This thought lifted his spirits a little. Perhaps it would be like it used to be. Perhaps if he just gave her enough time, they could put this in the past and move on. Perhaps she would walk right back into his arms.
But Gavin knew this was more grave than some schoolyard quarrel. He hadn’t just pulled her ringlet one too many times. He hadn’t called her “just a girl” or accused her of being stubborn. Those offenses could be easily dismissed as immaturity. This time his jealousy had made him behave downright stupidly.
The door to his study flew open. He heard Robison trying to inform him that Silence had arrived, but his friend was already three strides into the room. “Thank you, Robison,” Gavin chuckled. “That will be all.”
Robison bowed and left the room. Less than a second lapsed before Silence said, “You survived. I am proud of you.”
“Barely. I would not count it a success yet. We still have to meet with Cornwall.” Gavin turned away and walked toward the window. “Did you hear back from your man?” he asked.
“Yes. Broadbent and Fresden did know each other.” Silence continued, “Broadbent’s wife is Fresden’s cousin. Mrs. Broadbent and Lord Randall grew up as close as siblings. In fact, Fresden has spent his winters at Broadbent’s country home for the last three years. I have no doubt that given Fresden’s reputation for ruining women and his need for money, that Broadbent paid him to––” He suddenly stopped.
Gavin looked over his shoulder to see why Silence had stopped mid-sentence and saw that Grace had entered the room. He cautiously walked toward her, but she circumvented his approach and took a seat in the nearest hardback chair.
“Good morning, Miss Iverson,” Silence began. “How are you feeling?”
Grace looked down at her shaking hands and then back up at Silence before replying. “I am fine, thank you. Please do not let me interrupt your conversation. What have you discovered?” Her eyes pointedly avoided Gavin.
Silence looked over at Gavin before answering, “Not much, actually. We still do not understand why Fresden targeted you.”
She took a deep breath and swallowed before speaking. Her voice was distant and controlled. “All I know is that Broadbent hired Lord Randall to attack me. He told me so in the carriage.” An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
“I am sorry to ask so bluntly,” Silence hesitated, “but why would Broadbent pay Fresden to harm you, Miss Iverson?”
Grace glanced at Gavin before replying. “Gavin was sniffing too close to home,” she stammered. “Lord Randall said he was interfering with Broadbent’s inheriting everything from the Earl of Longmont.”
Silence raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. “Yes, I think I see,” Silence murmured.
“I still do not,” Gavin said. He looked to Silence for an explanation.
“Well, Whitmore is wanted for murdering your father, right? That is why he went into hiding. What would happen if the earl were to be captured and imprisoned?”
“I do not know. I suppose I would do everything in my power to see the earl hang.”
“Yes, but an earl hanging for murder? I doubt the Prince Regent would stand for it. I am not suggesting he would interfere in the case, of course, but he would certainly strip the man of his title to avoid a scandal. The earldom has not even passed a generation yet.”
“Hmm,” Gavin mused. “And I bet a good deal of the estate was entailed away with the title.”
“Exactly,” Silence agreed. “Revoking the Earl of Longmont’s title would significantly reduce Broadbent’s inheritance. Now, that is motive.”
They all jumped at the sound of Robison clearing his throat in the doorway. “Mr. Cornwall, Your Grace,” he announced.
“Thank you, Robison. Will you bring in refreshment and strong tea for the magistrate?”
Robison bowed and closed the door behind him.
Gavin nervously glanced at Grace. Her face paled as she saw the magistrate. She looked like a lamb going to the slaughter.
*****
Grace felt the walls crumble around her. It was time to disclose everything. The aftermath would have to speak for itself.
Gavin took a step closer to her and made the introductions. She stood and was pleased to discover that, at the moment, her legs still had the strength to curtsy. “How do you do, Mr. Cornwall?”
“I have been better. Investigating a murder is not one of my favorite activities.”
She sucked in a breath. Silence quickly interjected, “Unfortunate accident, you mean.”
“We shall see.” Mr. Cornwall turned back to Grace and asked, “Can you tell me what happened last night?”
She took her seat, and the men found chairs as well. She folded her shaking hands in her lap. I can do this! “What would you like to know?” The quiver in her voice was probably apparent only to Gavin; she avoided looking at him.
“Let us start with the reason you left the ball early,” Mr. Cornwall suggested. “Surely you must have known that Lord Randall has a blemished reputation among the ladies of the ton.”
“No. I was only introduced to Lord Randall last night. I had never even heard of him until then.”
“Who introduced you?”
“I believe it was Lady Cornelia Grisham and her friend, Monique . . . I do not remember her last name.”
Silence added, “That would be Lady Monique Pinnock, a favorite of Mr. Broadbent.”
“Yes,” Grace agreed. “We were introduced by Lady Monique.”
Mr. Cornwall wrote down a few things and then looked back up to her and asked, “And did you dance with him?”
“He asked, and I told him I would reserve the fourth set for him. Unfortunately I fell ill while I was dancing with Lord Carter Kissinger.” She glanced briefly at Gavin and then looked away. The concern on his face was unnerving. “Lord Carter escorted me to the refreshment table, where Lord Randall observed my condition. It was then that Lord Randall offered me his carriage, which he stated had not even been put away yet. I was quite lightheaded. His carriage was brought round within a few minutes.”
“When did you press him to join you in the carriage?”
She was shocked at the question. “Pardon me?”
“At what point did you make plans against Lord Randall?”
“I had never made any plans against Lord Randall. What are you implying?”
Mr. Cornwall wrote a few things down and said, “We will come back to that question. So, you both got into the carriage. The driver mentioned you appeared out of sorts, perhaps even tipsy.”
“Certainly not,” Grace corrected him. “I only had half a glass of punch. What did the driver say?”
“This is my interrogation, miss. I will be asking the questions. What happened once you entered the carriage?”
Her palms were moist from being clenched so tightly. She held back her retort with sheer determination. She did not like having the event referred to as a murder or hearing herself described as “tipsy”. Nor did she like learning that Lord Randall had a poor reputation with ladies. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.
After a prolonged breath, she began the story, “We had hardly left the party before he placed a blanket upon my legs, depositing his hand where a gentleman’s hand should not be. When I removed his hand, he forced himself on me. I was trapped in a moving carriage with no one to help me. The noise of the wheels on the cobblestones made it unlikely the driver would hear me. And I was not sure Fresden’s driver would lend any assistance even if he did hear me. I kept him talking while I made my plan.”
“So you admit you had a plan? Was that why you coerced him into accompanying you?”
“Please, Mr. Cornwall,” Gavin interrupted sternly, “let Miss Iverson tell her story.”
The magistrate made no apology. “Go on, Miss Iverson,” he retorted.
She took a deep breath and continued, “My only plan was to ward off his advances. It was clear that he intended to ruin me. He informed me that Mr. Broadbent had paid him a la
rge sum of money to do so. It was not until then that I recalled seeing them together at the ball. That is when I knew I was on my own. No one was going to save me but myself.”
“That is quite an allegation, Miss Iverson,” Mr. Cornwall mused. “Highly unusual for a woman to fight off a man and escape without so much as a bruise—”
“Enough, Mr. Cornwall,” Gavin interrupted. “I will not stand for this. Miss Iverson, you are free to go.”
“Do not leave, Miss Iverson,” Mr. Cornwall replied. He peered at Gavin with look of determination on his face. “Your Grace, I can understand how a man in your position is used to getting his own way, so I will forgive your interference. But this is my investigation. I will decide when I have enough information,” he declared. “Now, Miss Iverson, what happened next? How did you subdue a man twice your size?”
Grace tried to hide her trembling hands in her skirt. “I slammed him in the neck with the heel of my hand,” she said in an unsteady voice. “That bought me a few seconds to move to the other side of the carriage while he caught his breath. I took the scissors out of my reticule while he was coughing. Then he became very angry at me and attacked me.”
“How did he attack you?” Gavin asked gently.
Mr. Cornwall threw him an irritated look and repeated, “How did he attack you, Miss Iverson?” He scribbled a few things on his paper, and when she didn’t respond right away, the magistrate looked up at her. “Would you like me to ask these men to step out?”
“No, sir. This is just something I do not wish to recall.”
The tea came in, and she was grateful for the distraction. Her mouth was suddenly dry. She knew it was the context of the conversation, not the number of words, that had left her feeling desiccated. Silence stood and distributed the tea to everyone. She took hers gratefully, but she noticed that Gavin simply placed his aside on the desk. His intense gaze disquieted her resolve. Even though she looked away from him, she felt his eyes on her while she drank her tea.
It seemed the whole room was waiting with baited breath for the most important part of the story. She put down her cup and smoothed her skirts. Her courage trembled inside, wavering when she caught a glimpse of Gavin walking toward her. He stopped behind her chair and stood there, close enough that she could smell his cologne. Her heart galloped, remembering how he had held her last night.
She closed her eyes and finished the story. “Lord Randall was irate. He grabbed my arm and threatened me again, laughing about how he would enjoy ruining me. Then he ripped the sleeve of my dress. I dared not move. Suddenly the carriage lurched to a stop, and he fell forward onto my lap. I do not quite know how it happened, but he must have fallen right onto my scissors.”
When she opened her eyes Mr. Cornwall asked, “You were going to attack him with the scissors?”
“No, sir,” she answered icily. “I was going to defend myself. It is quite different.” He wrote a few things down.
“So the injury to his neck was because the carriage stopped suddenly?”
“Yes, sir. He began to make the most horrific choking sound. It has haunted me all night; it is something I never wish to hear again. It was clear he could not breathe due to the amount of blood pooling in his throat.”
“Why did the carriage stop?” the magistrate asked.
Gavin spoke up from behind her. “I stopped the carriage with Harrison’s horse. I was trying to help Miss Iverson.” She could hear the pain in his voice.
“Then what happened, miss?”
“Then Gavin was at the carriage door, pulling him out. It was all over before I realized what had happened.”
Mr. Cornwall looked up at Gavin. “And was he dead when you got to him?”
“Very nearly so. I could tell by the amount of blood that there was no hope in saving him. And after what I just heard, I cannot say that I regret my inaction.”
Mr. Cornwall wrote a few things down and then asked to no one in particular, “What I do not understand is motive. Why would Lord Randall attack her? Excuse me for being so bold, Miss Iverson, but there is little monetary reward for marrying you. So why ruin you?”
Silence raised his hand and suggested, “His Grace and I were just discussing that before you arrived. We have a working theory, although I admit there is no real proof.”
“And what exactly is this theory of yours?” Mr. Cornwall grunted.
“You have probably heard rumors of why the Earl of Longmont suddenly vanished.”
“Yes, he fled after supposedly shooting the former Duke of Huntsman in a duel.”
“Not ‘supposedly’,” Gavin quickly corrected. “It was murder.”
Silence continued. “Well, Mr. Broadbent is Whitmore’s sole heir. I intercepted a correspondence a few days ago that indicated that the earl has suffered an apoplexy and is not expected to survive the week. If he were to die before his whereabouts were discovered, then Broadbent inherits all. But if Whitmore is found and charged with murder in the next few days, his earldom will most likely be revoked so as not to cause scandal. Broadbent stands to inherit everything so long as the earl dies in hiding.”
“So, Broadbent has ulterior motive for keeping Whitmore’s location secret. Very well. But how does this involve Miss Iverson?” Cornwall asked. “Why attack her?”
“Because I love her,” Gavin answered. “And I have devoted the last six months to finding the earl. He knew he only needed a few more days to claim his inheritance. I was getting close. Broadbent orchestrated this attack to distract me. Miss Iverson is not to blame for any of it.” His deep voice shook with the power of his words. For the first time in the interview, Grace was forced to suppress tears from escaping. She was successful until Gavin placed his hands on her shoulders. His thumbs, concealed from Mr. Cornwall, were caressing the tender part of her neck where it was exposed. Her lip shook, refusing to heed her efforts to control it.
Mr. Cornwall looked at her sympathetically for the first time. He closed his book and put his pencil in his jacket. “I have what I need for now,” he announced. “There are, however, some inconsistencies between Miss Iverson’s story and what I have already discovered. I will need to make further inquiries.”
Silence asked, “May I assist you?”
“No. I will try to call again this afternoon when I have more information. Do not go anywhere, Miss Iverson.” He stood and bowed to Grace and then shook both the gentlemen’s hands before departing.
Besides lifting his hand to shake Mr. Cornwall’s hand, Gavin hadn’t removed his hands from her neck. As soon as Silence escorted Mr. Cornwall from the room, Grace recoiled from Gavin’s hands and stood up.
“Excuse me,” she sniffed.
“Grace,” he pleaded. She turned her treacherous heart toward his kind voice and looked at him. “I am so sorry for what happened in the carriage. Fresden was a detestable man. I should have protected you instead of abandoning you. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to discuss here.”
“For once in your life, just accept that people are human and make mistakes! Please! I sincerely regret that I allowed myself to be jealous of Mr. Broadbent. You have always been my Gigi. It never occurred to me that your heart might have been touched by someone else. But I was wrong, and I am deeply sorry. I should never have said those things at the ball. It is entirely my fault that you left early. It is my fault that I was not there to escort you home. It is my fault that I stopped the carriage so abruptly. I killed him.”
Grace deliberated for an extended moment. Could she trust him? He certainly sounded sincere, but actions spoke louder than words. “I have already endured a great deal this morning,” she announced. “Please excuse me, Your Grace. I would like to return to my chambers.”
“Gigi, please––” But she did not wait to hear his plea. She had heard enough to know her heart was far too fragile to look at the situation logically. She could not let her emotions lead her into trouble again. As she hurried up the stairs, she thought, I love you too
, Gavin. But I cannot entrust my heart to you again, even if it still beats only for you.
CHAPTER 18
The rest of the day was torture for Gavin. Several guests from last night’s ball tried to call on Grace—some only eager, no doubt, to hear what had happened. He was sorely tempted to remove the knocker and barricade himself inside, but he had to be available for Mr. Cornwall. He put up with the first two calls, but after that, he simply told Robison to tell everyone he was unavailable. It wouldn’t look good, but he didn’t really care anymore. Grace took luncheon in her room. His mother had heard of the scandal, of course. But when she saw the misery in Gavin’s eyes, she had blessedly little to say on the matter. “Do not lose her again, Gavin,” she warned.
Cornwall finally called just before six o’clock.
“Come in, Mr. Cornwall,” Gavin replied. “Robison, take his hat and coat.”
“I tried, Your Grace. He says he does not intend to stay. He only has a few questions for Miss Iverson.”
Gavin did not like the sound of that. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but the magistrate didn’t look like he had good news to report. He dispatched Robison to fetch Grace and then turned to Mr. Cornwall. “Did you speak with Broadbent?” Gavin asked.
“I would prefer to wait for Miss Iverson, sir. No sense in repeating myself.”
A quiet engulfed the room. Mr. Cornwall took off his hat and seemed to give the rim of it a great deal of attention. He kept glancing at the door of the study as if the Prince Regent were expected to walk in at any moment and Cornwall did not wish to miss the grand entrance.
Gavin sat at his desk and spent a few minutes shuffling papers and rearranging his paperweights. The tick of the clock began to irritate him. After a few minutes, he finally asked, “Are you sure there is nothing I can get you? Some tea perhaps?”
“No, Your Grace,” Cornwall replied brusquely.
“Well, perhaps I should go and check on Miss Iverson.” He stood and took three steps toward the door just as a groggy, starry-eyed Grace walked in, still fixing the pins in her hair.
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