by Robyn DeHart
“Get to it, Lynford,” Potterfield said.
“Lord Thornton.”
Potterfield’s frown deepened. “I beg your pardon?” The words came out slowly. “You must be mistaken. Certainly Somersby would have recognized him, would he not?”
“You know that Somersby is not out in Society as much as the rest of us. I certainly intend to discuss such matters with him.”
“You are certain that’s who you saw?” Potterfield asked.
“Yes, I went to the park and oversaw the removal of the body. It is back at our offices now, but I came here first before I examined everything.”
“You must be mistaken. I simply cannot imagine why Lord Thornton would want Victoria dead. Perhaps this thug merely favors the earl.”
“I am rather familiar with Lord Thornton, as he is the man who killed my brother. I know what I saw,” Gabriel said. He slowed his breathing, tightened his jaw. It would do him no good to get angry. “Will you go see the body for yourself?”
Potterfield eyed him for a moment and then slowly nodded. “It is highly unlikely that a peer of the realm would try to assassinate the queen. It would serve no purpose. He is nowhere near the next to ascend to the throne.”
“Perhaps not.” But people did not always need a purpose to do something drastic.
…
Lilith Crisp had never been a particularly heavy sleeper, a skill that had proved worthwhile since her marriage to the Earl of Thornton. She sat up in her bed and listened. She’d heard something that had roused her. Perhaps Thornton had finally returned home. Would that she be the one to welcome him rather than one of the servants, especially if he were angry.
He hadn’t been home in nearly a week, and before that his behavior had been even more difficult than usual. Over the past five years she’d grown accustomed to his anger, his outbursts, and especially his jealousy. She’d learned that it often only took a seductive glance or a brush of her hand to distract him from taking his wrath out on the servants. But the truth was he hadn’t touched her in nearly a month. While she was thankful for whatever kept him out of her bed, she knew the reasons probably weren’t good.
There. Definitely a noise coming from downstairs. She slid from her bed and donned her dressing gown, then slipped from her bedchamber. Voices downstairs. Icy fingers of fear skittered down her spine. She was alone in the townhome save two remaining servants. She’d sent the rest home earlier that day.
“No, sir, her ladyship is not entertaining guests at this hour. You’ll have to leave,” Millie’s voice rang out.
A man.
Here to see her? No man ever dared even give her a second glance when Thornton was around. She was his property, and he made certain everyone knew it. If a man was here to see her, then he wasn’t afraid of Thornton. Or perhaps her suspicions were true, and Thornton had met with a bad end. She pulled her dressing gown tighter and suppressed a shiver. She didn’t care for either option. But she couldn’t leave poor Millie to handle matters alone. Lilith descended the stairs and turned down the corridor that led to the foyer. There she found Millie, her devoted lady’s maid, standing before a young man Lilith had never seen before.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, entering the foyer.
“My lady,” Millie said with a slight curtsy. “This man is demanding to see you.”
He cleared his throat. “Lady Thornton, I was asked to come to you and inform you that something has happened to your husband.”
Millie’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
“One of my superiors will be here to speak with you, but I am to remain here until he arrives,” the man said.
Lilith nodded. “Your name?”
“Thomas Sharp, my lady.” He inclined his head slightly.
“Who sent you here?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.” He crossed his hands in front of him. “He’ll be here directly to speak to you, though.”
“Very well,” she said, keeping her tone even. Inside, a veritable storm shuddered through her. “You may wait in the front parlor.”
Millie skirted in front of them and lit the wall lanterns.
Lilith inhaled slowly, then led him to the first room on the right. “You’ll have to make do without tea. I’m afraid my housekeeper is still abed.” With that she closed the door behind her, leaving the man in the parlor alone. “Make certain he does not leave this room,” she told Millie.
Millie’s blond curls bobbed with her head.
Lilith knew this day would come. Or perhaps she’d merely hoped beyond measure for it. But it would seem it was here. Thornton had likely been arrested or killed, and now it was up to her to care for Isabel. The time had come for her to go and retrieve the monies.
…
Gabe and Potterfield climbed the stairs to the examination room. They passed two of their servants on their way. The Brotherhood paid their servants exceptionally well to ensure their loyalty and discretion.
Gabe tried not to think about the fact that finally Thornton had gotten what he’d deserved. He knew as well as anyone that his brother, Rafael, had been reckless and foolish engaging in a duel, all for the sake of a woman. Granted she wasn’t merely any woman, but the most beautiful woman in London, Lilith Jansen. Though now she was the Lady Thornton.
Gabe and Potterfield stepped into the room, and on one of the tables lay the body. They walked over to the corpse. Something was amiss. Gone was the caked blood from the man’s face, though smears of blood marred his forehead. And though the clothes were similar, the hair and features were all different. Gabe frowned. “This is not Lord Thornton.”
“No, it is not,” Potterfield said. He released a slow breath. “Lynford, I know that you do not hold Thornton in the highest esteem, but this—”
Gabe shook his head. “No, this is wrong. I don’t understand.” He called out into the corridor for a servant. “Is this the body from the park?”
The man nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
“You are certain?”
“It is what I was told, my lord, but I was not the one who went to the park to retrieve the body. That was Frank and Kayson.”
“Fetch them for me,” Gabriel said.
“Lynford, I can understand, with the personal ties you have to Thornton, that you wanted some justice for your brother,” Potterfield said, his tone gentle but firm. “But this is clearly some other man. A random thug, as we’d first assumed.”
Had he merely thought the man from the park was Thornton? It had been a few years since he’d seen the man, but certainly he would know him if he saw him. “I see that this man isn’t Thornton, but the man in the park was. I am certain of it. I examined the body myself.” He looked back at the corpse in front of them.
The two men from the park entered, and Gabe asked them about the body.
“Yes, my lord, this is the body we brought in,” Franks said.
“No one has been in this room?” Gabe asked.
“Not that we’ve seen. We haven’t been guarding the door. Weren’t instructed to do so,” Franks said.
“You did fine, gentlemen,” Potterfield stepped forward and said. “Thank you.”
Gabe shook his head. “Something happened to the body from the park to here.”
“Gabriel,” Potterfield said. “Listen to yourself. Are you suggesting that someone switched out the body?”
“Of course not.” However, it wasn’t beyond possibility. What he needed to do was speak to Somersby about what happened in the park. He would know what injuries the man obtained. All he’d been told thus far was that Lord Morton had killed the kidnapper by shooting him.
“Go home,” Potterfield said. “Get some sleep.”
“Permission to go and question Lady Thornton? She might be able to shed some light on the situation, or at the very least tell me where her husband might be.”
“No. It is quite clear that that is not Lord Thornton.” He pointed to the dead man’s body. “There is absolute
ly no reason to bring Lady Thornton into this situation. She can provide no answers to the investigation.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly, then steeled himself. He didn’t know what the hell had happened tonight, but he knew that if he showed any weakness to Potterfield, he’d earn himself a holiday. “Sir, I know it was Thornton. I know what I saw.”
“Be that as it may, that man”—Potterfield pointed at the body—“is not Thornton.”
Gabriel nodded absently. “I’m going to go ahead and examine the body, and then I’ll head home. My apologies for rousing your butler and keeping you from your own bed.”
Potterfield nodded, then left the room.
Gabriel retrieved some water and a cloth, then stepped back over to the body. He rinsed the head wound, noting immediately that it wasn’t a wound at all, but rather just a smattering of blood. This man had been killed in some other way. He grabbed the scissors and began cutting off the man’s clothing. There in his chest he found the fatal wound, left side, on the upper part of his torso. It was far too large to be a gunshot. This was the mark of some sort of knife. This man had been stabbed to death, not shot. Which meant that as ludicrous as it sounded, someone had, in fact, switched out this body for the one in the park. Thornton had not been working alone. Someone out there knew of Thornton’s plan to assassinate the queen, and they didn’t want the Brotherhood to know of Thornton’s involvement. That meant two things: one, Her Majesty was still in danger, and two, Gabe knew something they’d tried to hide.
Potterfield would not believe him without proof. He knew that. The man did not rely on hunches, ever. Neither did Gabe, for that matter, which was why he was often Potterfield’s choice for sensitive assignments. But this wasn’t a feeling or a hunch. Gabe knew he’d seen Thornton in that park and now knew that someone had traded his body. Thankfully they’d already increased security around Victoria at Buckingham.
Now Gabe had to find proof, which meant that he had to go to Thornton’s townhome. See the Lady Thornton and discover what she knew of her husband’s nefarious activities.
…
Lilith had donned the darkest dress she owned, an old frock that still fit her perfectly well, but which Thornton had forbidden her to wear since it was not as revealing as he demanded. But for the purpose of skulking around London in the dark of night, it would work perfectly.
Before she could travel to Saint Bartholomew’s to retrieve Isabel, Lilith had to secure the funds she’d been saving, which meant breaking into the British Museum. Yes, she could simply wait for morning to go when the doors were open, but it had been difficult enough hiding the first stash of money there. The other two times she’d brought funds, she’d gone in the middle of the night, and things had gone much smoother. No one had inquired what she’d been doing on that ladder for so long.
If Thornton were dead, whoever had been after him would most assuredly come for her. She’d been his wife for nearly six years. People would assume she knew things, knew why her husband had been behaving so erratically over the last several months. She suspected he was being blackmailed, though she had no notion over what or by whom. As far as she knew he had no secrets, or rather he’d always freely shared tidbits with others, held business and political conversations in front of her and the like, simply because he hadn’t believed her capable of doing anything with the information. Perhaps he thought her too stupid. More than likely it was because he thought of her as nothing more or less than the pretty bauble on his arm.
She didn’t know for certain he was dead, but considering he hadn’t been home in a week, it seemed highly likely as he’d never before been away from her that long. She’d seen the threats he’d received. Only two of them, and he hadn’t known she’d found them, and though they hadn’t been blatant, it was evident from the language that someone was quite angry with him. There was no telling what sort of dangerous situation he’d gotten himself into. He wasn’t the most popular man, as he was unkind, but he’d earned his status in London, and people tended to respect him. Or perhaps they feared him.
Either way, as Lady Thornton, she tended to gain entrance anywhere she needed to go. He’d even been so bold as to bring her to a gentleman’s club one evening. That had not gone over well with the other men, and the following day she’d been peppered with questions by some of the other wives, but she’d kept mute about the whole situation. In truth, it hadn’t been anything to get overly excited about, nothing more than a darkly lit room, men smoking and gossiping and drinking too much.
Shortly after that night, Thornton’s behavior had shifted and he’d become increasingly absent, less attentive, and angrier. Initially, she’d wondered if he’d found himself a mistress to occupy his time and desires. But then the first of the threats had arrived. The following day she’d made her way to the museum and hidden her first bit of saved funds. For the last six months she’d saved even more, perhaps not expecting, but preparing for, something like this to happen.
She needed to retrieve Isabel, her niece, and together they would go somewhere and begin a new life. Though Isabel was only her niece by marriage, Lilith had always thought of her as more of a sister since they weren’t that far apart in age, less than a decade. Lilith knew that if she did not care for the girl, no one would. She’d merely disappear, and no one would be the wiser. Eventually her uncle’s funds would dry up, and the school would kick her to the street. Lilith would not allow that to happen. Isabel would have more choices than Lilith had had herself.
She quietly descended the stairs and went into Thornton’s office, since the windows lined the wall facing the street. Millie had assured her she would make certain the young man sent to guard Lilith stayed in the parlor while she went on her errand. If the other man arrived to speak with her, he’d have to wait. She peeled back a curtain to check under the window; this one would not do unless she wanted to lower herself directly into a boxwood shrubbery. Another window revealed the same. Finally, on the third, she found a clear choice, albeit a little higher off the ground than she might prefer.
She unlocked the window, then slid it open, wincing as the glass squeaked. With one last glance at Thornton’s study, she lowered herself out the window.
Chapter Two
After leaving the Brotherhood offices, Potterfield sent Gabe and Ellis to Lord Morton’s house. According to Somersby’s report of what had happened in the park, Thornton, or the would-be assassin, had been shot by Morton. Neither Lord nor Lady Morton was home.
“And you said Somersby had already left town?” Gabe asked.
Ellis nodded. “Gone to prove his affection for my cousin, it would seem.”
“Indeed?” Gabe asked.
“Yes, it would seem that protecting her while she was disguised as Queen Victoria proved too tempting for him,” Ellis said. “Not all of us can endure such vows as yours, Priest.”
Gabe didn’t take the bait; he nodded. His friends never missed an opportunity to jest him about his celibacy. “I suppose Potterfield would have us wait here for Morton,” he said, shifting the subject.
“More than likely, yes.” Ellis eyed him. “But you have a different idea?”
“I do.” Gabe told him about sending the man to secure Lady Thornton so she could be questioned, but how Potterfield had instructed Gabe to stay away from her. Without Thornton’s body, they were not to involve her.
Ellis held up the reins. “Where to?”
Gabe gave him the address, and they traveled in silence through the quiet, dark London streets.
“What are we hoping to discover here?” Ellis asked as he prepared to jump down from the rig.
“Wait,” Gabe whispered. He nodded toward the left side of the house, where sticking out of one of the windows was a pair of legs and a rounded backside. “Tell me that doesn’t mean she knows something about her husband.”
“It’s not what I would call conclusive proof,” Ellis said. “But it certainly presents several questions.”
The person then lowered
herself from the window to the ground below. She straightened her skirts and crept to the street, where she climbed into a waiting hack. Gabe would know Lilith anywhere. Her walk, the graceful line of her neck; she was simply not a woman one forgot. Her carriage lurched forward.
“We’re not supposed to be following Lady Thornton,” Ellis said as he snapped the reins. “Potterfield specifically said to walk away from this.”
“Yes, I know, but she is a lady leaving her home at a rather questionable hour,” Gabe said.
“Perhaps she is going to meet a lover.”
The suggestion sparked anger, which Gabe promptly ignored. “She’s smart, so it seems unlikely that she doesn’t know anything about her husband’s activities. If we don’t go after her, we risk forever losing her and whatever information she has. Eventually Potterfield will be able to see that,” Gabe said.
Ellis nodded and drove forward. “Next time, I’d prefer a cover where we can sit in the hack rather than drive it.”
“Duly noted.”
They were quiet for several moments before Ellis spoke again. “How is it that you know the Lady Thornton? From polite society?”
Gabe didn’t particularly want to speak of it, but he knew from experience that Ellis was not likely to drop the conversation if he sensed any hidden details. “You know how my brother died,” he began.
Ellis whistled through his teeth. “She is that woman?” He nodded. “Of course. Rafe dueled with Thornton.”
Gabe inclined his head. The gas lights along the streets of London flickered as they drove behind Lilith’s rig.
“Why is it that we’re following her?” Ellis asked.
Gabe released a breath but kept his gaze locked on the carriage in front of them. “I suspect Thornton to be the man who attempted to assassinate the queen.”
“I received word that the suspect had been killed,” Ellis said.
“Yes, I was called to the park to survey the damage,” Gabe said. “I saw the body, though I haven’t seen Thornton in many years. I’m certain it was him.”