shoulders squared, she put down the cup.
She looked up at him. “If you hadn’t come along when you did,” she said gravely, “things could have turned out badly for Ben.”
As grave as she, he replied, “I was glad to be of service.”
The look in his eyes made her feel self-conscious again so she got up. “Trentie,” she said, “we’ll put Lord Castleton in the room Miss Drake was to have. The fire needs to be lit, and his lordship will need hot water and fresh towels. I’ll tidy up down here and get dinner started.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” declared the housekeeper, appalled. “Lass, you look as though a puff of wind would blow you away. Sit yourself down and leave everything to me. There’s little enough to do. Everything is ready, or just about ready. Now drink your tea.”
She moved the teapot closer to Jane, gave Case a beseeching look, and left the room.
As Jane wandered over to the bed, Case topped up her cup.
She looked down at Ben. He was sleeping now and looked much younger than his fourteen years. She ought to be horsewhipped, she thought fiercely, for giving him so much responsibility. She should have foreseen that there might be trouble. What a muddle she had made of things! Now Emily was worse off than before, and Ben . . .
She passed a hand over her eyes as her head began to swim. A touch on her arm brought her head up.
Case said quietly, “You heard Mrs. Trent. Drink your tea. It will steady your nerves.”
She took the cup from him and choked down a mouthful of tea, then another. “This isn’t like me,” she said faintly. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“You’re human, that’s all. You have a right to be upset. Look, why don’t you slip upstairs and take a short nap? Mrs. Trent and I can manage things down here. When dinner is ready, we’ll call you.” When she shook her head, he said impatiently, “Jane, there’s no shame in letting others do for you. Let me help.”
She glanced at him sharply. “Don’t baby me, Castleton, or I won’t know it’s you I’m talking to.”
He was careful not to smile, though the sudden sizzle in her eyes sorely tempted him. “My friends call me Case,” he said.
“What?”
“Case. It’s short for Castleton.”
“We’re not friends.”
“You can say that after all we’ve been through together?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you I was grateful. What more do you want?”
He stroked the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “If I told you, you might hit me.”
The pink in her cheeks went a shade deeper, but she gave him back stare for stare. “You have yet to tell me why you’re here. Something about the opera, you said?”
“Do you always change the subject when you become unsure of yourself? Ah. Now your temper is showing again. This can wait till tomorrow, you know. It’s not urgent.”
“It was urgent enough to bring you out here in a blizzard, wasn’t it? I’d rather get it over and done with.” Then the sooner he would be on his way.
“Fine. Shall we sit down?”
He held a chair for her, and when she was seated, took a chair on the opposite side of the table. He came to the point at once. “Last Wednesday night, when you left the theater, did you see anything unusual? Think carefully. Someone or something that seemed out of place?”
She was still struggling with her temper. Eventually, she shook her head. “No. Why do you ask?”
He gave her the same expurgated account that he’d given Freddie and Sally Latham when he’d interviewed them, that a colleague at Special Branch had been set upon in a hackney outside the theater, and all possible witnesses to the attack were being questioned. Gideon Piers’s name never once came up. Her answers were much the same as the viscount’s and Sally’s.
After an interval of silence, she said, “And that’s why you came all the way out here, to ask me these questions about your colleague?”
“It’s important, Jane,” he
She looked up at him. “If you hadn’t come along when you did,” she said gravely, “things could have turned out badly for Ben.”
As grave as she, he replied, “I was glad to be of service.”
The look in his eyes made her feel self-conscious again so she got up. “Trentie,” she said, “we’ll put Lord Castleton in the room Miss Drake was to have. The fire needs to be lit, and his lordship will need hot water and fresh towels. I’ll tidy up down here and get dinner started.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” declared the housekeeper, appalled. “Lass, you look as though a puff of wind would blow you away. Sit yourself down and leave everything to me. There’s little enough to do. Everything is ready, or just about ready. Now drink your tea.”
She moved the teapot closer to Jane, gave Case a beseeching look, and left the room.
As Jane wandered over to the bed, Case topped up her cup.
She looked down at Ben. He was sleeping now and looked much younger than his fourteen years. She ought to be horsewhipped, she thought fiercely, for giving him so much responsibility. She should have foreseen that there might be trouble. What a muddle she had made of things! Now Emily was worse off than before, and Ben . . .
She passed a hand over her eyes as her head began to swim. A touch on her arm brought her head up.
Case said quietly, “You heard Mrs. Trent. Drink your tea. It will steady your nerves.”
She took the cup from him and choked down a mouthful of tea, then another. “This isn’t like me,” she said faintly. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“You’re human, that’s all. You have a right to be upset. Look, why don’t you slip upstairs and take a short nap? Mrs. Trent and I can manage things down here. When dinner is ready, we’ll call you.” When she shook her head, he said impatiently, “Jane, there’s no shame in letting others do for you. Let me help.”
She glanced at him sharply. “Don’t baby me, Castleton, or I won’t know it’s you I’m talking to.”
He was careful not to smile, though the sudden sizzle in her eyes sorely tempted him. “My friends call me Case,” he said.
“What?”
“Case. It’s short for Castleton.”
“We’re not friends.”
“You can say that after all we’ve been through together?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you I was grateful. What more do you want?”
He stroked the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “If I told you, you might hit me.”
The pink in her cheeks went a shade deeper, but she gave him back stare for stare. “You have yet to tell me why you’re here. Something about the opera, you said?”
“Do you always change the subject when you become unsure of yourself? Ah. Now your temper is showing again. This can wait till tomorrow, you know. It’s not urgent.”
“It was urgent enough to bring you out here in a blizzard, wasn’t it? I’d rather get it over and done with.” Then the sooner he would be on his way.
“Fine. Shall we sit down?”
He held a chair for her, and when she was seated, took a chair on the opposite side of the table. He came to the point at once. “Last Wednesday night, when you left the theater, did you see anything unusual? Think carefully. Someone or something that seemed out of place?”
She was still struggling with her temper. Eventually, she shook her head. “No. Why do you ask?”
He gave her the same expurgated account that he’d given Freddie and Sally Latham when he’d interviewed them, that a colleague at Special Branch had been set upon in a hackney outside the theater, and all possible witnesses to the attack were being questioned. Gideon Piers’s name never once came up. Her answers were much the same as the viscount’s and Sally’s.
After an interval of silence, she said, “And that’s why you came all the way out here, to ask me these questions about your colleague?”
“It’s important, Jane,” he
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