Miss Hastings' Excellent London Adventure (Brazen Brides Book 4) by Cheryl Bolen

Author:Cheryl Bolen [Bolen, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper & Appleton
Published: 2017-05-29T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

She had been so terrified at the prospect of coming face to face with James Ashburnham that when the carriage came to a stop in front of the Ceylon Tea Company Emma could not bring herself to leave the coach.

Adam turned to her, took both her hands, and spoke in a gentle voice. "I vow I would lay down my life before I'd ever let anyone harm you."

What woman could be unaffected by such a proclamation? She nodded, and he helped her from their coach. Having Adam by her side as she entered the tea company made her feel invincible—but still upset about having to be so close to her uncle's killer.

"I know you're nervous," he said, "but force yourself to act normal. Ignore him if you'd like, but don't be transparent."

Upstairs, he faced Ashburnham and spoke with confidence of one born to command. "Adam Birmingham to see Mr. Faukes." (She was so proud of her husband.)

Nodding, the clerk left his desk and went into his employer's office, this time leaving the door open. Seconds later, he exited as his employer came to the door to issue a greeting. "Do come in, Mr. and Mrs. Birmingham."

Adam was sure to close the door before he sat at the sofa.

"What can I do for you today?"

Adam produced the note. "Did you send this to Mr. Hastings?" he asked in a lowered voice.

Faukes' eyes squinted, then he took a pair of spectacles from his pocket and read the letter, his brows drawn together as he frowned. "I never saw it before, never sent it—even if it does look like my handwriting."

Adam pressed his index finger to his lips, tossing a gaze toward the door.

Faukes nodded, then lowered his voice. "Not only did I not write it, I've never been in Simon's house. There was no need. We saw each other every day, six days a week."

He examined the letter once more, shaking his head. "How in the devil could someone have copied my handwriting so accurately? Unless . . ." His gaze darted to the door to the outer chamber, but he clamped shut his mouth and did not continue.

"Does Mr. Ashburnham sometimes sign your name for you when you're busy—or out of the office?" Adam asked.

"As a matter of fact, he does."

"Was it his custom to also forge Mr. Hastings' signature?"

Faukes nodded. "We both trusted him. He's been employed here for ten years. Never has a penny gone missing."

"I understand. It's imperative that one has employees who can be trusted."

"Dear God!" Faukes exclaimed. "Was this Sunday the night Simon died?"

Adam and Emma both gravely nodded.

Faukes' face blanched. "Was Simon murdered?"

Adam once more pressed his index finger to his mouth and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "We believe he might have been."

"And the murderer's trying to plant evidence to implicate me?"

"We believe that may be the case," Adam responded.

"It wasn't me," Mr. Faukes said. "Simon was my friend."

"We didn't think it was you," Emma reassured him.

A vicious look surged across Mr. Faukes' face.

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