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“Bloody hell, no!”
“Until we have proof that she is involved, you are to remain dead,” Adams said as Tia nodded.
Braden shook his head. He was outnumbered, but the idea of letting Tia confront a possible killer sent pain straight to his heart.
Tia sat in the chair, tapping her finger against the glass in her hand. What Adams said made sense. She could pay a call of condolence on Constance for the loss of Alistair. It was just a matter of the lady letting her inside the house. But then what would she do?
“She has to do it, Middleton,” Adams insisted. “Who else can?”
“Hart,” Braden said.
“No,” Tia finally spoke up. “She would never admit anything in front of Hart. But she might slip in anger toward me.”
“No, I will not allow it,” Braden said roughly. “Anything could happen to you.”
“True, but I have to try. What good is pretending to be dead if she doesn’t admit anything? I might be able to make her slip.”
“I will be there too,” Adams said. “I have business with Bunworth. There is no need for anyone to know that Miss Featherstone and I are acquainted with each other, but we will arrive near the same time. She will only be there a few minutes before I get there. Bunworth’s study backs to the main salon where she has visitors.”
“No,” Braden said again. “I will not put your life at risk.”
“My life is at risk until she is caught, because I am not leaving your side,” Tia retorted. “Mr. Adams has an excellent plan and we will proceed with it. Would one be a good time?”
“A very good time,” Adams replied.
“I have no say in this?” Braden asked sullenly.
“No,” Adams and Tia said together.
“Miss Featherstone, do you have another dress?” Adams asked bashfully. “I do not think Lady Bunworth will receive you in that gown.”
“Could you send a note to Mrs. Abbott? She will provide you with a more appropriate dress for paying calls,” Tia said to Adams.
“Of course,” Adams said. “I believe I shall leave you two and retire. Middleton, I do believe there is more brandy, but I doubt you’ll need it now.”
Tia glanced between them, not understanding their conversation. “What are you speaking of?”
“He will tell you, Miss Featherstone—or rather, he will show you.” Adams chuckled as he left the room. “Good night,” he managed to get out once he reached the door at the top of the stairs.
“What was that about?” Tia asked.
“I told him the only way I would sleep tonight is with some brandy.” Braden rose and held out his hand for her. “But I believe I have found a far more pleasant way to sleep.”
“Oh?” she asked in an overly innocent tone.
“Naked, sated, and with you next to me.”
By noon the next day, Tia’s nerves were drawn taut. With no maid to help her dress, Braden did his best to assist her with her stays, buttons, and pins. Her hair was another issue. Tia had no talent at dressing hair. She doubted Braden would do any better. Once she was dressed, she put her hair into a simple twist at the back of her neck.
“I should be wearing black, shouldn’t I?” she asked, looking down at the blue muslin.
“Well, you don’t have any black gowns here. Just tell Constance that you can’t afford a new dress.”
“I am sure she would believe that.” She looked in the mirror and swallowed back her fear. “I need to bring the book with me.”
“Why?”
“Because she won’t believe me without it.”
