The Detective and the Baroness (The Duke’s Bastards #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

M itchell came out of his chair so swiftly that his cane clattered to the floor. “Danaher? Jedi Danaher?”

Mr. Dobson looked up from his papers. “You know of the man, Sergeant?”

“Unfortunately. Danaher was the rookery boss in Notting Dale, better known as The Potteries and Piggeries. The area is located within my police division. He supposedly died in a fire, but there was no way to identify the charred corpse the firemen came upon. Still, the Baroness and I had reason to speculate that Danaher might still be alive, and that he contacted Travis Addington, looking for money. Now we know the reason why.” Mitchell could not believe this. Gilbert Addington’s illegitimate son? He sat and then glanced at Corrine. She had gone as white as a sheet. He briefly squeezed her hand before turning his attention back to Mr. Dobson.

“I notice that you said ‘know’ the man and not ‘knew,’ Mr. Dobson,” Mr. Chambers stated. “You are aware of Mr. Danaher’s current situation?”

Mr. Dobson sighed. “Yes. I am aware. His lordship recently informed me that Mr. Danaher had made contact, seeking money as the old baron had predicted. I immediately urged him to go to the police. But the baron wanted to pay him a lump sum to be rid of him once and for all. So I drew up a legal paper stating Mr. Danaher, in accepting the payment, would not be entitled to any further money from the estate.”

As far as Mitchell was aware, no such document had been found at the murder scene, but he would have to check with Mahone.

Mr. Dobson flipped through the sheaves of papers. “Ah. Here it is.”

“May I see that, Mr. Dobson?” Mr. Chambers asked. He took the document and quickly scanned it. “The amount of money being paid has been left blank.”

“Quite so. The baron was to get back to me with the amount. Although he said something strange before he departed. He said, ‘I have ways to make Danaher sign’.”

“Did Travis take the money out of the account?” Corrine asked.

“That I do not know, as he did not ask me to do it, my lady. I will speak to the bank immediately. Before the baron left our meeting, I urged him again to go to the police. He said he would think about it. I assumed he was still considering it because the baron did not contact me to withdraw money. Unless he did it himself.”

“Mr. Dobson,” Mitchell interjected. “As you saw in this morning’s papers, the baron was murdered. Of that, there is no doubt. You must tell Detective Mahone, D Division, about Danaher.”

“I will contact him once this meeting is concluded. Now, we come to the will. I only finalized it last week.”

Mr. Dobson read through the legalese, which had Mitchell’s mind drifting to more critical matters. Danaher? My God. And the letter from Gilbert Addington stating, “Arm yourself.” Had Travis taken that advice literally? Obviously. There was a good chance Danaher did not get the money after all. Perhaps, instead of giving in to the extortion, Travis had planned to shoot Danaher to be rid of him. This meant Danaher could still come after Corrine for what he felt he was owed. Every worst-case scenario was coming to pass. Another part of the letter caught Mitchell’s attention. Getting an heir by ‘whatever means.’ Chilling. It explained Addington’s loathsome heir arrangement.

“Mitchell?” Corrine said, gently laying her hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry. What have I missed?”

“I am to keep whatever is left in the trust,” Corrine replied. “And that is all.”

“Not quite all, my lady,” Mr. Dobson said. “There will be a small stipend every month until you remarry. It will continue for the rest of your life if you do not. But that will be up to the new heir. You may stay at Wimpole Street until the new baron arrives. That may take a few months, or he may arrive sooner. I am not certain.”

Corrine shook her head. “No. I will not return there ever again. I have found temporary lodgings. What about the servants at Wimpole Street? I strongly suggest they be kept on. Thomason and Mrs. Morris have been there for decades. Jonathan, the footman, has been there eight years.”

“I have discretionary funds to handle such expenses, including the funeral. I will employ the servants until the new baron arrives, and when he does, I will suggest he keep them on. But that will be up to him. I will also pay your lodgings until we finalize the monthly stipend with the new baron. I’m afraid the remuneration will not be a large amount. Your husband suggested thirty pounds a month. It may be less than that, or it could be a little more.”

“That is more than sufficient, Mr. Dobson. I do not live extravagantly. I never have. You may pay ten pounds to Doctor Drew Hornsby. I will send you the particulars.”

“Would you wish me to plan the funeral, my lady?”

“Yes, please, in conjunction with Mr. Chambers. Considering the tragic circumstances, it should be as private as possible.” Corrine stood. “I will leave Mr. Chambers here and allow you to make the necessary plans, including retrieving the body from St. Mary’s. And I would like a summary of exactly what I am entitled to in the will—in writing.”

The men stood. “I will report the funeral plans to you as soon as possible, my lady,” said Mr. Chambers. “Leave the details with me.”

“I will also need to collect the rest of my belongings. Can you arrange that, Mr. Chambers? And inform the servants of the situation?”

“Between the two of us, we shall handle everything. Do not distress yourself, my lady.”

After Mitchell gathered his hat and cane, he took Corrine’s arm, and they departed. Stepping out into the bright December sunshine, Corrine gave a trembling breath. Mitchell immediately steered her into a nearby alley. Shadows engulfed them, giving them privacy from the busy street.

She leaned against the wall, and Mitchell moved to stand in front of her. Resting his cane against the bricks, he cupped her face. Hang decorum and the fact her husband was not even in the ground yet. He caressed her flushed cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Mitchell was not wearing gloves, and the touch of her silky-smooth skin had his nerve endings pinging like mad. “I will not let Danaher near you,” he whispered fiercely. “If necessary, I will finish the job Travis started. I will protect you with my very life.”

Then Mitchell captured her lips with his and kissed her fiercely, with all the pent-up desire rising within him. For a moment, Corrine seemed shocked but then enthusiastically returned his kiss, her tongue seeking his. They ended the kiss, staying in each other’s arms. All he wanted to do was hold Corrine close. But nearby voices brought him back down to earth.

Slowly and reluctantly, he took a step back. From the illumination of the sun’s rays, he could see Corrine’s beautiful face and the desire in her eyes. She brushed her fingertips across her well-kissed lips. “Mitchell,” she whispered. “How I have longed for you to do that. And how I want you to do it again. Right now.”

He groaned and trembled from the emotions overtaking him.

“And do not apologize,” Corrine continued, her breathy voice huskier than he had ever heard. “Or say we should not have done it, that it was not respectable. My marriage was not real. And Travis is dead, as terrible as that fact is. I’m no longer married. I am free.” Corrine took a step toward him, then cupped his cheek. “We are free, at least in this respect. Free to show our feelings, at least when alone. And I am rambling again.”

Mitchell turned his head slightly and kissed her palm. “I adore your ramblings. I adore…you. I have since the moment we met. From the first time I saw you. It was as if a thunderbolt hit me.”

Corrine cupped her hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him in for another passionate kiss. She took the lead, and Mitchell loved it as she explored every inch of his mouth. More voices drew near, and he stepped away again. “I should take you to your flat.”

They glanced about the street, then stepped out of the alley. Mitchell hailed a hansom. After they were inside, he took her hand and held it.

“What do we do next?” Corrine asked.

“You mean, regarding Danaher?”

Corrine nodded.

“We watch and wait. He will no longer use the hooded cloaks, or so I surmise. Perhaps he will use another disguise. We also wait to see if Addington withdrew money from the bank in the past few days beyond the loan he gave your father. If there was another withdrawal, we can assume Danaher got his money and will go to ground. After the murder, he would be wise to disappear. That is if he got the money.”

“And if he did not?”

“Then Danaher will likely still want what he feels he is owed. He may wait until things die down, or he could be desperate enough to take a chance and demand it, sooner rather than later.”

Corrine sighed. “And what do we do about the loan?”

That was a quandary. If they handed it over to the solicitors, it would be given to the new baron. Or worse, to her spendthrift father. After the emotional distress Addington had put Corrine through, and what she’d had to endure from her self-centered father, Mitchell felt she was entitled to the money.

“This goes against every fiber of my morals, but I believe we should say nothing for now, as Mr. Chambers suggested. If the loan is the only withdrawal on record, the law and the police will assume it was money paid to Danaher.”

Corrine shook her head. “My father supposedly has papers for the loan, stating that the full amount is due if Travis and I divorce.”

“After talking with your father, I concluded he is a bit of a dunderhead, as well as an incredibly selfish person. Sorry to be so direct.”

“It is the complete truth,” Corrine replied.

“I think Addington fabricated the paper your father supposedly signed. He planned to use the document and the loan to make you amenable to his twisted heir plan. He threatened you with it in your last meeting with him. I’m sure it was politely put, but still a threat, nonetheless.”

“Yes, it was a threat. When I feel sorry for Travis’s tragic end, I recall his machinations, and any pity I might feel all but melts away. He held that blasted loan over my head. How horrible. Would he have told me about the discovered heir? Who knows?”

Mitchell laced his fingers through Corrine’s. “You are free. If the loan document existed, Mr. Dobson would have mentioned it today.”

“You’re right. He would be duty-bound to mention it.”

“We hope. I suggest we say nothing for now, as Mr. Chambers suggested. If the law comes to inquire, we can deal with it then. Obviously, we will give it back.”

“And if no one comes to inquire about it?” Corrine murmured.

“My first instinct is to say that you should keep it as compensation for all you have endured from your father and, more recently, your husband. However, that is an opinion from my heart, not my head.”

Corrine sighed. “Even though your reasons are sound, it would not sit well with me.”

“Honestly? Not me either. My common sense says to return it to the barony. But waiting until the solicitors work out the details is still the wise thing to do.”

“I feel—strange. I am not sure what I should be feeling. And because of that, I should not be making any decisions right now. I agree, let’s wait.”

Those words arrowed straight to Mitchell’s heart. Corrine was speaking of the money, but it also could be said of what had passed between them in the alley. Any emotional declarations from him should be delayed. So should any outward displays of passion beyond a kiss. Adding to her overcrowded plate was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a time and a place—and this situation was not it, no matter how much he yearned for her.

“After dropping you at Gloucester Square, I will go and see Mahone. He needs to know about Danaher and everything we learned at Mr. Dobson’s office today. Mr. Dobson said he would contact Mahone, but I would feel better if it came from me first. Besides, I want to know if the young man lived through the night, and if they discovered his identity.”

“Yes. I still cannot believe everything that has unfolded during the past twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Danaher as Gilbert’s illegitimate son? Remember what Thomason revealed? About a man with scars coming to see Gilbert? I guess Danaher came for money, just as you said. The fact that Gilbert never allowed the man at the door inside spoke of his disdain. The old baron paid Danaher and dismissed him.”

“Yes. Exactly that.” He looked outside. “And here we are.” Mitchell waited until the hansom stopped, then climbed down and assisted Corrine. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I will need to get a little food in, and some dishes and such, but all I want now is to sleep.”

Mitchell kissed her hand. “Yes, rest. I will see you tonight. Come downstairs for supper later if you wish.”

“I will. Just bang on the door if I do not come down before half past six.”

Mitchell escorted her through the rear yard entrance and watched as she climbed the wrought iron stairs to the second level. Corrine unlocked the door, turned, and waved. Maybe he should have checked the small flat, but Mitchell believed it unlikely that Danaher would have any idea where Corrine would be staying. Likely, he was lying low at the moment. Though how long he would stay secreted away was another matter….

Once he returned to the hansom, he told the driver, “Marylebone Lane police station.”

After he met with Mahone, he would travel to the Lancaster station and inform his inspector of the developments. The more police officers looking for Danaher, the better.