Inspired by Grace

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  “Very much so. When I visit on Sundays, they drill me with questions about what it is like to work for a duke.”

  “I am sure you bring home a few entertaining stories.”

  “No, ma’am,” Tim insisted. “I am very careful with what I share. My job is very important to me.”

  Gavin tried not to scoff and managed, through sheer willpower, to keep a straight face. Apparently he made some slight sound, because Grace flashed him a look to silence him.

  “I can see that,” Grace replied to Tim. “Would you like a biscuit? They are delightful. Or perhaps you prefer scones?”

  “Cook’s scones are unbeatable. Thank you.”

  Grace allowed him a moment to eat. Gavin leaned back, marveling. She is handling him with all the grace of a duchess. She seemed to know intuitively what to do. It couldn’t be easy for her, Gavin knew, facing the man who had framed her for blackmail. If she couldn’t get Tim’s confession, she might be brought up on charges, or even go to prison. And yet she was as confident and polite as ever.

  They chatted a bit more about inconsequential things until Grace said, “Thank you for meeting with us. I wanted to get to know you a bit. I do not know whether you have heard, but His Grace has made me an offer. We are to be married,” she smiled.

  Tim face was a mixture of fear and surprise. “I had not heard that. Congratulations are in order.”

  “Do you know what this means, Tim?”

  He at least had the humility to flush crimson. “I believe so. You shall be mistress.”

  “It is hard for me to imagine such a thing, but yes. I shall be the one making decisions from day to day within the household. I am sure I could find a position for your sister Alice. Would you like that?”

  Tim put his cup down and slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. “Miss Iverson, your kindness is surprising. When I saw you walk in here with the duke, I was fairly sure you had come to dismiss me. I do not think I would have been so forgiving.”

  “What is there to forgive?” Tim flushed again but made no reply. “Are you referring to the banknotes that you supposedly found in my chambers?”

  Gavin sat up a little straighter, earning Tim’s attention momentarily.

  “I never said I found them in your chambers,” Tim stammered. “A gentleman told me you dropped them as you were leaving the ball. He said that unless I wanted to get caught up in a murder investigation, I would turn them over to the magistrate as evidence. But when I did, Mr. Cornwall asked all sorts of questions about how I found them. He assumed they were from your chambers—it was like he already knew all about them—and I didn’t dare correct him. I was afraid that if I told the truth, he would get suspicious. I can’t afford to get mixed up in a murder investigation, Miss Iverson. I swear I had nothing to do with Lord Randall’s death.”

  “I believe you, Tim. What happened next?” Her voice was smooth and reassuring. Gavin knew he wouldn’t have been able to speak so calmly in her place.

  “Well, Mr. Cornwall asked if I had ever seen you and the duke together. I told him you were alone together all the time. I’m sorry to say this, but he asked if I had ever seen you and the duke together in a romantic way. I had to tell him about the time I walked in on you in the music room. He is a law man after all.”

  “It is all right, Tim. You were just answering his questions. It sounds as if Mr. Cornwall had his suspicions already. Do you think someone told him about the banknotes before you turned them in?”

  “It sure seemed like it.” Tim looked to Gavin. “Am I going to be dismissed?”

  Grace answered for him. “No, Tim. But I need you to go with the duke and tell the truth to Mr. Cornwall right away.”

  Gavin was in awe of the way Grace had pulled the truth from Tim without ever accusing him or putting him on the defensive.

  Gavin stood and shook Tim’s hand. “We have work to do. Grab your coat.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” He turned to Grace and asked her, “Were they not your banknotes?”

  “No, Tim, they were not. But I think I know who gave them to you.”

  *****

  Gavin watched Tim wrap his light coat tighter around himself. Gavin asked, “Do not have a warmer coat?”

  “No, sir. I have been saving up for one. I was hoping for another month’s wages before winter set in. But it’s no matter, sir. My shaking has more to do with my nerves than the weather. Where are we going?”

  “Mr. Broadbent’s townhouse. I sent word for the magistrate to meet us there. I want you to go to the servants’ entrance, and when the time is right, I will have you summoned. I am fairly confident that the man who gave you the notes will be there. All you have to do is identify him before the magistrate, and I will handle the rest.” Gavin didn’t come out and say whom he suspected. He did not wish to plant any assumptions in Tim’s mind. If Tim identified Mr. Broadbent on his own, then the case against him would be irrefutable.

  Tim’s eyes widened. “I will do my best.”

  “That is all anyone could ask of you.”

  They pulled up to the townhouse, and Tim raked his hat into his hands and said, “Thank you, Your Grace, for giving me this chance to help Miss Iverson. I didn’t realize how much trouble those banknotes would cause.”

  “You can thank Miss Iverson for believing in you. I cannot say I would have been so generous in her place. Have you been staying away from Helena like you promised?”

  “Yes, sir. I haven’t even looked her in the eye since we talked. I haven’t been alone in the same room as her either. You were right. She is mighty beautiful, but a gentleman would never have done what I did. She is safe from me.”

  “Good. Go in through the servant’s entrance, and if anyone asks, just tell them you are with me and that it was too cold to wait in the carriage. Do not say anything else about why you are here. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.”

  They exited and went their separate ways. Just as Gavin was about to knock, another carriage pulled up. Silence and Cornwall stepped out. The magistrate was carrying a heavy black valise and did not look pleased. Gavin took off his hat and bowed as they came up the steps.

  Silence announced, “We just came from White’s.”

  “And did you find anything?” he asked.

  Cornwall cleared his throat and said, “Your theory was correct. The handwriting on the notes is quite similar to Mr. Broadbent’s hand. The f is identical, and the slant is telling. Mr. Silence told me that you spoke with Timothy Gardner as well.”

  “Indeed,” Gavin said. “He came here with me. He is waiting in the servants’ quarters, ready to identify the man who gave him the banknotes.” Gavin cleared his throat and added, “Tim also said he never told you that the notes were in Miss Iverson’s chambers.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Cornwall admitted. “It seems I owe you and Miss Iverson an apology. Mr. Broadbent told me that Mr. Gardner had found some damning evidence in Miss Iverson’s room. When I questioned Mr. Gardner, I jumped to the wrong conclusion. Be assured I will not make the same mistake again.”

  Silence chuckled, “Well, I suspect the next few minutes will be rather entertaining.”

  “Shall we?” Gavin asked.

  Cornwall said, “Allow me. I am rather anxious to get to the bottom of this.” Cornwall knocked loudly. The butler showed them in and took their hats. They were led into a small parlor, but they did not have to wait long.

  Mr. Broadbent greeted them a few minutes later. “Good evening,” he purred. “I hope this will not take much time; I have dinner guests waiting to be served. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  Cornwall said, “I just have a few more questions for you, sir, if you do not mind.”

  “Of course. I take it this is about the murder?”

  Gavin bristled at his word choice. He schooled his features to a cold indifference. Cornwall did not hesitate to begin. “Mr. Broadbent, you do know that lying to a government official is a crime?”

  “Of course. Do
you have reason to believe that I have misled you?”

  Cornwall took out the forged banknotes and showed them to him. “Have you seen these before?”

  Broadbent appeared to study them for a moment. “That is quite a bit of money. Is that what the servant found in Miss Iverson’s chambers? I must admit I am shocked.”

  “Are you denying that you have ever seen these notes?”

  “Why would I have seen them? They are written in Lord Randall’s hand to Miss Iverson.”

  “And you have never seen them?”

  Broadbent shifted his weight and looked at Silence and Gavin for a moment before returning his gaze to Cornwall. He appeared to be weighing the consequences of answering. He cleared his throat and announced, “Actually, yes. Lord Randall came to see me a few days ago. He stated that Miss Iverson was threatening to blackmail him, and he asked for my advice on how best to dismiss her. I advised him to go to the police, but he decided the only way to solve the problem was to pay her. He wrote those notes right here in my study. I watched him do it.”

  Cornwall said, “You are sure about that?”

  “Very sure.”

  “Excellent. Could you write a statement to that effect for me? To help explain it to the courts?”

  “If you think it will help.” Relief seemed to flood Broadbent’s face; Gavin tried not to gloat in the trap that Cornwall had placed.

  “It will. It most definitely will.”

  Broadbent walked to the writing desk and sat down. He pulled out the paper and dipped a pen in the inkwell.

  Cornwall stepped a little closer and watched him write. After a few minutes, he added, “Be sure to write how you directed Fresden to seek the help of the police. You would not want anyone to think that you omitted any facts.” While Broadbent was scribbling away on the paper, Cornwall looked at Gavin and subtly nodded.

  Broadbent finished and dusted the paper, handing it to Cornwall. Now was the moment of truth. Cornwall took the paper and compared it to the banknotes. Then he folded both papers neatly and methodically and put them in his pocket. “Thank you, sir. Before I go, is Lady Monique Pinnock here tonight? I have one last question for her.”

  “Yes, she is,” Broadbent flustered.

  Gavin asked, “And would you be so kind as to send for my footman? He should be in the servants’ quarters.”

  Broadbent looked confused, but he nodded and pulled the bell. When a servant came to the door, he instructed him to bring Lady Monique and Gavin’s footman to the study. Tension started to build as the minutes passed in silence. Broadbent seemed to sense something was amiss.

  Gavin took the opportunity to tell him, “I am to marry Grace.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, I hope to make her my wife before the month is over.”

  “Well, I know better than anyone how charming Grace can be when it suits her,” he smirked. “At times, one could almost forget her humble circumstances. I would keep an eye on your banknotes, though.”

  Gavin bit his tongue and tried to remain calm. “I admit that she may not have much in the way of money or status,” he responded, “but she is far richer in spirit than anyone I have ever met. She has the strength of David. And she has slayed many Goliaths over the years. Do you know what I find interesting about the story of David and Goliath?”

  “No, Your Grace,” Broadbent snickered. “But I suspect you are going to enlighten me.”

  “Yes. It reminds me of a saying that I have always loved: ‘No one ever trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to stumble. But pass all the pebbles in your path, and you will find you have crossed the mountain.’”

  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I do not see where you are going with this.”

  “I shall explain. It was a single pebble that took down the mighty Goliath. It was not brute strength or an army of men. In fact, brute strength failed rather spectacularly. No, the giant was defeated by an obscure shepherd blessed with intelligence, strategy, fortitude, and a bit of skill. Would you not say that Grace possesses those same qualities?”

  “I would not know,” Broadbent sneered. “I have not seen her for three years. I did not even know she was in London.”

  Really? So Fresden didn’t come to you for advice about Grace’s attempts to blackmail him? Gavin threw Cornwall a look to see if he had heard Broadbent’s accidental revelation. Cornwall had a small smile on his face and gave the subtlest of nods.

  Gavin continued talking to Broadbent. “Of course she has these qualities; they are her strongest gifts, as you well know. It is too bad you underestimated her three years ago. If you had seen her true worth as I do, you would never have let her go. She is your David, Broadbent. And with ease, she has knocked you from your throne. In so doing, she has fully earned the title of the Duchess of Huntsman, and you shall never have the title of earl.”

  Anger and fear were mixing in Broadbent’s eyes, each fighting for dominance. A storm was brewing. Gavin had always enjoyed the toss and turn of the waves at sea. On a ship, one always had to be ready to readjust balance. Just when you thought you would be tossed right, a wave knocked you forward. And when you were expecting to pitch forward, the waves hit you on the side. It was an exciting game. One had to know when to batten down the hatches, to stand and fight—and when to abandon ship. Broadbent might not have realized it yet, but his ship was going down.

  Lady Monique came in and assessed the occupants of the room. As her gaze rested on Broadbent, she seemed to sense his unease.

  Cornwall stepped forward and said, “Lady Monique, I have nearly finished my investigation of Lord Randall’s death. Mr. Broadbent has been very helpful these last few minutes. But I am sure the judge sentencing him will want to know whether or not to charge you as well.”

  “What?” Broadbent sputtered. “I had nothing to do with Fresden’s murder! It was Miss Iverson! Witnesses can testify I was at the Comptons’ ball!”

  “Oh, I do not plan on charging you with Lord Randall Fresden’s death,” Cornwall assured him.

  “Then I demand to know what charge I am accused of!”

  “Charges, sir. Let me see—harboring a fugitive, providing false information to a magistrate, and forging these banknotes.”

  Broadbent stuttered, “I only . . . you cannot prove . . .” Then he looked to Lady Monique, who slowly took a step away from him. “Do not say anything, Monique.”

  Cornwall was quick. “On the contrary, Lady Monique, now is the time to talk. I do not give second chances. You see, Mr. Broadbent here has just written me a letter detailing how he and Lord Randall discussed Miss Iverson’s alleged blackmailing scheme. His letter confirmed two suspicions. First, his handwriting is identical to the banknotes, proving that he was the one who wrote the notes. Second, his statement is entirely false, and now it is in writing. He has indisputably lied to an officer of the law. Any minute now, a footman will walk in here and confirm that those banknotes came from Broadbent and were never in Miss Iverson’s chambers. He has little foundation to stand on.”

  Gavin smiled slightly and said, “Yes, one might say his ship is sinking. The only question that remains now is who will go down with him.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Cornwall agreed. “What say you, Lady Monique?”

  “Monique, keep quiet,” Broadbent warned. “They have no real proof. Many people have similar handwriting.”

  At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and the butler brought in Tim. Gavin watched Broadbent for his reaction. The color quickly drained from the scoundrel’s face. The moment should not have been so rewarding, but it was. Broadbent knew now that he would spend the rest of his life in prison.

  Cornwall directed his question to Tim. “Mr. Gardner, can you identify the man who gave you the banknotes and told you they were Miss Iverson’s?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tim answered, pointing to Broadbent. “It was him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Were
the bank notes ever in Miss Iverson’s chambers?”

  “No, sir.”

  “So you see, Lady Monique, there is little more that Broadbent can do but bring others down with him. Would you like to amend your previous statement that you overheard Miss Iverson threaten Fresden at the ball?”

  She looked around the room with wide, desperate eyes. “Oh, please, Mr. Cornwall! Do not send me back to prison! I nearly died there! All I ever did was steal food to keep from starving. I cannot go back! I never saw Lord Randall with Miss Iverson. He told me to say that.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Mr. Broadbent.”

  “You wretched woman!” Broadbent hissed. “After all I have done for you! How could you betray me like this?”

  “Me? I betrayed you? You lied to me! You had me lie to the police! You used me to frame an innocent woman! I may have been a desperate convict with an ancient, flimsy family title when you found me, but I still have some of my integrity left. I am done lying for you. We dance around your wife as if she does not know about us. But you continue to hurt her just so you can gratify your desire for a second course! It is over, Broadbent!”

  Broadbent drew back his hand to hit her, but Gavin and Silence quickly restrained him arms. Instead, he cursed Lady Monique and spit at her, staining her dress. Gavin and Silence pushed him back, pinning him against the wall.

  Lady Monique hissed, “May you rot in hell!” Then she turned on her heel and left the room.

  Cornwall calmly pulled a pair of shackles out of his heavy black valise and attached them to Broadbent’s hands. “Mr. Broadbent, it seems your dinner plans have been altered.”

  Broadbent soon gave up resisting, and Silence and Cornwall escorted him toward the door. “Lady Monique’s comment may prove prophetic, you know,” Silence added. “Far too many men really do rot in jail.”

  “Yes,” Cornwall agreed. “I once knew a prisoner whose death went unnoticed for three days. The rats had eaten his toes and ears.” Then Silence and Cornwall began discussing the need to talk to a judge about searching Broadbent’s house for evidence on Whitmore’s whereabouts. In a few more days, it seemed the earl would be brought to justice, either by the courts or by God Himself.