"Did you see anything else?"

"No."

"Did you know Mr. Janson?"

"Yes. He stayed here a few times. He was always after Mary." She bowed her head. "He wasn't a very nice person, Mr. Kaden."

"Do you know anyone who'd want to kill him?"

Sally paused, but then shook her head, not looking up. "I hope it doesn't make me a bad person, sir, but I'm glad he won't get to Mary." The words were faint, but Kate heard them clearly. It seemed as if all the servants were in agreement on that point.

"Why did the Wickets like him so much?" Christian asked.

Sally looked at Kate when answering. "Mrs. Wicket feels the same as everyone else, but pretends to go along with Mr. Wicket. She was trying to work him around without jeopardizing his cricket."

"Did you hear anything else that night?"

Sally paused and then shook her head.

"Thank you, Sally. You've been very helpful. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

"You too, Mr. Kaden, Mr. Black."

As soon as Sally had left, Christian turned lazily toward Kate.

"You scared her," she said accusingly.

"I don't see why. She didn't seem to have a problem with you."

"That's because you are scary."

He shrugged. "If you say so. She's protecting someone, hiding something."

"Yes, probably Mary."

"Or Mrs. Wicket."

"The mysterious Mrs. Wicket who chastises Lake for besmirching Janson, walks the halls at night in ghostly form, and faints when she finds out Janson is dead, only to immediately order the maid to clean his room. Something just doesn't figure."

"We should have asked her to stay."

Christian nodded. "Tomorrow." He shifted and dusted his hands off on his trousers. Kate lifted her lamp as Nickford skipped back into the room.

"Are you hurt?" she asked Christian.

He shook his head as he straightened. "No, just an unpleasant shock is all." He gave Nickford a pointed stare as the man continued humming to himself and looking around the room.

Christian gave the room a derisive, cursory glance, but his attention locked on to the wall where he noticed the wood boards skewed together.

"Ka-Mr. Kaden, will you hand me your lamp?"

She did so, and he held it up to the wall.

"Nickford, hand me that fire poker, so I can pry this free."

Nickford quickly obeyed. Christian inserted the poker and pried off the wall board. Instead of another layer of wall, the darkness stretched into a deep cubby. He held the lamp close and smiled as Janson's bloody bat was finally found.

Chapter 16.

Comfort? There is nothing you can give me. There never has been.

The Marquess of Penderdale to Christian, age nineteen, upon the death of Christian's brothers "W hat did you find?"

"Janson's bat." He knew his grin was smug.

Kate eagerly leaned forward. The color was still high in her face, and he felt himself growing hard again. One look at Nickford forestalled that. As much as Christian didn't care about exhibitionism, he didn't think Kate would much appreciate being taken over a common room chair.

"Oh, this is interesting-let me get my other journal. I'll need a fresh one for this new development, after all. I need to run some tests on that."

Before Christian could reply, the man had scrambled off, his cap bobbing, perilously close to falling off.

Kate put a hand on his arm, and warmth spread through him. "Are you sure it's Janson's bat?"

Christian held it up. The wood was scarred and darkened in places. A bat accustomed to being used hard and often. And there were some stains that looked new. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Janson's bat and that it had been used to murder him.

"I'm sure. Otherwise, why would someone stash it in a hidden compartment?"

He noticed something else. "Look here, at the base. It's crusted with blood."

Kate leaned in and he felt her breasts through her shirt. She obviously hadn't had the time to put her modified stays back on, and they bounced loosely on his arm. Perhaps they could compromise about the common room sofa?

"Christian?"

He shook himself to see Kate peering at him, a questioning look on her face. His face split into a wide grin. He really needed to watch himself. If he wasn't lucky she would break him completely.

"Yes, Kate?" he whispered and felt her shiver, her breasts moving ever so slightly. He pushed into her, putting the barest pressure against her nipple and watched as her eyes widened in awareness.

Nickford chose that moment to scramble back in.

"I have my new book! Let me see the bat."

"No."

Nickford blinked. "No?"

"We are investigating a murder, Mr. Nickford. A man is dead."

"Yes, I know. There's a ghost."

Christian stared at the other man. "Janson is your ghost?"

"Well, has to be now, doesn't he? Unless someone else was murdered." He leaned forward, wetting his lips. "Have you heard reports of any others?"

"No."

"Pity." Nickford sighed and peered at the bat before picking up the journal on the top of his stack, leaving the second one uncovered.

Christian froze.

No. It couldn't be. They had checked Nickford's room thoroughly.

"Nickford." Christian swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and scratchy. "Where did you get that journal?"

"Oh, this?" Nickford picked up the second journal, the gold embossment gleaming like a lighthouse in a storm. "Found it the morning Janson died when I was in the dining room. I needed a new journal to record my ghostly observations. The inn has probably been readying itself for a ghost for days, perhaps weeks. Buildings know these kinds of things, or so I've been told."

"You didn't think that the journal might belong to someone else?" Frankly Christian didn't care why Nickford had picked it up; he was just exultant that he had. The hard knot in his stomach turned into a river of fire.

"I needed it. Very important work to be done."

Christian nodded and reached for the journal. Nickford pulled it toward himself, a suspicious look in his eye.

"I know the owner of this journal, and he has been searching for it. Allow me to return it to the rightful owner and perhaps you will find yourself with a benefactor for your work."

Nickford perked up. Christian noted Kate's suspicion, but he ignored her for the moment. He needed Anthony's journal, with its lustrously embossed cover, safely in his possession, and then he could deal with soothing his partner's ruffled feathers.

"Really?" Nickford looked cautiously hopeful. Christian had no idea where the caution sprang from. Nickford hadn't seemed to possess an ounce of the quality previously.

"I have some high contacts. I think you will be pleased. But I need the journal."

It took Nickford only a moment to decide. "I suppose it is just as well. I only have some side notes in there, nothing too important. Most of the pages were used. You wouldn't happen to have a spare book, would you?" His gaze turned hopeful and Christian smiled widely.

"It just so happens that I do, Nickford. I just happen to have the perfect book for you."

Christian swept the lamp back into the opening of the wall hole and saw nothing else inside. He replaced the board and led the way to his room.

He gave Nickford a clean writing journal. Nickford nearly skipped to the door in his ecstasy.

"I will give you a full report on my progress, Mr. Black. Good night!"

As soon as the door shut, Kate turned to Christian. "What was that all about? Should we return Freewater's journal now or wait until morning?"

Christian unconsciously tightened his grip on the journal. "We aren't giving the journal back to Freewater."

Her gaze sharpened. "Why not?"

"Because it isn't his."

"It most certainly is. I saw the gold embossment. The journal looks exactly as he described it."

"Yes, but it isn't Freewater's journal. He stole it."

Christian stroked a hand over the cover, his relief warring with triumph. He hadn't failed his friend after all. The niggling doubts about his worth quieted amid his exultation.

"How do you know?" Kate's voice had turned deadly. "What are you hiding? Why are you really at this inn, Christian Black?"

He looked up, surprised at the vehemence and the beginnings of betrayal shining in her eyes.

"I came for the journal, Kate. This book contains very sensitive information that can be very damaging to my friend if it falls into the wrong hands."

"Who are you? Are you a Runner after all? A spy?"

He shook his head. "No, just a man retrieving something for a friend. I wasn't lying the morning that we discovered Janson's body when I said I was on a personal retrieval mission for something sensitive. I just never said what the retrieval mission was."

She looked down. "I don't know why I'm angry. You never pretended otherwise."

A little of his excitement faded and he hugged the small book. "I know. I'm sorry, Kate."

She shook her head and then smiled. "I was worried for a second that you really were someone else in disguise."

Someone must be stoking a fire in the kitchens below because he could feel sweat beginning to break out on his brow. "Er, that would be something, wouldn't it?"

Tell her! Tell her!

She smiled broadly.

The voice withered and died. Would she still smile like that if she knew he was slightly higher on the social scale? Most women would be ecstatic. He should know. He had used his status in seductions before. But Kate didn't seem to hold much stock in titles.

And he wanted her to like him for himself. Not for some stupid title that neither he nor his father wanted him to claim.

"So what are you going to tell Freewater about the journal?"

He shrugged uncomfortably and willed his body to cool. It was best to leave such revelations till later. "Freewater stole this book; he doesn't deserve an explanation. His intent was to publish its contents in the press and embarrass people I care about. It will serve him right to forever mourn its loss not knowing what happened."

She raised a brow. "A bit bloodthirsty, aren't we?"

"He should never have taken it." Christian knew he sounded harsh, but he couldn't help it. Anthony was the closest thing he had to family. He would do anything for him. "Freewater was intent on ruining a good man."

"Mustn't there be something bad in there in order to be ruined? How do you ruin a good man?"

Christian turned away from Kate. How indeed. And how do you redeem a ruined man?

He could leave in the morning. Now that he had the journal, he was free. He didn't have to answer any uncomfortable questions. He didn't have to make the extra effort for Kate. There were plenty more women in the country. He could probably find ten willing, buxom maids in the next village over.