Chapter 22 #2
“You’ll be there to witness the shock on Sir Basil’s face when he realises the game is up. I’m confident it will be just as satisfying.”
Sir Basil was leafing through a case file when Sergeant Reid showed them into the cluttered office.
He stood, a show of deference to Gabriel’s position.
“Ah, Lord Rothley. I trust all is well, now that sorry business is behind you.” He acknowledged Daventry with a nod and gestured for them to sit.
“You’ll be pleased to know Reverend Clay gave a detailed confession last night.
The man has been preaching politics from his pulpit for years. ”
“After hours, I presume.”
“Yes, it seems his bid to help the needy extended to secret meetings at St Luke’s by night. The watchmen had seen some strange goings-on but failed to report them. And the sexton had his suspicions.”
Gabriel’s temper simmered beneath the surface, but he remained composed. “The sexton?I’m not sure I’d give much weight to a drunkard’s ramblings.”
He saw it then, the slight tremble of the magistrate’s lip.
“Perhaps not, but it all leads to the same theory.”
“Any news on the person who killed Mrs Hodge?” Daventry asked.
“Yes, good news.” Sir Basil reached across his desk and handed Daventry a signed document. “Robbery was the motive. A man who frequents The Bear was caught trying to sell stolen goods. Among them was a locket Mrs Hodge had kept. You’ve the murderer’s confession in your hand.”
Daventry read it but didn’t hand it back. “We’ve had some luck ourselves. However, it may mean questioning the suspects and witnesses again. To determine who’s lying.”
The magistrate’s brows rose. “I can’t speak for your men, Daventry, but I’ve heard the confessions from the principals themselves.” He gave a small shrug. “I’m in no doubt who’s at fault here.”
Daventry didn’t blink. “Nor are we.” He paused, letting the silence stretch, just long enough to carry the hint of accusation. “We have the guard in custody. He arranged to have arsenic added to Sir Randall’s broth. And he smuggled Mrs Culpepper out of her cell with the kitchen delivery.”
With puffed cheeks and a deep frown, Sir Basil tried to look confounded. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it? Still, I’m not surprised. The guards in Newgate are underpaid and overworked.”
“Spoken like a true revolutionary,” Gabriel said.
“All suspects and witnesses have been moved to a secure location.” Daventry delivered the line like a man who’d watched countless liars squirm. “The documents recovered from the grave at Wynbury Hall confirm who will be charged with murder and sedition, and who might receive a lighter sentence.”
Gabriel watched Sir Basil carefully. No flicker of surprise. No outrage. Just the measured silence of a man calculating the damage.
“Grave? Documents? You went to Wynbury? I said my men would search the suspect’s property.”
Daventry shrugged. “I answer to the Home Secretary. I imagine a detailed look at your property portfolio might offer some clues. As will the list of bribes you took to sow division in government.”
Sir Basil rose in a rush, outrage stiffening his posture. “This is preposterous. You’d give weight to some dust-covered papers and the ravings of those villains found at the scene?”
Gabriel stood, cold fury sharpening in his chest. “Villains acting under your orders.” He wanted to drag this fool across the desk and force a confession from him.
“You tried to have me killed. Worse. You had my wife abducted and beaten. For that, you’ll find out what it’s like to dance with the devil. ”
Daventry was on his feet. “Sergeant Reid.”
The footsteps came at once. Sir Basil turned, blanching as the door opened and the sergeant stepped inside, four constables in tow.”
“Sir Basil Malden,” Daventry said calmly, “you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, abduction, sedition and the corruption of public office.”
“On whose authority?” Sir Basil countered.
Daventry smiled. “The King’s.”
Sergeant Reid stepped forward, taking Sir Basil firmly by the arm. “Best you come quietly, sir, save—”
“Unhand me, you fool.” The magistrate shirked out of his grip with a sneer. “This is a mistake. A damned mistake. I’ve served this city for twenty years—”
“And in that time,” Daventry said, unmoved, “you’ve profited from every lie you helped conceal.”
Sir Basil opened his mouth to argue, but said nothing. Perhaps even he sensed the futility of denial in the face of ruin. Sergeant Reid took hold of him again, more forcefully this time, and led him from the room.
Gabriel watched them go in silence. The door closed, not just on a traitor, but on every wicked lie that had nearly cost Olivia her life. That chapter was over. She was safe. And that was all that mattered.
Daventry gave an amused snort. “No matter how many criminals we put behind bars, nothing satisfies quite like those who believe they’re invincible.”
“Or those who got away with murder for twenty years.” Gabriel considered the hours Daventry had spent as master of London’s finest enquiry agency, relentlessly pursuing justice. “But at what cost to you, personally?”
Daventry’s smile softened. “I do it for my wife, who’s the heart of everything I am. And for my sons, to show them that a man doesn’t walk past what’s broken. He does everything in his power to fix it. And I’ve every faith your sons will learn the same from you.”
The remark drew his mind to Olivia and the future they might build, the life they would share. If the wheels of fate were already turning, she might soon be with child. He’d be the father he’d once needed. The man he’d spent his whole life trying to become.
Daventry pulled his watch from his pocket and checked the time. “On the subject of being a better man, I promised my wife dinner at Marcello’s tonight. And I’ve an important call to make in Kingston.”
“Kingston? Are there not enough rogues in the city?”
“This one’s personal. A deal I made with Dominic Hawke.”
Gabriel jolted. “You’re riding to Shadowmere?”
“To deliver a document. Hawke and his friends need very little help from me.” Daventry laughed, almost to himself. “If you want to see the foundations of the ton rocked to its core, accept the invitation to the Templeton ball next month.”
Gabriel watched him with mounting curiosity. One thing was certain. Whatever document Daventry had for Dominic Hawke, it would send the man’s life veering in a different direction.
Daventry checked his watch again. “Well, I’d best deal with Sir Basil before heading to Kingston. Nothing will make me late for dinner with my wife.”
Gabriel didn’t doubt it. In Daventry’s world, rogues came and went—but love endured. A man didn’t earn a reputation as a matchmaker without understanding what truly mattered.
He thought of his own path, every loss, every hard lesson. The road had been merciless. But it led him to Olivia. And he would crawl a thousand miles, gladly, if it meant finding her again.