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

Chapter Twenty-Six

M itchell was partway up the stairs with the tea tray when he heard muted voices. At first, he thought Drew had arrived earlier than planned, or perhaps Corrine’s brother had returned. But something told him—his intuition, perhaps—that this was not a social visit. A regular visitor would have pulled the front bell. Mitchell hadn’t heard anything, and in the kitchen, where the servants usually worked, he would have. Slowly and carefully, Mitchell retreated to the kitchen and laid the tray and his cane on the counter.

Then he ascended the stairs as quietly as possible, grimacing as his leg ached from the effort. He inched closer, keeping his back to the wall. Mitchell could make out part of the conversation. A decidedly male voice asked where Mitchell was, and Corrine answered, “He went out.”

“Come with me, Baroness. We’re searching the house. He’s here, I know it. And I aim to find him.”

The sitting room door swung open, and Mitchell quickly ducked around the corner to avoid being seen.

“I do not have keys for the top two floors,” Corrine lied coolly. “There are two unrented flats.”

“Then we’ll search the bottom two first. What’s below this floor?”

That voice. Now that Mitchell could hear it clearly, there was no mistaking Danaher’s menacing, gravelly tone. Blast it. The revolver Malone gave him was in his bedroom. How to fetch it? It would not be easy to climb more stairs without his cane.

“The kitchen and storage area,” Corrine replied.

“Take me down there, Baroness. Lead the way. No sudden moves, now. I’ve got this pistol pointing at a vital organ.”

Mitchell descended the stairs as quickly as possible, grabbed his cane, and slipped into the storage room, wedging himself between a pile of crates and boxes. At least he had a weapon of sorts. Thankfully, the sharp pain in his leg had subsided a little.

“A tea tray for two? There is someone else here!” Danaher snarled.

“I was down here earlier and boiled water for tea,” Corrine replied calmly. “Feel the kettle. I left the tea to steep. I told you I’m expecting Doctor Hornsby to return very soon. I thought I would have tea ready for him.”

Mitchell smiled, admiring Corrine’s fast thinking and composed demeanor.

“The sooner I get the money—any money—I will leave this bloody city. What’s in there?”

“The pantry.”

“Open it.”

“It’s locked. I don’t know where the key is.”

Danaher growled in response. “And what’s through there?”

“Storage.”

The footsteps grew closer, and Mitchell held his breath as the door banged against the wall.

“See? It’s nothing but boxes and crates,” Corrine stated.

Danaher kicked a stack of boxes, and they tumbled to the floor. The crash had the sound of breaking dishes. It was lucky the boxes were nowhere near him.

“Damn all toffs and this barony!” Danaher sounded testy and exasperated, which meant he was losing patience. “I visited that stingy skinflint of a father ten years ago. Do you know what he gave me? Two hundred pounds! And more than two hundred thousand pounds are in the accounts—maybe more. You look gobsmacked, Baroness. Did your husband never tell you the extent of his wealth? If he left you next to nothing, then he fleeced you good and proper.”

“I’m sorry your father never acknowledged you or gave you the proper life you were entitled to. But legally speaking, you have no claim on any of the money. According to British law, illegitimate children have no claim on estates or inheritances. I do not think that is just, but it is the law. Gilbert Addington should have set up a trust for you and seen to your education and well-being. I’m sorry he didn’t, but that is no excuse for you to come and terrorize me. I can do nothing. Women mean less than nothing when it comes to wills and legacies.”

“You talk a good game, Baroness. In fact, you talk too much.”

Mitchell peeked around the corner of the boxes to see Danaher pushing Corrine into the kitchen area. He could rush him, but with the revolver digging into Corrine’s back, he couldn’t take the chance he could move swiftly enough to disarm Danaher before he pulled the trigger. Mitchell would have to wait for a better opportunity.

“That door leads outside?” Danaher barked.

“Yes.”

“It’s locked.”

“I know nothing about how it’s locked as I’ve never used this entrance,” Corrine stated.

“Right, Baroness. Why would you use a servants’ entrance?” he sneered.

“There are keys on that hook,” Corrine said. “Maybe one of them opens this door or the pantry.”

Mitchell slowly headed to the door of the storage room. Danaher had left it open. He heard the sound of keys jingling. Peering into the kitchen, he saw that Danaher and Corrine had their backs to him. Danaher was distracted as he removed keys from their hooks.

Mitchell did not hesitate. He moved forward, tucked the cane under his arm, picked up the tea tray, and flung it as far as possible. The sound of broken china and the silver tea service clattering across the tiled floor created enough of a distraction that he was able to jump Danaher when he wasn’t looking. Mitchell raised his cane to hit Danaher on the head, but he turned slightly, and Mitchell caught his shoulder instead. Danaher yowled in response. Mitchell didn’t hesitate. He swung again, this time hitting Danaher’s hand. The pistol skidded across the floor, and both men lunged for it.

Corrine kicked it across the room, then chased after it just as Danaher rolled on top of Mitchell, punching him in the jaw. Mitchell saw stars and was momentarily knocked senseless.

Danaher scrambled to his feet. “Is this the leg that caught my bullet?” Danaher stomped on Mitchell’s injured leg, sending a radiating wave of hot pain through the limb. “Too bad I didn’t aim a little higher!”

Mitchell groaned and, with his good leg, kicked Danaher’s legs out from under him. He hit the floor hard. Though he could hardly see straight through the haze of agony, he grabbed Danaher by the hair and smacked his head against the tiles.

Danaher groaned but grabbed Mitchell’s arm, about to bite him.

“Enough!” Corrine cried. “I have this revolver pointed right at you, Danaher. Do not move.”

Mitchell pushed Danaher away, then struggled to get to his feet. It took a moment or two, but he managed it. “Well done, darling,” Mitchell said proudly to Corrine. “You kept him talking and distracted him enough for me to get to him.”

“That is what I was hoping to do. He picked the rear door lock. That’s how he got in. He knows about the loan money. My father told him.”

Mitchell frowned. And her father never warned her? Miserable bastard. “Here, I’ll take the gun. Drew has a telephone in his study. Ring the Marylebone station and ask for Mahone. The operator will connect you.”

“Right away.” Corrine hurried toward the stairs. Then she stopped and blew him a kiss before ascending the stairs. God, how he loved her.

“You’re a blasted pain in my arse, always interfering in my business,” Danaher grumbled. “Addington shot first.”

“Tell the police when they get here. You’re not as bright as I gave you credit for. You should have left the city when everyone believed you dead. But instead you stayed, all because of money.”

“That old sod owed me!” Danaher yelled.

“Shut it. I don’t want to hear anymore.” And he didn’t, for his leg throbbed like the very devil.

*

Police officers and detectives swarmed the bottom flat of Gloucester Square. They stood in the sitting room arguing over who would take possession of Danaher. F Division, Paddington, was there because Drew’s home was located in that particular district. Inspector Stanhope was there from Mitchell’s division, wanting Danaher for the kidnapping and fraud charges in Notting Dale. Ultimately, Mahone, from Division D, Marylebone, won the first pick as murder trumped all the other charges.

Two uniformed officers escorted Danaher toward the door. Danaher was cursing everyone within earshot. Two more uniformed police followed behind, along with the police and detectives from the other divisions.

“As far as other charges—” Mahone stated, “—the kidnapping in Notting Dale and his other criminal activities, everyone will get their turn.”

“Will he be charged with murder?” Corrine asked. “He claims my husband fired first.”

“I just came from speaking to his son. He awoke this morning. Cillian claims they came to collect money owed, but the safe was empty. He says Addington pulled the gun from the safe and fired. We’ll get to the bottom of it. But my guess is that Danaher will end up in Newgate. Anyway, I have your initial statements. We will require a more detailed version of events in a few days. I will be in touch.” He held out his hand to Mitchell. “Well done, Sergeant and Baroness. You make quite a formidable team.”

Mitchell shook it. “I am relieved Danaher is in custody.”

“Good afternoon, my lady. Doctor Hornsby.” Mahone touched the brim of his hat and departed.

“Well, that was quite the scene to come home to,” Drew murmured as he sat on the sofa. “Danaher here? In this flat? Unbelievable. Who would have thought he was desperate enough to seek out Corrine like that? The late baron should have gone to the police when Danaher first showed up at his door,” Drew concluded.

Corrine came to stand beside Mitchell. She slipped her arm through his, and when he looked at her, Corrine gave him a warm smile. “Drew is correct. Travis should have gone to the police. Mr. Dobson, his solicitor, practically begged him to. Why he thought he could handle Danaher himself, we will never know. I did not know Travis at all; that is plain.”

Mitchell patted her hand. “He thought he was protecting the barony, I suppose. It was rash—and dangerous. And he paid with his life.”

“Excuse my personal question, but has something developed between you?” Drew gave them a knowing smile.

“I think it has always been there,” Corrine smiled in return. “We love each other. Is that wrong, considering Travis’s recent burial?”

Drew shook his head. “I do not know much about love, only what I have witnessed within my family. I am of the opinion that when it happens—embrace it. As a doctor, and you, Corrine, as a nurse, know that life is far too short. Revel in your feelings. The American poet and philosopher Henry David Thoreau said it best. ‘There is no remedy for love but to love more.’ Love more, my friends.”

Corrine ran to Drew and threw her arms about his neck, kissing his cheek affectionately. “You are the dearest of friends. Thank you. Let’s celebrate Danaher’s arrest. And love and all that entails. Let’s take supper at The Crowing Cock, the three of us.”

“I agree. But let me examine Mitchell’s leg before we go. Are you still in pain?” Drew asked, concern in his voice.

“Yes, it aches more than usual, but I can stand on it. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a look at it before we leave.”

“I will go and change,” Corrine said. “I have a gray gown I can wear to show half-mourning, and I do not care if I am whispered about—blast society. In a little over a year, it will be a new century. I am eager to get on with my life. And that life includes Mitchell.”

Mitchell remained silent. Had she overstepped, bringing their mutual feelings out into the open when they hardly had time to acknowledge them? Her emotions could no longer be contained. Corrine wanted the world to know how much she loved Mitchell. How she yearned for him—utterly ached.

A smile crept across his handsome face. “Yes. Celebrate. I could not agree more.”

Corrine squealed with happiness, then jumped to her feet, ran to Mitchell, and threw her arms about his neck. He laughed, and the sound of his joyous laughter caused her heart to swell to near bursting. Mitchell slipped an arm about her waist and spun her about the room.

“But your leg!” Corrine cried worriedly.

“I don’t feel any pain, not while you are in my arms.”

Drew stood. “On that note, I will go change for dinner.”

Corrine and Mitchell laughed. Then Mitchell slowly lowered her until her slippered feet touched the floor.

Corrine stood on the tips of her toes and whispered in his ear, “Come to me tonight after supper. I want you.”

“God, yes.” Mitchell kissed her passionately. Deeply. “You had best change for supper or I will be making love to you on this sofa.”

The thought of it thrilled her to her toes. “Is the door unlocked?” she murmured.

Mitchell reached into his pocket and tossed her the key.

She caught it. “The key to your heart?”

“Oh, my darling,” Mitchell replied huskily. “You had that weeks ago.”

Corrine chuckled as she hurried down the hallway. She could not wait for tonight.