Tears sprang to her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she ran her hands over his chest, inspecting him for blood. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine. Darling, I’m fine!” He caught her frantic hands, looking beyond her to assure himself that the man was dead.
“You went down.” Her breath hitched. “I saw you go down.”
“Bloody rain soaked the grass. I slipped.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
Alec caught her and held her close when her knees sagged. They both jerked upright when they heard the sound of running feet. Alec brought up his gun. Kendra scrambled to pick up the dead Scotsman’s weapon. But Sam Kelly and the Duke burst out of the shadows.
“Don’t shoot!” Sam threw up his hands.
“Christ.” Kendra lowered her weapon.
“What happened?” Sam asked, glancing at the dead bodies. “Who are they?”
“How did you find us?”
“Carlotta told us that you were in danger.”
Kendra couldn’t hide her shock. “Carlotta?”
“Yes…” The Duke glanced around. “She was with us.”
Kendra followed his gaze as he scanned the twisty path from which they’d came, but she already knew. Carlotta was gone.
42
Her things are gone,” the Duke said, his footsteps heavy as he entered the study where Alec was pouring a glass of sherry for Kendra and a whiskey for Sam. Outside, a distant church bell marked the hour: one A.M.
It had taken them over an hour to leave Vauxhall. Sam had sent for the local watch and Dr. Munroe to deal with the dead bodies. Unfortunately, he was also forced to deal with the crowd of merrymakers from the masquerade ball who’d heard about the incident. Hordes of drunken characters had descended on the crime scene to gawk.
Before they left, Kendra had managed to locate Rebecca in one of the pavilion’s shadowy alcoves. As she approached, Kendra noticed Romeo standing next to her friend, but he melted into the crowd before she got there. Kendra was pretty sure she’d glimpsed a prominent chin and strawberry-gold hair before he had disappeared.
The traffic had been so heavy across Vauxhall Bridge and in the main thoroughfares of London that it had taken another hour before they’d made it back to Grosvenor Square. Harding informed them that Carlotta had returned two hours earlier, claiming she’d taken ill. Miss Beckett had helped her undress for the evening, which was the last time that the staff had seen her.
“The silver candlesticks in her bedchamber are gone, as well,” the Duke said now. “And the pearl necklace that I loaned her the other evening. Caro says that several pieces of jewelry are missing from her jewelry box as well. She’s beside herself. Miss Beckett is trying to calm her. I’ve asked Harding and Mrs. Danbury to go through the household to see what else might be missing.”
Sam said, “We’ll find her, sir.”
A shadow passed across the Duke’s face. “No. Let her go. She didn’t take any family heirlooms.”
“You can’t know what she’s stolen or not until there is a household accounting,” Alec said, bringing his uncle a glass of brandy. “I think you ought to let Mr. Kelly at least try to find her, even if you choose not to press charges.”
The Duke sighed, going over to the fireplace to study the burning logs. “I’d just as soon be done with this farce.”
Kendra exchanged a glance with the Bow Street Runner. She wanted to talk to the woman, too, if just to voice her anger at how she’d hurt a good man like the Duke.
The Duke took a long swallow of brandy. “I was a fool,” he finally said, turning to face them.
“You wanted her to be your daughter,” Kendra said softly. “It’s understandable.”
Silence pooled for a long moment, then the Duke said, “When I lost Arabella and Charlotte, it was like having my heart ripped out of my chest. I wanted to die. Instead, I walked around with a hole inside me that no one else could see. Alec…” He looked at his nephew. “Alec remembers that terrible time.”
Alec gave a small nod, his expression mirroring the pain on the Duke’s face.
“When Carlotta claimed to be Charlotte, I suppose I wanted that second chance. Who doesn’t want that with someone they’ve lost?”
“You didn’t accept her story without reason,” Sam said. “How did she know those things about your daughter?”
“They were found by Cameron Armstrong in the letters his aunt sent his mother years ago,” Kendra explained.
“Nanny MacTavish,” Alec elaborated. “Nanny MacTavish may not have gossiped to the rest of the staff while in your employ, but apparently she felt free to express her concerns and affection for her young charge in correspondence with her sister.”
“I never considered that.”
“Why would you?” Kendra said. “Armstrong had been planning this for some time.” She decided not to mention his claim that their relationship might have planted the seed for the Scotsman. “He wanted to keep close tabs on his accomplice, which is why he ended up working at the Yarboroughs’ next door.”
Sam frowned. “Why did he want ter harm you, lass?”
Alec spoke up. “Because Kendra was the proverbial fly in the ointment.”
“It’s what I do.” She smiled and lifted her brandy glass in a silent toast.
“And you do it so well, darling,” Alec replied, then looked at the Duke. “Armstrong worried that she would block you from accepting Carlotta fully as your daughter. He also didn’t like it when she had the clever idea of sending a sketch to aid the Runners in their search.”
“I am aware that I have been a fool, but I like to think that I would not have done anything legal until Mr. Kelly’s men returned with news,” the Duke said.
Kendra wondered if that was true. If there had been no news, or the news had been inconclusive, she doubted that the Duke would have stayed in a state of limbo. Not when he had Carlotta charming him. Not when he desperately wanted to believe in the impossible.
Alec shook his head. “Armstrong thought you taking Carlotta around town while he planted the seeds that she was your daughter might be enough. If something happened to you… Carlotta might have been able to maintain her position as your daughter.”
The Duke looked shaken. “My God. She was working toward my death all this time.”
“I don’t think so,” Kendra said slowly. “I think she was surprised when Armstrong mentioned that. She left because she wanted to warn you. For what it’s worth, I think she genuinely cared for you. It seems the original plan was to steal from you, but when Armstrong saw how you seemed to accept her, he got greedy.”
They were silent for a beat. Then Sam said, “Armstrong was the one who shot at you, didn’t he, as a warning? Didn’t he recognize Carlotta?”
“It wasn’t a warning. It was a stage performance,” Kendra said. “Carlotta was the one who maneuvered the Duke to the window. She’s the one who screamed and saved him. The bullet wasn’t meant to hit anyone.”
“Which you proved the next morning with your little experiment,” said the Duke.
“Probably another reason Armstrong feared Kendra,” Alec murmured. “If she could figure that out, what else could she figure out? I imagine Carlotta told him about Kendra’s investigation into Mr. Pascoe’s murder. He figured the murderer might be feeling the same thing about Kendra, maybe wanted to eliminate her. So he hired men to have her kidnapped from the Merriweather ball.”
“Carlotta approached me that night to take a walk with her, but you interrupted the plan,” Kendra said to him. “I went out that night without her assistance.”
She avoided Alec’s eyes. Thinking about her proposal was still embarrassing.
The Duke eyed Kendra. “But tonight was deliberate, wasn’t it? You staked yourself out like a goat.”
Kendra shrugged. “I wanted to push things. It seemed a good time to get a confession. I was pretty sure she hadn’t been acting alone. I wasn’t.”
Alec smiled wryly. “I had my eye o
n her the entire time. Except when I slipped in the damn grass.”
Sam drained his whiskey and stood. “At least now we know the truth,” he said. “I’ll keep you informed about the inquest and such.”
“Alec, walk with Mr. Kelly to the door,” the Duke ordered.
Alec’s gaze slid from his uncle to Kendra and back again. He nodded, setting down his glass and gesturing to the door. “After you, Mr. Kelly.”
The Duke waited until he and Kendra were alone to say, “I don’t like that you put yourself in danger, my dear.”
“I—”
He held up his hand to silence her. Kendra closed her mouth and waited.
“I like it even less that you didn’t think you could come to me,” he continued. “I am aware that I spent a great deal of time with Carlotta, thinking she may be my daughter. I am also aware that you have felt left out. This is something that I never intended. In fact, I hope you know how much I care for you.”
He paused. Kendra didn’t know if she could speak, even if she had anything to say.
The Duke went on, “I want you to know that even if Carlotta had turned out to be Charlotte, my regard for you would not have changed. The heart is an amazing organ, my dear.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve found that it has limitless capacity to love.”
Tears came to her eyes as she looked at the Duke. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Not everyone has a heart like that, you know. I guess I’m still learning the lesson.”
Who would have thought she’d learn it in this era?
He smiled at her. “Charlotte would have liked you.”
She wiped the tears that fell down her cheeks. She offered the Duke a tremulous smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
43
Three days later.
Kendra’s fingers, encased in black silk gloves, curled into fists to stop herself from pushing aside the ebony veil that was attached to the brim of her bonnet. The black netting was designed to cloak her in anonymity even as it identified her to the world as a widow. Better than running around London in a maid’s uniform, she’d been told. But she felt a little bit like a goth beekeeper.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a sunny day. Unfortunately, for the last three days, fog covered the city. On the plus side, the dense mist was why the Blue Bess was still docked in the London wharf rather than sailing to America. Unfortunately, Kendra’s visibility was basically zero. She took great care with her steps, lifting her skirts to walk up the wobbly gangplank to the deck of the packet ship. The air around her was uncomfortably moist, and heavy with the smell of fish and salt. She heard the slap of water, the ominous creak of masts, the incessant cry of seagulls. Conversations drifted over to her from seamen on the docks and the decks of ships.
“Here, let me help you, ma’am.” A tall man wearing a captain’s uniform materialized out of the vapor.
“Captain Coleridge?”
“Aye, ma’am.” He looked over her shoulder at the vague outline of the carriage. “Is Mr. Kelly with you?”
“No. But I’m not alone,” she said, allowing him to help her the rest of the way up the gangway.
A handful of seamen were working on the deck. In the thick fog, they appeared ghostly. For a moment, she felt like she’d just boarded the Flying Dutchman, the doomed ship manned by phantoms.
The captain nodded and led her to the ship’s saloon, a common area where a few men were sitting around a long wooden table. They stopped talking, eyeing her with interest as she walked with the captain to one of the doors that lined either side of the wall. At the last one, Coleridge knocked briskly. “Mrs. Martinez? It’s Captain Coleridge. May I speak with you?”
There was a moment of silence. Then the door swung inward.
“What is it?” Carlotta froze, her dark eyes going wide at the sight of Kendra. Like Kendra, she was wearing widow’s weeds. The plain black gown, with its lack of embellishments, oddly enhanced her natural beauty. Her pale skin glowed in the dimly lit room. She’d pulled her raven hair back into a loose chignon, tendrils floating delicately around her face.
“Mrs. Martinez is a widow too,” the captain said, winking at Kendra before withdrawing. “I’ll give you your privacy.”
“Thank you.”
Kendra stepped into the tiny room with a small bed, a washbasin, and a little night table. A small trunk took up most of the floor space.
Kendra closed the door and sat down on the trunk. She took off her bonnet with the concealing netting. “Hello, Carlotta.”
Weary resignation crossed Carlotta’s face as she sat down on the bed. She linked her slender fingers together and waited.
Kendra had thought she had a lot to say to the other woman, but now that she was sitting across from her, she was having trouble formulating the words.
“His Grace wanted to let you go,” she said, surprising herself and Carlotta.
The dark lashes fluttered. “Why?”
“He cared for you.” Kendra regarded her for a long moment. “And I think you cared for him. I remember when you told me that he was a good man. You didn’t want him to get hurt. It’s why you warned him the night of the masquerade ball, wasn’t it?”
“It was never supposed to be like this,” Carlotta said softly.
This, Kendra thought, was the image that Rebecca’s artistic eye had captured when she’d sketched her. Gentler, more vulnerable.
“I met Cam during the war,” Carlotta went on. “He was a soldier. I was—am—an actress.”
Kendra nodded. “I thought so. There were a couple of moments when you seemed… theatrical, I suppose. I sent a note to Mr. Kelly’s men in Spain to show a sketch of you around theaters.”
“Then Cam and I had less time than we realized.” She grimaced. “I’ve been in many theaters. I’ve been on the stage since I was fifteen.”
“This was a different role, though. People would get hurt.”
Carlotta looked away. “Cam said that I would only have to pose as His Grace’s daughter long enough to get inside the house. One week. Maybe two. Enough time for us to walk away with a small fortune, really. But then His Grace sent me off with his sister to have a wardrobe made for me, and began introducing me to other members of society. We didn’t expect that.
“Then you warned me that you wouldn’t rest until you knew the truth about me. I told Cam. I didn’t realize he meant to kill you until after the night of the Merriweather ball.”
Kendra studied her. “You were supposed to lure me outside to the men waiting there. What did you think would happen?”
Carlotta said nothing.
“And during the night of the masquerade ball, you led me to Armstrong. What did you think would happen then?”
“I went to the Duke, so he could save you.”
“You went to the Duke to warn him—not because of me. I think you did that only because Armstrong told you that he planned to kill the Duke.”
Carlotta tilted her head to study Kendra, a puzzled frown pulling her eyebrows together. “What is it about you, Miss Donovan, that inspires so much love?”
Kendra stared at her, shocked. “What?”
“The Duke loves you. I’ve seen it in his eyes when he looks at you. I told that to Cam. He felt the Duke should have only one daughter. And then there’s the marquis. He’s in love with you, and you with him. And Lady Rebecca is a most loyal friend. You are surrounded by such love. Even that criminal… Bear, si? I heard how he searched London to find the men who tried to kill you.
“So, I ask myself again, what is it about you, Miss Donovan? Why are you so fortunate? What makes you so special that you attract this admiration and affection?”
Kendra didn’t know what to say to that. It was too bizarre. She’d always been an outsider. Her parents had certainly never loved her. And while she’d loved her job as an FBI agent, and had been friendly enough with her colleagues, she’d never been part of
the barbecues or happy hours. The girl that Carlotta was describing wasn’t her.
Or it hadn’t been in the 21st century.
“I am not so fortunate, it would seem,” Carlotta said with a wry smile. “Will I have a trial before going to the gallows?”
“Do you think you’d get off if you had a trial?”
“It might depend on the men on the jury. I can enchant when I have to.”
“Like you enchanted the Duke. And Lady Atwood—and I thought that was impossible.”
Carlotta laughed, and seemed surprised that she had laughed. “I know people. What they want, their hopes and dreams. Except for you, Miss Donovan.” The dark eyes examined her. “You remain a puzzle to me. You do not act like any young lady I have ever met. The countess doesn’t understand you either. She would like to turn you into a proper English miss, but you seem not to care about her regard. You don’t seem to care about society. You wore breeches.”
“I needed pockets and the breeches for my guns.”
“And you are not joking.” Carlotta shook her head. “You are… what do the English call it? An Original.”
“I’m getting tired of being called peculiar.”
“I would give anything to be you, Miss Donovan. And I do not say this because I most likely will hang.”
Kendra drew in a deep breath before turning back to the other woman. “Why are you on this ship? It’s going to America.”
Carlotta shrugged. “There is nothing for me in Spain.”
Kendra stood then, and turned to open the trunk she’d been sitting on. “You were busy before you left,” she murmured, letting her gaze travel over the silver candlesticks and a jewelry box. She picked it up and studied the glittery jewels inside. “Is this all the jewelry you stole from Lady Atwood?”
Shadows in Time Page 38