Chapter Eleven
Prue watched Jack Ross over the dining table.
He was a spy. An agent for the Crown. While she’d suspected he might work for the Bow Street Magistrate’s court or some other government department, she’d never considered him to be a spy.
A rake, perhaps, but a spy? Her spirits dropped further.
Marriage to the right woman might reform a rake, but not a spy.
They lived in a different world, one that she could never be part of.
She studied him over the dining table. He seemed to exude an element of danger, and he had never seemed more attractive to her.
She could not stop imagining what it would be like to be his lover.
Well… she picked up her glass and took a large sip of Madeira, she would never know, and it was best not to yearn for the impossible.
But her instincts had proven correct when she’d decided to trust him.
With furrowed brow, his eyes met Prue’s.
“Can you tell me anything more? What about the man who broke into your bedchamber? Did you see him?”
Prue paused, trying to think. Her leaden weariness began to lighten. She must be brave. He would help her; he was so big and strong and so capable. “No…” She put down her wineglass. “I’m not sure if this is important, but when he came close to where I was hiding, I smelled his soap.”
“Can you describe it?”
“It would have been pleasant in different circumstances. But breathing it in along with the dusty air in the cupboard had made me fear I’d sneeze and give myself away. It smelled of orange, but with a sour tinge to it.”
He nodded. “Sounds like bergamot oil. Many gentlemen use the cologne. I do on occasion.”
She stared at him. “Is it expensive?”
“It would be seen as a luxury item.” He rubbed his chin. “It seems unlikely this fellow we have under watch could afford it. He is no gentleman.” His smile encouraged her. “Anything else come to mind?”
Prue shook her head. “I was too frightened. I thought he’d soon find me. And he would have if some noise hadn’t scared him away.”
“We shall apprehend this man, I promise you. But in the meantime, you must take precautions. An armed footman should always accompany you.”
Prue glanced at Gramma. “Yes, one stayed outside my bedchamber door for the rest of the night. I am now in a bedchamber next to Gramma’s.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“Are you confident that this man you have found is my father’s killer?” she asked uneasily.
“I am sure of it, Lady Prudence.”
“Then why hasn’t he been arrested?”
“We must first find out who paid him to do it. This man was merely the instrument, a killer hired by someone who wanted your father dead.”
“Then it wasn’t for revenge, was it? Or for the desire to kill. It must have been to stop my father from doing something. Or to silence him.”
“Yes, I agree. And that is why we need to find the man behind it.” He shifted his gaze to the cheese knife in his hand. “What about his heir?”
“Roland only returned from Paris last week. He’s a young man and the earldom would have come to him in time, as my father never remarried, so why would he take such a chance?”
“Perhaps he’s in need of money.”
“He isn’t wealthy, but his father left him a London house and, I believe, a comfortable legacy.”
“Do you know if he’s a gambler?”
“No, he always abhorred it.” She frowned, remembering his nasty insinuation that her father had had gambling debts. Prue fought impatience. “Everything seems to move so slowly. Surely, there is more that can be done.”
Gramma’s expression silently urged her to be calm; Prue swallowed her frustration with another sip of wine. “Am I still in danger from this man?”
“No. We have him under strict surveillance and will continue to do so until we find those behind it.”
“But he hadn’t been watched around the clock, had he?” Prue’s voice shook. “You say there’s some doubt about where he was during the night.”
“It was a careless mistake by one of my men. I’ve brought in more and it won’t happen again.” He paused as a footman brought in a selection of cheeses, bowls of nuts, and sweetmeats. “I can assure you of that, Lady Prudence.”
Prue looked at his calm, gray eyes and wide, firm mouth. He seemed so confident. She wanted to believe him, and must, for her peace of mind.
“Will you join us for coffee, Lord Hereford?”
“Thank you, Lady Aldridge, but no. I must return to London. But thank you for the splendid dinner. I apologize for my unforgivable appearance and smelling of horse.”
She waved his comment away. “There’s entirely no need, sir,” Gramma said. “It was very reassuring to hear the perpetrator is, if not under lock and key, at least closely watched.”
He took her hand. “I hope to have more to tell you soon.”
Prue walked with him down to where Barnes stood at the front door. “Thank you for coming. I feel better knowing you are doing your best to find the culprit.”
His eyes warmed. “Rest assured, I intend to never let you down, Lady Prudence.” Was he as attracted to her as she was to him?
Despite telling herself it was useless to think of him this way, she couldn’t prevent the strange yearning low in her stomach when he was near.
“Tomorrow, we go to the family’s solicitor in London for the reading of my father’s will. ”
“As the heir presumptive, I expect Mr. Stanton will attend.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Airing her dislike of Roland had no place here, not when Lord Hereford was anxious to leave for London.
“If you should need my help at any time, day or night, send another message to my Mayfair home. I’ll come as quickly as I can.”
“You are very generous,” she said, aware she mustn’t keep him. “I’m sure you have far more important things to do than rush to my aid.”
“I consider it of absolute importance,” he said equivocally as a smile teased the corners of his mouth. He sobered. “Please don’t hesitate to send for me. Even if you’re unsure it is relevant.”
“That is very reassuring, thank you.”
He stood at the door, his gaze on her face. “Don’t take any risks, Lady Prudence. Leave the investigation to those equipped to deal with it.”
“Don’t worry. I shan’t,” Prue said ruefully. “I’m afraid I’ve had my wings clipped.”
He reached up and lightly brushed a stray lock back from her cheek. “I wish I could believe that.” With a brief smile, he turned and left her.
Mounted on his horse, he turned the animal’s head and rode away. Prue couldn’t help but sigh as she stepped back to allow Barnes to shut the door.
“An upstanding gentleman, Lady Prudence, if I may be so bold.”
“Yes. He is.” Prue smiled and turned to mount the stairs. She was eager to discuss the evening with Gramma, who had said very little, merely listening to her and Lord Hereford’s conversation.
When Prue entered the warm drawing room where a fire still blazed in the hearth, Gramma glanced up from her needlework. “How fortunate that Lord Hereford has agreed to assist you.”
An indignant squawk of protest erupted from beneath the cover of Horace’s cage.
“A man I believe one can rely on. He has a kind of inner strength, does he not, Gramma?”
“Yes. Agents who work for the Crown would need to be that way, I imagine. They are unlikely to marry, and for a very good reason. They’d be neglectful husbands, often away on some mission, should they survive the dangerous work they do.”
Prue shivered and rubbed her arms. “I… I know that.” Surely, he would prefer his rakish lifestyle with nothing to tie him down. “I don’t think of him as a prospective husband, Gramma.”
“Of course, you do, child. And who can blame you?”
On the following day, the carriage took them to Chancery Lane in London, where the offices of Phipps and Browne, the family solicitors, was situated.
Mr. Phipps, a gray-haired gentleman, greeted them, his short-sighted eyes beaming from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “May I offer you tea, ladies?”
“No, everyone is waiting. We prefer you to get on with the reading, Phipps,” Gramma said.
Mr. Phipps coughed behind his hand and directed them into his office.
Like everyone else present, Prue was anxious to hear what the future held in store for her.
There were several members of her father’s staff already seated, whom Prue greeted: the butler, Nyland, the housekeeper, Mrs. Burrows, and Mr. and Mrs. Bellows, the gardener and his wife, who had been with the family for many years.
Seated behind them was Mrs. Collins, the cook, plus several others standing at the back of the room, including the coachman, her father’s aged groom, and two housemaids who had grown up on the estate.
Roland came in a few moments later. He removed his hat, politely greeted them, then sat, tapping a finger on the wooden arm of the chair.
Prue thought he looked ill at ease and wondered why. Surely, this would be the triumphant moment he’d waited for all his life.
Mr. Phipps seated himself behind the desk. He cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today for the reading of the late Earl of Sedgwick’s will, dated the twentieth of June 1816.”
“The earl recently left a new will?” Roland’s forehead furrowed, and he straightened in his chair.
“Indeed, he did, Mr. Stanton.” Mr. Phipps rustled the pages. “I shall begin with the staff annuities.”
Her father had been generous to the loyal servants who’d been with him for years.
Nor had he forgotten younger members of the staff.
When those present were mentioned, each expressed delight.
Cook dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and murmured how awful it was for a gentleman in his prime to be struck down so cruelly.
Mr. Phipps’s somber gaze peered at them over the top of his glasses. “And now we turn to the family.”
Roland leaned forward in his chair, his hands gripping his knees, his knuckles white.
*
Jack attended Bow Street Magistrate’s Court for the trial of the five men involved in the conspiracy.
Their case had been moved up in the list due to their serious threat to society.
They were sure to be condemned to hang, now that informants had come forth with damning evidence.
It was hoped this would be a warning to other like-minded souls dissatisfied with the government.
It was seen to have been satisfactorily dealt with; Lord Sidmouth was pleased that a crime of this magnitude had been aborted before blood could be shed.
None of the five men admitted to having anything to do with the shooting of the Earl of Sedgewick.
Jack would not rest, could not, until he knew who had broken into Lady Prudence’s bedchamber and had dealt with him.
He went to see the men employed to keep a discreet watch on William Darby.
But they had little to tell him. Jack had a few questions for Darby for which he wanted answers.
Had he gone to Richmond when he’d escaped Jack’s men?
If so, who was it who’d told him where Lady Prudence was staying?
It was an unnerving thought. Stanton knew, as he had found her there.
He couldn’t be discounted, but who else?
Jack’s jaw tightened as he climbed the rickety stairs to William Darby’s door.
Jack walked unceremoniously into the room. Darby lay on his bed, his long, dark hair pulled back from his lean face. “I’d like a word.” Jack kicked the door shut with his foot and strode over to him.
A flicker of fear passed over Will’s face as he sat up, but he recovered, glaring, his mouth pulled into a sneer. “It would take more than you lot of fools to get the better of me.”
“You’re in big trouble, Darby. I’m offering you a chance. Give us the information we seek, and we may be able to do something for you.”
Will rolled off the bed and jumped up. “You can’t pin anything on me.”
Jack grabbed Will by his spotted kerchief, pulling the shorter man up onto his toes. “It will go better for you if you sit down under your own volition and explain.”
When Jack released him, Will fell into a chair. “Ask your questions then, and get out,” he said sourly.
Jack leaned over him, staring into his mean, dark eyes, giving himself time to deal with what he’d just discovered.
When close to Darby, Jack smelled an unlikely scent on him.
Bergamot. Knowing him to be guilty did nothing to ease the cold knot in Jack’s chest. How had Darby known where to find Lady Prudence?
And how could Jack make him talk, short of throttling him?
Jack’s anger increased to boiling point and his fingers curled into his palms with the urge to beat him within an inch of his life.
Jack stepped back and looked down at him. “You went to Richmond two nights ago.”
“Who says?”
“I do,” Jack said. “And if you should think of trying anything more, you’ll be in for a very nasty surprise. I want the truth from you, and I’m not always inclined to play by the rules.”
Darby’s face turned an unhealthy shade.