Chapter Forty-Two
Frederick
“I’ve told you. She is being well taken care of.” Quinton tipped onto the back two legs of his chair and glared at the ceiling. “With that maid of hers in there with her, she’ll likely have a more comfortable bed then either of us will tonight.”
Those were the words Frederick wanted to hear, but they didn’t reassure him. How could they? The mother of the woman he loved was in a cell. No matter it was a room kept for higher-class arrestees, that it boasted a bed, dining table, and fire grate, it remained a cell.
And Eleanor still couldn’t forgive him.
Quinton brought his chair down with a thump. “Have you caught up with Lewis? He’s still got a knot in his smallclothes about talking to you.”
“Not yet.” Frederick gripped the back of his neck.
Lewis and he hadn’t spoken much since Frederick had been promoted to officer and left patrol behind.
The man most likely wanted to drink an ale or two and talk about old times.
They’d patrolled the streets together for nigh on two years, and as Frederick had nowhere else to go, he might as well join the man in a pint.
“I’ll go find him. He still working Lincoln Inn Fields? ”
Quinton nodded. “He’s got a girl that lives near there. He doesn’t want to leave.”
Frederick knew the feeling. With feet dragging, he found a hackney on the street and took it to the neighborhood.
It wasn’t long before he saw the scarlet waistcoat that the Bow Street Patrol were known for.
He called out to Lewis before hopping out of the cab and shoving a coin in the driver’s direction.
“Oy! Freddie. You finally remembered your old friend.” The smile on Lewis’s face took the heat out of the statement.
They shook hands. “I hear you wanted to speak with me,” Frederick said. He turned up the collar on his coat. Night was falling, and all the day’s heat seemed to have fled with the sun.
Lewis leaned back against the pole of a gas lamp. “I heard you was working the case of that high in the instep hoyden we stopped a while back. That Lady Richford.”
Frederick’s brow furrowed. “That’s right.”
“Too bad about her. She looked right nice in a pair of breeches.”
Frederick pressed his lips together. If all Lewis wanted was to gossip about the death of a member of the ton, he wasn’t interested.
“Yes, and I’ve arrested someone for the murder.
If you want to discuss the case, it will have to wait until after the inquiry.
” Or never. This was one case Frederick never wanted to think about again.
“Oh, well, if you’ve already caught yourself the killer, I guess it don’t matter.”
Frederick turned his gaze from a search for another hackney and narrowed it on Lewis. “What doesn’t matter?”
“The information I had. About that night.”
Frederick shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t shake the man. “What night? What are you talking about?”
“The night we picked up Lady Richford. She weren’t alone.”
Frederick thought back. He and Lewis had broken up a small shoving match between some young bucks and who they’d discovered to be the viscountess. There had been a few people observing the scuffle, but at that time of night it hadn’t been many. “Who else are you talking about?”
“Well, after you left with the lady, I started interviewing the witnesses.” He sniffed. “Wanted to see if anyone else had noticed it was a woman’s arse in those trousers that could make trouble for her. I knew you wanted to help her keep it secret.”
Frederick’s shoulders inched toward his ears. He’d forgotten how long it took Lewis to tell a story. Forgotten just how frustrating a conversation with the man could be. “And?”
“And one of the gentleman I talked to wasn’t. A gentleman that is.” Lewis glanced about before leaning forward. “It was another woman in trou. A friend of the viscountess. This one’s hips didn’t fill out the trousers quite so much, so it was easier for her to pass herself off as a buck.”
Another member of the blackmail ring? It made sense that Lady Richford wouldn’t be the only woman of the group to pretend to be a man. The same reasons that made it appealing for the viscountess to go about London unattended would apply to another of the lot. So why hadn’t he considered it before?
“Do you know who it was?”
Lewis flapped his hand. “She gave me a false name. I knew as soon as she said it.” But he gave Frederick her description, and it wasn’t surprising.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Lewis took off his navy cap and banged it against his thigh. “Well, the thing is, she asked me not to mention I’d seen her.”
“And?” He knew there was more. There always had been with Lewis.
“I didn’t ask for nothing, I swear. She offered. And, well, what she was offering was….” His blush was clear under the gas lamp. “A man don’t turn down what she was offering, but I knew it wasn’t looked on as quite proper for me as Runner, so….”
Frederick wanted to punch him. And kiss him. Because if Miss Abbott could convincingly appear as a man, then she no longer had an alibi. The doorman of the salon she’d attended hadn’t seen a woman leave the premises at the time of the first murder, but he had seen men.
Putting his fingers to his lips, he whistled, hailing the cab down the street. “Thank you, Lewis. You may have saved an innocent life.”
It was time to bring Miss Abbott in for another conversation. And search her rooms. If he found male dress, he would have enough to convince even Sir John. Mrs. Lynton might be free by midnight.