Page 108 of Corpse in the Canal

Constance didn’t even realize her hand was on her abdomen until Solomon gently removed it and placed it on his arm.

As one, they followed Harvey out, but instead of returning to the drawing room and the funeral guests, Solomon urged her toward the stairs. She gave in without a fight. The Harveys had older and better friends to be with right now. And they were learning to lean on each other again. In the coming months and years, they would need that.

Entering their room, Solomon went straight to the bed and pulled their trunk from beneath it. He opened it, then went to the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes.

“What are you doing?” Constance asked.

“Packing. Feel free to help.”

“You want to leave now?” she said incredulously. “With a head wound? I will not allow you to be rattled all the way to London at such a time! I was thinking we might travel by canal.”

“Smooth,” Solomon allowed. “But it would take days. And Juliet is getting married tomorrow.”

Constance stared at him, conflicting desires and duties falling over each other in her mind until what stood out was a childish, almost desperate desire to be with her mother. She walked up to Solomon and wrapped her arms around him. When he bent toward her, she rested her forehead against his.

“I do love you, Solomon Grey.”

“As I love you, Constance Silver.”

“Grey. Constance Grey.”

*

David arrived at Dare Hall in the midst of a sudden downpour. He took off his dripping hat and looked hopefully at the maid, who seemed more inclined to laugh at him than to forbid him entry.

“Is she at home?” he asked ruefully.

“I’ll inquire,” the maid said, leaving him kicking his squelching heels in the hall.

He didn’t blame her. Not only was a single male visitor hazardous to Adelaide’s reputation, but one so wet he would spoil her furniture…

“Mrs. Jenkins will see you,” the maid said, openly grinning now.

At the end of the hall, he could see another maid and a child who might have been the boot boy, peering around the baize door and grinning.

David followed the girl into the parlor, where Adelaide took one look at him and laughed. And instead of being discouraged or offended, he felt his heart warm all over again.

“Perhaps show Mr. Grey to the spare bedchamber, and find him a towel,” she said to the maid, and to David, “Some of my husband’s clothes are still there. I brought them to cut down for Clarence as he grows. Help yourself to whatever is comfortable.”

He was not blind to the trust implicit in that kindness. It made his heart beat with hope. Even when his borrowed clothes were too short in the arms and legs and he looked more like a schoolboy who had outgrown his Sunday best. This time his smile was a little rueful, but he would be glad to let her laugh at that too.

She did, while the servants brought hot chocolate and scones and served them beside the fire.

“So what brought you out in such a deluge?” she asked as they were finally left alone—with the door slightly ajar.

“It wasn’t raining when I left the inn. I’m still not used to the sudden changes in weather here.” He bit into a light, delicious buttered scone and ate it with some relish. “Mainly, I came to tell you that Solomon and Constance have left for London. They barely paused at the inn to let me know, but they wanted me to pass on their farewells.”

Adelaide paused in the act of picking up her chocolate cup. “Truly? Then they have left Percy’s murder to the police?”

“Oh, no, they solved it before they went. It was the vicar.”

“The vicar?” she said incredulously. “Mr. Thomas? Are you sure?”

David shrugged. “They are. And so is Inspector Harris. They’ve arrested him.”

Adelaide sagged back in her chair. “Good grief. Why? Why would the vicar do such a thing?”

“I think Percy just pushed him too far. He discovered his boundary too late.”