His Wicked Smile Read online

  “I wanted my family to know about the wedding before learning about the reason for it.”

  “I understand. Let Aunt Ellen focus on one idea at a time. Sure you want to wed her?”

  “I can’t let Matilda’s disaster fall upon another woman,” Gawain said. “Jacob cost her the London society life she wanted. And truly, Ann has much to recommend her.”

  “She’s an excellent cook.”

  “And a genuine Indian healer as well. I can already see what a good mother she is, both with Fern and Noel.” He went on to tell Lewis about her past.

  “Who do you think murdered her husband?”

  “I’d say his brother, Harry Haldene, unless he knew he was getting nothing when his brother died. What bothers me is that Ann inherited the inn.”

  “But Haldene got a position out of it. What was he before?”

  “He worked in the inn.”

  Lewis tucked his chin into his hand while Gawain shifted in his seat. Pain shot from his hip with the movement.

  “Need your pills?” Lewis asked.

  “I need to get off this train.”

  Lewis leaned forward and looked out the window. “Less than an hour to go.”

  “Thank God. Distract me by solving the murder, if you will.”

  Lewis laughed. Eventually, they arrived at The Old Hart. Luncheon was still being served and they took a table in the dining room. The new cook remembered Gawain and brought them a hearty meal of meat, bread, pickles and cheese, then sent for Harry Haldene. He arrived as they finished their meal, and the gingerbread and cream dessert.

  Gawain’s eyes narrowed as he noticed how much less villainous Haldene looked this time. He wore a new suit and his dark hair looked shiny and clean. The stable hand had transformed into an accountant.

  “Going courting?” he asked, when the man arrived at the table.

  Creases formed around the man’s eyes as he smiled. “Well, if it ain’t Redcake again. Thanks to you, we ’ad a letter from our Ann.”

  Gawain leaned back in his chair, surprised by the man’s cheerful welcome. “I’m glad she finally wrote.”

  “Indeed she did.” Haldene pulled out a chair and sat down. “We were sore worried ’bout her, you know.”

  No, he didn’t know that. As he recalled, there was little concern when he’d been here after Christmas. At least, in front of him. “I am glad she relieved your mind. Did she tell you we are to be married? The first banns were called on Sunday.”

  Haldene’s lips split in a grin. “You don’t say? Many happy returns.” He clapped Gawain on the shoulder then waved at a corner of the room. “Jemmy, lad, come say ’ello to one who’s about to become a new cousin!”

  A long, stringy lad, with hair sticking out, hay-like, in every direction, about the age Lewis had been when he came to live with Gawain’s family, detached himself from a stool along the wall and came forward. Gawain vaguely recalled meeting him the previous year.

  He held out his hand and shook with Jeremy Haldene. “What do you do here at the inn?”

  The lad shrugged and glanced at Harry.

  “He’s not one for talking. You can go, Jemmy.” The boy slouched away as Haldene added, with a shake of his head, “Jemmy and Fern. What a pair, eh?”

  Gawain took the opportunity presented to him. “Ann showed me the painting Fern made after she discovered your brother’s body. In the stable here, right?”

  Haldene’s smile vanished. “Why would she do that? Ghastly thing. Told ’er she should’ve burned it.”

  “I asked why Fern didn’t speak. She must have kept it as an explanation.” Gawain watched Haldene carefully for signs of anger, but the man didn’t so much as tighten his meaty hands into fists.

  “It were the trauma, right?” Haldene shook his head. “She was a girl in love with horses back then. Had to bring ’em carrots, apples, sugar, whatever she could cadge from Ann. Stumbled over Wells when she went in. Came out screaming, her shoes dripping in blood.”

  “Who do you think killed him?” Lewis asked.

  Haldene shrugged. “We never knew. The police suspected a thief. Someone ’ad broken in at Hammer’s blacksmith shop the night before, and a window was smashed at a second-hand clothes shop the same night as well.”

  Gawain noted the new information. “Was he killed during the night? What was he doing in the stable then?”

  “Naw, it were early the next mornin’. Lots of travelers leave early, have to get on the road at first light. But the police thought it were all connected, bein’ the same night.”

  “What was he killed with?” Lewis asked.

  “The police said he were beaten with a poker, stabbed too, and Hammer was missin’ a few things.”

  “No one in the neighborhood acted guilty later?” Gawain asked as if astounded at the possibility.

  “Can’t say as I noticed. Ann’s health failed utterly and it were touch and go ’round here for days. Between plannin’ a funeral, taking care of Ann, and Fern’s strange behavior, I wasn’t keeping an eye on the neighbors. Had to run the inn too, and I wasn’t used to it. I’d been doin’ all the repairs, carpentry work, fixin’ the roof. It’s an old place and Wells ’adn’t had it long.”

  “I suppose you would have expected a smoother transition?” Gawain said.

  Haldene scratched his ear. “Transition? Hell man, it were a disaster. Wells worked like two men, and Ann and Fern couldn’t do their bits for weeks.”

  “What about Jeremy? Did he help?”

  “He’d just come here. Lost ’is dad. He’s the oldest and his mother couldn’t support him, so we took him in for odd jobs.”

  “Do you think it would ease Fern’s mind to know who killed her brother?” Gawain watched Haldene carefully.

  He sniffed. “I don’t see why. It won’t change her findin’ his body. Horrible for anyone. I expect we should just leave it in the past. Ann has a new family and Fern is happy enough with ’er.”

  “And you get to run the inn,” Gawain stated.

  Haldene shrugged again. “Keeps it in the family. I expect I know the business now. Ann will get a regular payment. No worries there.” His expression hardened suddenly. “Are you plannin’ to return to Leeds to run it yourself?”

  “Of course not, my good fellow,” Lewis interjected. “Gawain has his own prosperous business to manage.”

  Haldene relaxed visibly. “That’s right. Your teas and herbs are sellin’ fast to the local blacks. They do miss Ann. She should come visit when the weather’s better, bring the little one. We’d all like to see her.”

  “I’ll mention that when we return,” Gawain said. “For now, we shall speak to Mr. Hammer on a business matter. Can we have a pair of rooms for tonight?”

  “Of course,” Haldene said. He glanced at Lewis. “Bringin’ some more work for Hammer?”

  “Yes. I felt he’d be the man for the job, after he made my pipe last winter. Very precise.”

  “Aye, ’e’s a good fellow,” Haldene agreed.

  Gawain gestured to his new suit. “You must have somewhere to be.”

  Haldene smoothed his hand down his tie. “I’m to be pallbearer at a funeral this afternoon. Bought new clothes.”

  “My condolences,” Gawain and Lewis said at the same time.

  “It were his time. We worked in the church garden together. Got a little committee who does it, and he were in charge for fifty year or more.”

  “Then we won’t keep you any longer.”

  “I’ll get the girl to take you to your rooms,” Haldene said, and stood, then headed for the kitchen.

  Gawain and Lewis glanced at each other.

  “What do you think?” Lewis asked.

  “I see points both in favor and against.” Gawain rubbed his chin. “But he’s the most likely person.”

  “He benefited the most,” Lewis agreed. “But I think you are missing some key part of the story.”

  “Yes, but how to find out what that is?”

  “Ask
around, I suppose. I’ll inquire at the blacksmith’s about the break-in. You can speak to the servants here.”

  “I think they are all new, except the Haldene boy, Jeremy.”

  “Track him down,” Lewis advised.

  “I’ll go to the Leeds police as well. They must have some information about the investigation. What they suspected, even if no one was arrested.”

  Gawain was disappointed by the lack of progress in his murder investigation as he sped south by train the next Monday. Everything had been as Ann had said. The police suspected a passerby thief. Harry Haldene had an alibi, as did Jeremy, and the police weren’t willing to share enough information for Gawain to investigate more deeply. They were offended by his questions and couldn’t seem to comprehend that Ann’s fiancé might be concerned for her safety. After all, the murder had been nearly three years before, and she had never seemed to be in any danger since.

  When his train arrived in London, he immediately hailed a cab to go to Ann’s flat. It was six PM and she should be home. He was eager to see Noel after nearly a week’s absence.

  Fern opened the door, offering him a small smile for the first time. He patted her shoulder and offered her a peppermint stick he’d purchased at the train station for just this moment. She hesitated before snatching it from his hand with a soundless giggle, then reached for her cloak and hat and slithered past him into the hallway.

  Almost too easy. He had Ann and Noel to himself. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Ann at the stove, her back to him. He walked silently into the bedroom and found Noel in his cradle. The baby had a couple of tiny fingers in his mouth and was sucking vigorously on them.

  “Hungry?” Gawain asked, picking him up.

  Ann appeared around the corner. “He would cry if he’s hungry. He just started sucking on his fingers a couple of days ago.”

  They stepped toward each other, meeting halfway. Gawain kissed her on the cheek and she touched his arm, then smiled at Noel.

  “How long have you been back in London?” she inquired.

  “I came straight from the station.”

  Her lovely dark eyes widened. “You are becoming attached to Noel.”

  “And you. I’ve spent the last few days banging my head against the past in Leeds, trying to discover if you are safe from it.”

  “Did you learn anything more?” She put her hand to her mouth. “About Wells?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. I can understand why the police decided it had to have been a stranger passing through.”

  “You accept that now?”

  “No. I still think Harry did it, but I can’t quite tell you why. It’s instinct. The way Wells was killed seems so intimate. The person who killed him was standing right in front of him. The killer damaged his face so badly. Why would your husband let a stranger get so close?”

  “He struggled. The police said he did.”

  “He was a big man, with a wonderful wife, a child on the way. Why didn’t he win the fight? What prevented him?”

  “He fought,” Ann said, then pressed her lips tightly together.

  Gawain saw tears hovering on her underlashes but he couldn’t help pushing. “He wouldn’t have fought so hard if it was his brother attacking. They were close?”

  Ann wiped her eyes with her apron. “Yes.”

  “Was Harry jealous of Wells?”

  “It wasn’t Harry,” Ann said, putting one hand over her heart but not answering the question. “I won’t believe it. We lived in that inn together for years. I never saw any evil in him. And where did the bloody clothes go if he did it?”

  “I thought about that. Couldn’t he have put them in a carriage leaving town, something like that? A cart that was passing through?” Noel’s hand fell from his mouth and he yawned hugely. Gawain admired his toothless gums and lifted him closer for a kiss.

  Ann took the baby and hugged him close for a moment before setting him back into the cradle. “He didn’t have many clothes, Gawain, and I don’t recall any missing.”

  Because she was out of her mind with grief for Wells and her dead baby. But she wasn’t going to seriously consider Harry. “I’m sorry to upset you so. I know I’m missing something important.”

  She sniffed. “You have plenty to do without mixing yourself into my old affairs.”

  “You are going to be my wife, very soon now. I want to keep you safe. Make sure whatever happened is finished.” He put his hands on her shoulders, then pulled her close when she relaxed. “Come sit by the fire. I’ll put my head on your knee and we’ll relax like an old married couple.”

  “Shouldn’t I be sitting on the stool by you?” she teased.

  “Ah, but you’re the princess, and I’m a mere serf here to do your bidding.”

  She chuckled, a low, melodious sound that had a hint of the expanded musical scale of Indian music. He led her to the armchair near the fire and settled her in it, spreading her skirts around her feet. A hint of perfume, just kitchen smells, maybe, but with her scent underneath, caressed his nose, and he knew what he wanted to do with her.

  He saw a low stool by the fire, a recent purchase that hadn’t been there when he’d visited last. Had she really thought to sit with him in that way? The thought drained the last of the February cold from his bones and he smiled to himself as he pulled it close and sat facing her.

  “Don’t you mean to sit at my elbow?” she asked, her gaze dark under lazily lowered eyelids.

  He wanted to nip at that fat lower lip, but no need to give the game away, when her other plump lips were his target. “At your feet,” he murmured, seating himself.

  Her feet were crossed daintily at the heel. Gently, he lifted one stocking-clad ankle and separated her legs, then pulled himself in between them.

  Her eyes looked less sleepy. “I should massage your hip while Noel sleeps.”

  “I’m not in pain now.” He wasn’t, at least not at the hip. His cock was making itself known, a thick rod rubbing against his clothing. He slid his fingers up her legs, feeling for where the stockings ended and she began.

  There, a ribbon marked the spot, then an expanse of warm flesh pointed the way to his goal above. She sat up a little, her legs spreading more. He thought it accident and not design, but then he knew she was a lusty woman, and it had been a long time. He’d been told by fellow sergeants who knew such things that it was best to ease a woman back into fleshy pleasures after having a child, to make love to her rather than go straight to intercourse.

  His fingers danced higher. When she didn’t protest, he let his thumb graze the inside of her thighs, as they continued their path north.

  She didn’t wear drawers, in the style of camp followers in hot climates. He had noticed they kept the flat warm, probably for the baby. Feeling the heat himself, he pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor before finding his place between her thighs again with one hand, and using the other to pull up skirt and petticoats. His head went under all that fabric and he heard the sound of her voice, but the flannel muffled it just enough that he couldn’t quite tell what she said.

  He felt her move in her chair, but it seemed she was simply settling herself. Her hand reached for him, a ghostly touch through the fabric, as it caressed his head. When he sighed with pleasure, she jerked. He realized he’d blown hot air against her inner thigh. Did she like it? He tried again, on the opposite side.

  She didn’t bat at him, and she knew where his head was. He blew again, making a trail of his own up her inner thigh. Underneath her skirts was claustrophobic and soothing all at once. Scents changed as her body heated with desire. When his breath met the juncture between her thighs he sensed not just heat but moisture.

  He had pleased his princess. His tongue darted out to test her and found perfumed juices. He spread her legs further and soothed his tongue along her seam. Those perfect lips, every bit as plump as her mouth, opened at his touch. Distantly, he heard a little gasp, felt her hands rustle in her skirts. She adjusted, leani
ng back, giving him access.

  His princess was willing to let him worship. Good. He used his mouth, his tongue, even his teeth, to tease. When she moved restlessly he made an assault on her pearl, licking and sucking the tiny nub until her moan was entirely audible even beneath the petticoats.

  When she was writhing in earnest, he put his finger in her channel and moved it in and out. But this wasn’t enough so he inserted another, and continued to make ingress on her pearl, until he had her hips bucking against his mouth and sliding along the armchair.

  All of a sudden she gasped and her body stilled. Then, her back arched, lifting her off the seat. He added a third finger and she cried out, shaking. With all the skill he had, he gentled her down from her peak, then slid out of the scented bower to take a breath of cool air.

  They stared at each other while he pulled his collar from his sweaty neck.

  “You are a most noble knight,” she whispered.

  He bowed his head. “Ever at your service, my lady.”

  “Did you enjoy doing that?”

  “It was as much a pleasure as a duty.” He straightened her skirts, then found her ankles with his hands, with some thought of pulling her on top of him, when he heard a key at the door.

  Ann bolted upright, her hands going to her hair.

  “I didn’t touch your hair,” he said.

  She swallowed hard and laughed a little. “Not that hair.”

  “To think I am so intimately acquainted below and yet have never seen if the color matches.”

  “Black as night on both ends,” she said with an earthy smile, then put her hands to the armrests and pushed herself up from the chair.

  She swayed a little and he leapt up to catch her, then swayed himself as his hip protested.

  Fern made a face at them as she peeked into the room, but Gawain knew she could see no actual evidence of lovemaking. Still, he couldn’t wait until he had them in a proper house, with doors. Tomorrow would be an excellent day to set property acquisition in motion.

  Gawain spent the next day wandering Battersea. Lewis’s home and machine shop were near Nine Elms, where the locomotive sheds were located. Many of the small businesses needed for inventors were nearby.