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Chapter 27

27

S amantha chose a light blue day dress for Croft's visit. According to her lady's maid, it complimented her fair features and accentuated the color of her eyes. A useful thing when she meant not only to gain the man's interest but keep it.

If only it would serve as a form of armor and shield her against the effect he'd begun to have upon her. She had to stay strong in his presence, focused and on target. Allowing herself to lose sight of the mission would be a disaster. Failure would follow and that was not an option she would allow.

She reminded herself of this as she stood by the drawing room window, watching the gardeners cut the grass next to the driveway while she waited for Croft's arrival. The three men swung their sickles with practiced skill, leaving a neat and uniform blanket of green in their wake.

Harlowe and Hazel, who sat behind her, occupied the armchair and the sofa, respectively. Harlowe with that day's newspaper and Hazel with some knitting. Tara and Holly had not come to join them, though they were expected to put in appearances during luncheon.

A movement out of the corner of Samantha's eye made her shift her gaze sideways. It looked like one of the Clearview House cats had disrupted a group of pigeons. By the time Samantha spotted the birds they'd already taken flight, their wings wildly flapping while the cat stared after them from below.

She shook her head and returned her attention to the front of the drive just as Croft came into view. Seated upon a gleaming black horse, he sent the gardeners a nod in greeting as he trotted past them on his way to the front door.

The gesture left Samantha slightly dismayed. Not only because most members of the upper class strove to ignore servants, but also because of the visceral effect it had upon her. Once again, she found a reason to like something about him. Which complicated matters since it made her job so much harder to do.

Unhappy with the soft spot she seemed to be developing for him, she stiffened her spine and clenched her jaw to steel her resolve, then announced to Harlowe and Hazel, "He's here."

"We'd best go greet him then," Harlowe said, folding away the paper and rising while Hazel returned her knitting supplies to a nearby basket.

Together, the trio entered the hallway, arriving there at the same time as their butler opened the door, allowing them to watch Croft dismount and hand the reins to a stable boy.

Harlowe stepped forward onto the front step. "Welcome to Clearview, Mr. Croft. I'm glad you were able to come."

"Thank you for inviting me," Croft said, extending his hand so he could shake the one Harlowe offered. "Having never been here before I really must say that you have an admirable property. It's close to the City while offering all the benefits of a country estate. I can't deny I'm a little bit envious of you."

Harlowe grinned in response to Croft's wry smile and ushered him into the house. "You could have a place just like it. There's plenty of land for sale in these parts though it's likely a great deal pricier now than when I purchased mine some twenty to thirty years ago."

"Nevertheless, it could be worth it." Croft, who'd removed his hat and gloves while Harlowe spoke, handed the items to Branton, the butler, and directed his gaze toward Samantha and Hazel. "It's lovely to see you again, Miss Carmichael. And you, Miss Stevens. I trust you are both well?"

"Indeed," Samantha said, a funny sensation gripping her heart when she noted the pleasure with which he watched her. "And you?"

He dipped his head, the corner of his mouth dimpling slightly due to the smile he gave her. "Much improved, now that I'm here."

"I hope you brought your appetite with you," Harlowe said. He turned to Branton and asked him to have someone fetch Tara and Holly before saying, "From what I gather, Cook has prepared quite a feast. But perhaps you'd like a drink to start?"

They removed themselves to the parlor where Croft requested a glass of port instead of the brandy Samantha would have expected. Sitting on the sofa next to Hazel, she held her tongue while the men discussed the upcoming elections. Although she had strong opinions on the subject and favored Lord Grey, she knew it wasn't a young lady's place to comment on such matters. Best say nothing at all then, lest she raise Croft's suspicions.

But when they were finally seated at the dining room table and the first dish – a seafood terrine – was served, providing a lull in the conversation, she decided to ask, "Have you settled on what to read next, Mr. Croft? After finishing Herakles ?"

The sound of cutlery clinking against everyone's plates was incredibly loud in the brief pause that followed. Until he said, "Perhaps something lighter. One of Shakespeare's comedies could be refreshing."

"Another play," Tara remarked, voicing Samantha's thought. "Do you generally favor them?"

"Not especially." A soft crease appeared on Croft's brow as he seemed to consider the bite-sized piece of terrine suspended on the end of his fork. His eyebrows rose as if to suggest he'd just had a moment of realization. "I've little preference in the type of material I read. My only requirement is that it be thought-provoking. It ought to leave me with a feeling of personal growth upon completion."

Samantha gazed at him. How curious he was – how different from what she'd expected. It was difficult for her to think of him in a negative light – to imagine him aiding foreign enemies, coercing women into prostitution, selling counterfeit goods, and whatever else he supposedly did – when there was no hint of illicit dealing about him.

She sipped her wine while Harlowe voiced his agreement with Croft's point. Of course, she too wore a mask. The woman Croft currently saw when he looked at her bore no resemblance to the one who'd taken on four thugs and won.

"Did you acquire your schooling from Oxford or Cambridge?" Harlowe asked.

Samantha blinked, not having realized the conversation had moved on without her. Noting that her terrine remained mostly untouched, she ate an additional bite while Croft spoke.

"Neither, to be honest. My father didn't see the merit for someone in my position."

"Why not?" Holly asked with an owlish sort of curiosity.

"Because he expected me to join the family business, not enter into law or become a physician. As such, he believed the expense would be a waste. The time too, I imagine."

"And what exactly is your family business?" Harlowe managed to make the question sound casual by taking a sip of his wine. "If you don't mind my asking."

Croft smiled with the ease of a man who had nothing to apologize for. "Anything profitable really, from farming, to fishing, some shipping, factory construction, and mining."

"Hmm…"

That was Harlowe's only response before he mentioned his fondness for music and how pleased he was to have four accomplished pianists in the house. A comparison of various composers followed, during which Samantha's gaze happened to meet Croft's, the mischievous look he gave her reminding her that she'd told him of her dislike of playing.

Pressing her lips together to keep all hints of humor at bay, she spent the next half hour concentrating upon her food.

"You could invite him to see the aviary with you," Hazel whispered when luncheon was over. She and Samantha followed the men to the terrace where tea would be served. "It would give you the chance to spend more time together. As you must if you are to bond with each other properly."

"An excellent idea," Samantha agreed, "although the suggestion ought to be made by Harlowe. If I make it, Mr. Croft will surely wonder at my forwardness."

"But it's so lovely this time of year," Hazel said, raising her voice as she and Samantha arrived on the terrace where the tea things awaited. The comment interrupted Croft, who'd been remarking on the staggered pillars. "Do you not agree, Harlowe?"

"What's that?" Harlowe asked while Samantha prayed Croft would not find Hazel's remark too transparent. Or wonder overly much at the folly's unusual appearance.

"The aviary. Your budgerigars are especially fun." Hazel lowered herself to one of the bamboo chairs and turned to Croft once the rest of the party was seated. "He's taught them to speak."

"Really?" Croft chuckled. "What an interesting hobby."

"A rewarding one," Harlowe murmured, the pensive look in his eyes informing Samantha that he knew precisely why Hazel had raised the subject. "You're welcome to take a look if you like. Miss Carmichael will be happy to show you the way, I'm sure."

"After we've had our tea," Samantha said. She picked up the pot and proceeded to pour, all the while conscious of Croft's gaze tracking her every movement.

It left her feeling a bit like a specimen in a glass case. More concerning was the added warmth she experienced in her cheeks because of his increased attention. She did her best to ignore it while she drank her tea, allowing herself to relax as she listened to Croft argue with Harlowe over the best way to gauge a good horse.

She sent Hazel a wry look and watched her suppress a grin in response.

"If it's no imposition," Croft said when he finished his tea a few moments later, "I'd love to see the aviary now."

"Of course." They descended the terrace steps and proceeded to stroll toward an iron-framed structure, their pace slow and unhurried. Samantha eyed her companion. "Will you remain in Town for the summer or do you plan on visiting your estate?"

"That depends." His voice had a harder edge than before. "I intend to stay in London until my sister's killer is caught."

"Speaking of your sister, I have something for you." Samantha produced the small parcel she'd tucked inside her skirt pocket and handed it to him. "I believe it might help."

He turned the parcel over between his hands, his fingers stroking the pink silk ribbon with which it was tied. "What is this?"

"Letters belonging to Lady Lavinia." He looked at her sharply. "I didn't want anyone else to know I took them, so I couldn't give them to you until now."

They reached the aviary then and positioned themselves so they could admire the birds, though Samantha doubted either of them paid the creatures much attention. "How did you come by them?"

"I, um…may have pilfered them from her room. When I went to pay my respects." She sent him a wary glance but failed to discern his thoughts. "I realize it was badly done, but I know you're in need of clues and I wanted to help. Hopefully you won't think too poorly of my actions."

"Not at all. If anything, I thank you." He dropped a look in her direction. "These may prove valuable in my search for the truth."

"Having read them, I have to agree. Which is why I must ask you to use them with care. Especially after the warning you gave me yesterday. This individual you're hunting is dangerous, Mr. Croft. I fear what he'll do if he learns how determined you are to discover the truth."

His lips quirked. "Your concern for my wellbeing means a great deal, Miss Carmichael. I promise to be cautious."

* * *

Standing there, surrounded by bird chatter, Adrian tried to figure out what to make of Miss Carmichael. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure.

Outwardly, she appeared like any young lady, yet he knew from her own admission that she contained a rebellious streak. At least if her penchant for wearing breeches while riding astride was any indication. She'd also stood up for him at the musicale, which had both surprised and impressed him.

Furthermore, she now revealed herself to be a bit of a thief, albeit one driven by a desire for justice. In this regard she was already proving to be a strong ally.

"Thank you for trusting me with the letters." He noted the softness in her eyes and her hesitant smile. "I'm honored, but also surprised. In all honesty, I would have thought you too proper to steal something from someone else's home."

Her smile faltered just enough to convey a hint of concern. "I simply want the killer caught. No woman is safe until he is and we obviously can't rely on Bow Street to get the job done. The fact that they missed the letters proves their incompetence. Which means it's up to us. As far as I'm concerned, I'll do whatever it takes to keep myself and my friends safe."

He nodded. "I understand and I appreciate the faith you're placing in me. But remember, I've made mistakes too. As it turns out, I was wrong about Lundquist."

"True. But that doesn't mean you won't get it right in the end. The letters…they suggest Lavinia fit the killer's profile. She was supposed to be an innocent debutante, but it would appear she was headed for ruin. There was a man in her life, one who wrote to her anonymously and with an escalating degree of…um…suggestiveness."

"Interesting." Adrian mulled over this detail while watching a lovebird fluff its colorful plumage. He turned to face Miss Carmichael more directly. "I saw her with Mr. Walker once. Perhaps he's the lover who wrote her those letters."

Miss Carmichael nodded. "It could be worth looking into. If only to discover who else might have seen them together."

Adrian agreed. He tucked the letters into his jacket pocket and offered his arm, suggesting they should start heading back to the house.

"How are you finding your boxing lessons?" he asked as they approached the terrace.

"Productive. I already feel more confident in my ability to protect myself."

He slowed his pace slightly to give them more time alone. "When will you be returning to Reed's?"

"In three days." The length of her arm brushed his as she leaned in closer. "That's when I have my next lesson."

"In that case I'll see you then."

"Looking forward to it, Mr. Croft." Pleasure softened her voice.

Dropping a look in her direction he felt his heart squeeze in response to the warmth he found in her eyes. "Me too."

Despite wanting to spend more time in her company, he didn't linger when they arrived on the terrace. Eager to return home so he could study Lady Lavinia's letters, he thanked Harlowe for his hospitality and took his leave.

Catching the killer wasn't just about avenging Evie's death. Not anymore. It was also about ensuring Samantha Carmichael's safety.

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