Cornwall hesitated before making his reply. “Of course. But I am sure you agree that key facts are sometimes confused when investigations are not executed in a timely manner.”
“Absolutely. I only wish she could speak to you now. But truthfully, she is still hysterical. It would be a waste of your time. Surely it can wait until morning, first light even. Besides, the light of a candle offers only the meekest of assistance to see into the carriage. It may assist your investigation to gather evidence from the scene of the accident before questioning the victim.”
“Mr. Silence, I am mystified as to why you refer to Miss Iverson as the victim in this matter. It is not her body that is being transported by the undertaker at this moment. She is, at the very least, a witness. She may even be a cold-blooded murderer. I have nothing to investigate until I can question the sole surviving passenger of that carriage!”
Gavin began to worry in earnest. But then he saw Silence’s lip turn up slightly, and he knew Silence was about to seal Grace’s safety for the night. “You are a intelligent man, Mr. Cornwall,” Silence soothed. “You originally were summoned to Willsing Manor to ensure Miss Iverson’s safety, were you not?”
“Yes, I was told the lady’s reputation and physical well-being were in jeopardy.”
“And why would I have summoned you to follow someone who was set on committing murder? This was not premeditated. This was nothing more than an accident. I recommend we all go to our respective homes, and when we have the light of day and a bit of rest, we will investigate this case as diligently and thoroughly as you please.”
Gavin could see the logic in Silence’s words. “I promise to let you speak to Miss Iverson at first light,” he vowed. “But there is a whole ballroom of people to interview who are beginning to scatter even as we speak, while Miss Iverson is not yet fit to be seen. Should you not investigate why she left the ball in the first place? Or how she knew Lord Randall? Surely someone at the ball must have seen something.”
Mr. Cornwall silently debated their suggestions. He glanced up as the chime of the clock struck midnight. “I suppose her interview can wait until morning,” he concluded. “I will start inquiries at the Comptons’ before the ball breaks up. But I expect to see her at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Gavin let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. “You have my word. Let me show you out,” he offered.
As they walked toward the front door, he caught sight of Charlotte coming down the stairs. He quickly bid Cornwall farewell and rushed Charlotte into his study.
He searched her face for any news, but all he could see was her panic. Hoping to calm her, he offered a cup of tea. She took it with shaky hands.
“How is Grace?” he finally asked.
“I am afraid she has not said much, Your Grace,” Charlotte confessed. “She became quite distraught during her bath when I tried to clean the blood from under her nails. What happened to her, sir?”
Gavin’s heart dropped in disappointment. “I was hoping you could tell me. Did she not say anything? Did she try to explain what happened?”
“No, Your Grace. She has not said a word.”
Gavin frowned and furrowed his brows. “How is she?” he probed.
“She is resting right now. Well, she is in bed in her nightclothes. But she is staring at the ceiling as if it were likely to fall in on her. It gives me goose bumps, I tell you.”
“Did she drink the chamomile tea?”
“Yes, sir, she drank all of it. Did not even need coaxing. She wouldn’t touch the toast though.”
“Thank you, Charlotte. She will have a very early visitor tomorrow at eight o’clock. Please see that she is ready, but let her sleep as long as possible.”
Charlotte rung her hands and knitted her brows together. “Your Grace?”
“Yes?”
“She did say one thing. It may not be my place to tell you, but since you seem so anxious about her, I thought I should mention it.”
“What is it?”
Charlotte bit her lip and looked down at the floor. “She said, ‘Now Gavin will not wish to marry me. I am ruined.’” Charlotte looked back up at Gavin’s face. “The sleeve of the dress, sir . . .” Her words hung in the air.
Silence answered for him. “That will be all, Charlotte. Thank you.” She put down her tea and left the room.
Gavin’s heart sputtered at Charlotte’s revelation. Had more happened than simply a torn dress? Had Lord Randall taken more than the light in her eye or the skip in her step? His heart lurched once again, and he was suddenly weak in the knees. He found solace in the sofa by the window and put his head in his hands. The weight on his shoulders was too much.
“I failed her, Silence. She was under my roof, under my protection, and I failed her in every way. My jealousy blinded me, and I doubted her. I thought she had aligned herself with someone like Broadbent, and I chose to pull away at the moment she needed me the most.”
Silence came and sat next to him. “Why did you think the worst, Kingston?” he asked. “I hardly know Miss Iverson, but she is the last person I would ever suspect of duplicity.”
Gavin closed his eyes and tried to remember the events at the ball. “When Broadbent implied all those intimacies, I became so jealous. I . . .”
“But why? You have had many women in your life. If anything, you strayed farther from propriety than she did. How many ladies’ hearts did you break between voyages?”
“This is hardly helpful, Silence,” he muttered, his head in his hands again. Then he looked up and whispered, “Do you think she will ever forgive me?”
Silence put a hand on his shoulder. “I think so. She loves you, Gavin,” he reassured him. “Unfortunately, that is the least of our problems right now.”
*****
Gavin and Silence quickly went to work. They began by sketching a timeline of the evening’s events. Then they began making a list of everything they knew about Broadbent and Fresden.
“We must be missing something, Silence,” Gavin mused. He tapped his fingers on the desk and reviewed their notes again. “Why did Fresden target Grace? Her dowry is too small to be the aim. Was it just opportunity knocking? Simply a chance to get what he could when the moment presented itself?”
“No, I think we can safely assume that this was no coincidence,” Silence replied. “Harrison and I had a few minutes to talk when you took Grace home. He told me that Lord Randall was very hard up on money. So strapped that he offered to sell Harrison his last horse, Impetus.”
“The black stallion? The one he won in a card game?”
“Yes. It seems his luck has turned on him. He was asking Harrison for an outrageous amount. He is a fine horse for sure, but Harrison turned him down. If Fresden was hurting badly enough, he would have been an easy target for just about anyone.”
Gavin pondered this for a moment. “Is there any connection between Broadbent and Lord Randall?” Silence murmured incoherently. “Well, is there?”
“I cannot say. I only just met Broadbent tonight. Harrison remembers seeing Broadbent and Fresden together a time or two—he even played at the same table once where Broadbent lost terribly to Fresden—but he has never seen anything to indicate a deep connection between them. I have sent him a note to my informant asking for anything he might have on them, but I doubt I will hear back before Cornwall’s visit tomorrow morning.”
“Then there is nothing else to do,” Gavin sighed. “I just wish I knew more.”
“Try to get some sleep, Kingston,” Silence suggested.
I doubt I will be able to. He put his head back in his hands and rubbed his forehead as if doing so would massage out the anxiety and turmoil that was brewing. The pressure he felt was building, and none of his sources offered any relief. Charlotte had no secondhand information about what happened in the carriage. Silence knew only enough about Fresden and Broadbent to create further questions. And Grace was still beside herself—apparently lying in her bed, staring bla
nkly at the ceiling. No one could settle his anxiety.
For the first time in months, his mouth burned with the desire to drown himself with drink. He had always known it wouldn’t be easy to turn away from drink after being so dependent on it for years and years—but tonight was especially hard.
He methodically poured himself a cup of tea and drank every last drop. Silence held his tongue, but Gavin could see him watching him like a hawk.
“Will you be all right?” Silence finally asked. Gavin nodded after a moment.
“Just thirsty.” Gavin knew that Silence would understand what he meant.
“Do you need me to stay?” Silence had stayed with him for a solid week when Gavin decided to give up alcohol. It was miserable. He had vacillated between fits of rage and weeping. He could hardly feed himself with all the shaking. But once the week was over, it was simply a matter of ridding the house of all alcohol and being well hydrated before going out. And he never, ever, went out when he felt the urge to drink. Like he felt now. It would be too easy to find himself walking into White’s and ordering a scotch.
“I do not know,” Gavin admitted. “I need to know Grace will be well.”
“Now is not the time to cross boundaries,” Silence warned. “You have no idea what could be going on in her mind. It might be perceived as opportunistic.”
Gavin glanced at Silence. He had an unnerving knack for reading Gavin’s mind. He had been contemplating checking on Grace in her chambers. “I suppose not. But maybe if I just––”
“Kinston, I would not do it I were you.”
“I know her better than anyone. She needs me right now. I already let her down once. I cannot just sit here, knowing she is in there helplessly staring at the ceiling.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Do you want me to stay up with you?” Silence offered.
“No,” Gavin replied. He was touched by Silence’s offer. For all his teasing and sly comments, Gavin knew he was lucky to have such a good friend. “Get some sleep. At least one of us should.”
Finally Silence stood and headed for the door of the study. “Try to get some rest, Kingston.” With one hand on the door, he looked over his shoulder and added, “Think about what was not said between us. You do not want to hear it, but there will be gossip. She needs no more scandal tonight.”
He was right, but so wrong at the same time.
*****
Grace closed her eyes again, but as soon as she did, she heard Lord Randall’s god-awful cries as he gurgled on his own blood. She sucked in a breath and looked up again at the ceiling. Pushing the blankets off her legs, she tried to sit up, her arms still shaking against the weight of her body. She did not know which felt more unsteady—her head or her heart.
She stood and wrapped her dressing gown around her and walked to the window, tightly folding her arms in front of her. She heard a light tapping on her door. It wasn’t Charlotte’s knock, so she ignored it, assuming whoever it was would leave. But the knocking came again, a bit louder this time.
With effort, she found her voice. “Come in.”
She continued to look out the window as she heard the door open behind her. Slow, steady steps let her know that someone had entered the room. The steps stopped, and she knew it was Gavin.
He had come.
She took a deep breath and held it in as if doing so would also prevent her from dissolving into a puddle of tears. She had endured terrible losses in her life, but she doubted she would be able to survive losing Gavin again.
Slowly and deliberately, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She could feel the tenderness in his touch, and she felt something shift inside. All her life she had hoped to be considered a strong and confident woman, someone who endured and excelled no matter what trials came. She wanted to live up to her name. She wanted to be full of grace.
But she didn’t want to be strong right now. She wanted to need someone. She let out her breath and leaned backwards into his chest.
Gavin welcomed her into his arms and buried his head in her hair. He whispered, “It will be all right, Grace.”
He took her shoulders and ever so gently turned her around and pulled her closer into his embrace. She felt the heat of his chest on her now-wet cheeks, and she feasted on his strength. His hands caressed her back as her tears continued to run unleashed. For the first time in her life, she admitted she needed someone.
It was entirely inappropriate for him to be in her chambers, even against the duchess’s rules, however they had never truly kept to the rules of propriety. She was never the demure lady who was afraid of getting her petticoat dirty. He was never the calm and collected lad who coddled her. What had started as friendship had evolved into something quite tangible. They may have been apart these last ten years, but neither of their hearts had ever really moved away. The thought tortured her to no end. She knew what she had to do. It was a basic survival instinct. But the fear of doing it sent chills up and down her spine.
“You are shaking. Here, sit down.” He guided her to the window seat, and she laid her head on his chest, her arms wrapping around him.
She did not know how long he held her. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into moments, and moments turned into memories. She noticed that his breathing seemed to be synchronized with hers. Every breath she took was easier knowing that he was breathing with her.
She lifted her head a bit only to have him kiss her forehead.
“Let me hold you a bit longer,” he whispered as he guided her head to his chest again. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She closed her eyes tighter, hoping it would make the metallic smell of the blood disappear. Having him hold her was like putting salve on a fresh wound. It took the sting out, but she knew applying it would be painful.
“Lord Randall offered his carriage to take me home. I was not feeling well after . . . I must have looked unsteady, because he said he would escort me to Willsing Manor. I refused him, but he insisted. I was so desperate to leave, and I did not want to argue with him. There was a man on the street looking at me in such a way . . . I do not know what came over me. I was not thinking clearly.”
“Grace, I am so sorry for what I said. This is all my fault. Can you ever forgive me?”
She stiffened slightly. She sat up; this time he let her. With all the events of what happened in the carriage, there had been little time to fully comprehend what Gavin had said at the ball. She refused to open that wound also. She was a strong woman, but she could not afford to evaluate his actions at the moment.
She took a deep breath and tried to suppress the hurt he had inflicted. Suddenly the pain of his betrayal far exceeded the traumatic events in the carriage. She realized that she most definitely was not ready to talk about it quite yet. She stood and said coolly, “Gavin, thank you for coming to check on me. But you should go.” He locked eyes with her, and she looked away.
He stood as well, and she felt him guide her chin to look at him. For a moment, panic shot through her. Was he going to kiss her? She had let him comfort her and hold her, but he had betrayed her earlier that night at the ball. He had assumed the worst with Mr. Broadbent. He had thought she was a fortune-hunter.
She pulled away and walked toward the door. “Please leave.” She put her hand on the doorknob.
“The magistrate will be here at eight o’clock.” Hurt was apparent in his voice as he repeated his apology, “I am so sorry, Gigi.” It was an apology that Grace was not ready to receive. She wasn’t sure if she could trust it. She just couldn’t ponder it at the moment.
He leaned in to kiss her, but she quickly opened the door, nearly hitting his head with it. He muttered his farewell and looked at her one last time. She lifted her chin and tried to keep a blank expression on her face.
She closed the door, pleased that she had not betrayed her emotions in front of him. She would have to find the strength to resist him. It would be a fight, but she could win this war over her heart.
You may not win this one, Grace, she told herself. And she knew it was true. She would have to leave. But how could she battle her deepest feelings when the war on her heart’s loyalty had already surrendered to him.
Her knees could no longer hold her weight, and she slipped down to the floor.
CHAPTER 17
Gavin’s fears had proven true––he had not slept well.
All night he had tossed and turned as his mind reviewed again and again the scene in Grace’s chambers. She had seemed so fragile as she wept in his arms. It had felt so right to comfort her, and at first she had seemed to accept his arms around her. But later, when he leaned in to kiss her, she had pulled away.
She is still angry with me. And my apologies are only making her angrier. The coolness in her speech and demeanor when she closed the door on him had been truly terrifying.
His head ached with tension. The only way he could think to solve the misunderstanding with Grace was to resolve the Fresden issue. Once that was out of the way, he would focus on seeking Grace’s forgiveness.
He knew Grace was forgiving in nature. After all, how many times had he seen her wrestling Spencer to the ground over some offense, only to see them laughing together ten minutes later? More times than he could count, Gavin had quarreled with her over something ridiculous. He had always apologized immediately and tried to talk it over with her. But she seemed more content to wait out the storm. It wasn’t simply that she was too proud to apologize. It was more than that. He had learned over the years that Grace was not interested in discussing a problem until she had worked out the solution. After a while, her joyful and playful self returned without the ceremony of an apology.
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