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“How was I to know it wasn’t the killer?”
“What killer?” Moss coughed and forced himself to lower his voice. “Please, God, tell me that you haven’t gone around this village asking foolish questions about people lurking around this house.”
“I have just been to ask Mrs Saunders what Sally was wearing when she found her this morning,” Clementine cried.
Now that Moss was asking questions, Clementine truly felt foolish for her allowing her wayward imagination to get the better of her. She wished now she hadn’t taken Moss into her confidence because it all sounded strange even to her.
“How do you know that some other kindly citizen hasn’t come in here this morning and decided to tidy up and take Sally’s laundry for her as a kindly gesture to help this sister – Dotty?” Moss reasoned. “You don’t. Look, I know this was unexpected but things like this are perfectly normal.”
“Not around here they aren’t,” Clementine challenged. She glared at him in frustration. “I should have known you wouldn’t believe me.”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to believe you. I just know from experience that there isn’t enough evidence to go on to even get the doctor to reconsider his diagnosis. I am sorry, but there just isn’t.” Moss waved to the front door. “Shall we? While you are trying to find a reasonable and
sensible explanation for Sally’s death, looking for killers is not the answer. You are only drawing attention to your own furtive behaviour and risking being considered as behind Sally’s death. Don’t risk your reputation like that, Clementine.”
“I have lived in this village all my life. People know me and know I would never do anything to hurt anybody.”
“Except yourself.”
“I have not done anything to myself,” Clementine countered.
Moss leaned forward until they almost bumped noses. Clementine, who was at the front door, had nowhere to go and blinked owlishly up at him. To her disbelief, Moss dropped a soft, swift, and gentle kiss against her lips. It lingered briefly in a way that left her yearning for more while at the same time struggling to quell the fine tremors that coursed through her.
“You have risked your reputation this morning. You are, my dear, alone in an empty house with a very eligible bachelor. Now, ordinarily, I would have no qualms about the villagers linking us together. However, my life is my work. I have no time or intention of getting embroiled in any romantic liaison, especially with someone like you,” Moss assured her firmly.
Clementine tipped her chin up. She was thoroughly shocked that he should say such a thing to her, and humiliated that he had seen her attraction and rejected it. It made her tears sting even more, but no more so than the acute embarrassment that coursed through her.
“I don’t believe I have ever given you any indication that I wish to indulge in a romantic liaison with you or anybody else for that matter. If I was ever that foolish, I certainly wouldn’t be attracted to someone like you,” Clementine whispered so fiercely that her breath came out in a soft hiss. “I am sorry for taking up so much of your time.”
She remained quiet while she yanked the door open and stepped back to allow him through it. He paused on the step while she closed the door and locked it before leading the way back down the path and out onto the main street.
“I shall bid you good day,” she muttered before she stomped angrily away.
As she walked, Clementine repeatedly reminded herself that leaving the man behind was the wisest thing to do. It was best that she put Moss out of her mind and then forget about him for the rest of her life. Moses Banfield-Moss was arrogant, roguish, charming, saw far too much, was far too domineering, and had no interest in her. There was no reason she should give him another single momentary thought. She would never think about him again – ever.
Maybe.
Ever.
No. Never.
If only.
Moss watched her stalk down the street and muttered a blistering curse. He had never felt so compelled to race after someone and beg their forgiveness before, but with Clementine he wanted to do just that. While he knew that he had done the right thing, Moss suspected he had just made his future a heck of a lot harder than it really needed to be, not least because he too suspected that something was amiss with Sally Walcott’s death. If his, and Clementine’s, suspicions did prove to be accurate, Sally Walcott was about the least likely person to die of an unexpected seizure than anyone in the village and that left Moss with one heck of a problem.
How do I investigate Sally’s death while avoiding the delectable temptation of Miss Clementine Marlborough?
Moss was still mulling that possibility over several hours later when he left the village far behind and headed home – to town where he belonged.
CHAPTER FOUR
Exactly one week later, Clementine opened the front gate to her own garden path and heaved a sigh of relief that she was back. She and her father had just attended Sally Walcott’s funeral, and an air of solemnity still hovered over the pair of them as they quietly let themselves into the house they called home.
“Tea?” Clementine murmured absently as she removed her shawl and hung it onto the peg beside the door while staring thoughtfully at the floor.
Although she would never admit it to another living soul, her thoughts weren’t on what had happened at Sally’s funeral. They were instead locked firmly on the man she most definitely knew she would forget any day now – Moses Banfield-Moss.
If only I could.
