Chapter Four #2
Neville nodded. “I gifted the ring to John myself. And the girl not only described the look of the thing, but she also remembered those exact initials. However, she said she lost the ring.”
“Suspicious. What is John’s side of the story?”
Neville set down his drink. “According to John, he came across Miss Temperence Wilson in the park the day before the incident. She was alone, and she was weeping. Before approaching, he looked for a chaperone, maid, or groom—anyone he might notify of her distress, but he didn’t see anyone close at hand. ”
Harbury nodded. “Rules are not as stringent in smaller cities.”
“They aren’t,” Neville agreed. “Seeing her without protection, and fearing for her safety, he decided to approach.”
“She enticed John into her troubles by telling him that her parents were forcing her to marry a man she loathed. Had I been there, I may not have been able to stop him from getting involved, but I would have insisted he verify her story.”
But he hadn’t been there.
He’d been with Millicent, crossing invigorating verbal swords. And for one too-brief moment on a damnably memorable night, savoring the feel of her breath on his neck and her breasts against his chest.
“A simple, compelling tale.” Harbury drummed his fingers against the desk. “Of course, John pledged to help.”
Neville nodded. “He not only pledged to help, but he also offered to marry her himself.”
Harbury whistled. “Love at first sight?”
“So he claims.” A year ago, Neville would have scoffed.
But a year ago, he hadn’t yet met Millie.
“John arranged to meet her again the next day. That afternoon, he rented a horse, headed out of town, and reserved a room at an inn she directed him to find. On his next walk through the park, he slipped her the key to the room as well as his ring, in case she needed something to pawn.”
“He didn’t take her to the inn?” Harbury asked.
Neville shook his head. “They decided against traveling together, at least during the trip’s first part. She went by foot, keeping out of sight of the road. He was to meet her that night.”
“For a helpless young woman, she certainly did not hesitate to act.”
“I know.” Neville shook his head. “Why he couldn’t see…” He shrugged. “In any case, Miss Wilson—if that even is her name—let him into the room he’d rented. First, she apologized. Then, she started to scream…”
Harbury winced in sympathy with John.
Neville rubbed his forehead. “When the innkeeper unlocked the door and “caught” John grasping the young lady by the arms, Miss Wilson, according to John, appeared genuinely terrified. Between the young lady’s tears, and the crowd’s moral outrage, they refused to listen to his pleas of innocence.
John found himself locked in the room. However, he managed to escape out the window while the Justice of the Peace was taking down the girl’s statement. ”
“At least he had presence of mind enough for that! But what of the girl?”
“After giving her version of events, she, too disappeared. But if, as I suspect, she was not acting on her own, but as the tempting lure in someone else’s plot against John, I can’t understand why she gave a false name for John. Or why she didn’t turn over John’s ring as proof.”
“Be grateful she did not,” Harbury commented.
“Believe me, I am.” Although, as long as the ring was in Willard’s possession, the ring was the Sword of Damocles—a source of constant anxiety.
“But her version of events, and the statements of witnesses accurately describing John, still exist. I cannot rest easy, nor allow John back into Society, until I can fully clear his name.”
“You say John was staying with your mother at the time. What does Aunt Jane have to say?”
Neville cleared his throat. “I’ve tried to keep her out of this as much as possible.
” In fact, he’d instructed John not to tell their mother anything at all.
She could only complicate matters. “All she knows now is the excuse John gave her the night he planned to elope—that he had received word from me and needed to return to London.”
“I am surprised she has not questioned his extended absence. I know she would want to help.”
“She would, but I don’t want her involved.”
Harbury lifted his brows in a manner that indicated his disapproval.
Neville held firm.
The whole situation had grown increasingly sordid, and he had an obvious responsibility to keep his mother from the worst. Still, Harbury was right.
In fact, she was growing increasingly alarmed and would not believe the excuse Neville gave—that he’d sent John to settle a family concern on a remote Scottish estate—which showed that she had a keen sense something was very wrong.
Finally, Harbury spoke again. “You said you suspected someone else of taking part in the plot. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Nothing, right now.” Harbury’s immediate offer lifted a small portion of Neville’s burden, even though he knew he could not accept. “I only told you what I have because Uncle Farnsworth insisted. I’ve been searching without luck for the mysterious Miss Wilson. But I have made some progress.”
“You’ve found the ring?”
He sighed. Damn Harbury’s intuition! “I have an inkling of where to look…”
“But you’re not going to share that inkling with me?”
“Forgive me, but I cannot reveal the details. Not yet.” Harbury and Willard’s father shared business and political interests dating back to the old duke’s days.
Before he tore apart those alliances, he wanted to have the witness identify the man who’d hosted the party.
“I can tell you the person I believe engaged the young lady to trap my brother has his ring.”
Harbury’s eyes narrowed. “You suspect a specific person?”
Neville nodded. “But without any evidence, it would be unwise to accuse him.” Few people knew of the bad blood between himself and Willard, but Neville was certain Willard would try to twist their history to discredit him.
“He is dangerous. And without evidence, I can’t demand he return John’s property, can I? ”
“What if I made the demand?”
Neville shook his head. “He’s not the sort of fellow to be easily intimidated, even by a duke. So until I find the young ‘lady’…”
“You speak as if she is not a lady at all.”
Neville studied his far too perceptive cousin. In for a penny… “The girl also matches the description of someone who attended a disreputable party of powerful men in the vicinity of Brighton just before the incident at the inn.”
“A prostitute, you mean?”
“I think so, but John believes that, if she is a working girl, a fallen woman, she has taken up the position unwillingly. Either way, unless she recants her tale, I have no way of proving John isn’t guilty.
” Neville paused again to collect his thoughts.
“Although, if she is in trouble, that explains why she has been so hard to find.”
“I wish you had come to me sooner.”
Neville closed his eyes. “Believe me, I was reluctant to tell you now.”
“I see,” Harbury said thoughtfully.
“I know asking you to permit my uncle to hide John at the rectory is beyond the pale. But I cannot hide him at my estate, nor can he stay with our mother in Brighton. Those are the first places anyone searching for him would look.”
Again, Harbury templed his fingers. “And your mother’s parlor is always full.”
Exactly. “I’m sorry. I never meant to involve you in this way.”
“We’re cousins. What involves you, involves me. And I’ll thank you to trust me better than to make negative assumptions about you. The best thing you can do is find the girl. Should we hire a Runner?”
The we made Neville smile, if reluctantly. “I have found a woman who says she has information. If I can get her to identify”—he cleared his throat to cover for almost naming Willard—“the man I suspect, I’ll be standing on more substantial ground.”
“If this man is so influential, how do you intend to bring him and the witness face to face?”
“At one of the few places high and low are welcome beneath the same roof,” he explained. “I’ve received word he is to attend the theater tonight. She has agreed to meet me in the pit.”
“Sounds like you have things well in hand,” Harbury replied. “But at least allow me to grant your uncle permission for John to accompany him to the rectory.”
Neville inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“But when the young lady is found, if there is an ounce of truth to her story—not that I believe there is, mind you—but, if John has compromised her, he will have to face justice.”
Neville nodded bleakly. “I know.”
Harbury’s expression softened. “You’re not alone in this, cousin. You have family.”
“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your support.”
Family he could rely on. How novel. Since his father had died, his mother had been mostly absent. And his brother was too young to be someone whom he could turn to for advice.
“I trust you will keep me informed of your progress in the search?”
“As much as I am able.”
Harbury studied Neville in silence for a time. “And about Millie—”
“No! Really—” Neville interrupted.
“Let me finish,” Harbury interrupted back, using his ducal tone.
Neville shut his mouth.
“I think you should know that the Wainwright ladies all have good reason to distrust marriage. Without Millie’s permission, however, that is all I feel at liberty to share.”
All the Wainwright ladies?
A prickling sensation skittered over his scalp. For all the time he’d spent with the Wainwrights, for all the stories Asquith had shared, Neville actually knew very little about the sisters’ family life.
Could it be Millie distrusted not just him, but marriage itself?
Could it be Harbury had been correct in suggesting there might be something between them?
For a moment, Neville entertained the image of domestic happiness he’d created in the library, the closeness, the ease. The ache that accompanied the image was bittersweet.
But no.