Chapter 26 #3
Tilda and Hadrian explained the background shared by Larkin and Redmayne. Teague shook his head. “No one deserves what Redmayne has gone through, but he certainly invited Larkin’s rage.”
“Larkin is a dangerous man,” Hadrian said, voicing the concern that had clung to the back of his mind since the man had limped to his escape. “He’s already waited over a quarter century to exact revenge against Redmayne. And he failed. Redmayne lives.”
“But he has Redmayne’s fortune,” Tilda pointed out. “Redmayne told us he’s all but ruined. Perhaps that will satisfy Larkin.”
“I don’t think so,” Teague said, with a shake of his head and a dark expression.
“He shot Redmayne—not to kill him but to wound him so he couldn’t escape or help his daughter to escape.
He planned for them to die together in that blast. He’s a ruthless murderer.
I, for one, will not rest until we catch him. ”
“Neither will I.” Hadrian lifted his teacup toward Teague. “We should do this with brandy or whisky, but tea will have to do for now.”
Teague held up his teacup, and both men drank.
Tilda sipped her tea as well. “I don’t want to be left out. I’ve already stated my express need to capture the man if only to satisfy my curiosity.” She’d made the comment with a bit of levity, but her features grew quite sober. “I agree he’s dangerous. The Redmaynes will need to be careful.”
“As will you,” Teague said, spearing Tilda with a worried stare before transferring it to Hadrian.
“Every police department in the kingdom will be looking for Larkin. Or Lawrence, or whatever alias he may choose to adopt next. We hope to obtain a photograph of him from the theatre as we did with Mobray, though I’m not as optimistic since Larkin is not an actor. ”
“You really think he won’t flee England and set himself up somewhere else?” Hadrian asked. “I would.”
“I don’t think he’s in his right mind,” Tilda said. “He won’t like that he failed. He could very well wish to finish what he started.”
“And perhaps take the two of you down in the process.” Teague looked at them intently. “I want you to be exceedingly careful. I wonder if you ought to leave London for a while.”
“I can’t do that,” Tilda responded almost sharply. “I don’t have a country estate I can jaunt off to.” She glanced at Hadrian who arched a brow at her. He knew what she meant, but he hoped that she might want to “jaunt off” with him.
“The good news to come out of this at least is that this version of Spring-heeled Jack is dead,” Teague said with satisfaction. “The denizens of London can breathe a sigh of relief.”
“Until the next impostor appears,” Tilda said wryly. “Though I’m sure the newspapers will wring as much as possible from these horrible events.”
“Are you worried at all that they’ll focus on the latest Society gossip: Lord Ravenhurst and his lady detective?” Teague asked. “Your names already appeared together in the newspaper as being present at last night’s spectacle at Cremorne Gardens, and your presence at the blast today was noted.”
“I’m not worried.” Hadrian could tell that Tilda was, however. She was working to keep her features placid in reaction to Teague’s query, but Hadrian detected the tension beneath the calm.
“I wondered if your…association might change after this,” Teague said carefully. “I hope the three of us will continue working together as we are able, but I’ll understand if something happens that would preclude your ability to conduct investigations.”
Tilda folded her hands in her lap. “Nothing would do that, save my complete incapacity.”
Teague smiled. “Good. Well, I’ll be on my way. Thank you again for the refreshment and the company. It was most restorative to sit for a short while.” He stood. “Back to it. I’ll keep you apprised of the search for Larkin.”
“Thank you, Detective Inspector.” Tilda gave him a warm smile as he departed.
Tilda sat straight as if she were going to stand. “I should be going too. You said you’ve another coachman who can drive me home?”
“Perhaps I should come with you,” Hadrian said with concern. He would not be able to stop thinking about Teague’s warning. Hadrian didn’t want Tilda to be alone. More accurately, he didn’t want to be away from her.
“That isn’t necessary.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a playful glint within them.
“I can see you’re worried about Larkin coming for us.
He may, but not today. He’s likely hiding somewhere licking the wounds to his pride after his failure—assuming he even knows that the blast didn’t kill anyone. ”
“You’re probably right. Still, I’ll call on you tomorrow.”
She shook her head firmly. “You need to stay here and rest. I want to rest. Surely, we’ve both earned a day of respite.”
“More than.” Except Hadrian only wanted to repose with her.
Tilda stood. “Shall I let Collier know I’m ready to depart?”
“I’ll ring for him.” Hadrian began to rise and realized just how much his back hurt.
“I can do it.” Tilda sent him a smile and waved him back down.
He watched as she went to the pull and called for the butler. It was as if she lived here. He could envision it. He could almost feel it. He wanted it more than anything.
But that wasn’t going to happen tonight or even tomorrow. He needed to be patient and try very hard not to mope in the time they were apart. Good heavens, he was turning maudlin now. He supposed another near-death event such as happened today would do that to a man.
They parted a short while later. Hadrian tried very hard not to settle into a funk.
He failed most miserably.