A Regimental Murder clrm-2

by Ashley Gardner

  "What conclusion? What are you talking about?"

  "Good lord, Lydia, have you not seen it? That you killed him yourself."

  Her face flashed white with shock. "What?"

  I went on remorselessly. "You most easily of all could have crept into your husband's chamber and stabbed him while he lay abed. The servants were asleep; who would notice you move from your bedroom to his? And then in the morning you pretend to find him and swear your servants to silence on the matter."

  She stared. "How can you say these things to me?"

  "Because they might just be true."

  Her look turned furious. "They are not."

  She moved as though to flee the room. I stepped in front of her.

  "No? What was he to you? You had no marriage; you admitted so yourself. He was about to bring disgrace to you and your daughter, and his friends disgusted you. If he died, you would be spared an ordeal, and if you could push the deed onto the foul Breckenridge, so much the better."

  I could not still my tongue. My fears were pouring from me, words spilling into the still room.

  "If I am so clever," she flashed, "why on earth did I tell you all?"

  "Because when I helped you on the bridge, you saw a chance to move your plan along. You saw that you could stir me to pity, that you could make me do anything you pleased. That I would scramble to cast the blame on your husband's disgusting colleagues, anything to keep them from you and the taint from your name. You must have seen how easily I'd promise you anything."

  I ran out of breath. She stared at me, lips parted. A slight draft of air stirred the tapes of her cap.

  I eased my hands open. "You see," I said, lowering my voice. "You are barely a widow, and I make declarations that I should not. I take the unpardonable liberty of speaking your name, uninvited. And who am I? A nobody, here on your leave, hardly better than a servant."

  She continued to stand still in shock, her gaze fixed on mine. "No." Her whisper was cracked. "Not a servant. A gentleman."

  "Hardly, at this moment. I am ready to ask for what I do not deserve."

  Color climbed in her cheeks. "And if I say you may have it freely?"

  "Then I will count myself most blessed of men." I shook my head. "But I cannot ask it. I will go."

  "No," she said quickly. "I was willing once before to grant it. Do you remember?"

  How could I forget? I recalled her warm lips against mine, her arms about my neck; I had thought of the incident every day since it had happened.

  "You were ill, and frightened. And a bit foxed, as I recall." I made a slight bow, my throat aching. "Forgive me. I will go."

  "Please do not leave me alone, Gabriel." She held her hand palm out, as if pushing me away. "Not yet."

  "Lydia." I could not stop myself saying her name again. The word filled my mouth, liquid and light. "If I stay…"

  "Stay. Please."

  She stood motionless until I came to her and gathered her into my arms. She leaned to my chest, and the clean scent of the lawn cap drifted to me as I pressed a kiss to it.

  Her hold tightened, and she raised her face to mine. I kissed her. I tasted her lips, her brow, her throat, the lace at her neck.

  "Gabriel," she whispered. "Please stay."

  I kissed her again. I threaded my fingers into her dark hair, and her white cap loosened and fluttered to the floor like a fallen bird.

  The warmth of her bed wrapped me in a comfort I had not known in many a year. I learned her that night in her chamber beneath silken bed hangings, learned the cool brush of her fingers, the scent of her skin, the taste of her mouth. I had not realized how starved I’d been; I was like a man who hadn’t known he was thirsty until given clear water to drink.

  I sensed from her inexperienced caresses, her unpracticed kisses, that she’d not had a lover in many years. I scorned her fool of a husband as I gentled my touch for her. Even a man who could not complete the act could have pleasured a woman in myriad ways. Colonel Westin seemingly had not bothered to do so.

  I liked the way we fit, her head tucked beneath my chin, my arm about her shoulders. She brushed her fingers over my face, smiling at the stiff bristles there. We lay together far into the night, warm and contented. I drifted in and out of sleep, not dreaming, simply dozing in blissful warmth.

  At last in the cool hours of the morning I rose and dressed. She smiled sleepily as I kissed her good-bye and departed into the gray dawn.

  Happiness settled over me. I knew it would not last, but I drank it in, savoring it for the time I could.

  Covent Garden was quiet when I reached it, though a few street ladies still paraded. Black Nancy, a game girl Louisa had taken in to reform, was no longer there, but the others recognized me and greeted me raucously. I tipped my hat to them, my mood still sunny, and moved on to Grimpen Lane.

  I reached the bake shop and let myself into the stuffy staircase hall.

  Light footsteps hastened down to me. "Lacey!" Marianne said in a hoarse whisper. A wavering taper, likely one of mine, lit her face. Her eyes were wide. "Where the devil have you been?"

  "Out," I answered laconically.

  "There are men in your rooms, looking for you. Came banging on my door, asking where you were, about two hours ago. As if I take your particulars."

  I glanced up the stairs. All was quiet. The painted shepherds and shepherdesses wavered under the glare of Marianne's candle.

  I clasped the head of my cane. "They are up there now?"

  "Yes. I tell you, you cannot fight all three, and they looked well able to throw you down the stairs."

  "Who are they?"

  "How the devil should I know? I have never seen them before."

  "Let us find out, shall we?"

  I moved past her. She stared at me as though I'd run mad. but made no move to stop me.

  I quickly and quietly ascended to the first floor. My door stood closed. Long ago, it had been painted dove gray and its panels outlined in gold. The handle was fancifully shaped like a maiden who’d sprouted great long wings from her back. Once she had been gold, but now she was only the tarnished brass that had lain beneath the gold leafing.

  I opened the door.

  Two large footmen stood to either side, waiting for me to come bursting in. I foiled them by simply swinging open the door and remaining in the hall. Across the room, James Denis rose from my worn wing chair.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He wore a black evening suit of superfine, as though he'd just arrived from the theatre or opera. A sapphire ring glinted on his third finger, and a diamond sparkled coldly on his cravat. He or his toadies had lit every one of my candles. The light tinged the flaking ceiling plaster the delicate red-gold of rose petals.

  "What do you want?" I asked unceremoniously.

  "A moment of your time," Denis replied. "Since I could not convince you to visit me in my home, I have traveled to yours. Please come inside."

  "I will when you leave."

  He gave me a frosty look. "You will want to hear what I have to say, believe me, Captain."

  "I did not ask for your help."

  "Yet I give it. And this after my encounters with you last spring. You owe me much."

  "There we differ. I say I owe you nothing." I unsheathed my sword. "Please get out. I have no interest in your information."

  He paused, his eyes hooded. "Not even in the whereabouts of Mrs. Brandon?"

  The words dropped into silence. My heart jumped, then stopped, then began pounding again.

  "What the devil have you to do with Mrs. Brandon?"

  "I know where she is. You do not. I offer the information in fair exchange."

  My limbs unfroze and I went for him. The two brutes to either side of me seized my arms. I jerked free, and with two strides across the room, my hands locked around James Denis's throat.

  His cold blue eyes flickered, but other than that he remained still. Beneath his cravat, his throat was surprisingly warm, and his pulse beat beneath my fingers.


  "Tell me where she is," I said, "or by God, I will kill you where you stand."

  "Then you would not learn anything."

  In a swift, sudden movement, he brought up his hands between my wrists and snapped them apart.

  His henchmen closed on me again as he looked me up and down. "I imagine you have heard the term 'loose cannon,' Captain. Aboard a frigate, I believe, a cannon that is not fastened down properly provides for much danger. You are that loose cannon for me. You do not heed counsel to stay out of my way, and wherever I turn these days, I nearly trip over you."

  I remembered my encounter with him the day Lydia had asked me to help her. I had wondered what errand he'd been performing in Russel Street. "If I have met you by chance, that is hardly my fault."

  "That may be. But I do not trust you not to interfere with my business. I have determined that the only way I can trust you-although "trust" is not quite the word I would use-is to tame you."

  "Tame me?" I almost laughed. "Like one of your trained lackeys?"

  "No," he said. "I want you obligated to me. I will appeal to your sense of duty, your sense of fair play. One gentleman does not cheat another."

  "But I do not consider you a gentleman."

  "I believe that." He gave me the faintest of smiles. "Mrs. Brandon speaks highly of you. She claims you have a good heart, though your judgment is often rash. I believe you a bit misguided myself."

  Fury welled up so tight I could barely see. "Where is she?"

  "We will come to that in a moment- "

  "Where?"

  "I will tell you when you meet my price."

  I would not encourage him by asking what the price was. I remained stubbornly silent.

  "It will be very simple," he continued. "I want you to promise me-your word as a gentleman-that when I call upon you to assist me, in any way or for any reason, you will do so at once, no matter what your situation."

  His expression was utterly still, but I did not delude myself that everything he said was not precisely calculated, his thoughts running far ahead of the conversation. He had decided the outcome of this interview before he had even conducted it.

  This man bought and sold favors and owned people outright, and he had an extensive network that stretched all over the continent, perhaps the world. He dressed like a gentleman, lived in a fine house, and drove a fine carriage, but he was as much an underworld figure as the blacklegs who fleeced gentlemen at the gaming hells of St. James’s.

  I in no way wanted myself obligated to him. But I thought of Louisa, of her cool gray eyes and warm smile and slightly crooked nose. My blood chilled.

  "Why did you come to me and not her husband?" I asked.

  "She does not want to see her husband," he replied. "Or so she said."

  "She is safe?"

  Denis met my eye, cold clarity in his gaze. "That depends very much on you, Captain."

  I hated him powerfully at that moment. He had me, and he knew it.

  "I want your word," he said.

  A candle sputtered in the silence, loud as a pistol shot.

  I nodded, my neck sore with it. "I give you my word."

  "I will hold you to the bargain. Know that." His voice went soft. "I believe Louisa Brandon is very dear to you, is she not?"

  "Just tell me where she is."

  He watched a bit of plaster float to the carpet. "She is a clever woman, your Mrs. Brandon. She has hidden herself well." And he told me.

  I arrived at a respectable-looking boardinghouse down the Thames in Greenwich at two that afternoon. Denis had told me Louisa had moved into the house under the name "Mrs. Taylor," and had purported to be a widow who had recently lost her husband, found herself cut off by an indifferent son, and had nowhere to go. Her story was not far-fetched; by law, sons were not related to their mothers, and had no legal obligation to care for them. I wondered, on a sudden, what provisions Brandon had made, if any, for Louisa in case of his death.

  The landlady who ran the household had a kind face and a softness about her eyes. She told me I'd been expected, and led me to the back of the house to a small, sunny parlor.

  Louisa lay on a divan, a shawl over her knees. Her golden hair was loose about her, and a widow's cap similar to the one Lydia had worn rested on her head, verisimilitude for the part of the widowed Mrs. Taylor.

  I meant to greet her with a jest about it, but I was struck with how thin she'd grown since I'd last seen her. Her fingers were white and frail, and her gray eyes were enormous in her nearly bloodless face.

  My heart tightened. She had been ill, damned ill, if I were any judge. Life could be brutally short in these times, and to be sure, I had already seen a number of childhood acquaintance lost to disease and war, but Louisa had always seemed indomitable, strong, everlasting. The thought that she could be taken from me so easily made my pulse quicken with dread.

  But her smile was welcoming. She held out her hands to me. I clasped them in mine and bent to kiss her cheek.

  "Gabriel. I am so glad you've come." She squeezed my fingers hard, to the bone.

  I went down on one knee beside her. "Louisa, what is it? Are you ill?"

  She shook her head. "Not any longer."

  "What has happened? Tell me."

  She smiled and released my hands. "Oh, do take a chair, Gabriel. The floor must be devilish uncomfortable."

  I rose and dragged a rather shabby armchair with ball and claw feet to her side. When I seated myself, I took one of her hands in mine again. Her fingers curled against my palm, but she did not pull away.

  "Please tell me what has happened," I repeated.

  "Nothing that has not happened before," she said tiredly. "I will weather it."

  I looked into her eyes, and I realized that what I read there was not illness, but great sorrow. Her eyelids were rimmed with red, and I saw a woman who had relinquished her last hope.

  "Oh God," I whispered.

  "I wish I knew why I cannot do what every maid in the street can in a trice," she said. "They even pay to give up what I'd pay a thousandfold to have. It baffles one, does it not?"

  "Louisa." I caressed her cold fingers. Three times before, Louisa Brandon had been with child, and three times before, she had lost that child. The first had been born, a tiny little boy. But all too soon, he had began gasping for breath, and then he had died. The others had been born far too early, too weak to live. This one could not have been inside her for more than several weeks. "I am sorry."

  Her gray eyes filled as her fingers tightened on mine.

  "Does Brandon know?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "I said nothing to him. How could I have? It seemed little short of cruel. He would have hoped so much. I decided I'd go away. I'd met the woman who runs this boarding house during the Peninsular campaign before her husband was killed and she returned to England. She is a midwife now. We corresponded still, and I thought this would be an ideal place. I could wait here until I was certain all would be well." She smiled shakily. "But all was not well, was it? I do not know why I supposed it would be. I have always failed before."

  "It is hardly your fault." My mouth hardened as I remembered a long-ago heated argument with Brandon. "No matter what others might say."

  Brandon had once dared complain in my presence that Louisa had sorely disappointed him in the matter of children. He had said bitterly that she could not come up to scratch, and a childless wife was no wife at all. I understood later that he had been as hurt as Louisa by her latest miscarriage, but at the time, all I had seen was the misery in her eyes and the blatant blame in Brandon's. I'd lost my temper and said that perhaps it was not the receptacle that was to blame, but the seed.

  That moment, I believe had begun the end of our friendship. Our feud had later taken a darker, grimmer twist, but my words that day had never been quite forgiven.

  Louisa toyed with the fringe of her shawl. "I went to Aline," she said. "She advised I go away, somewhere quiet, where I could be alone. I sho
uld have nothing that would upset me, she said, and Aloysius was certainly upsetting me." She looked up, a ghost of a defiant glint in her eye. "Agreeing to testify that Colonel Westin had been inebriated and committed murder. Rot and nonsense. I told him no good would come of such lies, but he can be so stubborn!"

  She did not need to tell me of Brandon's stubbornness.

  "I wondered how you had responded to his promise. I ought to have known you would see the thing for what it was."

  "Of course I did," she said firmly. "But he would preach to me about preserving the honor of the regiment. The Forty-Third should not be shamed. Colonel Westin had agreed to take the blame alone so that he could be singled out and punished. Of course Westin did not murder that captain."

  "I know."

  "I know you know. I have read the newspapers. You are in this up to your neck. I hope you came prepared to tell me everything."

  I raised a brow. "If you have read the newspapers, then you already know."

  She gave me a deprecating look. "Do not tease me. I am not in the humor for it. The newspapers print what they like, and you know it. I want the truth, Gabriel." She slid her hand from mine and folded her arms. "And I do mean all of it. I read that man Billings's salacious hints about you and Mrs. Westin. Well?"

  A day ago, they would still have been lies. Today, I felt my cheeks grow warm.

  "So," she said softly. "Not all lies."

  "But the truth is not what he makes out," I said. "Fortunately, Billings's stories are so outrageous they can be laughed off as improbable."

  She would not let me off so easy. "What is the truth, Gabriel? Stop prevaricating and tell me at once."

  I hid a smile. I was pleased that I had sparked her interest. I was willing to let her scold me if doing so would soothe her.

  I began my tale with the moment I'd caught sight of Lydia Westin making her way through the rain to the half-constructed bridge. I told of Westin's death, and Lydia's wish that I clear his name. I told her of Pomeroy's investigation, and how Grenville and I had journeyed to Astley Close and met Lord Richard Eggleston and Lord Breckenridge. I told her about all the events there, not leaving anything out, including the card game. I told her of Breckenridge's death, Brandon’s sudden appearance, the inquest, and my speculations there.