Chapter Thirteen

Mary was uncommonly happy as she and Gabriel wandered the corridors of the spa. With her hand in his and the scent of him wafting to her nose with each step, she sighed in contentment.

After they'd finally consummated their marriage, they'd enjoyed the generous luncheon that the spa had provided, and once their bellies were full, he had cajoled her into the pool to relax in the slightly warm spring water that apparently seeped upward through the floor, for the suites on the first level had been built over the springs. The kitchens had been erected in a different wing since a basement hadn't been possible so close to the sea.

They'd cavorted a bit in the water where its depth was a few inches below Mary's height then sat on the marble steps and talked about everything that wasn't case related. They'd even discussed replacing Cassandra's governess with someone more suitable, perhaps adding a couple of tutors in whatever subjects she was most interested in.

Following that, they'd both bathed with finely milled French soap left in the suite that smelled like a lemon grove. Once they were properly refreshed, they'd dressed in their proper, non-scandalous clothing and set out to explore.

One thing was certain: she had needed those releases he'd given to her, for they had cleared the blockages and cobwebs from her brain, and she was ready to focus on the case.

"Where shall we go, sweeting?" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back. "We haven't plans until the dinner hour." Of which he promised to partake in the gardens and after they'd watch the sunset.

"Let us walk the shore. I ache to feel the breeze in my hair and the sand between my toes, and what better time to do it than now, with a handsome inspector by my side?" Oh, he was an attentive lover, but best of all, with that session, they'd connected once more, and though their current case was maudlin and linked to her past, the hopelessness she'd once felt had faded.

All due to this larger-than-life man who hadn't consigned her feelings and emotions to those of a hysterical woman who had no control.

"That sounds like a lovely way to pass the time. "

As they winded their way through the corridors, they passed couples as well as people by themselves who were dressed in the recommended scandalous garb. Though he nodded politely at them, his gaze never lingered on the women, and some of them were quite striking in the nearly sheer togas.

"Why do you never stare at the women? I wouldn't be jealous if you wished to appreciate a beautiful woman, even if she is half-clothed."

"Why does my eye need to wander?" He shrugged. "I have found everything I have ever needed in you." When he turned his head to glance at her, there was nothing but honesty and affection in his hazel eyes. "Other men might find themselves tempted in a place like this, but they were never strong to begin with. They were never committed, which is no doubt why they are here. There is only one woman beneath this roof who tempts me beyond reason."

Warmth went through her chest as her heart trembled. "Pretty words, Inspector."

"True words, Mrs. Bright." He winked. "It was a hard road to convince you to trust me, that I wasn't like other men you'd known, and an even more difficult path to encourage you to marry me, but nothing was sweeter than hearing you recite vows to me."

Was it possible to love a man more than she did right now? Mary blinked away the tears that wanted to well in her eyes. "That means much to me, for you didn't wish to marry again when I met you."

"You changed my mind on that as well as many other things." His expression sobered. "My last marriage left a bitter taste in my mouth and soured me from trusting women, but then you came along, and my world tilted."

She nodded. "The right person makes the difference." Would this union need attention and work to keep it as amazing as it had started? Of course it would. Everything worth doing required effort, but they would do it together.

By now, they'd gained the outdoor gardens at the rear of the townhouse. A woman around her age entered from the direction of the seashore, slightly harried and definitely windblown. What was more, she had the same sort of look in her eye that Theresa used to have when she thought she was trapped in her lot in life.

"Good afternoon." Mary greeted her with what she hoped was a welcoming smile. "I am Mrs. Bright. I don't know that I've seen you around today."

"Oh. Miss Brannett." She shook wrinkles out of her plain brown skirting as well as brushed some of the sand from her clothing. "I am just coming in to work and like to walk the shore beforehand."

Ah, that explained why she wasn't in the "uniform" of the other ladies here. "What type of work do you do?" When she glanced at Bright and slightly widened her eyes, hoping he understood to give them a bit of privacy, she returned her attention back to the other woman.

A blush stained Miss Brannett's cheeks. "My official position is a courtesan." She shrugged as Bright moved away to apparently find immense interest in one of the potted ferns. "Sometimes, male guests at the spa don't wish to fraternize with couples or couple with someone else's wife."

Now that was interesting. "Do you live here?"

"No." She shook her head. "I live in a boarding house on the other side of Brighton. The rent is decent so it's not as big of a struggle as being in London, and with the Season at its height right now, there is a good amount of business."

Though she didn't appear embarrassed at what she did for a living, Mary frowned. "I'll take your word for it. I knew a woman who'd come to work here doing the same thing you are. Did you know her? A Miss Theresa Kessler."

The other woman nodded. "I knew of her, but neither of us had been here long enough to become close friends. In fact, I haven't seen her around for a while."

"I heard she died," Mary continued. She didn't want to tell the woman Theresa had been murdered. There were still other questions to ask.

Miss Brannett's eyes rounded. "She's dead?"

"So I've heard." Mary nodded. "Do you know why she was back in London when she had employment out here?"

"Last week, she was talking to someone in the corridor. She said she'd made a mistake in coming here to work, and it had cost her the most important man in her life, that she had a meeting with him and hoped to make everything right between them."

One of Mary's eyebrows lifted. That must have been Lord Carmichael. "Did she mention who?"

"No." Miss Brannett shook her head. "But from what I heard, she fancied herself in love and it was a surprise, I guess, and she really wanted to get back to him."

Good for her, and it made this story all the more tragic. "No one here hated her enough that they might track her to London and kill her?"

Miss Brannett glanced sharply at her. "I don't think so, but then I don't have much time for gossiping. Lord Mickelson makes sure we are all kept busy. To his way of thinking, if we have time to talk, we're not managing our time wisely, because there are always men to entertain. "

"Which means they continue to come back and spend money."

The other woman shrugged. "I have to go. My shift is coming up."

"Well, it was lovely to meet you." Mary waved her off then she caught up to Bright. He'd sat upon a wrought iron bench nestled in the midst of green shrubberies. "Did you hear that?"

"I did." With a wicked twinkle in his eyes, he pulled her down onto his lap so that her legs hung off the side of his. When she squealed, he grinned. "While I am glad a woman like Miss Kessler finally realized she was in love and with a decent chap like Lord Carmichael, I can't help think it the height of disappointing that someone cut her life short to prevent her from hearing those words said to her or being able to say them to someone."

"Agreed, and that is why it's important to say such things to people while you have the chance." Even though it was scandalous to sit in a public place on a man's lap—even if that man was her husband—Mary slipped a hand to his nape, peered into his face, and then kissed his lips. When she was done, she whispered, "I love you, Gabriel. Never think I don't."

"I love you as well, sweet Mary." He stole another kiss before leaning his forehead against hers. "What now?"

"To be honest, we need to speak with Lord Mickelson. As the founder of this spa, he should concern himself with everyone who works here, no matter the capacity, and he just doesn't." Hot annoyance stabbed through her chest. "I don't care if a woman is a mistress, a courtesan, or a whore, she deserves respect."

"Or let us go one step further and say all women deserve respect because when that happens, women will have the chance to change the world." He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her shoulder. "Starting with you."

"Do stop, Bright." But she adored his playfulness as well as the feel of his strong arms around her. "We do need to find out if someone here hated Theresa enough to follow her to London and kill her."

"And you think it might have been Lord Mickelson?"

"Not necessarily, but someone did." She laid her head on his shoulder. "Perhaps I should wear my toga-style dress when we interview him."

"Absolutely not. I am the only man allowed to see your body."

She chuckled, for he was charming in his possessiveness. "The toga is a covering."

"That you can see through, and if your curves are on display, you will not be wearing said dress." Determination lit his eyes, but he softened the words with a few feather weighted kisses beneath her jaw. "You are mine. "

She blew out a breath. "It might help our cause."

"It won't. Though men are visual creatures, seeing too much flesh too many times a day renders a man desensitized to the wonder of it." Gabriel licked and nibbled the side of her neck. "So if you track him to earth dressed in everyday clothing, perhaps he will pay more attention. There are times when the imagination is fired by not being able to see the enticing bits."

"I've never thought about such things before, but perhaps you are correct." As she spoke, Mary furrowed her fingers through the hair at his nape. "I think you are quite attractive when you wear your evening attire."

"Ah, see?" When he gave her that grin meant especially for her, flutters went through her lower belly.

A few other guests came into the gardens, but none of them glanced their way, since their bench was hidden by the greenery.

She dropped her voice. "What if I promise to bring you to bliss orally later if you let me interview Lord Mickelson in my toga dress?"

For long moments, Gabriel considered that, but he finally shook his head. "I won't budge from my stance regarding you wearing scandalous attire in front of the men here. However, I will accompany you to Lord Mickelson's study and encourage him to tell us what we need to know if he proves too stubborn for you."

"Why?"

"Because we are partners, and I would rather not put you in a position where things could grow out of hand all too quickly."

That prompted a smile. "I rather doubt the founder of the spa would do anything to jeopardize his position or put this place into the interest of the press."

"It doesn't matter. Where you go, I go."

"You are a good man, Bright." She laid a palm against his cheek. "We will need an excuse as to why we are wandering about in our everyday clothing."

He shrugged then slipped his fingers about her wrists and gently caught them behind her back. "We'll tell him we're on the way to some erotic adventure or another. It's not like there aren't far too many of those around, and that we intend to stop by our suite to change before that. Surely, he won't argue with that."

"True. I also wish to try and befriend some of the maids, ask around about Theresa." The barely there pressure of his fingers at her wrists as restraints sent fires of need into her blood. He'd never done that before; perhaps he was being influenced by this place. "As I suspected, courtesans aren't housed at this property. There is simply not enough room for everyone. So if they were forced to rent rooms at a boarding house, that exposed them to more men in the community. And since the Season has become quite popular in Brighton, there is every possibility they took side clients in order to make ends meet."

"And that means there was the chance that they could find a protector through those meetings, which would remove their need to work at the pleasure spa."

She nodded, happy that he'd managed to follow along with her line of thought. "Exactly. In which case, Lord Mickelson would have motive if the skilled courtesans he'd recruited from London were to leave their positions here."

A grin curved his sensual lips as he released her wrists. "I adore how your mind works." Then he framed her face with his hands and set out to apparently kiss her senseless. As he let left off merely so she could breathe, a couple of men loitered in their area. "It's but one reason I love you." He frowned at them. "Sorry, gentlemen, but if you think I am sharing this woman or letting anyone watch more than that kiss, you are sadly mistaken. I am a one-woman man, and I am also quite possessive of her."

A thrill went down her spine while she slipped off his lap. Oh, she certainly had her fill of her husband yet, but they needed to attend to business first. The sooner they could solve this case, the sooner they could get back to their own holiday.

"Come, Mr. Bright," she said with a fleeting glance at the two men who glanced at each other with knowing grins. "I have a few things you need to do for me," she said, and made certain she included a double-entendre merely for their audience. When she took his hand and tugged him to his feet, she hoped those men watched them retreat, because there was only one man in this spa she was interested in.

In all the ways that mattered.

They didn't find Lord Mickelson in the study, but eventually, after Bright used his charm on various female members of the staff, they found him in an office at the front of the townhouse that looked like the usual residence to anyone visiting off the street. It was where he probably met with his man-of-affairs, perhaps a bookkeeper, or various other members of society needed to help the business function, but they didn't need to know of the scandals hidden behind the walls.

And because he was in that particular office, he was dressed as any other gentleman of the beau monde , and from the looks of it, had an exquisite tailor as well as a knowledgeable valet, both of whom probably enjoyed sending him out in the world in the latest styles. His golden hair was arranged just so; his collar points the same, and he held himself as though he was better than everyone else, which was instantly off-putting for her.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Bright. What can I do for you both?" As he spoke, Lord Mickelson came around his large cherrywood desk and then sat on the corner of it. "It is highly irregular that any of the spa's guests ask to meet with me; most don't know who I am."

Before Mary could formulate her first question, Gabriel cleared his throat.

"How many calling cards would you say you gave out prior to opening this spa?"

The peer shrugged. "I didn't keep count. Why does it matter?"

"Of those cards, how many did you give to women you hoped would work for you in this spa as highly paid courtesans?"

A startled expression crossed Lord Mickelson's handsome face. He crossed his arms at his chest. "What makes you believe there are courtesans here?"

She snorted. "We aren't your usual people who swallow whatever lies are handed to us, my lord." With a slight grin of her own, she continued. "In fact, we are here because of a Miss Theresa Kessler."

"Ah yes. She didn't stay here long before she told me the position isn't what she wanted for her life." He shook his head. "A pity, that, for she was quite skilled." Then he blew out a breath. "She never explicitly came out and told me she quit, but she hasn't shown up for her shifts in about a week."

Bright cleared his throat. "That is because she is dead, Lord Mickelson. She was murdered at the Royal Opera House a few nights ago."

"I see, and that is why you are truly here." Annoyance flashed in his blue eyes. "You aren't truly a married couple."

Mary smiled. "Oh, but we are. In fact, we married the morning following finding Miss Kessler's body." She folded her hands in her lap. "In fact, as we work this case, we are beginning our honeymoon." There was no shame in the admission.

"A rather risqué place to start a union." Then he glanced at her, truly looked at her with a frown. "Why are you not wearing the suggested clothing?"

"Because I still have free will, my lord. And, despite what everyone here apparently believes, bodies and the worship thereof, should remain sacred between a married couple." There were other things she could have said, but there was no point. This man built the spa for a reason that was still unknown.

Bright stood and moved to stand behind her chair. "Where were you the evening of the fifteenth, Lord Mickelson? "

He scoffed. "Are you accusing me of killing Miss Kessler?"

"I am."

"Now I know why your name is familiar. You used to work with Bow Street."

"I did. But that doesn't answer my question."

The peer grinned. He relaxed and slid off the corner of his desk. "I was here, of course. The fifteenth was last Friday, and that meant the spa hosted an orgy on the top floor. I attended that event as I always do, but feel free to verify my story with my staff."

Mary frowned. "Did it create a hardship when Miss Kessler decided not to work here any longer?"

"I wasn't pleased, of course, but as to a hardship? Hardly. Do you know how many women are in London, desperate to make some sort of coin?" When neither of them answered, Lord Mickelson began to pace. "Most of the courtesans who are on staff are quite happy here. This is the only world they know, and at least here, they are cared for." He rubbed a hand along the side of his face. "The one thing we didn't take into account was the side effect of sex on demand."

"Disease?" she couldn't help asking.

"Of course not. Our women undergo medical examinations weekly."

"What about the men you let in here as guests?" she couldn't help but persist. "If a man wishes to cheat on his wife by coming here, there is a good possibility that he already has a disease, which could be passed on to others here."

"We thought about that but have chosen to trust our male clients."

She snorted. "Yet you don't trust your courtesans. Do you know how ridiculous—" Bright's hand on her shoulder cut off her words.

"What is the side effect issue, Lord Mickelson?"

"Pregnancy. Over sixty percent of our first round of courtesans had fallen pregnant in the three months that we have been open. That is not acceptable, of course."

"Due to fear for their health?" Mary wanted to know.

"No, because our male guests here don't wish to be serviced or play about with women who are increasing. Hysterical tears are not conducive to sexual stamina." He went back around the side of his desk and resumed his seat. "If they wish to continue working here, they either must find a way to rid themselves of the pregnancy, or come back once they have given the child away. We don't want women here who have distractions at home."

Those were chilling words, indeed, and gave him huge motive to kill Theresa .

"Ah, and that is how you are making your coin, by providing an expensive brothel for men who have the means for you to keep the secret." Hot anger surged through her chest. She scrambled to her feet while Gabriel murmured a few words meant to soothe. "You care nothing for these women at all. You merely want them healthy to continue to bring in your clients."

The peer looked at her with an impassive expression. "This is a business, Mrs. Bright. As the founder and proprietor, I am well within my rights to do whatever I want. Additionally, every person on the staff here signs a contract that outlines the rules and restrictions. Miss Kessler was in violation of said contract, for she hid her pregnancy. It is not my fault we had to remind her of that before she turned in her resignation."

Interesting, and made him seem even more guilty.

Her husband cleared his throat as he steered her toward the door. "Thank you for your time, Lord Mickelson."

"I think that since you have arrived under false pretenses, you and your wife will need to leave by teatime tomorrow, Mr. Bright. I'm sure you will understand."

"Of course. We shall pack our belongings and be ready in good time." Then, before she could find parting words, he ushered her out of the study. With a finger to his lips, he implored her not to talk until they'd gone through the corridors and then exited the townhouse through the front door. Then he faced her, held her gaze with his. "Out of all our suspects, he is the most likely to have done away with Miss Kessler."

She nodded. "I think so too, but why kill her and not the other women who'd become pregnant? What was it about Theresa that demanded murder?"

"I don't know, but you can be damned sure we'll find out." He took her hand and led her down the short path. "Meanwhile, let us take a walk, since we have been unceremoniously and prematurely kicked out."

A giggle escaped her. "At least we'll be able to start our holiday sooner."

"True, but I'd hoped to solve the case before then so we can truly enjoy it."

Though she agreed, Mary said nothing. Why was this case so maddening?