by Ava Rose
He’d eschewed a life of luxury in favor of a more exciting existence. A life where he was fulfilled, and where he had a purpose outside of carrying the family title. In fact, he had given up every advantage except membership in this fine establishment. It helped with his work and, to be honest, he enjoyed his time alone in the private sitting area that was always reserved for his use.
Tonight, he was working on a theft case. Lady Kingsleigh had woken to her necklace missing, and it was not just any necklace, either. The missing piece included a rare black diamond in its setting. This was not a hugely exciting case, and he had only taken it up as a favor to the family, but it served to occupy his time until something more interesting came along.
“DeHavillend, you devil!” The unmistakable stentorian voice of his friend, Samuel Mast, boomed from behind him.
He turned, the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Mast.”
Samuel clapped him on the back before taking the seat opposite him. “You won’t believe what I heard today,” he said. The man loved bringing Henry stories.
He relaxed in his chair. “What happened this time?”
“Remember that kidnapped princess—the one who’s also a baroness? The Armstrong-Leeds girl everyone was talking about?” At Henry’s nod, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Her kidnapper has been found dead in a ditch outside of town. He was murdered.”
Henry’s curiosity bubbled up. He tried to tamp it back down, but couldn’t help the question that popped out. “Are there any suspects?”
“That is the most interesting part.” Samuel’s eyes darted from side to side, making sure no one was listening. “She is the suspect.”
Henry nodded calmly. The man had purportedly kidnapped the woman and forced her to marry him under duress. In this society, that was death to a woman’s reputation. There was a motive for murder.
Samuel frowned. “You don’t look surprised.”
“That is because I am not.”
“But you have to admit that this is a curious case.”
He shrugged. “On the contrary. It is rather straightforward. Given what happened to the woman, I would suggest she is very much capable of such a crime.”
Samuel’s brows drew together. “She couldn’t have carried it out herself, surely? That is to say, the girl is quite dainty.”
“Well, she could easily have hired someone to do her dirty bidding.”
“Ah, I see.” His friend brightened. “That should make this case exciting, shouldn’t it?”
Henry raised his glass, pausing to watch the play of light on the cut crystal before touching it to his lips. “Not to me.”
That was a lie. This was just the sort of case he would ordinarily love to chase, but for some reason he wanted to stay out of this one if he could. He didn’t want to be the one to prove a genteel lady’s guilt. Not when she had clearly been through so much, already.
“You’re saying you’re not even going to consider taking it?” Samuel made a funny, begging face.
“No.”
He sighed. “Oh, well.”
“Is that all you have for me?” Henry asked.
Samuel grinned, undeterred by Henry’s gruffness. “Perhaps some time with a friend, and a drink or two, is what brought me here.”
Henry chuckled. “Why do you put up with me?”
“Honestly? Because you’re interesting,” his friend answered.
Henry called for a fresh round of drinks, and the two chatted for a while. After about an hour, Samuel left. Not long after his departure, Henry saw a tall, dark-haired man come into the room. After exchanging a few words with the steward of the establishment, he advanced into the room and headed rather obviously toward Henry.
He didn’t need any introduction to recognize this man. His limping gait was as telling of his identity as if his name had been shouted out to the entire room. Henry shifted in his seat, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He did not like this man very well. He was arrogant, entitled, and always in ill-humor. Henry greatly disliked the energy that surrounded the man. And at this moment, given the conversation he’d just had with Samuel, he especially did not want to start a conversation with the brother of the kidnapped Armstrong-Leeds woman.
“Lord DeHavillend,” Sir Penforth drawled as he stopped before him.
“Your Royal Highness.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Penforth, please.” Without asking, he lowered himself into the seat opposite.
“This is most improper,” Henry said. He tried to keep his tone even despite his growing irritation. “Invading a man’s privacy like this.”
Sir Penforth shrugged. “I am not known for following the codes of propriety.” He raised his hand and gestured for the waiter to serve him.
Henry’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the gentleman in front of him. They’d had little cause to meet and in the few times they had—before Henry had embraced the life of mystery-solving—they had not taken to each other. Henry’s attempts at congeniality had been met with a cold wall, and he had decided Sir Penforth was not the sort of man with whom he wished to spend time.
“To what do I owe this honor, Penforth?” He knew why the man was here, of course.
“I would like you to take up my sister’s case.”
Henry snorted and took a leisurely sip of his drink. “I don’t take cases like that. I solve mysteries. I don’t chase after kidnappers.”
He was careful not to reveal any newly gained knowledge about the case.
“You will take this one,” the prince drawled. “You want excitement, don’t you?”
Henry’s brows made a slow ascent toward his hairline.
“The man who took my sister has been found dead,” Sir Penforth stated. “And Baroness Esk is a suspect.”
Henry made a show of looking bored. “As I said, I don’t take cases like this. But I am curious about one thing.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you not refer to your sister by her higher title of princess?”
Sir Penforth’s jaw clenched. “Not that it is any of your business, but it is her choice. She feels that the royal title is too…restrictive for her modern lifestyle. She prefers the other. Now, back to the matter at hand. Name your price, and I will double it.”
“It is not about money,” Henry responded tersely. He did not want to take this case, despite the fact that a small part of him was intrigued by a society woman who chose not to embrace the highest of titles. Confound it. He did not want this case. Why was everyone pushing it on him?
“What is it about, then?” This man was not going to let go.
With a weary sigh, Henry finally answered. “I am not taking it because I think she is guilty.”
The response caused Sir Penforth’s eyes to darken dangerously and Henry put up his hand, palm out. “Now, before you have me drawn and quartered, I am only being realistic. It does appear that the chances of your sister committing this crime are quite high given the ordeal she has been through. And if she is guilty, I do not want to be the one to prove that.”
His explanation did nothing to put out the fire in the prince’s eyes. If anything, his look was murderous now.
“I also do not want to be expected to cover it up if she is found guilty. I am in the business of exposing crimes, not covering them up.”
“She is not guilty,” Sir Penforth said through clenched teeth.
“She is your sister and you are certainly allowed to have faith in her. I am a detective and I do not know her at all.”
The murderous glare disappeared from Sir Penforth’s eyes as he let out a sigh. Henry experienced a moment of sympathy for the man. He had sisters too, and although he had not seen them in years, he cared deeply for them and would lay down his life for them if needed.
From a brother to a brother, he knew what Sir Penforth must be going through. A lot of emotion. All the more reason to steer clear of this case.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly and perhap
s Sir Penforth could see he meant it, because he nodded solemnly before rising to his feet.
“If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
After he left, Henry sat for a very long time, thinking. As much as he suspected the princess’s guilt, a tiny seed had been planted. What if she is innocent? He did not want to ignore the possibility of her innocence. His thoughts had him torn.
If she truly were innocent and he ignored her case, would the police be up to the task? In their incompetence, would they perhaps declare her guilty regardless of the truth? If that were to happen, it would be a travesty and he would not be able to forgive himself. Damnation! He needed more time to think.
He stood slowly, feeling tired, and retrieved his hat and greatcoat before making his way out of the club and into the night. The chill night air brushed his cheeks and he tilted up his head to allow the light rain to fall upon his face.
Unlike most people, he loved the rain and did not mind getting drenched. He walked down the street through the blanket of fog that had settled over the quieted city, making his way toward his apartment rooms in the diverse South End.
He only hired a carriage to take him home from the club when he had drunk too much, and that was a very rare occasion. Walking in the night was another of his odd likes. The darkness helped him think.
Henry didn’t attend social functions unless he had to. He had little patience for such events and even less patience for the people who hosted and attended them. He did not mingle in the elite Boston Brahmin circle unless it was tied to a case on which he was working. And he had long moved out of his family’s townhouse in Beacon Hill to a small suite of apartments in South End. But still, he knew of Her Royal Highness, Lady Elizabeth Armstrong-Leeds. Although they had not officially met, he knew her by reputation.
And not the reputation she had now, generated by recent events and adverse press. No, instead he had heard of her previously, in relation to her quest for equality. She had been known before her kidnapping as a fearless advocate for women, challenging any man who dared stand in her way. Life was quite remarkable in the way it dealt blows to certain people. Who would have thought a woman like Lady Elizabeth could be brought so low?
Perhaps he should take this case.
Henry could not explain why, but something was pulling him toward this case, despite every instinct against it. The feeling that he might regret it if he didn’t take on the case, was becoming stronger than his need to stay away from the higher echelons of society.
CHAPTER THREE
Armstrong-Leeds House
The following day
Libby had not slept a wink. Neither had she seen anyone nor eaten a bite since yesterday afternoon. Her door had remained locked since then, too. In the evening, her mother had knocked and called her name, asking if she was all right. She had responded briefly, to say she was fine and needed some space. A food tray had been left by the door which had remained untouched throughout the night. She suspected it had now been taken away.
With stiff shoulders, an even stiffer back and a leaden heart, she got out of bed, still in yesterday’s dress, and moved toward the door where she unlocked it before ringing for her lady’s maid, Grace. Then she crossed to the window to look out onto the busy street below.
Everyone carried on with their lives. Some were oblivious to her existence; some knew her but were unaware of her suffering; some liked her suffering; while others would commiserate.
But none of that mattered. She only wanted Mary to be received kindly by these people, and for Anna’s reputation not to be tarnished given she was marrying into the family. She could help neither Mary nor Anna by sitting in her room wallowing in misery. It was time to stop the self-pity and start to make a plan.
A knock sounded. It was Grace, who entered with something like worry on her face. She curtsied and greeted Libby who nodded in return.
“Would you run me a bath and help me change out of this dress, please?”
As her corset was unlaced, her chest expanded as her lungs filled. Her ribs ached from being bound for so long. She took her time in the warm bath.
Three weeks ago, the only concern she’d had was proving that she and Anna were fighting for the right cause. Now, the focus was on dragging her family out of this scandal. She had already taken responsibility for allowing herself to be beguiled and then kidnapped. She was not going to allow Penforth to take sole responsibility for mending things. That burden was hers.
When she reached the dining room, her entire family was there. They all murmured greetings and although they tried to appear calm, she sensed their collective worry.
“Good morning,” she said stiffly without looking at any one of them in particular. A footman pulled out a chair for her.
After her cup had been filled with coffee and she had added cream and sugar, she looked up to find everyone staring at her.
“I don’t want concern over me to take away your appetites,” she said. “Please eat.”
“Darling,” Christiana began, “are you all right?”
How could she be? She nodded. “I am fine, Mama.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded again and looked directly into her mother’s eyes. “I didn’t do it and that is enough. I’m not going anywhere.”
Coffee was all she was able to take. The feeling of unease in her stomach would not settle.
Anna reached across the table and squeezed her hand, and beside her, Pen took her other hand. “We’re here,” he said.
“I know. Thank you.” The tears threatened to spill just then, but she fought them and they stayed put. She would not let them see her cry. It would just worry them more.
“Sir,” came Antoine’s voice from the doorway. A very welcome distraction.
“Yes?” Pen answered.
“Detective DeHavillend is here to see you.”
Libby’s shoulders slumped. Another police officer? Pen could not protect her forever. But then something about Pen caught her attention. He seemed pleased. And the name registered with her.
“DeHavillend? The Viscount, who dabbles in detecting?” She caught Pen’s coat sleeve when he nodded. “Did you call him?”
“Yes,” he replied.
Libby released him. DeHavillend had a reputation for being a great private detective. No case he’d ever taken up had remained unsolved. Perhaps he could help prove her innocence and end her current plight.
She shot to her feet.
***
Henry’s first order of the day was to call on the Armstrong-Leeds House and accept Sir Penforth’s offer. As he alighted from the carriage, he looked up at the grand house that reminded him of his own family’s home and prayed he was doing the right thing.
When he had woken this morning, he had decided he would only see this case to a conclusion if he was convinced of the princess’s innocence. He would make that clear to Sir Penforth.
A stiff-backed, gray-haired butler with a downturned mouth answered his knock and looked him over from the top of his head to the toes of his shoes before clearing his throat and asking, “May I help you?”
“I am Detective DeHavillend. Sir Penforth is expecting me.”
The starchy butler raised a skeptical brow. “He has not informed me.”
Henry shrugged. “That is not my problem.”
“Wait here, please.”
Henry quipped, “I am not going anywhere.”
The butler closed the door and after some minutes—Henry was not counting—he reappeared and asked Henry to enter. He was led to an opulent salon decorated in shades of dark green and brown where Sir Penforth waited.
“DeHavillend,” he greeted. “I take it you are interested in helping me.”
“Yes, but conditionally.”
Sir Penforth’s eyes narrowed. “State your condition.”
“I will only see this case through if she is innocent.”
“She is innocent,” he affirmed.
“I wil
l determine that.”
One corner of Sir Penforth’s mouth tilted up. “You will see this case through, I promise you.”
His faith in his sister was rather admirable.
“May I see her?” Henry asked.
No sooner had the question come out of his mouth than a voice behind him uttered, “I am already here.”
He turned around and his thoughts deserted him right then. All he had ever seen of the baroness were pictures and drawings, and she looked much different in the flesh. She was very fetching despite the remnants of bruising around her left eye, her jaw, and her right cheek. Eyes of hazel, almost amber, looked expectantly at him; and soft full lips of pink parted to speak.
“I am Lady Elizabeth.”
Oh, he didn’t need to be told that. For some unaccountable reason, his heart sped up.
“My lady,” he bowed in a courtly manner. She remained standing which incited him to ask, “Are you going to sit?”
She shook her dark head. “I prefer to stand.”
“I have a lot of questions for you—”
“So do I,” she inserted.
She had questions for him? Henry was not easily surprised, but she had managed it.
“Oh? Then perhaps you should sit. We are going to be here for quite some time.”
“Very well.” She moved gracefully across the space and took a seat, folding her hands primly on her lap and tilting her head.
Her brother took a seat as well and finally, Henry did the same.
“Shall we?” he began. At her nod of approval, he said, “I am going to ask you questions you have no doubt been asked many times before, so bear with me.”
Her expression softened at his words, reminding Henry he had to be gentle and treat her not as a criminal but as a person. A person with feelings.
“How were you taken?”