A Murder in Trinity Lane: A Victorian Historical Mystery (Rosalynd and Steele Mysteries Book 2) by Magda Alexander

Author:Magda Alexander [Alexander, Magda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hearts Afire Publishing
Published: 2025-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Twenty-One

THE BOX AND THE BURDEN

The morning after the shooting lesson dawned grey and listless, with a curtain of low clouds pressed against the city. Too exhausted to attend breakfast downstairs, I had a tray brought to me.

I had known something would happen between Steele and me. But I told myself that learning to shoot was the sensible, necessary thing to do. A practical decision. A safeguard. And walked into danger myself.

At least we hadn’t kissed. I could take comfort in that. But not because I had denied him. Because we had been interrupted.

What if Lord Langford hadn’t walked in? What if I had let Steele kiss me? Or worse—what if I had kissed him back?

That was a line I could not cross. A Rubicon that, once passed, would carry us toward consequences I wasn’t prepared to face. And that was a luxury I could ill afford. So I had no recourse. From this moment forward, I would continue the investigation on my own. Without his assistance. And I knew just what I needed to do.

During the restless hours of the night, somewhere between sleep and fevered dreams, a thought had come to me. Elsie must have had a box. A place where she kept her things, however few they might have been. If such a box existed, it would be at St. Agnes. And maybe, just maybe, it held some overlooked detail or clue that I could pursue on my own. I had no time to waste. It was already mid-morning.

With Tilly’s quiet assistance, I donned a modest gown, not once looking in the mirror. I had no desire to see my thoughts reflected there.

But before I could make my escape, Chrissie appeared in the entry hall like a warden at the gate.

“We missed you at breakfast. Is something wrong?”

“No. I simply overslept, that’s all.” I couldn’t very well tell her what had transpired last night.

Her gaze swept over me, sharp and assessing. “You’re going out?”

“Yes. There’s something I must attend to.” I didn't share where I was planning to go. Steele might very well come to call. If he did, I didn't want her to tell him.

“You will be back by this afternoon?” Her voice wobbled, just a touch. “It’s our at-home day. You can’t leave me to face the tea-and-tattle brigade alone.”

I managed a faint smile. “I’ll do my best.”

Before she could protest further, I slipped out the front door and into the clamor of Grosvenor Square—mid-morning carriages clattering past, booted footmen at attention, the air sharp with horses and coal smoke. Raising a hand, I hailed the nearest cab.

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