A whip crack jolted her out of this forbidden thought. Flattery was a worse intoxicant than brandy. Where in the blue blazes was Will?
She drew the curtain on the opposite window and clutched her heart in fright. Will was hanging on the outside of the carriage, posing as a footman—a very irritated one. Quick thinking, but she still felt embarrassed that he had eavesdropped on that excruciating scene.
In contrast to Christopher, Will was thoroughly ruffled. He had hair falling on his brow, a clothing crease at every joint, and a sparkle of sweat on his brow. He was reassuringly alive.
Out the window, she hissed, “Get down from there.”
“Not until we are past the gates. No one can see me on this side. What is that for? A parting gift?” Will looked at the bottle of liquor on the seat beside her. He scowled through the carriage windows back at the building. “He’s standing there, watching your carriage depart like a lovesick youth.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a contribution to the hamper I am making for the bereaved wife of an officer who was killed here ten days ago.” She hated how Will’s attention sparked up. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t ask for his name or any further particulars. It would have been suspicious.”
She pretended not to hear his questions until they were stopped safely down the road and he could climb back in.
“You didn’t ask anything that could help further?” Will said with a bit of accusation. He sat opposite her, his knees caging her legs in. “You’ve been drinking liquor in his office, in the middle of the day. Probably being lively and charming.”
Angelika put her palm in front of her mouth, exhaled, and sniffed. “Just a couple of brandies, and only moderately charming. I’m glad you did as you were told and stayed here.”
“I didn’t. I saw some gravestones down the side of the eastern wing.”
He explained how he had run across and examined all of the graves that looked fresh, before evading an approaching groundskeeper and hiding in the small chapel until the footsteps faded. “They were all privates, low-level soldiers. None of their names made me feel anything. But being on those grounds gave me a strong echo of memory. It washed over me until I was dizzy.”
Clara Hoggett’s husband must be buried in the village, or indeed there may be an empty casket under his gravestone. “You are an officer, my love, I am sure.”
She nearly said: And I think I know your wife’s name. She’d opened her mouth to say it. But the fear that he would jolt back into himself, regain his memory, and ask for a lift to town was too much. She decided to keep him to herself a few minutes longer. By the end of this carriage ride, she would release him. In a voice designed to intoxicate, she cooed, “You’re too refined and elegant to be a lowly private.”
This did not flatter him. “Not as refined as your perfect Commander Keatings. He is planning to call on you.”
Angelika’s insides thrilled at the flat jealousy in his eyes. “You heard that, then.”
“I heard it all. I heard how enchanted he was.” He reached out and drew the curtains on one window, then the other. It gave Angelika a dip in her stomach, like the carriage was gliding downhill. “He thinks you are very beautiful.”
“We can’t know that.”
“Anyone could see that you are.”
“I’m not sure about that—”
“Your smart green eyes are always watching, calculating, changing. They turn dark, like green glass, when you look at my mouth. You fill that dress sinfully, and your lips are my favorite pink.”
She felt hot. “Thank you.”
“But no matter how beautiful you look today, I still prefer you in men’s trousers. I know your true self, in a way he never will.” He sat back, laid an arm along the back of his seat, and nodded in the direction they had left. “I know what that man wants.”
Her heart leapt. “I prefer you.”
“Then come and show me.” He smirked at her shocked expression. “You have been unraveled since that kiss in the morgue the other night. I am boiling mad with jealousy right now, so come over here.” He slapped his own thigh.
“I’m annoyed, too,” she said as she moved to his side of the carriage, lifted her skirts, and slid a knee across his legs. “You walked out abruptly, leaving me wallowing in your cold bathtub.”
“I was the one who needed to soak in ice water.” The carriage rattled, causing each to clutch the other. Fingertips sank into flesh, and Angelika leaned forward. He put his cool hand on her face. She drew one breath, and then she was being kissed.