Tempting the Prince(104)
Cedric Wilkins reached into his pocket and removed a braided rope of blond, brown, red, and black hair. “I found this in my brother’s bedchamber,” he said. “I fear Charles may be your Slasher.”
Alexander Blake showed him the sketch. “Is this Charles Wingate?”
“That is my brother,” Wilkins verified, “but you won’t find him at home.”
“Where will we find him?” the constable asked.
The door burst open before Wilkins could answer. Puddles dashed into the room, followed by Blaze Flambeau, who glanced over her shoulder and smiled at someone in the corridor. “What is so interesting that Tinker is eavesdropping?”
“Baron Wingate is the Slasher,” Sophia exclaimed.
“Charles Weasel Wingate?” Blaze looked flabbergasted. “You must be joking.”
Tulip showed her the sketch. “Is this Charles Wingate?”
“Oh my God,” Blaze cried, her face draining of color. “The baron was standing in the foyer a few minutes ago and begged to speak with Belle. I sent him to Soho.”
“Don’t scratch the hardwood floor,” Belle cautioned her sister. “One, two, three…go.”
Working together, Belle and Raven moved the dining room table against the French doors leading to the parlor. Then they began setting the armoire’s crystal, china, and silver onto the table in preparation for cleaning.
There is nothing in the world like manual labor to take one’s mind off problems, Belle thought, reaching for the silver polish and rags. Her sisters would laugh at her, but since leaving their Soho residence, she had actually missed the household chores.
“Mikhail loves you,” Raven said without preamble. “I think you should go home.”
Belle gave her sister a long look. “How can you possibly know what another person truly feels?”
“I know because I know,” Raven answered, making her smile.
“My husband should have spoken truthfully,” Belle argued. “He could have said he married me for my scar and then fell in love. Instead, I believed his love-at-first-sight nonsense.”
“If your husband loves you now,” Raven said, “does his initial reason matter?”
“I suppose not.”
“Will you return to Grosvenor Square today?”
“Let’s give the house a thorough cleaning,” Belle suggested, “and then we’ll walk home.”
Raven looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “Why should we clean when Papa can order his servants to do it?”
“I do not feel a sense of accomplishment when others do the chores,” Belle answered.
“Pardon me, sister.” Raven rolled her eyes toward heaven. “I would not want to ruin your sense of accomplishment.”
The sisters looked at each other and laughed. Then they worked in silence for a time.
A gentle breeze wafted into the room through the open window and flirted with the bottom edge of the French lace curtains. The fragrance of roses perfumed the room, drifting inside on the breeze.
“Tell me about the investigation,” Belle said, reaching for a porcelain teacup.
“We know the Slasher has brown hair, the initials CW, and Marcello boots,” Raven told her.
“Marcello boots?”
Raven nodded. “I recognized Marcello’s unique mark in the blood.”
Belle shuddered, her stomach flip-flopping with sudden nausea. She knew the fear the victims suffered, because she had been slashed too.
“Puddles bit him,” Raven added. “The Slasher will be sporting a bandaged left hand.”
Belle would have replied, but a knock on the front door drew their attention. “I’ll answer that.”
Expecting their visitor was Mikhail, Belle wiped her hands on a linen cloth and left the dining room. She hurried down the hallway to the foyer. Her mouth dropped open in surprise when she saw her visitor. Charles Wingate stood there, a sheepish smile on his face.
“I went to Grosvenor Square and Inverary House,” Charles told her. “Blaze sent me here. I must speak with you. May I come inside?”
Belle assumed a polite smile, knowing she could not bring herself to slam the door on anyone’s face, not even the baron. “Yes, of course, come into the parlor.”
Charles sat on the upholstered sofa in front of the window. Belle dropped onto the chair nearest the door.
“What do you want to discuss?” Belle asked.
Before he could answer, Raven popped into the parlor. If the baron’s presence surprised her, she did not show it.
“Baron Wingate, good to see you again,” Raven greeted him. Her smile remained fixed, but her gaze drifted downward.
Watching her sister, Belle followed her gaze to the baron’s bandaged left hand. Was Charles the Slasher? That was ridiculous. Charles was too much of a mama’s boy. Mother would probably spank him if he misbehaved.