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

Chapter Twenty-Four

T he next day was a flurry of activity. Corrine was pleasantly surprised when she received a delivery from Wimpole Street in the late afternoon. Inside the boxes were dishes, pots, glasses, bedding, a clock, and some of her clothes and toiletries. This had to be Mitchell’s doing, she surmised. He was looking out for her once again. Earlier this morning, he’d traveled to a local grocer and placed a food order: sugar, tea, bread, and other sundries. Plus, she had the ginger biscuits and scones he’d purchased yesterday.

She’d also received a telegram from her brother, Jeffery. He was catching a late afternoon train and would return to London tonight. He would come to see her at Gloucester Square immediately.

Mitchell handed her a bag of Yorkshire tea to place on the shelf in her tiny kitchen. “After this, I will head to The Crowing Cock with the baked goods.”

“I am tempted to come with you. I do not like that my life must come to a standstill because I’m a widow. The black mourning gown is not being delivered until tomorrow morning.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I can wear the nurse’s uniform and the veil.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I am not certain that is a good idea. Danaher may be lurking about. As I said last night, I felt I was being followed yesterday.”

“I need to stay active. I cannot sit here alone with my thoughts.”

“Then, by all means, come with me.” He came toward her and cupped her face with his hands. The pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks, sending waves of desire through her. “Know this. I will never dictate to you how to live your life. I only expressed doubt because of your safety.”

“I know. Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“There will be a time—and very soon—for us to discuss what happens in the future. In the meantime—” He swooped in and captured her lips, kissing her passionately. Corrine replied with a soft moan as her insides turned to custard. Exploring, he delved deep, caressing every part of her mouth. To her disappointment, Mitchell ended the kiss and stepped back. “We had best head to Hallahan’s before we become swept away.”

Corrine was tempted to grab his lapels, pull him in, and kiss him fiercely. They were alone. Why not allow themselves to be swept away? Because the time was not right. Corrine laid her hand against his cheek. “Then we should leave immediately.” She whirled about and headed to her bedroom. “I won’t be a minute!”

Changed into her uniform along with the veil obscuring her face, they hailed a hansom. After paying the driver, they stood in front of the restaurant. It was three in the afternoon and, thankfully, not too busy. Fluffy snow flurries tumbled from the sky but melted as soon as they hit the ground.

Taking Mitchell’s arm, they stepped inside. On her opposite side, she had the paper bag tucked in close. A waitress came toward them. “Hello, detective. Here to see Liam?”

“If he can spare a few moments.”

“I will fetch him.”

The waitress disappeared out back, and moments later, Mr. Hallahan opened the swinging door and motioned them to come toward him. He led them through the kitchen, where young lads were chopping carrots and potatoes, another lad was scrubbing the counters, and a woman sorted through trays of food. The scents had Corrine’s mouth watering: frying onions, gammon steak, plus the sweet smell of chocolate and buttercream.

He led them into an office and closed the door behind them as they took their seats. “My condolences, Baroness. I saw the newspapers.” Hallahan said gruffly as he sat.

Corrine pulled back her veil. “Thank you. I’m a dowager baroness now. There is an heir—a surprise to everyone. But I would much rather you call me Corrine when we are alone. Or Lady Corrine, whatever makes you comfortable.” She handed him the stuffed paper bag. “We discovered this costermonger selling baked goods. We think they are superb. We thought you might like to sample them and throw some business the man’s way.”

Hallahan emptied the bag and placed the food before him.

“We got it yesterday, so not exactly fresh, but you will get the idea,” Corrine added.

“Enya!” Hallahan yelled, causing Corrine to start.

The waitress that had served them the other night stuck her head in. “Yes, Liam?”

“Bring us three mugs of tea and four small plates. Any customers?”

“Nothing we can’t handle. A few ladies ordered tea and cakes.”

With the waitress gone, Hallahan tore off a piece of bread, prodding it with his fingers. “Nice and light, not doughy. I can’t bake bread to save my life.” He tore off a piece and chewed. “It’s delicious.”

“I told Royce Eckley that if you were interested, you would contact him using my name and yesterday’s date. I told the man the decision is yours,” Mitchell said. “Both he and his wife do the baking. They sell on Carol Street.”

Hallahan cocked a thick eyebrow. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why not?” Mitchell immediately replied. “The man and his wife are talented, and so are you. Why not arrange something that can benefit you all? Isn’t that the purpose of our group?”

“I don’t know, is it?” Liam questioned. “You’ve asked me to join this club and gave me a vague outline. What’s next?”

“I suppose a vague outline is all we have at the moment. I’ve been busy with another case.”

“I’m afraid I am the case Mitchell is speaking of,” Corrine said with a small smile. “I have taken up all his time and some of Drew’s as well. I believe doing good works is the foundation of The Duke’s Bastards, either with the members or those outside of it. Do I have the right of it, Mitchell?”

“You are correct,” Mitchell replied, giving her a warm smile.

Enya entered with a tray. She then placed the plates and mugs of tea on the table, along with spoons, napkins, milk, and sugar.

“Cheers, Enya. Take a sample of everything on the table and hand it out to the staff. I want your opinions,” Hallahan stated. She did and hurried into the kitchen. “Help yourself. Fix your tea and take samples.” Hallahan piled one of everything on the plate. He bit into the ginger biscuit. “Aye, these are exceptional. I will get in touch with the man. I definitely will want the bread and perhaps some of the others. I don’t get daily deliveries of the nob food. The one you saw in the kitchen was the first in a week. So I can use some baked goods to fill the gaps.”

Corrine realized that was the most she had ever heard Mr. Hallahan speak. It meant he was a little more at ease around them. They ate in silence.

“Liam?” Corrine asked.

Hallahan’s head shot up at the mention of his name.

“Did you receive the shoes and mittens I sent over a week ago?” she asked. “They are for the people who come for the free soup each morning.”

“Aye. I’m sorry I didn’t send a thank you. It slipped my mind. I’m not well versed in expected society manners,” he replied frankly.

“I don’t care about that. I am glad to help. I would like us to be friends.”

Liam snorted and looked at Mitchell. “Can you believe this?”

Mitchell took her hand and kissed it. “Yes, I can. Corrine is kind, generous, and a good friend to have. She likes you, although I am not sure why.” Mitchell gave Liam a crooked grin.

“I’m sorry I even agreed to see you and the earnest young doctor,” Liam grumbled. “All I can say is I’ll try. Thank you—Corrine.”

Corrine beamed. If she could do her part to soften Liam’s gruffness and make him amenable to accepting assistance and friendship, not only from her but also from Mitchell and Drew, then that would undoubtedly help her forget, for a while, all the stress in her life.

*

Later that evening…

The doorbell chimed, and Mitchell stood. “I will get it.”

“It is probably Jeffery. He did say in his telegram he would be coming here right from the train station,” Corrine said.

Drew stood as well. “I will leave you to visit with your brother.”

“No, please. I want you both to stay for now,” Corrine insisted.

Drew sat again, and Mitchell headed down the hall to the entrance. He opened the door, and a young man holding a valise stood on the stoop.

“Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Yes. And you must be Sergeant Simpson.”

Mitchell stepped aside. “Come in. Your sister is anxious to see you.”

Edgeworth swiped snowflakes from his shoulder before stepping inside. “How is she doing?” he murmured.

“Keeping a brave face. Corrine is a courageous woman.”

Her brother gave him a side glance when he mentioned her first name. “Yes, she is. More than I ever realized.”

“Let me take your coat and hat. You can place your case there on the hall tree seat.” After he hung Edgeworth’s coat and hat on the hook, he led him down the hall to the sitting room. When Edgeworth entered the room, Corrine came to her feet.

“Jeffery!” Corrine ran to her younger brother’s open arms. He enveloped her in a comforting embrace.

“I am so sorry, Corri. So very sorry.” Edgeworth’s voice shook on the last words.

Mitchell and Drew exchanged looks. This was decidedly a private family moment. Perhaps they shouldn’t be here after all. But Corrine stepped back and swiped the tear trickling down her cheek. “Jeffery, I want you to meet my good friends. Detective Sergeant Mitchell Simpson and Doctor Drew Hornsby.”

The men exchanged handshakes. “Hornsby?” Edgeworth questioned. “Related to the Duke of Gransford?”

“Yes,” Drew replied. “He is my uncle. Viscount Hawkestone is my father.”

“Jeffery, sit here on the sofa near the fire. You must be chilled to the bone. How about a brandy, or would you prefer scotch?” She chuckled. “Listen to me. As if I am the lady of the house.” Corrine smiled.

“Well, you are,” Drew replied. “What can I get you, Mr. Edgeworth?”

“A brandy sounds perfect,” he replied, sitting on the sofa beside his sister. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Drew handed Edgeworth a snifter and then sat in the chair opposite him. Mitchell sat next to Drew. There was a small table between them, and since they already had their drinks, Mitchell picked up his tumbler of scotch and took a sip.

Corrine sighed. “I’m not sure where to begin. I was at dinner with Drew and Mitchell at The Crowing Cock—” Corrine went on to tell her brother of finding Travis dead, the injured man, and what they had discovered at the solicitor, as well as the fact that there was an heir.

“I cannot believe this. And Travis did not know about the Irishman until a week ago?” Edgeworth said incredulously. “Where does that leave you?”

“Not as well off as before. We will have to tighten our belts. But that is a discussion for another time. I need to tell you about Father and the loan.”

Drew and Mitchell stood. “On that note,” Mitchell said, “We will leave you alone. Mr. Edgeworth, we have sandwiches left over from afternoon tea. Would you like some?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Drew left the room. Mitchell hesitated, then laid his hand on Corrine’s shoulder, and squeezed it in consolation and affection. She looked up at him and smiled. God, how he loved her. He departed and closed the door behind him.

*

After Drew delivered the platter of sandwiches, he left them alone. Jeffery grabbed one and ate it. “There is something between you and Simpson,” Jeffery said, “More than friendship.”

“There is—now. But that is not up for discussion. Mitchell did, however, follow Father several days ago. Right to the home of our father’s mistress.”

Jeffery’s mouth dropped open. “What? You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I am. Her name is Mrs. Robson, and she has a son of about four or five years of age. His name is James, and he called Father ‘Papa.’ His affair only occurred in the last seven years, but to have a secret life and foolishly spend money first on himself and ill-advised business schemes, then on his paramour and his son—hundreds of pounds in expensive gifts—I’ll never forgive him. Blast the retail shops for not itemizing what was on the bills. And all that money came from our hard work. Our sweat and worry.”

Jeffery sprang to his feet and began pacing about. “That miserable, thoughtless bastard. And the wh—”

“Do not say that loathsome word. Mitchell says Mrs. Robson was genuinely shocked to hear Father had other children. He also told her he was wealthy and could easily afford all the extras he bestowed. Mitchell recovered some of the loan Travis gave Father.”

Jeffery stopped pacing. “How much is some?”

“All but seven thousand pounds.”

Jeffery groaned and slumped into his seat. “The new baron will want the money back.”

“That is so,” Corrine replied quietly. “The solicitor I hired, Mr. Chambers, said to wait before we mention it. There is still much to be ironed out.”

“So not only am I to see to Father’s care, but also a woman and her son? It cannot be done, even if I manage a promotion. And as dowager, your income will be next to nothing.”

“And since the heir is not blood-related to me, he is under no obligation to give me any income at all. Everything is up in the air, as usual. More uncertainty. More stress. But beyond our problems, Travis was murdered. That is the worst of all.”

Her brother caught her gaze. “And here I am thinking of myself, once again. I do apologize. Perhaps I’m more like Father than I realized. A sobering thought. I’m also sorry you witnessed the aftermath.”

“Yes, it was terrible—something I will not soon forget. Will you go with me to the funeral? Stand at my side? Outside of the procession, it’s to be private. The solicitors and me. And you, if you agree.”

“Of course, I will be there for you. I—”

The doorbell trilled.

Corrine started to get to her feet, but Jeffery was already striding toward the doorway. “You stay seated. I will get the door.”

A few moments later, Corrine could hear a muffled conversation. Then, the voices got louder. Suddenly, her father burst into the room with Jeffery behind him, trying to grab their father’s arm.

“Get your hands off me, boy!” her father growled at Jeffery.

“How did you find me?” Corrine gasped.

“I took a page from your book. I hired a private investigator. I want my money back. I saw Addington’s murder splashed all over the papers. So the loan repayment is no longer necessary.”

Jeffery scoffed. “Who gave you that asinine advice?”

Mitchell and Drew came into the room.

“Ah, you have your muscle here. And another man, besides. I will not inquire about your living arrangements. You are not my concern, Corrine. Even though you stuck your nose into mine. Just keep your bully boy away from me. He had the audacity to slap me!”

Corrine looked at Mitchell, then back to her father. Mitchell did that? Good. “You deserved it.”

Her father snorted as he reached into his coat pocket. “Here are the loan papers. Now give me the money at once.”

Jeffery snatched them from his father’s hands and scanned the contents. “This is not a legal document. Neither the bank nor the solicitor have signed off on it. Nor is it notarized.”

“I will have you know it’s a promissory note. Addington said the legal papers would follow. Now that he is dead, the money is mine.”

Corrine noticed Mitchell and Drew stayed by the door. She was glad of their presence but also mortified they were witnessing her father’s arrogant behavior.

“In case it slipped your self-seeking mind,” Jeffery ground out, “I work at a bank and have a vast knowledge of loans and the clauses therein. Legal promissory notes are written by banks. Any other note is useless. This…” He pointed to the paper. “…will not stand up in court.”

Corrine came to stand beside her brother and glanced at the note. “This is Travis’s handwriting. He also says it must be paid back in ten years at an agreed interest rate of two percent. Or the entirety of it was due in the event of our divorce.” So Travis was going to hold it over her head. Her opinion of Travis dropped several more notches. Yes, he died needlessly and tragically, but he had every intention of making her life miserable. Not any longer.

“What do I care about ten years from now?” her father bellowed, bringing Corrine’s attention to the present. “I may not even be alive, then. And I knew you would never divorce him as we need his money. The terms were favorable to me,” her father said with a sniff.

“Get this through your head,” Jeffery snarled, clearly losing his patience. “This is not legal. You will have to pay the money to the new baron. Where is the rest of it? The seven thousand? And do not lie. For once in your egocentric life.”

“I have it. I spent close to a thousand.” Her father crossed his arms defiantly.

“Here is what is going to happen. First, you will leave Corrine alone. She has dealt with your reckless ways long enough. Second, you will marry Mrs. Robson and move her and your son into the town house. Did you buy that house on Old Street as you told Mrs. Robson?” Jeffery demanded.

“No, of course not!” her father snapped. “I bought the furnishings and fixings.”

“Then you will sell all of it and give me the proceeds. You see, Father, from this moment forward, I will be in charge of the finances for the viscountcy. I have found you a position.”

The horrified look on her father’s face looked like a man condemned to death. “Work? Me? The peerage does not work!”

“You will. You are now on the board of directors for The Provincial Strand Bank. They are rather keen to have a viscount on the board as it will raise their profile. Since I work there, I will take your place when the time comes. It works out for everyone. You will attend weekly meetings and avail yourself when needed for any promotional needs, all for a yearly stipend of one hundred and forty pounds.”

Her father was shocked. “I cannot live on that!”

“Many people live on that very well. And many, many more would kill to have that yearly income,” Jeffery replied firmly. “There will be no further allowance from Corrine, so get used to making your own way. You will be placed on a budget and will have to start living within your means.”

“You are making me part of the burgeoning and insufferable middle class!” her father whined.

“Upper-middle-class. Come, Father. We are going home.” Jeffery shoved their father none-too-gently toward the door. “Corrine, send me the information on the funeral, and I will be there. We will talk more then.”

Corrine ran to Jeffery and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for this.”

Jeffery nodded to Drew and Mitchell as he pushed his father through the door. There was a muffled conversation in the hallway, and then Corrine heard the front door slam.

Mitchell came to her side. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “More than I have been for quite some time.”

No more worrying and fretting over her family. Corrine took Mitchell’s hand. And this glorious man would be with her every step of the way.