Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lady Mary
It didn’t take much effort to track them down.
Well, not for Marcus to track them down.
He did have an impressive assortment of contacts that made me quite envious, and not many people said no to a duke.
That was why, with the barest of hesitation, Marie and I were allowed into the gentlemen’s club Brook’s, along with Marcus and Burton, and led to a billiards room in the far corner of the club.
Five men crowded about one of the two tables.
One of them was George Platt.
All eyes turned to us when we entered.
One of the men hopped down from his perch on the table. “We’ve been infiltrated, lads,” he said with a grin. “I don’t mind the incursion if the opposing army looks like this, however.” He sidled up to Marie, his gaze fixed on her bosom.
Burton grabbed him by his collar and yanked him backwards.
Marcus stepped forward, his forbidding bearing silencing the man’s complaint. “Everyone but Platt leave. Now.”
“I say….” another man began, before faltering before a duke’s glare.
The room quickly emptied but for the five of us.
“What is this about?” Platt’s voice seemed a bit higher than usual. He propped his elbow on the fireplace’s mantel, attempting to look indifferent.
“A delivery of potentially deadly tinned food,” Marcus said.
“About two murders,” I added.
Platt paled.
“Georgie, some of the lads are going to….” Mr. Randall paused at the threshold of the room, his brow furrowing. “What’s this?”
“Good.” I hitched my reticule higher up my arm. It was too heavy. I should have left the tin in the carriage. “We’re all here now.”
Burton crossed his arms over his chest. “It was two attackers. One to hold Trent, the other to stab him.”
“What are you prattling on about?” Randall flicked a bit of lint from his tippet.
“You and Mr. Platt killing Mr. Trent and Mr. Hicks.” I jabbed my stick at the floor. “Was money so tight you thought you had no other option?”
One edge of Randall’s mouth tilted up. “Money is always tight. The consequence of being the son of a feeble-minded fool who was irresponsible with the family’s wealth. And Georgie won’t have his pockets filled until dear, old pater toddles off to the next world.”
My face heated. I’d expected protestations. Anger and denial. I didn’t think our accusations would be met with amused indifference. Something about it turned my stomach.
“We didn’t—”
Randall hushed his friend. “Quiet. They have no evidence. This is all just the imagining of one bored busybody.” He turned his icy blue eyes on me. “Isn’t it?”
I might be a busybody, but I was never bored.
“There’s evidence.” Marie stepped forward.
“We found the hackney driver who picked you up after you killed Trent. You didn’t do a good enough job covering your face.
He gave us your description. And he told us of the blood he had to clean out of his seats.
” The girl was quite good at deception. That’s what must have made her a superior card player.
Randall’s body didn’t move as he turned his head toward her, eyes unblinking.
I tensed. The man was like a panther, waiting to pounce.
“Did he, pet?” Randall said. “I would wager that any half-decent barrister would be able to rebut that testimony.”
“And what of the gatekeeper at the public baths by Platt’s lodgings?
” I jerked my head in Platt’s direction.
He was sweating, and I knew he was the one who would break.
“He’ll remember you. Did you give him a bribe to let you in after hours?
It wouldn’t be the first time you had been there after close. I bet he thought little of it.”
Burton clenched his hands. “It was dark. He wouldn’t have seen the blood on your clothes. You washed up there before you went home. And when you heard us asking questions, you snuck in when the doorman was leading me to the bath and tried to drown Marie.”
“Did you tell your valet that you’d played about in a fountain to explain your wet clothes?” I asked. “As long as they weren’t bloody, it wouldn’t have raised their curiosity.”
“Pierce,” Platt whined. “The gatekeeper….”
“Silence.” Randall spread his hands. “All you have is smoke.”
Marcus widened his stance. “Enough smoke to indicate a fire. Did you know, Platt, that the first person to confess might be able to escape the hangman’s noose. You might be able to convince the judge that Mr. Randall coerced you. Threatened you perhaps? You don’t have to swing together.”
“He’s lying to you, Georgie.” Randall took a step forward.
In point of fact, Marcus probably was. I couldn’t imagine anyone involved in this crime escaping execution. But my nephew must have recognized the same weakness in Platt as I had.
Platt tugged on his cravat. “I must leave. I’m going to my father’s.”
“Papa can’t help you now.” Marcus stepped in Platt’s path.
The next few seconds were a blur.
Platt raised his cue stick and swung at Marcus.
Marcus blocked it with his arm, cursing.
Burton dove at Platt, the man screaming as he was taken down at the knees. When the scuffle ended, Platt was pinned to the floor on his stomach, Burton on his back, he and Marcus pulling the man’s arms behind him.
My heart was just beginning to slow when I heard Marie squeak.
Slowly, I turned.
Randall held Marie about the waist, the finely honed tip of a gold pen pressing into the soft flesh of her neck.
A strangled choke came from Burton’s throat. “Please,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving Marie’s face.
Marcus dug his knee into Platt’s back. “Go,” he told Burton.
Burton rose, hands raised, palms out. “Please, let her go. It won’t benefit you to hurt her.”
Randall dug the pen’s tip deeper, making everyone freeze. A bead of blood rolled down Marie’s neck. “Please, please,” Randall mocked. “I do so love to hear people beg.”
“Did Trent beg you? Did Hicks?” I watched Marie’s face drain of color, hoping she wouldn’t lose her senses.
Randall smiled. “We didn’t have to be so quiet with Hicks. There wasn’t a houseful of servants that could be roused.”
I took a tiny step closer. “How did Hicks know it was the two of you who had taken the tins that were supposed to be destroyed?”
“Because we’d volunteered to dispose of them,” Randall said. “Told Trent that we’d take care of it for drinking money. He knew we were always purse-pinched.” He grinned. “That’s what made it so easy to convince Georgie to kill him. His brother-in-law had all this money and never shared.”
Marie arched her neck back. “That was another reason why you had to kill him. Platt owed his brother-in-law money and couldn’t pay him back, could he?”
Platt started crying, heaving sobs interrupted by eerie, high-pitched giggles. The sound made my flesh crawl.
Randall huffed, shooting his friend a look of disgust. “You’ve got it all wrong.
We didn’t need to kill Trent. Georgie was his brother-in-law.
Trent wouldn’t have wanted to bring disgrace to the family, either by exposing our theft or calling in Georgie’s debt.
Trent even said he’d tell Montague that it was a mistake the tins hadn’t been destroyed. ”
My stomach twisted. “Then why did you?”
Randall shrugged. “Why not?”
The gold pen dug further into Marie’s flesh, making her whimper.
Burton’s arms shook, his hands clenching.
The look that passed between Marie and Burton made my heart ache. They were only at their beginning, and Randall threatened to take away their middle and end.
Marie slid her hand to her reticule, loosening the drawstring and probing inside.
“You do like to pocket items, don’t you?
” I said quickly. Whatever Marie was up to, I didn’t want Randall discovering it.
“The crystal swan from Mrs. Shaw’s house.
A file from the cannery. A lady’s glove.
” I nodded to his hand. “And that gold pen from Trent’s study. You took it when you killed him.”
Randall tilted his head. “You’re more clever than you look.”
I’d always liked to think so, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I’d been arrogant, thinking I should catch Trent’s killer on my own.
Arrogant to assume that once confronted with their misdeeds that Platt and Randall would go quietly to the magistrate.
And because of my arrogance, Marie’s life was in the hands of a killer.
“And you’re going to be deader than you want if you don’t let her go.” Burton’s face was a thunderstorm.
Randall turned to face Burton, swinging Marie along with him.
Marie pulled her hand free from her reticule. She closed her eyes, raised her arm, and a flurry of playing cards exploded into Randall’s face.
I didn’t think. My own reticule had been hanging heavily on my arm for some time. Grabbing its strings, I swung it around my head and brought the silk bag down on Randall’s temple.
He collapsed with satisfying alacrity.
The room was silent for a moment as we all stared at his prone body. I looked at my reticule, then at Marie’s. As fashion accessories went, they had a most satisfying potential to instigate mischief.
Marie rushed into Burton’s arms. After making sure the wound on her neck wasn’t too great, he crushed her to his chest, looking like he’d never let her go.
Marcus blinked up at me. “That was neatly done.”
I pulled the tin from my reticule. The food inside it was disgusting, but I had to admit a can in a reticule made a most efficient weapon.
“He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.” I grimaced.
“Or the tin can, as the case may be. Randall didn’t care if this tin killed anyone.
It’s only fitting that he dies from it.”
I stared down at Randall’s still limp body. Fitting, but not something I wanted on my conscience.
I grimaced. “I didn’t kill him, though, did I?”