Feeling as though he was going to work to make her regret those terms, she nodded to the side. “I have rooms at the top of those stairs. Although I often stay with my aunt overnight. Why?”
“If you were paying for lodgings, I was going to offer you a room in my residence as part of the terms.”
“Very generous, but not necessary. However, out of curiosity, I assume the staff was told I’d been let go but not the particulars.”
“I never divulge particulars.”
She shot him a pointed look. “As Inspector Swindler discovered. I intend to speak with him—”
“No. Nothing is to be gained by dragging others into this.”
“I won’t tell him what you don’t wish him to know, but we need to know what he in fact knows.”
“You think he’ll tell you?”
“I think he’ll share what he can. I helped him with a case last year that involved a woman who was stealing jewelry from her employer. He and I got along rather well.”
Bishop didn’t like it, but he’d never been one to leave his destiny to chance. After Swindler had left, he’d considered seeking out Marguerite to gain her assistance, but he wasn’t comfortable with his feelings for her. He could hardly go an hour without some thought of her popping into his head: if not a memory, then a musing regarding what she might be doing atthat moment. “Why did you take a position as a servant in my household rather than just watching the residence for Mrs. Parker’s arrival?”
“Because seeing her go into the residence wasn’t proof that she was having an affair.”
“What was your plan? To listen at the doorway and barge in when you heard the bed squeaking in hopes of catching us copulating?”
He shouldn’t take such delight in her cheeks turning pink, but he did wonder how far the blush traveled. “Somehow, I very much doubt that you have a bed that squeaks.”
“True. It is rather distracting to have something protesting in concert to your movements. So how far were you prepared to go for your proof?”
“Identifying her in the bedchamber was enough. The kiss cinched it.”
“You didn’t like me kissing her.”
With a raised eyebrow, she tapped her fingers on her desk. “I think we’ve gone off topic. I also think we need to have a word with Mrs. Mallard. I suppose she’s still about.”
“She’s the one who found her husband.”
Deep furrows appeared in her forehead while she quickly leaned forward as though needing to shorten the distance between them in order to hear better. “I beg your pardon?”
“Swindler said she found him—shortly after he was killed apparently.”
“Had she heard some noise?”
“He didn’t say.”
She held up a well-manicured slender finger. “Why was she searching for her husband in the middle ofthe night? If he struck her, why was she not avoiding him?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you sayif he struck her? You saw the evidence.”
“I saw that she’d been struck. I did not see that he did it.”
“Why would she lie?”
She sat back and held up her hands. “All of London believes yours to be a house of fornication. Why not tell them the truth?”
“Because there is a purpose to the lie.” After shoving himself to his feet, he walked back to the window and gazed out. He didn’t like the notion that he may have been taken for a fool. “Do you think she conspired to have him killed?”
“I don’t know, but we should speak with her.”
“I’m rather certain she had no role in his death. She was far too timid. If she was planning to have him done in, why come to me in the first place?”
