Page 93 of His Improper Lady

“I wish I knew.” Desiree sighed and slumped back against the cushions. “I’ve never felt anything quite like that before. I know none of this is logical or proof of anything, but I cannot help but feel it’s important.”

“Logical or not, I trust your instincts,” Tom said. “Let’s go back to the office and figure this out.”

Returning to the office hadn’t been what Tom had been anticipating doing with Desiree this afternoon. But he put aside the lustful visions that had teased at his brain all morning—they had all afternoon, after all—and when the carriage came to a stop in front of his building, they went to the agency office. It was much safer than his flat, with its nearby bed.

“I’m not sure going to the cottage will be of any help,” Desiree began, sitting down in the chair by his desk. “If this is a premonition, I wish it would be a trifle more specific.”

“That would be helpful.” Tom smiled at her. “But the cottage plays a part in the story. There’s something odd about your parents’ leaving. Mrs. McGee seemed very certain of the day your mother left. But Paxton says they couldn’t have gone that afternoon because he was with Alistair that evening.”

“I believe Paxton,” Desiree said. “He certainly was not lying, and though he doesn’t seem the most reliable man, a person does tend to remember his own birthday.”

“I believe him, as well. So why the discrepancy? Why would Alistair still have been in the city after Mrs. McGee saw them leave?”

“They could have spent the night in London and left the next day,” Desiree responded.

“Would you hang about in London an extra day if you’re planning to flee the country? Or even if you’re going to a cottage by the sea?” Tom said.

“Especially since you would run the risk of being seen by someone you know, like Paxton,” Desiree agreed.

“Mrs. McGee didn’t really see them leave,” Tom pointed out after a moment’s thought. “What she saw was your mother getting into Alistair’s carriage. She only assumed Alistair was in it because Stella said she was leaving with him.”

“Yes.” Desiree perked up. “Alistair could have sent the carriage to take Stella to the cottage, and he went by train the next day.”

“But why would Alistair invite his good friend Pax to Stella’s house the next evening—for a birthday celebration, no less?”

A frown creased Desiree’s forehead. “It makes me wonder even more whether Mrs. McGee was right, that maybe Alistair did kill my mother. He could have planned to do away with Stella that night, and then the next evening arrive at the house when Paxton would be there and could attest to Alistair’s surprise at not finding Stella at home.”

“Then why didn’t he show up? Why set up an elaborate scheme and not finish it?” Tom countered.

Desiree nodded thoughtfully. “And there would still be another problem—Mrs. McGee saw Stella leave in his carriage.”

“And I’m not sure he would have had time to do all the running about that scheme would entail and still manage to get back to London to meet Pax at the appointed hour.”

“Maybe that is what happened. He murdered her and afterward realized that he couldn’t return in time to establish his alibi. So he ran,” Desiree said.

“Either way, if Paxton is right and no one’s been there since that time, it’s possible we could find something at the cottage that would prove your parents were there. If they left from the cottage, there could even be a clue as to where they planned to go.”

“There’s another thing,” Desiree said. “I know you don’t believe that my father has returned and that he was in the carriage that night, watching the house.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just think it’s unlikely.”

“I know. And you’re probably right. No one has seen him. He hasn’t tried to contact me or my brothers. But there’s his carriage. And the cuff links. Maybe he’s trying to hide from everyone. And where would be a more perfect place to hide than a cottage by the sea that no one ever goes to?”

“Why would he be hiding?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he killed my mother, whether accidentally or on purpose, and he fled. Or they ran away, and she has now died, and he wanted to come back, but he doesn’t want to have to face the mess he left behind. Or maybe the two of them wanted to return, but still want to live together in secret.”

“It’s certainly possible,” Tom admitted. “If he returned, it might explain why there’s suddenly a new will. Perhaps everyone has misunderstood that lawyer’s letter, and it was Alistair himself that Blackstock sent the will to. It all sounds like something out of Dickens, but then, this entire thing has been rather outlandish.”

“Maybe that’s the goal of my premonition. To find them or to find out what happened or where they went.”

“Then I’d say we need to investigate the cottage.”

“Do you have a map?”

“Con does.” Tom went to one of the cabinets and returned with a rolled-up map, which he spread out on his desk. “Here’s Dorset. We know the cottage is on the coast.”

“Near Abbotsbury,” Desiree added.