something deeply unsettling about this man.

With a flick of his long cloak, he turned and hurried down the walkway. Corrine closed the door, locked it, and swirled about to face Thomason, who hovered nearby. “Did you give any information to this stranger?”

“None, my lady. All I said was that the baron was not available. He became insistent, saying he’d had an audience with the baron on other occasions.”

“Did you recognize him? You were with the old baron for twenty-five years.”

“No, my lady. I did not see the man’s face or recognize the voice. When I tried to close the door, he stuck his boot in it and spoke in an insistent manner. I thought it best that he hear the information from the lady of the house.”

How curious. “If he comes to the door again, let me know immediately. We may have to involve the police.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Corrine returned to the sitting room and sat by the fire with her cold tea.

“Shall I fetch you a fresh pot, my lady?” Thomason offered.

Corrine visibly started. Her family had not had a butler for years, and she had forgotten how much they silently moved about a residence.

“Yes, thank you.”

Thomason took away the tray and left her alone. What possible business could that stranger have had with Gilbert Addington? The man had lived alone in this house for years and had hardly ventured out after the death of his only son and, soon thereafter, his wife, which was why the furnishings were decades old. The baron had left a healthy bank balance for his heir—even after Travis’s settlement on her, tens of thousands of pounds were still available. At least, that was what Travis had mentioned in passing shortly before their wedding.

As far as Corrine knew, Travis hadn’t spent any significant amount since their marriage. Perhaps all this change and upheaval had been hard for Travis to comprehend. It was also problematic for Corrine to take in.

Travis had initially agreed about the children aspect of their arrangement, yet balked when it came time to consummate their marriage—and every time since. The rebuff had hurt Corrine, and so, she had decided to hire Sergeant Simpson to see if divorce was an option.

At some point, she would send a note to Travis and ask him to come for a heart-to-heart discussion. They must have it out before she took the final step of ending their tenuous union. But first, Corrine had to allow the investigation to continue. As Sir Francis Bacon had said centuries before, knowledge was power. The more information she gathered about Travis’s doings, the better. She would mail the note once she had evidence of…anything.

As for Mitchell?

Yes, she thought of him by his first name. Embarrassment filled her for finding a man not her husband—fascinating. She knew it would be wise to keep the association between them professional, but Corrine was aware that Mitchell returned the interest. She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or just wishful thinking, but there was a definite reciprocal spark when their hands had touched.

Mitchell was around six feet tall and had wavy hair the color of golden wheat. His azure eyes, rugged physique, and handsome facial features were mesmerizing. But as tempting as the detective was, Corrine would never break her marital vows, no matter the circumstance. Maybe that was another reason she wanted a divorce. To be free and allow these heated sparks to flourish and grow. But Corrine would deal with that obstacle later. Right now, more complications loomed on the horizon. What about the settlement? Would she have to return it? Part of it was already spent keeping her family afloat. She was getting a headache just thinking about it.

Thomason entered with another tray and placed it on the table. When he departed, Corrine prepared a fresh cup of tea and carried it to her desk. Once seated, she pulled open the drawer. Locating note paper, pen, and ink, she composed the letter she intended to send to her absentee husband.

*

Mitchell immediately headed to Camden Town, where the baron had taken up residence. The house had a white stucco main floor and two light brick stories above it. A small wrought iron fence blocked off a greenery area, complete with assorted shrubberies, before the entrance. There hadn’t been much snowfall the past few winters, and it seemed this one would be the same. Only a sprinkling of snow clung to the leafless branches, all that remained of the light flurries that occurred overnight.

How should he approach this?

Did he wear a disguise and watch the residence for Addington’s comings and goings? It was not a pleasant prospect, regardless of the sporadic moderate temperatures. The official start of winter was a few weeks away, so the weather would grow colder, making outside surveillance difficult.

It would be prudent to uncover a little background first. Was the new baron a member of a club? Did he attend the House of Lords? Mitchell could have asked the baroness those questions, but considering his jumbled emotions, he thought it best to leave immediately. He could enlist Damon to ask a few questions about the baron, discreetly, of course. But no. He’d told his half-brother he needed space. Mitchell would have to discover this information on his own. Besides, Damon needed time to get his new life off on the right foot. Their young half-siblings were coming to live with Althea and Damon on the first of the new year—a ready-made family. Damon had confided that he had always longed for a large family, and now he was getting it.

Where should he go now? Perhaps, he should check out another place since he was already in the cab. Mitchell banged on the roof, and the hansom’s top hatch slid open. “Yes, sir?” the driver asked.