Chapter Fourteen

October 19, 1819

Agape Spa

19 Brunswick Square

Brighton and Hove, England

In the hour before Dawn, Gabriel sneaked out of his suite without waking Mary.

Clad only in breeches, he followed the path down to the seashore and then offered up a silent prayer of thanks, for none of the other guests from the spa were on the lonely stretch of beach. As of yet, the shore birds hadn't awoken. It was just him and the sea—a good place to contemplate his case and cogitate upon it.

But trying to make sense of everything he and Mary had learned during the course of the investigation only made things more cloudy in his mind. The case had many suspects, many motives, but one person didn't stand out from the rest. It was maddening, and yes, he wasn't being paid to solve this, but it didn't matter.

Everyone deserved justice, even a woman of ill repute; because she'd been alive, she mattered. To someone.

As the cool breeze of the morning tickled through the mat of hair on his chest and riffled through the hair on his head, Gabriel shivered. There was something to be said for Brighton. Already, he felt more relaxed than he'd ever been, and though the case stymied him just now, he was content, happy even. Never did he think such a state would be his merely due to marriage, yet here he was, thrilled to wake up each day and start anew.

"Is there anything more exciting than a half-clothed, windblown man walking the shore?"

He grinned and turned to greet Mary as she came toward him. "I couldn't say, but seeing you in just your shift is quite arresting for me." The shift wasn't nearly as scandalous as the toga-style dress she was given yesterday, but for him, she could be in sackcloth and ashes, and he would still find her attractive.

"Charming as always, Inspector." When she smiled, need shivered through his shaft. "When I woke and didn't find you next to me, I worried."

"That wasn't my intention; just couldn't sleep."

She nodded. "I brought a basket of breakfast foods with a couple of jugs of tea, which should remain fairly hot for a bit." She gestured back toward a blanket she'd spread out over the sand about twenty feet from their current location, and her unbound hair danced in the breeze. "I thought you might enjoy breaking your fast out here since we've been unceremoniously asked to leave the spa by afternoon."

"There is that." Not able to bite back his chuckle, Gabriel snaked an arm about her waist and reeled her into his arms. "I won't say I am sad about that." Then, because he could, he kissed her at his leisure, for there was no one around in the rapidly lightening darkness as the sun prepared to rise.

As always, he was soon lost in that kiss, to the softness of her lips, to the heat of her beneath his fingertips. Her hair teased him, and when he tangled his fingers into those tresses and eased her head slightly back, it only deepened the embrace.

Eventually, he eased back else they would both prove exhibitionists right there on the beach. "I believe you have managed to thoroughly captivate me."

She snorted. "Because of this spa?"

"Perish the thought. The location doesn't matter; you are the reason. Always."

"Gammon." But a faint blush stained her cheeks.

"Come. Let us walk the shore while we can then we'll partake of breakfast." He took her hand and threaded their fingers together. "I've been out here thinking about our case."

"It's quite the puzzle."

"Indeed. On the surface, there is no rhyme or reason for any of it. The two deaths are connected except for what the women did to earn coin."

"Do you think someone is targeting lightskirts?"

"It's a possibility, of course, yet neither of the women were sexually assaulted prior to their deaths. And if that were so, we would have heard about more deaths in the same vein throughout London, but nothing of the sort followed the second."

"Perhaps the killer had other commitments?"

"It is a theory but unlikely. Perhaps he is connected to the theater."

"Should we go back and interview more people?"

Gabriel frowned. "I will consider it, especially that odd Mr. Dempsey. I wasn't satisfied with some of his answers. Or that actor fellow, Mr. Taylor. He seemed a bit too dodgy for me. Or her landlady who was owed a month's rent. "

"Agreed. If I were a wagering woman, I'd put my money on Lord Mickelson. He's the type who doesn't respect any sort of life."

"This is true. He left a bad taste in my mouth after we interviewed him."

Mary squeezed his fingers. "What's bothering you about the case. I can almost see your mind working through it."

"You know me well, sweeting." There was a certain comfort that came with that. "Why did Miss Kessler go back to the theater if she'd already been working here for some weeks?"

"I thought we'd already established that."

"No, it was an educated guess on your part," he said and tweaked her nose.

She giggled. "All right, but now that guess should be considered fact. Theresa had fallen in love with Lord Carmichael. That was why she returned to London, and that was why she wanted to meet with him the night she was killed. She wanted to confess everything to him."

It was weak and naught but conjecture. "After she'd already given up her baby? Their baby? How did she think that conversation would end?"

"Just because she was a courtesan didn't mean she didn't have hope or wasn't a romantic, Bright." Mary shrugged and eyed him askance, and he adored that she continued to challenge him. "Women are complex creatures."

"That they are." He shrugged.

She held onto his hand more tightly as they turned about to go back toward the blanket. "Sometimes people deny being in love for a variety of reasons. Class difference is but one of them. Perhaps she was embarrassed at what she was."

"Yet if, as you said, she had hope, she had to have known that Lord Carmichael fancied her. From his own admission, he'd said he'd told her." He blew out a breath. "If they would have made a couple, would he have married her?" It was certainly a possibility, for if he followed through with Mary's former sister-in-law, he would track down his child and no doubt take the steps to raise it.

"Stranger things have happened, but when you think about it, the whole thing is so sad."

"Why?"

"Lord Carmichael loved her. He'd told her that but was rejected. Then Theresa gave up her child and blindly came to use her skills here. Only then did she realize that she loved him." A sigh escaped her. "No doubt she hadn't understood how bearing a child would affect her thoughts and mind. Perhaps because of that, or because the child resembled Lord Carmichael, she finally knew the truth of what her heart was trying to tell her all along. Lord knows my first husband had never treated her as lovely as the peer did."

"And before they could admit their feelings to each other, she was killed." It was a horrible story no matter how one looked at it. "Which leads us back around to why? None of this is related to anything."

"Perhaps not, but I've been around you long enough to know that everything is connected. You just need to search harder for the clue. Perhaps that seemingly innocuous thing we've overlooked will come to light soon." They walked in silence for a bit before she spoke again. "We have one more person to speak with."

"Who?"

"The woman who runs the clinic here. If she knew of Theresa's condition, would she have sent her back to London to have the child?"

"Why not? I rather doubt they have the wherewithal at this spa to take care of something as large as a birth. And if the mother died during that labor? The coroner would be called, and the spa would no longer remain secret."

"Unless they disposed of the body…"

"Argh! It's maddening." What was he missing in regard to this case? "You are correct, though. Miss Kessler's friend said pregnancy was an issue, and the founder said the same thing was an unwanted side effect." When he glanced at Mary, he made a face. "Too many women finding themselves increasing and then suddenly unemployed would be fodder for gossip. Clients would become disgruntled. Whispered on dits would happen. It would cause scandal of a different sort for the spa, especially if the pool of available women were to drastically diminish."

Mary huffed. "Yet none of this is seen as a crime, when it absolutely is. These poor women are treated like rubbish without thought."

"Agreed. It's a horrid practice that persists not only throughout England but everywhere else." He scratched at the stubble on his cheek with his free hand. "Remarkably, none of these women were jealous of Miss Kessler. They all lived the same life. She had nothing of value in hers, so therefore, none of them probably wanted her dead."

"Unless you count jealousy as a strong motive," Mary was quick to point out. "Theresa had a man who loved her, and one who she loved back. He was also a peer and solid financially. Many women would kill for that."

Gabriel snorted. "Except there was no guarantee he would choose one of those women to replace her. Hell, I rather doubted he even knew the women who worked here, but I can look into it."

"It should be an easy enough line of inquiry. "

He nodded. "Ah, Mary. It is saddening to know there are men in the world who think nothing of using women for their own pleasure or gain and then discard them once they are tired of them."

"Or the women grow older as people do or are with child and therefore considered no longer attractive or useful."

"It makes me despair for the future. When will mindsets change? When will society change so this no longer needs to happen?"

"That way of thinking is what makes you different from other men, Bright, and I so appreciate your forward thinking." She sighed. "Perhaps Lord Mickelson had Theresa killed because she'd been pregnant after all. Especially if she was a favorite among his clients. Loss of income is a powerful motive as well."

While warm pleasure filled his chest, Gabriel shook his head. "Then he would need to kill other women in the same position. That would make too many unexplainable bodies, and a person couldn't dump women in the ocean. Eventually they'd wash ashore too near the secret spa. Neither could they be dumped into a field. The smell would attract people and wildlife."

"Which would ensure the spa wouldn't remain a secret. The things that go on under that roof would certainly result in multiple arrests, scandal, and country wide embarrassment."

"To say nothing of being a nightmare for the courts to sort out. I would imagine dignitaries, high ranking members of the beau monde , and even judges have frequented the spa." It really was a coil.

"Additionally, there is the second woman killed in Covent Garden on the same night that Theresa was killed. What do you know of her?" She glanced at him. "You visited that scene by yourself."

"Right." Then he smacked his forehead and cursed himself. "I'd completely forgotten in the hustle and bustle. The coroner sent me a missive that arrived right before we left London. I only read it this morning when I came across it in my luggage."

"And?"

"It was a summary of his examination of that woman. Lower economic status. Alone in the world. Not immediately identifiable. Might have been an actress because she'd been wearing a wig with a trace of stage makeup on her cheek and hand. Stabbed through the heart with an ordinary kitchen knife. No signs of abuse, sexual or otherwise, but she had given birth once before. When she was murdered, she was about six months along in a pregnancy. As a result of the murder, the babe was born prematurely and died in the morgue."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Mary took a few moments to compose herself. Then she gasped and grasped his hand tighter. "Do you think pregnancies are the driving force behind the murders?"

It was an angle he'd never thought to explore. "How though? And why? Surely it can't be the same man impregnating the women."

"Of course not. That would mean Lord Carmichael is a serial killer. He didn't give off that air." She glanced at home with a wry grin. "A man in love doesn't kill others."

"You are adorable." And sometimes it was that faith in humanity he craved, to let him remember why he did what he did. "Then we're back to Lord Mickelson. If too many of his courtesans are pregnant, he loses clients. And it can't be an easy task to keep finding courtesans who are willing to move to Brighton without accommodations."

Mary frowned. "Why kill the ones who are skilled, then? Many would come back to the spa after giving birth, for most couldn't afford to raise a child by themselves or even wish to risk the scandal. Besides, the woman killed at Covent Garden had never been to the spa."

"So we assume, but she did have a card among her possessions."

"It is maddening." She sighed. "But my overwhelming feeling is sadness."

"I understand that." Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed the back. "It would seem we've come full circle regarding my thoughts on the case. And we've come to no new conclusions."

She tugged him toward the blanket. "Then have tea with me. We can ponder further." A frown curved her lips downward. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I can't give you a child."

"Ah sweeting." After releasing her hand, he slipped an arm about her waist. "We have been over this before. I don't need that to have happiness or contentment. I have you; I have Henry, and now we both have Cassandra. Whether you believe me or not, that girl is coming to love you."

"I certainly hope that is true." There was so much sadness in her eyes that his heart squeezed. "Between you working cases as a consultant which sometimes don't end as you would hope and Cassandra being standoffish, life is taking its toll."

By the time they arrived at his blanket, they were still alone with only the shore birds. Sun just barely peeking up. He fell to his knees and then tugged her down in front of him. "This job…" Searching for words, Gabriel shook his head. "This oath I have put upon myself to protect London and its residents, it is not the most important thing in my life. I need you to know this."

"Oh? "

"You are the most important person in my life. Cassandra is too." With a sigh, he cupped her cheek. "The life we have together is equally important. Always. Please never think otherwise." Months ago, it would have been difficult for him to admit these feelings, but the longer he was with Mary, the easier it became to voice them, to show them. "Thank you for the life you are sharing with me, building for us."

Moisture sprang into her eyes. "That means everything to me—you do."

Awareness and emotions settled over him, and not knowing what else to say, Gabriel kissed her, encouraged her down on her back, then covered her body with his while seeking to deepen the embrace. Minutes went by before he spoke again. "I fancy something sweet before breakfast, I think."

"Rogue!" She smacked his shoulder. "Here? Where people can see what we're doing?"

"No?" Wishing to further tease her, Gabriel nuzzled the crook of her shoulder. "I don't mind if you don't." Oh, that was a blatant lie, but he wanted to hear her protest.

"I do mind!" She stared up at him in horror. "I don't want anyone but you looking at me. That sort of thing is special, sacred."

"I know." He grinned and kissed her again. Then he pulled back to peer into her face. "Very well. We'll have breakfast and enjoy the cool air then return to our room."

"Or…" One of her blonde eyebrows rose.

"Yes?" What was she about?

A wicked light danced in the blue pools of her eyes. "If you sit with your back facing the spa as if you are contemplating the sea, I wouldn't mind giving you a bit of excitement to add spice to your morning." As she spoke, she let one of her hands drift between them to cup his burgeoning erection.

He snorted even as her touch threatened to see him come undone. "That act isn't special?"

"Not nearly so as a coupling, and I do owe you in retaliation for what you did yesterday." When she stroked her hand against his shaft, need shuddered through him.

"You know you enjoyed that." Dear God, where was a distraction?

"I did." She pressed a line of feather-weighted kisses beneath his jaw. "Do you give permission?"

How adorable was his wife? "No." Shaking his head, he removed her hand from his person. "Relations between us are for us to enjoy for ourselves. We'll have breakfast and tea then return to our rooms where we will both find bliss… privately." So saying, he kissed her again, went so far as to worry a nipple into a hard bud with the pad of his thumb before he rolled off her with a grin. As he sat up, he said, "It is good ta lking to you. It helps to clear my mind." Even if he was now randy as hell.

"So would something else but apparently you're prudish." Clearly, from her mock-pout and the annoyance in her tone, she was a bit miffed.

Unable to help it, Gabriel laughed, and it felt good to do so. "Poor Mary," he said in a soft, singsong voice. "She can't do unspeakable things to her husband in public."

"Do shut up, Bright." But she grinned, and after digging around in the basket, she threw a sweet bun at him, which he caught and took a bite of.

In that moment as the sun rose while they shared tea and breakfast, his inability to solve the case didn't matter, for the most important aspect was spending time with his wife.