by Corwin, Amy
Public outrage over his continued freedom increases daily. We fear for the fate of our fair daughters if he should remain loose and strike again. Even our famous Bow Street runners have been ineffectual in preserving our safety. We can only pray for a rapid detainment and subsequent trial of the monster….
While it was comforting to know Charlotte was safe at the Archer’s residence, it annoyed him that the newspapers still considered him to be a depraved killer.
There had to be some evidence to support Nathaniel’s protestations of innocence. He—or Cheery—had to find it soon, or he wouldn’t retain his freedom much longer. The newspapers were correct on that score.
Of late, Nathaniel had studiously avoided many of his favorite haunts. Meeting the father of either murdered girl meant a confrontation and challenge. And if they refrained from that action, the grieving families still had one more avenue to explore if Nathaniel could not find the murderer: they could demand that Nathaniel face the House of Lords based upon the evidence already available. His blood-soaked clothing and the fact that Miss Mooreland was found in his carriage, when combined with Bolton’s claims of having seen Nathaniel running through the garden at the time of Lady Anne’s death, would be sufficient to see him hang.
He had to do something. However, the nascent idea lingering in the back of his mind stubbornly refused to spring to life.
After dressing, Nathaniel called for his curricle. He had to get out of the house. Despite yesterday, he also wanted to see Charlotte. He had to explain and obtain her forgiveness, or at least her understanding.
If she had recovered, she might even be convinced to go on a drive through the cool morning mist. The sun shone for the first time in days, and it was perfect weather for a leisurely drive. He could make her understand that she should marry him if he could just speak to her alone.
When he arrived at the Archers, he was lead upstairs to a sitting room and told to wait. The house was strangely hushed. Nathaniel’s stomach clenched. Had something else gone wrong? Was someone ill?
Archer joined him before Nathaniel decided to try to find Charlotte.
“What’s wrong?” Nathaniel asked.
Archer took a seat. “That is an interesting question. We had a letter yesterday from Charleston, South Carolina.”
“Does this have to do with Charlotte?”
“Yes. When she arrived, I sent word to some men I trust to verify her estates. Since I am responsible for managing her inheritance, I wanted to understand the condition and productivity of her land and investments. From Westover’s records, her income appeared to be steadily declining.”
A cold feeling poured through Nathaniel. “Is she poor?”
Archer shook his head. “Not precisely. Not poor, but certainly not as well off as we had been led to believe. It seems the estate manager had been selling off parcels of land over the last eight years. I am unable to determine what became of the money he must have received in return for the property. He is now missing. There is little left except a rather large, drafty house in the town of Charleston and a few investments. We would not have received word so quickly if a man had not already been on the way. Some old friends of the family sent him when they saw the state of her farmlands.”
“How bad is it?” All he could think about was Charlotte’s face when she spoke about Egypt and her determination to travel to Cairo. Would she even be able to afford the boat fare?
“From my calculations, she is not precisely a pauper, but her inheritance as it stands today is roughly one third what it was eight years ago. I am afraid her previous guardians were not particularly astute men.”
“Damn it!” Nathaniel stood up and paced. “Does she know?”
“Yes. I discussed it with her this morning after she expressed her intentions to leave immediately for Cairo. I explained I will do my best to invest what remains, but I recommended against any plans to spend large amounts for any purpose until we can complete a review of her finances.”
“Thank you,” Nathaniel said, threading his fingers through his hair. “Did she…did she agree to stay?”
“For a while.”
“Excellent. That gives me a chance—” Nathaniel stopped abruptly. He was despicable to feel such relief and near happiness at the news that Miss Haywood had lost most of her fortune.
However, her misfortunes did grant him time to make amends.
If they couldn’t repair her fortunes, then he would offer to fund a brief trip for her, under certain conditions. While he wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t above a little blackmail.
Charlotte could go to Cairo after she married him. She might not love him, and might, in fact loathe him, but he’d settle for that if she’d marry him.
His love would be enough for the both of them.
And perhaps she would agree if he pointed out that they’d at least have moderately intelligent children. She was blue-stocking enough to appreciate that aspect of his proposal. Although after the last few days, he wasn’t sure he could convince her of that, either.
“Now, nevvy, I have been thinking about your prospects with regard to my ward. Despite the hardship of losing her fortune, it might—”
“Be quiet. I don’t need any more suggestions, if you don’t mind. I refuse to see her loss of fortune as a possible advantage.” He was lying, but the last thing he wanted was any more interference from John Archer.
“Of course. She would be pleased to hear you say that.”
“That fails to reassure me. Did she—did she mention me at all?”
Archer laughed, looking rather Puckish and sly. “I am not one to listen to idle, female prattle.”
“She did, then. Is she furious?”
“No. Not precisely furious, but it was not to our advantage when we found her in Oriana’s attic. She rather assumed that you kidnapped her and kept her there in order to convince her to marry you.”
“And why would she think that?”
“Circumstantial evidence.”
“Which in this case, is partially true. Except we failed utterly and were not the ones who actually kidnapped her. Have you any idea who that bastard might have been?”
“None at all, but I am sure Mr. Gaunt will figure it out. He was here this morning before visiting the Dacy residence again to question the staff. I gather he also spoke to Miss Haywood’s new footman, Tom Henry, for what that information is worth.”
“Well, I wish him luck.” Nathaniel didn’t understand why Charlotte claimed never to have seen Red Smythe before, but Red didn’t look like the kind of man who would go haring off to kidnap an heiress on his own, assuming he had been involved at all.
Red Smythe definitely had a partner giving him instructions. Unfortunately, getting information on the identity of that man would not be easy. If Nathaniel read him right, Red would keep his mouth shut. His face was scarred from taking punches, so a few questions wouldn’t rattle him, particularly since Charlotte had illogically chosen to defend him.
“May I speak with Charlotte?”
Archer considered it, and then nodded. He rang for a maid and asked the girl to fetch both Lady Victoria and Miss Haywood.
When the ladies arrived, Charlotte’s blue eyes focused anywhere but on Nathaniel’s face.
He almost groaned with frustration. “Miss Haywood, I hope you have recovered?”
“Quite. Thank you for asking.”
“We have been considering your experiences. I was hoping you could give us a better description of the men who kidnapped you.”
“I gave all the details I care to give to Mr. Gaunt this morning. Perhaps you should speak to him.”
“I would rather speak to you.” This earned him a quick glance. When she caught his gaze, she flushed and hurriedly looked down to her clasped hands. Her fingers twisted in her lap and then plucked at the pale yellow embroidery running down the front of her muslin gown. Nathaniel longed to cover her restless hands with his own.
The last few weeks had been horrendous for her. Charlotte�
��s fair skin was even paler than usual and dark circles smudged her eyes. Although she didn’t know it, she had been wagered and lost to perfect strangers. Then, she had been kidnapped and subsequently informed she had only one-third of her fortune left. And now she had reason to believe that her guardian’s nephew murdered two women.
He desperately wanted to put an arm around her, hold her, and assure her that she was safe and had nothing to fear.
Most of all, he wanted to tell her he loved her in such as way that she would believe him.
She looked at him defiantly and sat up straighter. “I cannot imagine what more we have to say to one another.”
“More than you might think,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “Do you remember any details of your kidnapping, or anything that might help us to find the men responsible?”
Her blue gaze caught his. He felt her waver. Her lips parted. He leaned forward, but she closed her mouth again without saying more.
“Will you be attending the soirée tonight at the Gilroy’s?” Lady Victoria said, breaking the silence. “Or would you rather go to the Italian opera? You’ve barely made use of your box at Haymarket, Your Grace.”
“The opera? I had not considered it,” Nathaniel said. Once more, something shifted in his mind, some clue that continued to elude him.
“Why?” Lady Victoria asked. “We intend to go. Miss Haywood has indicated she would be willing to attend.”
“I see,” Nathaniel said.
So they were planning to attend this event to prove Charlotte was indeed safe, thereby disputing the kidnapping tale. Using his box would put her on display.
Put her on display…. An idea grew like the proverbial bean stalk. Perhaps there was a pattern to the murders, after all.
“I will reconsider, then,” he said, “and attend. In fact, I will escort you.”
“Excellent notion,” Archer said, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “You will not mind if I go to White’s, then?”
“John….” His wife’s tone held enough warning for her husband to clear his throat self-consciously.
“If we go in my carriage, there will be room for all four of us,” Nathaniel said. Archer glared at him, but Nathaniel ignored his uncle’s disappointment.
He’d need the extra eyes to watch over Charlotte and make sure she remained safe.
“Oh, very well,” Archer agreed. “Seven?”
“Seven it is.”
No one seemed inclined to allow Nathaniel to speak to Charlotte in private, so he took his leave of them. He drove his curricle through the crowded streets, feeling irritable and out-of sorts.
Why wouldn’t Charlotte let him explain?
Perspiring, he noticed he was nearing Gunther’s. With the warm weather and his dry through, he realized that a cool lemon ice was just what he required. He drove his curricle into a nearby street and stopped.
When he entered Gunther’s, it appeared the rest of London’s population had precisely the same idea. The shop was full, but he managed to thrust his way through to the counter, order his lemon ice, and squirm his way out.
“Your Grace!” a woman’s gloved hand touched his sleeve.
He glanced down to find Lady Beatrice peering up at him from beneath a dainty hat of chipped straw tied over her blond ringlets with ribbons of dark blue.
“Lady Beatrice,” he greeted her and then nodded toward the door. “Quite a crush in here.”
She tucked her hand under his elbow and moved with him through the door, though it was scarcely less crowded outside. “I am so relieved to see you well. These last few days have been dreadful, have they not? I must admit I am worn to the merest sliver with worry over those poor, poor girls. I do wish they would find the dreadful madman who is responsible.” She shivered as they walked a few yards, her maid following at a tactful distance. “I shall never forget our dear Lady Anne, and to think it happened in my gardens. Why, it could have been me! I declare, I shall not be able to sleep until they arrest him.”
“Yes, we will all miss Lady Anne.”
Lady Beatrice finished her ice and tugged at the strings to the reticule hanging from her wrist. “This is indeed a fortuitous meeting.”
“Indeed?”
She laughed. “Oh, Your Grace, please don’t tease me so. I would almost believe you had no wish to converse with me. You know I value your company and treasure our conversations beyond all reason.”
Nathaniel felt increasingly uncomfortable with Lady Beatrice clinging to his arm. Several acquaintances had noticed him and inclined their heads in his direction. From the grins on their faces, he knew there would be rumors by this evening linking Nathaniel again with Lady Beatrice.
All of Society seemed to be breathlessly awaiting an announcement.
And now of all times, he did not want any gossip to reach Charlotte’s ears, particularly if it involved Lady Beatrice. He had seen at Lady Beatrice’s soirée that the two women were not the best of friends. On a certain level, he was flattered by their subtle competition.
However, with Charlotte so unhappy now, he just wanted Lady Beatrice to go away.
“Here it is,” she said, pulling something out of her reticule.
Nathaniel finished his ice and idly watched the crowds. How could he shake off Lady Beatrice without seeming impossibly rude?
“Your Grace, I believe this belongs to you?” Lady Beatrice asked.
He glanced down at her hand. She had a bluish stone streaked with gold and black held between her thumb and forefinger.
“What is that?” he asked, numbly.
“Is this not your lapis lazuli? The one you always wore dangling from your watch chain?”
“I don’t know. May I see it?” His pulse raced. Where had she found it?
She held it up higher. “You see? The gold ring at the top is bent.”
“It certainly looks like mine,” he said cautiously. The unique corkscrew shape was proof enough, however. “Where did you find it?”
She sighed and tucked it back into her reticule. His gaze followed the gesture, and he resisted the urge to tear it off her wrist.
“I found it in the garden the morning after my ball. It was lying precisely where poor Lady Anne was discovered. You can imagine my horror when I recognized it. I have been so afraid—I did not know what to do.”
“I see.” Nathaniel pulled her out of the middle of the sidewalk into the entrance to a narrow alley. “Perhaps I ought to take a closer look at it to determine if it is, indeed, my lapis.”
She pouted and pressed her forefinger against her lower lip. “Then you have lost your lapis?”
“Perhaps. I have not seen it lately. But my valet may have found it loose and taken it to the jewelers to have the link replaced. I will have to ask him.”
“But this could be yours?”
He shrugged.
“I…just don’t know what to do, Your Grace. Have you considered what might happen if Bow Street should come to believe your lapis was found in the area where poor Lady Anne met her dreadful fate? Of course, I am convinced you are innocent, but I felt compelled to search the area. Particularly when I saw you returning—almost running—back to the ball during the precise time when that poor girl…. Well, if it had been anyone else, I would have been convinced I had witnessed the madman fleeing after his attack. You must see how important it is that Bow Street not gain such a misleading understanding of the events.”
“And how would they gain this odd idea?”
She touched his arm. “I am afraid I should give them this and explain where I found it. There was a murder, and this may be evidence.” She turned to glance at the busy sidewalk as if agitated and afraid of being overheard. Her muslin skirts brushed his leg as she leaned closer, smelling of roses and lavender. “I simply do not know what I should do—tell me what I should do!”
“If what you say is true, then you must give it to Bow Street.” He glanced over her head as if bored. His pulse raced when she tucked her hand under
his elbow.
“But I do not want them to think you were involved! Why, the murderer may have deliberately tried to implicate you, Your Grace.”
“That is certainly possible. However if I am innocent, then any evidence you provide to Bow Street will not harm me.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Her brows contracted. “Don’t they ever make mistakes? What if they were to hang an innocent man? I could not bear it if something were to happen to you.”
“I am afraid I cannot advise you. Do what you think is correct.”
“Then I believe I should keep this trinket. I would not want you to be unjustly accused. Despite your confidence in Bow Street, I am unsure they are of sufficient intelligence to find whoever is truly responsible if they are mislead by this paltry object.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “I confess I am not concerned what they think.”
“Because you are innocent. I applaud you, but surely you must see the advantages of having others support your innocence. As these horrible events took place during my ball, you must see that I feel responsible. And since the newspapers have been so quick to assign blame to you—oh, I must apologize for speaking so frankly, but you must know this as well as I—and after Miss Mooreland…. Well, you are in a terrible position for an innocent man. All that would be needed to tip the scales against you is something like that silly fob. You must let me help you.”
Nathaniel disengaged his arm and attempted to stride back out onto the sidewalk. His muscles tensed with anger. All the women who had tried to compromise him had failed until now, and the one woman he wanted to comprise wouldn’t allow it.
From what he had seen, Lady Beatrice had somehow found his lucky piece of lapis. Although he wouldn’t admit it to her, her fears were entirely well founded. That blue stone was all the investigators needed to pull together sufficient evidence to arrest him for both murders.
That lapis fob had definitely lost its luck.
Lady Beatrice clasped his arm. “I dislike being so bold, Your Grace. However, you must admit there is a strength of feeling between the two of us that cannot be denied. If we were—forgive my forwardness—engaged, would it not put to rest the rumors concerning you? They say you murdered those two women because of your dislike of females. If you are engaged, they would understand that they were wrong. And of course, as your wife, I could not supply evidence against you. You would be safe.”