“Do not think to charm me now! I’ll not have it!” Mrs. Hamilton pulled out a handkerchief, wiping away real tears of frustration. “You’re a villain! And I knew there wasn’t a soul who would believe me! But I’ve kept a close watch on you and cut out every article or word I could find on your life here. At the time, I thought it was for my own wretched study, but now, I see that it was Fate! For how else would I have known that Lady Pringley was your patroness?”
“Fate?”
“You have my niece! You’ve lured her here somehow and corrupted her in some sick game to destroy me.”
So much for that imaginary trip to the Continent! Another look at Lady Pringley and he knew she was in gossip heaven at the moment, absorbing every acid-tipped word out of Mrs. Hamilton’s mouth. Her ladyship was ready to burst with excitement to hear what he had to say in his defense and unconsciously had leaned forward so as not to miss anything.
“I have no desire to destroy you, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“You have my niece, Miss Gayle Renshaw, do you not? Are you denying that she is . . . How can I phrase this, Dr. West, without fainting away from revulsion? Is she a ‘guest’ in your home?”
“Mrs. Hamilton.” He took a slow steadying breath and deliberately kept his eyes on Jane Hamilton’s, his voice low and soft. “Come back with me to my brownstone and see for yourself. You and I are bound by the tragic loss of your daughter, Charlotte, and I cannot imagine that you truly wish to discuss all of this here.”
“I . . .” She wavered, as if suddenly realizing the unforeseen risks of the scene she’d created. “I thought if your patroness knew you had Gayle . . . I wanted to punish you. . . .”
He nodded. “Of course.” He bowed to Lady Pringley before holding out his hand to escort Jane out. “Your ladyship will excuse us. I cannot say how much I will miss being in your service.”
The woman sputtered her disappointment at being denied the rest of the story but couldn’t prevent their retreat. Sadly, she’s guaranteed to keep me now, if only to try to wheedle the rest of the tale out of me later.
The ride back to the brownstone was brief enough, but to Rowan it seemed an hour as he sat like a man awaiting his executioner. Mrs. Hamilton refused to even look at him, and he decided it best to wait for the privacy of his study. There is simply no mercy in this world.
“Carter, we’ll be in the study. Let Miss Renshaw know to come down as her aunt is here.” He led Mrs. Hamilton up the stairs and invited her into the private sanctuary of his study to shut the door firmly behind them. “How did you know to look for her in London?” he asked calmly.
She pulled a letter out of her reticule. “She’s been writing to me all along. But when she sent this last vague missive full of descriptions of shops and her ‘travels,’ I recognized the stationery as yours. I’d stared too many hours at your correspondence with Charlotte to not know the paper and spy your initials in the watermark.”
“Fair enough.”
“How could you, Rowan? Have you some vendetta against my family? Against myself? How many young women would you destroy to achieve your goals?”
Gayle’s voice rang out from the doorway, her cheeks flushed with her race down the stairs. “Did he send for you?”
“He most certainly did not send for me!” Aunt Jane stomped her foot at the impertinent suggestion. “The demon was perfectly content to keep you without a word to your nearest and dearest and without lifting a finger to persuade you to return to safety or sanity!”
“I am the one who decided to go! I am a grown woman and not some child to be chased after, Aunt Jane!”
“Then act like a grown woman! Mr. Chester made you a decent offer, and thanks to my efforts, the poor man still believes that you’re in France picking out wallpaper and china!”
“I’m not marrying Mr. Chester! I’m going to be a doctor! And Dr. West had nothing to do with my departure, Aunt Jane! It was my idea to come to London and—”
“Nothing to do with it, you say? Were you about to protest his innocence in this situation? He killed my poor Charlotte, and now, he’s turned you into a whore! You are in no position to defend him, Gayle. He is despicable, and for some reason I cannot fathom, you’ve housed yourself with the worst man living—knowing how I feel!” She started to cry, overwhelmed with unhappiness. “How could you, Gayle? Knowing I hate him more than anyone in the world? Knowing . . .”
“What do I know?” Gayle knelt at her feet. “Say it, please, I beg you. What happened to Charlotte? For you’ve never said it! I only knew there were secrets and I only knew that I needed the leverage of secrets to get what I wanted. I was the villain that put my own desire to become a doctor above everything else. But I have to know what horrible hammer I’ve been swinging about like a stupid child! I have to know, Aunt Jane!”
Mrs. Hamilton covered her face with her hands but finally looked at Gayle and began to speak. “Sh-she was always an emotional girl. You don’t remember, as your visits were so infrequent, but she was . . . beautiful and sweet. He”—she bobbed her head in Rowan’s direction, clearly unwilling to speak his name—“came to Standish Crossing to stay with a university friend, young Mr. Hedley of the Briarstone Hedleys, the ones I had always admired. I approved of him by association, and when he showed a great interest in Charlotte . . . it was a nice bit of romance.” The last few words were confessed in a whisper. “He was going to India, but Charlotte didn’t seem to want to hear of it. She was . . . so in love . . . so desperately in love. I should have seen how unhealthy it was, how unseemly she felt, but I thought it would be good for her to wait for his return. It would temper her nature and teach her patience and the rewards that come with it.”
Jane’s voice filled with grief and fury. “He must have known! He must have known what state he was leaving her in! He . . . used her. He cruelly used her and sampled her maidenhood, and then he simply . . . left.”
Rowan stood with his back to them, his hands pressed against the shelves. Gayle stared at him for a minute, a part of her wishing he would interrupt the tale and change its course, but another part of her was beyond desperate to know the truth at last.
Mrs. Hamilton went on, anger increasing the power of her speech. “I can only imagine her terror and anguish! To be left like a whore with your bastard inside of her and only the promise of your return! Charlotte was too sweet to bear it! She said nothing to any of us but sought out some tinker of a butcher to get rid of it, and . . .”
Jane stood, her hands fisted and wringing her reticule into an unrecognizable mass. “She suffered terribly. The infection and the fever were . . . It was a nightmare and then she was gone. I didn’t know what had happened at first, but when the surgeon’s wife told me the truth of what her husband had discovered . . . You killed her, Rowan. You did this to my child, and I cursed your name and prayed that God would make you suffer the way my child suffered.”
Rowan’s head dropped and he was the very image of defeat. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hamilton. And while I doubt it will comfort you, your curses worked.” He turned back to face them both, raking one hand through his hair with a sigh. “I spent over a year in a dungeon in India in the dark, hungry and tortured. It was . . .” He straightened his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. “But it was nothing compared to your suffering, Mrs. Hamilton.”
Gayle stood on shaky legs. The physical change he’d undergone was explained by his tale of imprisonment, but where was his protest? Where was his denial? Could it be true? It explained so much if it was true. His guilt from a distance. His confession. Was the Rowan she’d come to love the kind of man to use a young girl and leave her defenseless?
“Rowan?”
“I will leave you, ladies, to your conversation. I believe my part in this is concluded.”
“Rowan!” Gayle took one step toward him, but the unmistakable pain in his eyes warded her off.
“It’s been a long and unbelievably eventful day. I’m going to stay at a friend’
s.” He bowed briefly and withdrew without another word.
“You are on a first-name basis with him, I see.” Aunt Jane finished wiping her eyes, and then blew her nose. “Well? What have you to say for yourself?”
Gayle turned back to face her. “I should apologize.”
“You should? Does that mean that you are going to?” Mrs. Hamilton’s sarcasm was unpracticed but potent. “Is it even possible for you to see what you’ve done?”
“I’ve lied and deceived you. It was terribly wrong to pretend to go on tour instead of telling you what I intended.”
“Is that all? You’re only sorry for lying?”
“You told me to act like a grown woman, Aunt Jane. So, yes, I’m sorry that I lied.”
“And the rest of it? You disregarded my feelings and my grief and ran off to be with a man that you know I completely despise! And for what? Some nonsensical quest to play at being a doctor? You are delusional if you think anyone will allow it! But for this, you sever ties with your family and throw yourself off the edge of the social world?”
“It isn’t nonsense, but yes . . . if you put it in those terms, then, yes. To become a physician, I was willing to give up anything. I love you, Aunt Jane, and so I lied rather than confront you with my dreams. I knew you wouldn’t understand. But that was a mistake.” Gayle’s voice grew stronger as she continued. “I was willing to become cruel and use any means necessary to get what I wanted. But that was a mistake. I was willing to break my own heart—and Rowan’s. But that was a mistake.”
Mrs. Hamilton stood slowly, staring at her as if she’d transformed into a stranger. “Y-you have your inheritance, Gayle. Come back with me to Standish Crossing. As you said, it was a mistake.”
Gayle shook her head. “I’ll never go home again.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Good-bye, Aunt Jane. I’m going to stay and beg Rowan to continue my education. And if he refuses, I’m going to accept his offer to find another doctor who will further my studies, even if I have to leave England to make it happen. I’m going to earn my medical degree and I’m going to become a doctor. As you said, I have my inheritance. I’m not going to hide or lie anymore.”
“You would do this? Knowing what he is?”
Gayle nodded. “He’s paid for his mistakes. I can’t ask him to look back anymore.”
Mrs. Hamilton’s cheeks reddened, her eyes filling with tears. “I shall wish you well, then. Consider yourself cut off, Gayle. You have no family to speak of and I—I will always feel as if I’ve failed you.”
“You never have failed me. I’m going . . . to miss you, Aunt Jane, but I pray that one day you’ll think fondly of me again and understand that I only meant to improve myself and help others. I never wanted to hurt you, but I have. And for that, I will be eternally sorry.”
Aunt Jane gathered up her skirts and, without a word, turned her back on Gayle and left the brownstone.
Once she was alone, Gayle felt the tears start falling down her cheeks and she did nothing to stem the tide. I meant what I said about begging him to continue my education and doing all that I could to become a physician. But I omitted how I intend to beg him to marry me. . . .
But how exactly do you beg a man to love you again?
Chapter 27
After a night at a hotel, Rowan decided that he would check on Caroline before heading home. Poor Theo had borne the brunt of the excitement yesterday, but he was glad to see a familiar face as they set out for the morning’s errand. Rowan’s head was pounding again, and he remembered that he’d picked up his headache powders before he’d left yesterday.
“There’s a small glimmer of good fortune,” he whispered to himself, retrieving the small packet from his inside coat pocket. “Hell, I think I’ve even got a small bottle of water to mix it with. . . .” Rowan opened his bag to find the vial, but one of the city’s infamous potholes caught a carriage wheel and he had to juggle the packet to keep from spilling white powder everywhere.
Bitter almonds. Bitter, spoiled almonds. Acrid.
The smell was distinct and not at all what he expected. He used a gloved hand to brush off the small amount he had managed to upend on his sleeve, and gingerly brought it to his nose for closer inspection.
Not my remedy. Not even close. Looks the same, but the smell ...
It’s cyanide.
“My God, I would have taken enough to kill a man twice over and been dead before we crossed Regent’s.” Rowan refolded the packet with careful hands, waiting for the fear to pass so that he could think clearly.
For a few fleeting seconds, he wondered if it had been Gayle. But what grudge would she have had against Ashe? He didn’t see the connection. So who, then? Fitzroy wasn’t even a remote possibility. The man had the integrity of a bishop and would never risk his reputation in such an obvious way.
He used his fist to pound on the carriage wall and alert Theo. “Change of plans! Go to Rutherford’s!”
For long minutes, Rowan felt as if the world had frozen into a stillness of time. Was Gayle capable of such a thing? She was aware of his headaches and had access to his pharmacy. There was no cyanide in the house, but he’d sent her to the chemists and—
No. As far as we’ve come, I won’t go any further down that road. Gayle is no murderer.
He examined the small white square in his palm. Death in a packet so innocuous and inviting made him marvel at how close he’d really come to losing his life.
One pothole. It all came down to one single pothole.
He was no stranger to death. After India, he’d fully understood just how precarious his own existence was and how things could change in a single breath. But even so, this was different.
It didn’t feel like Fate or the hand of God pushing a man one way or another down a path. This was the malign interference of a human being trying to destroy someone else. This was an act of murder that squelched philosophical thoughts of natural order or ethereal loss.
By the time he’d arrived at Michael’s rented rooms, Rowan was a man devoid of feeling. He’d lost Gayle, potentially his reputation, and now, nearly, his life.
I have nothing left to lose.
Michael’s apartment was uniquely appointed, and there wasn’t a delicate curve or breakable object to be found anywhere. He’d bought slightly oversized chairs and rugged tables and even gotten his landlord to provide two large beds to push together so that Michael could sleep across them without his feet hanging off the end. It wasn’t so much that Michael was a giant, but being nearly seven feet tall, his friends knew he hated being treated like one. And in his own rooms, he simply fit and was allowed to relax.
Rutherford greeted him, openly surprised to have Rowan at his door. “Has something happened?”
“I found poison in my headache medicine.” Rowan held out the small packet. “I was on my way to see Caroline. It’s almost pure cyanide.”
Michael took the offending object and laid it on the table. “Don’t you keep your own medication in your study?”
“Yes, or in my bag.”
“Then you know I have to ask if you think that Miss Renshaw has anything to do with this?”
“No.”
“Rowan.” Michael gestured for him to be seated and the men settled in to talk. “She arrived rather suddenly, didn’t she? And while I’ve only gotten bits and pieces from an unreliable source named Blackwell, I take it she wasn’t entirely welcome and that you hadn’t been getting along.”
“Gayle wouldn’t poison me.”
“Why not?”
Rowan took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. Rutherford was an astute man and a good friend, and Rowan knew that whatever was said between them would be held in the strictest confidence. “The truth is that Miss Renshaw wouldn’t have poisoned me because she needs me to teach her everything I know and to assist her in becoming a physician. She’s my apprentice and I haven’t outlived my usefulness.”
“Your apprentice,
” Michael echoed softly.
“I’ve ended it. But I’d gathered the packets before yesterday’s falling out, so there you have it. She didn’t poison me. She might wish she had after everything that’s happened, but . . .” It was a depressing revelation. There would be no joyful proclamation of her love in the future. Gayle wasn’t going to give in to maudlin nonsense or sacrifice her freedom. He shook his head. “She wasn’t going to kill her one and only potential employer and means to achieving her goal of becoming a doctor.”
“You’re in love. Ashe had it right, didn’t he?”
“He did. I’m in love with her, Michael, but it doesn’t matter now. It’s too complicated to be resolved, and I’ve told her how I feel so I can set it behind me with a clear conscience.” He tried to push it all aside. It doesn’t matter now. Gayle’s heard the worst and there’s no recovery. I should have thought of it myself. Why waste time spouting on about how much I love her and wish to protect her? She’s so contrary, she’d have stayed just to torture me. But Mrs. Hamilton was able to cut the cord, and I should be grateful. “The most important thing is that she’ll be safely away from this mess probably by tomorrow morning. And since we’ve eliminated her as a suspect . . .”
“Our villain is close,” Michael noted, picking up the sealed packet to think. “They’d have to have intimate knowledge of you to know that you have these headaches and that you take your remedies. Your apothecary?”
“It’s too obvious, isn’t it? Fitzroy’s entire professional reputation and career would be over in a single whisper.”
“Someone else in your household?” Rutherford probed.
Rowan grew silent. “They’re family, Michael. I’m not some blue-blooded thing to push people about because they’re in my employ. If any of them had a complaint, I would hope that I would know it.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s not even a faint possibility. It’s a small household, Michael. We live under the same roof, and most of them have been with me since I was a child. I’d give my own life to . . .” Something in him stirred, and Rowan lost his train of thought.
Ecstasy Wears Emeralds Page 23