The others apparently felt the same. None of them was prepared when Lady Wyatt suddenly turned and dashed toward the house. Too late, Jack made an ineffectual grab at her, but she rushed past him, throwing the door open with such force that it slammed shut again behind her.
The four of them chased after her, Percy Wyatt a moment later than the rest, still too stunned by the revelations that he, out of all of them, had been least prepared for. For a moment Lily was terrified that Lady Wyatt would escape. But as they tumbled through the door after her—Lily almost rolled her eyes as Jack held it politely open for Mr. Page to rush through first—they saw her disappearing toward the room where Frank and the others had been.
Lily and Mr. Page, with Percy stumbling after them, were only a few seconds behind her as they burst into the room. Mr. Page was just in time to catch Lady Wyatt around the waist as she tried to throw herself at Frank.
“How dare you!” she shrieked. “My idea? You blame it on me? When every moment—both your father and the maid—they were your idea! Yours!”
“Me?” Frank roared. “I saw you, Winnie! Selling me out! Standing there calmly informing them that I was a murderer—when it was you, all you. I may have killed the maid, but only because you told me I had to, after you killed my father. How dare you tell me you love me, then turn on me—”
“I never—I saw you! Signing your damned confession, you bastard, you idiot! Do you think it will save you? Do you? We shall both be transported, or hanged, and it’s all because of you!”
“What the devil do you mean? My confession?” Frank turned to snatch the paper from Mr. Hammond and shook it at her. “I was signing away nearly all my money to pay for my father’s debts, you bloody fool!”
His words hung in the air, the entire room suddenly silent as both murderers stared at the paper Frank held.
Mr. Pierce stepped forward. “I am afraid, Frank, that I may have used my position as a trustee of your father’s affairs to summon you here under false pretenses.”
“And I may not have been quite honest, Lady Wyatt, when I described Mr. Hammond as one of my colleagues,” Mr. Page said, stepping forward. “He is actually one of Sir Charles’s solicitors.”
“And I was lying, pure and simple, when I said Mr. Wyatt told us about your affair,” Lily said from her place by the door. “I figured it out thanks to the insight of a very observant friend.”
Lady Wyatt and Frank had both been utterly still as they listened, their fury slowly morphing into matching expressions of horror as they gaped at each other in stunned silence.
Lady Wyatt began trembling. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
Percy stared around the room, his eyes latching on each face in turn. “I … I do not understand,” he said, his voice rising nervously.
“Damn it, Perce, keep up, you idiot,” Frank snapped. “They bloody tricked us.”
“Then you did kill him,” Percy whispered. As much as she disliked him, Lily’s heart broke for the young man as he stared at his cousin in childlike horror.
“I didn’t,” Frank insisted, while Lady Wyatt moaned, slumping in Mr. Page’s grip as though she were no longer able to support her own weight. “I would never have hurt my father, you know that.”
“You helped someone else hurt him, and that’s the same thing,” Percy said, trembling. “And you killed Arthur’s maid, didn’t you?” When Frank said nothing, Percy’s voice rose. “Didn’t you?”
“It’s not true,” Frank insisted. He turned at last to Mr. Pierce. “You know it cannot be true, sir. I loved my father.”
Mr. Pierce shook his head, apparently unable to speak.
“You loved your father, but you never could bear to share his regard with anyone, could you, Frank?” Lily asked quietly. She met the eyes of the man she had known since she was a child, and a sick, gasping feeling twisted inside her. She had to swallow hard before she could continue speaking. “You resented Arthur his whole life. You tried to shut the child Maud out of her inheritance. And when your father turned on you, said he would disinherit you, you couldn’t bear the betrayal. And Lady Wyatt, who had so recently escaped one bleak future, could not bear the thought of facing another.”
“No,” Frank said again.
“You turned up at my home that night, pretending to be drunk,” Lily continued relentlessly. His clothes had smelled of rum, she remembered, but his breath had not. And the desperation, the fear, had been there the whole time. “After Lady Wyatt saw me sneaking down from Ellen’s room. You wanted to find out what I knew. You wanted to find out whether I was close enough to the man from Bow Street to have told him. And you were desperate enough to try almost anything to convince me to trust you.”
“No.”
“And when you realized you were still in danger, you decided to point the finger at someone else. Never mind that he was the man raising your own sister. You saw someone without the resources to defend himself, and you were happy to let him take the blame.”
“No,” Frank repeated, this time barely above a whisper.
He and Lily stared at each other as if there were no one else in the room. “You owe me an answer still, Frank,” she said. “From our card game. Am I right?”
His shoulders slumped. He did not deny it. Mr. Pierce turned away sharply.
With a yell, Frank suddenly made a run for it, dashing toward the door. He made it only a few steps out before they heard him curse and stumble to a halt. A moment later he backed in again, slowly, his hands raised. The others stared, not understanding what had happened, until Jack followed him. He was holding Lily’s dueling pistol and pointing it directly at Frank.
“Good thought that you had there, Mrs. Adler,” he said cheerfully, inclining his head in a polite bow to his startled audience. “And nice to be in on the plan, for a change.”
“For heaven’s sake, Captain, that was one time!” Lily protested. “And this is hardly the moment to bring it up.”
“As you like, ma’am,” he said, winking at her. “Your very terrifying butler is waiting in the hall with Mr. Page’s handcuffs. Shall I invite him in?”
“Please do,” Mr. Page instructed. “I made sure to secure two pairs from the magistrate, as we expected to apprehend two criminals.”
Carstairs, with the awareness of when he was needed that all the best butlers seemed to possess, entered almost as soon as Mr. Page had finished speaking. Dignified as ever, he bowed and presented the constable with two pairs of handcuffs. “At your service, sir.”
“Thank you, Carstairs,” Lily said quietly, stepping forward to place a hand on her butler’s arm. It was an extraordinary thing to ask him to assist with, but he had taken it in stride. “Would you please step out to summon Mr. Page’s carriage, which is parked down the street? I believe the captain will be accompanying him to the Bow Street offices to assist with our culprits.”
“Shall I go with them as well, madam?” Carstairs asked, looking around the assembly. Though it had been years since he had boxed, his physical bulk was still imposing enough that Frank Wyatt cringed away from him. Lily cast an inquiring look at Mr. Page.
“We would be grateful for the assistance,” he said, accepting both the handcuffs and the offer of help.
Percy took charge of Lady Wyatt while Mr. Page placed handcuffs on her wrists and Frank’s. Though he still looked ill, Percy resolutely insisted that he would come to Bow Street as well. Mr. Page, after a moment, nodded, then asked Carstairs to summon a second carriage. “Better to separate them, anyway.”
At that, Lady Wyatt, who had been silent while she was handcuffed, let out a small moan. “Frank,” she gasped, her voice breaking.
They were across the room from each other, but he turned to look at her and gave her a sad smile. “Still love you, Winnie. Sorry it came to this.”
“Still love you, Frank,” she whispered in reply.
Lily shuddered as they were taken from the room, Percy half dragging Lady Wyatt, Jack and Carstairs marching
Frank between them. Mr. Page, about to follow behind, paused and turned back to the men who were still there.
“My thanks, Mr. Hammond. I appreciate your discretion in not repeating my request to your superiors at the firm.”
“My cousin spoke highly of Mrs. Adler, and he convinced me to help you once,” said Mr. Hammond, packing up his papers as he spoke. He was a gangly man, and his boyish face made him look too young to already have three children. But he had proved surprisingly firm willed about assisting them, even once they had explained how they needed him to lie to Frank Wyatt. “Shall I come to Bow Street as well? The more witnesses, the better, I imagine.”
“I should be grateful for it,” Mr. Page said gravely. But when he turned to Mr. Pierce with an inquiring look, Lily’s father merely sniffed.
“I shall not be dignifying that establishment with my presence,” he said stiffly.
“As you wish, sir,” Mr. Page said politely. “And you have my deepest thanks for your assistance. There was no one else Mr. Wyatt would have believed so implicitly on matters of his father’s estate. Without your cooperation, we’d never have been able to persuade him that the estate was so encumbered with debt, nor to set and spring our trap so perfectly.”
He bowed, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mr. Pierce inclined his head in barely polite acknowledgment. Mr. Page, as he turned to go, caught Lily’s eye, giving her a smile that was unexpectedly warm in its wryness before turning back to her father. “And by the bye, sir, I must commend you on having raised such an intelligent and tenacious daughter. She’s a woman who must be a credit to any parent.”
Lily held her breath, unable to believe he would say something so challenging. For a moment that seemed painfully long, Mr. Pierce was silent. Then he nodded. “She did well enough,” he agreed, his voice so utterly without inflection that it was impossible to tell how he was feeling. “Good day, Mr. Page.”
It was a dismissal. Mr. Page bowed to them both and, replacing his hat on his head, followed the others out of the room. Lily was left alone with her father, neither of them speaking or looking at each other.
At last Lily found her voice. “Thank you for agreeing to help, Father. Truly. And I am sorry.”
He sniffed, still not looking at her. His feet were planted wide, his hands clasping the head of his cane in front of him while he stared at the door where Frank and Lady Wyatt had been escorted out. “What are you apologizing to me for?”
“I am sorry that it came to this, and that you had to be involved. I am sorry that the boy you watched grow up was party to the murder of your friend.”
“His behavior has nothing to do with me.” Sniffing again, he thumped his cane twice against the floor and began to leave.
“It can still hurt you,” Lily said quietly. He paused in the doorway, though he did not turn back to her. “And I am sorry to see you hurting.”
She watched her father, wishing there was some way to bridge the gulf between them, knowing that what had happened might have only served to make it wider. His back was to her, and she could see the rigid tension in his shoulders. She wondered if his knuckles were white where he gripped the top of his cane. She wondered if his hands were trembling.
“Branson is already packing my things. I expect to leave this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” Lily couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. Her father hated travel and nights spent on the road almost as much as he hated haste of any kind. “You cannot … Why so suddenly?”
“Do you really have to ask?” The bitterness in his voice nearly made her pity him. But he was not finished. “I have no desire to stay here any longer, to watch you consort with lowborn persons and involve yourself in unwomanly affairs. To watch you throw yourself at men and dishonor the memory of your husband.”
Lily swallowed back the angry tears that pricked at her eyes, lifting her chin even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I have the right to live my life as I see fit, Father. If you do not like it, if you cannot be proud of what I have done today, then you needn’t return to my home again.”
He sniffed again, his cane thumping against the wood of the floor as he stalked toward the door once more.
Her father had always shown his anger either by withdrawing from the person who had caused it or by blaming someone else entirely. As a child, Lily had lived in dread of those two extremes, always there to bear the brunt, whichever way he decided to fall that day.
But this time he had, to her surprise, chosen her. When it mattered, he had agreed to believe her, had helped set a trap that would convict the man he considered the son he should have had of murder. And she was not a child anymore, to let his whims pass without comment, without asking him to be better.
“You can admit that he hurt you, Father. And if you love him still, in spite of it all, you can admit that too. I will not think any less of you.”
For a moment she thought he would speak. The silence hung in the air between them.
But he walked out without another word.
CHAPTER 27
“And then he left? Just like that?” Ofelia asked, her eyes wide with surprise. As the beloved only daughter of a father without a wife, she had been his pride and joy from infancy, and she couldn’t hide her astonishment that Mr. Pierce did not feel the same about his daughter.
“Just like that,” Lily agreed, swallowing back the lump in her throat that her father did not deserve. “Which is a punishment to no one but him, as he left in the afternoon and will have to spend an extra night in a coaching inn as a result.”
She shrugged, pretending not to care. But she could tell her friends saw through her flippancy. Ofelia’s eyes snapped with fury that someone could be so dismissive of Lily’s accomplishments. And Jack laid a hand on her arm. It was the only gesture that would not have raised the brows of those around them, but the gentle, reassuring touch was enough. Lily took a deep breath, laying her own hand briefly over his own, before turning to survey the extravagant scene before them.
“Your mamma-in-law has truly outdone herself tonight,” she said, changing the subject.
For a moment, Ofelia looked like she would insist on remaining furious, but Lily caught the slight shake of Jack’s head, warning her to follow Lily’s lead. Ofelia also turned to look out over the dancers.
“She could not resist. When Neddy and I came home, she decided she would be the last one to throw a Mayfair ball before everyone leaves town.” Ofelia giggled. “Truly, I am rather flattered. She wanted to be sure that everyone who was still here saw us welcomed and feted when we returned from our wedding trip.”
They were at the home of the Carroway family—the real home near Berkeley Square, not the house that Ofelia and Sir Edward had rented just for the two of them—where the Dowager Lady Carroway was hosting one final ball before the members of London’s upper class truly scattered for the summer. There were, Lily guessed, over two hundred and fifty people in attendance, a riot of silk waistcoats and lace dresses, white-gloved hands and jeweled necks. Laughter spilled from the supper room next door, and at least two card rooms had been opened. The ballroom floor was crowded with couples floating through the figures of the dance: touching hands, breaking apart and coming together again, watched by the dozens of gossiping observers along the edges of the room.
No few of them turned their eyes, surreptitiously or not, toward where the three of them were talking in quiet voices. Some of the attention was likely due to the presence of the new Lady Carroway, so recently returned from her wedding trip.
But some of it, Lily suspected, was due to the rumors that were spreading about the affairs of the Wyatt family. As hard as they had tried to keep what had happened quiet, talk had spread. And Lily had heard more than one whisper that she and Jack had been involved in their arrest.
Perhaps the Wyatts themselves had been responsible: Lady Wyatt and Frank certainly had no interest in protecting her reputation. And Lily did not trust Percy’s discretion.
Bu
t however the talk had spread, it was enough to raise eyebrows and suspicions, especially after the Harper murders that spring. Jack was unbothered by it; the implications of a man, especially one of naval background, becoming involved in police business were less disastrous. But Lily knew that some of that talk might not be so forgiving of her.
It made her glad that summer was upon them, that she and so many others would soon be leaving town so that the gossip would have time to fade.
But it also made her a little proud.
“You are a Carroway now,” Jack pointed out, drawing Lily’s attention back to the conversation. “However she might have once objected to your marriage, she is not the sort of woman to have anyone question her pride in her family.”
“And you are monstrously well liked,” Lily said.
Ofelia laughed at that, shaking her head because, however true it was now, it had not been the case when she first arrived in London. “They like me now because I am young, rich, and married to someone they do not wish to cut.”
“And because you have done your matrimonial damage and no longer pose a threat to those still seeking,” Lily pointed out.
“Well, whatever the cause, we are flattered that you would take time away from your very full dance card to spend a moment with us,” Jack teased. Growing a little more sober, he asked, “How are things at home?”
Ofelia smiled again, a little sadly this time. “Arthur is doing well,” she said. “He still misses his father and asks for Ellen, but he has settled in well enough.”
With the case against Frank and Lady Wyatt still pending, Sir Charles’s estate was in limbo. Percy could neither sell nor move into the house on Wimpole Street. Though he wished to bring Arthur to live with him, and though he would likely be named heir in Frank’s place, he currently had too little income to rent a new home. He remained at his lodging house for the present, while the Carroways had immediately stated their intention to have Arthur remain with them for as long as he needed.
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