Farnsworth had alerted the War Department of the traitorous tie to upper Derbyshire, someone in the agency had made the connection that two men carrying sensitive information had gone missing, albeit years apart, while on missions that would have brought them through Derbyshire or the Peak District. “Do you remember approximate dates and places where the bodies were found?” If he could establish—
“What does that have to do with anything?” Emma’s head had tilted slightly and she squinted at him, speculation shining in her amber eyes. “Least of all Molly’s death?”
“Nothing, of course. I was just curious about your work.” Damnation. He’d been so close to learning something about the couriers. He knew it, but he couldn’t press further now without raising Emma’s suspicions.
He’d learned one thing, though. Emma might know even more than he thought, which made it all the more important to stick by her side. “You don’t have a choice, Emma. You
will
allow me to assist you or I will be certain a new magistrate is appointed within a fortnight.”
She stared mutinously at him. The storm flashing in the depths of her eyes gave Derick the unnerving feeling that he might soon be struck down by amber lightning. But then Emma took a deep breath.
He released his breath in turn.
“You
were
rather useful in the search for Molly,” Emma admitted. “And I can see where having you beneath me could prove quite satisfactory.”
Derick felt his eyebrows rise, along with another part of his body. Had she meant…? But no, Emma stood before him looking quite serene. He knew, given their previous encounters, that if she’d meant that the way it had sounded, she’d be blushing red all over.
She must have meant “beneath her” in a more literal sense, such as him being below her rank as a mere assistant.
“I suggest we return to where we found Molly’s body and see if any evidence can be found now that the water has receded a bit,” Emma stated. She turned on her heel and quit the parlor, leaving him to follow or not. He followed, of course, knowing he should be pleased that he’d won her acquiescence with relative ease.
But something told him that naught else in this partnership would be easy.
If Derick thought she was just going to sit back and let him dictate every step of “their” investigation, he was sadly mistaken. Their search of the forest yesterday afternoon had turned up nothing new, leaving them both frustrated. But there was no way she was going to allow him to re-question Molly’s friends and family this morning. Not at the girl’s funeral.
“I refuse to upset them more than they already are,” Emma whispered fiercely. To speak any louder might draw attention from the mourners who’d come to the castle to pay their respects before Molly Simms was laid to rest later in the day.
“There is no
need
.” Emma finally did raise her voicejust a bit when Derick didn’t respond, though she knew from the way the dratted man seemed to hear every little mumbled whisper—especially those most likely to embarrass her—that he was far from deaf. “I have a particular memory for these things. I can repeat verbatim what each person said to me.”
As seemed to be his way, Derick ignored her statement and instead drawled a question. “Verbatim. Really?”
Emma huffed, but in spending the better part of two days with the infuriating man tagging along as her
oblige
assistant, she’d learned that it was quicker just to answer his myriad questions. “Yes. I’ve always had a peculiar memory. As a very young child, I would watch my father work, scratching equations and formulas on his boards. One day—and I don’t remember it myself, but I’ve heard the story many times—I snuck into his rooms and wrote a series of numbers out on his boards long after he’d erased them.
“My father was furious that I dared play in his workroom, of course, until he looked closer. Apparently, I’d
“What does that have to do with anything?” Emma’s head had tilted slightly and she squinted at him, speculation shining in her amber eyes. “Least of all Molly’s death?”
“Nothing, of course. I was just curious about your work.” Damnation. He’d been so close to learning something about the couriers. He knew it, but he couldn’t press further now without raising Emma’s suspicions.
He’d learned one thing, though. Emma might know even more than he thought, which made it all the more important to stick by her side. “You don’t have a choice, Emma. You
will
allow me to assist you or I will be certain a new magistrate is appointed within a fortnight.”
She stared mutinously at him. The storm flashing in the depths of her eyes gave Derick the unnerving feeling that he might soon be struck down by amber lightning. But then Emma took a deep breath.
He released his breath in turn.
“You
were
rather useful in the search for Molly,” Emma admitted. “And I can see where having you beneath me could prove quite satisfactory.”
Derick felt his eyebrows rise, along with another part of his body. Had she meant…? But no, Emma stood before him looking quite serene. He knew, given their previous encounters, that if she’d meant that the way it had sounded, she’d be blushing red all over.
She must have meant “beneath her” in a more literal sense, such as him being below her rank as a mere assistant.
“I suggest we return to where we found Molly’s body and see if any evidence can be found now that the water has receded a bit,” Emma stated. She turned on her heel and quit the parlor, leaving him to follow or not. He followed, of course, knowing he should be pleased that he’d won her acquiescence with relative ease.
But something told him that naught else in this partnership would be easy.
If Derick thought she was just going to sit back and let him dictate every step of “their” investigation, he was sadly mistaken. Their search of the forest yesterday afternoon had turned up nothing new, leaving them both frustrated. But there was no way she was going to allow him to re-question Molly’s friends and family this morning. Not at the girl’s funeral.
“I refuse to upset them more than they already are,” Emma whispered fiercely. To speak any louder might draw attention from the mourners who’d come to the castle to pay their respects before Molly Simms was laid to rest later in the day.
“There is no
need
.” Emma finally did raise her voicejust a bit when Derick didn’t respond, though she knew from the way the dratted man seemed to hear every little mumbled whisper—especially those most likely to embarrass her—that he was far from deaf. “I have a particular memory for these things. I can repeat verbatim what each person said to me.”
As seemed to be his way, Derick ignored her statement and instead drawled a question. “Verbatim. Really?”
Emma huffed, but in spending the better part of two days with the infuriating man tagging along as her
oblige
assistant, she’d learned that it was quicker just to answer his myriad questions. “Yes. I’ve always had a peculiar memory. As a very young child, I would watch my father work, scratching equations and formulas on his boards. One day—and I don’t remember it myself, but I’ve heard the story many times—I snuck into his rooms and wrote a series of numbers out on his boards long after he’d erased them.
“My father was furious that I dared play in his workroom, of course, until he looked closer. Apparently, I’d
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