“How dare you, you charlatan—”
“And which points of data do you have to support that claim, sir?” Charlotte snapped back, now rising. “Because if you have none, you will address me as the Countess of Westmoreland. I, on the other hand, have several key facts to support that you are the charlatan.”
“Charlotte.” The middle one gave Charlotte’s arm a poke.
“Yes, Rebecca?” she asked, still glaring at the constable.
“Next time, I shall conduct the interview myself,” Rebecca huffed. “Constable Danby. Apologies. If you find any of your old investigation or if you think of anything, please feel free to contact me. I can assure you that we do not doubt your skills or your effort. Lady Laurel has had some memories surface and only seeks to add these new facts into the ones that presented themselves at the time.”
The constable eased back, the red in his face returning to a more normal hue. “Well, then…in that case, I shall look and see if I saved anything.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said, giving a nod and then turning away, grabbing Charlotte’s arm. “Please seek me directly at Lord Brightmore’s estate.”
The two women started forward, Lady Laurel behind them as they made their way toward him.
Rebecca spoke in a loud whisper as they passed. “You have an uncanny ability to quickly and directly get under a man’s skin.”
“I can’t help it if they are incompetent,” Charlotte huffed.
“Must you point it out within the first three minutes? Couldn’t you wait until after we’ve gotten the information that we needed?”
Charlotte sniffed. “Your point holds some merit.”
Rebecca shook her head, but then gave him a nod as they made to pass by him. He smiled in return and stepped forward, intent upon introducing himself and asking about their cause.
Was it the very incident he’d been a part of ten years ago?
But as they came abreast of him, Lady Laurel’s gaze met his, her large hazel eyes wide with surprise and some spark of recognition.
They pulled at a memory as he drank in her beauty.
She was even more stunning that he’d imagined from afar: large eyes fringed with dark lashes. Pink cheeks and lips, highlighted by a small, straight nose and full cheekbones.
She stole his breath, which was likely why it took a moment to realize that the lovely shade of pale pink that had filled those cheeks was draining as her lips parted in surprise.
“You,” she whispered, her feet stopping as she stared. “It’s you.”
And then her gaze grew unfocused as she wobbled on her feet. He didn’t think any more, stepping forward to catch the lady in his arms as she crumpled toward the ground.