you’re doing.’
‘No, I don’t,’ Dodie swung round to him. ‘But at least I’m doing something, which is more than —’
‘Miss Wyatt,’ Detective Calder interrupted, ‘you are free to go.’
Without a word, she rose to her feet and left.
Ella looked up from pushing food around her plate. It was a mushroom omelette, one of her favourite dishes. It was something Emerald always cooked for her when she thought Ella was ill. Immediately her fork froze mid-push. How long had she been not eating?
‘Oh, Reggie, don’t be silly. I’m fine. Just not peckish, that’s all.’
‘You didn’t eat anything yesterday either.’ His gaze lingered on her cheekbones. ‘Not sickening, are you, old thing?’
‘No, of course not. No appetite, that’s all.’
That wasn’t strictly true. Now she thought about it, she was ravenous. But she couldn’t bring herself to put food in her mouth because… Abruptly she put down her fork and sipped her glass of water. A shiver ran up her spine. She was punishing herself, that’s why she wasn’t eating, she was punishing herself for being so shameful. So sinful. So disloyal. There were other words for it. Depraved, immoral, scandalous. She felt colour creep into her cheeks at the images in her head of the things she had done.
Her hands fastened to the brass bedstead. Flat on her back on the crisp white sheet, Dan’s face between her legs, his tongue hot, making her hips buck. Her lips open in a groan that rose to a shriek as she cried out for more. Her whole body shaking with need for him.
‘You’re looking flushed, Ella. Are you sure you don’t have a temperature?’
‘No, Reggie, honestly I’m perfectly well. Just shaken by this terrible tragedy. Poor Eleanor.’
Eleanor was the Australian widow of Sir Harry Oakes, half his age when he married her, and at the moment she was still at their house in Maine.
‘She’s flying in with Nancy.’ Nancy was the Oakes’ eighteen-year old daughter.
Ella tried to reach deep within herself to imagine what Eleanor was feeling. She conjured up a picture of Reggie with a bullet wound in his head, a small trickle of blood dripping down on to his clean white collar, and to her horror she started to cry. Instantly Reggie was out of his chair and at her side, just as Emerald sailed into the room with a tray of coffee.
‘My dearest,’ Reggie crooned, wrapping his arms around Ella, ‘don’t cry.’ He kissed her hair. ‘Go to bed and rest. You are generous-hearted to a fault and have taken too much on yourself.’
‘Mr Reggie is right, Miss Ella. You gone all queer. I’ll make you some broth and bring it to you in bed.’
Gently but firmly Ella extricated herself from her husband’s embrace. ‘Thank you both, but no. I’ll have that coffee, Emerald.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Reggie. Now sit down and tell me what is going on. The Duke is bound to be out of his mind with concern. You must be inundated with work and worry. Forget about my silliness.’ She smiled at him reassuringly and watched him resume his seat, but she felt guilty that she had not noticed earlier the slump of his shoulders and the lines of tension that had crept on to his usually smooth skin while she had been looking elsewhere.
‘Freddie de Marigny has been arrested.’
‘What?’
‘For the murder of his father-in-law.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Freddie may be a bit of a wastrel but he’s no murderer. Surely Colonel Lindop knows better than —’
‘The Duke has removed the case from Lindop’s hands.’
Ella’s jaw dropped open. ‘He what?’
Reggie ran a tired hand across his forehead. ‘The Duke has taken complete control of the investigation himself. He tried to enforce press censorship but was too late, the news of Sir Harry’s murder was already out. So he has flown in two American detectives from Miami Police Department to deal with the case, a Captain Melchen and a Captain Barker.’
‘Why in
‘No, I don’t,’ Dodie swung round to him. ‘But at least I’m doing something, which is more than —’
‘Miss Wyatt,’ Detective Calder interrupted, ‘you are free to go.’
Without a word, she rose to her feet and left.
Ella looked up from pushing food around her plate. It was a mushroom omelette, one of her favourite dishes. It was something Emerald always cooked for her when she thought Ella was ill. Immediately her fork froze mid-push. How long had she been not eating?
‘Oh, Reggie, don’t be silly. I’m fine. Just not peckish, that’s all.’
‘You didn’t eat anything yesterday either.’ His gaze lingered on her cheekbones. ‘Not sickening, are you, old thing?’
‘No, of course not. No appetite, that’s all.’
That wasn’t strictly true. Now she thought about it, she was ravenous. But she couldn’t bring herself to put food in her mouth because… Abruptly she put down her fork and sipped her glass of water. A shiver ran up her spine. She was punishing herself, that’s why she wasn’t eating, she was punishing herself for being so shameful. So sinful. So disloyal. There were other words for it. Depraved, immoral, scandalous. She felt colour creep into her cheeks at the images in her head of the things she had done.
Her hands fastened to the brass bedstead. Flat on her back on the crisp white sheet, Dan’s face between her legs, his tongue hot, making her hips buck. Her lips open in a groan that rose to a shriek as she cried out for more. Her whole body shaking with need for him.
‘You’re looking flushed, Ella. Are you sure you don’t have a temperature?’
‘No, Reggie, honestly I’m perfectly well. Just shaken by this terrible tragedy. Poor Eleanor.’
Eleanor was the Australian widow of Sir Harry Oakes, half his age when he married her, and at the moment she was still at their house in Maine.
‘She’s flying in with Nancy.’ Nancy was the Oakes’ eighteen-year old daughter.
Ella tried to reach deep within herself to imagine what Eleanor was feeling. She conjured up a picture of Reggie with a bullet wound in his head, a small trickle of blood dripping down on to his clean white collar, and to her horror she started to cry. Instantly Reggie was out of his chair and at her side, just as Emerald sailed into the room with a tray of coffee.
‘My dearest,’ Reggie crooned, wrapping his arms around Ella, ‘don’t cry.’ He kissed her hair. ‘Go to bed and rest. You are generous-hearted to a fault and have taken too much on yourself.’
‘Mr Reggie is right, Miss Ella. You gone all queer. I’ll make you some broth and bring it to you in bed.’
Gently but firmly Ella extricated herself from her husband’s embrace. ‘Thank you both, but no. I’ll have that coffee, Emerald.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Reggie. Now sit down and tell me what is going on. The Duke is bound to be out of his mind with concern. You must be inundated with work and worry. Forget about my silliness.’ She smiled at him reassuringly and watched him resume his seat, but she felt guilty that she had not noticed earlier the slump of his shoulders and the lines of tension that had crept on to his usually smooth skin while she had been looking elsewhere.
‘Freddie de Marigny has been arrested.’
‘What?’
‘For the murder of his father-in-law.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Freddie may be a bit of a wastrel but he’s no murderer. Surely Colonel Lindop knows better than —’
‘The Duke has removed the case from Lindop’s hands.’
Ella’s jaw dropped open. ‘He what?’
Reggie ran a tired hand across his forehead. ‘The Duke has taken complete control of the investigation himself. He tried to enforce press censorship but was too late, the news of Sir Harry’s murder was already out. So he has flown in two American detectives from Miami Police Department to deal with the case, a Captain Melchen and a Captain Barker.’
‘Why in
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