Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Audrey reclined in her copper tub, the hot, scented water massaging her aching muscles and sore arm.
Greer had drawn the bath while Audrey had been in the drawing room, going over the tumultuous events of the afternoon with Michael and Genie, who’d been shocked and horrified as she’d explained about Mr. Abbey, his secret society, and his penchant for violence to keep tongues from wagging about his foul club.
On her way back to Violet House, she’d considered keeping her lips sealed about everything. It would only stir Michael’s temper, and he’d already been furious once that day, with Cassie, earlier in his study. Gracious, it seemed like ages ago, rather than just a handful of hours.
However, the duke would have certainly heard about the commotion at Burdick Close the next day. If not from Cassie, who had arrived with Carrigan shortly after Sir Gabriel, then from the city’s newspapers, all of which were sure to ink the story onto front pages.
Although Hugh had dispatched Audrey and Gwendolyn Bertram from the Sanctuary as soon as possible, there was always the chance that they’d been spotted leaving the scene—or that some newspaper editor had a Bow Street patrolman on their payroll.
So, Audrey had decided it would be better for Michael to hear it from her first. In an unexpected twist, her brother-in-law had simply stood there, listening.
His lack of a reaction had, oddly, been one of the larger surprises of an already astonishing day.
“Are you going to say anything?” she’d finally needed to prod after a few moments of quiet once she’d finished speaking. Cassie and Genie, too, had watched him with concern.
Michael had gone to the window and looked out at the street and the greening boughs of Hyde Park.
“It isn’t that I don’t trust in your capabilities, Audrey.
Or in yours, Cassie.” He’d sounded thoughtful and calm.
“In fact, I’m quite impressed. Audrey, if not for your persistence and your…
your bravery,” he’d said, selecting the word after a moment’s deliberation, “a young woman would have likely died. And Cassie, you were integral in convincing the magistrate to get to where he needed to be.”
Cassie had gaped at him, as had Audrey. It was enormously difficult for Michael to speak like that, from the heart, and they all knew it.
“Rules are safe. Order and stability are safe. And after losing my brother, I thought if I could only keep you all safe…” He tugged at his stock and cravat, unable to finish his thought. He needn’t have finished it. Audrey knew what he meant.
He cleared his throat. “A single woman in possession of a large fortune is a target, and I have already failed you once before, Cassie. I didn’t protect you from that blackguard, Renfry. I will never forgive myself for that.”
Cassie had stood up, called him stupid, and then crossed the room to throw her arms around him.
There, they’d remained in an embrace, and Audrey had seen herself out of the drawing room, letting them have their moment.
Michael’s wish to protect Cassie, and to advise Audrey and protect her, wasn’t so unlike Hugh’s desire to do the same.
It was driven by love, not a desire for control.
The difficult part was stepping back and admitting that love wasn’t about restriction.
It was about loosening your grip and trusting that the other person would continue to hold on.
She’d climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, her legs heavy with exhaustion.
After leaving Burdick Close, Audrey and Cassie had returned Gwendolyn Bertram to her home on Fitzroy Square.
Sir Gabriel had given his word to her that he would do everything in his power to limit the mention of her name in regard to the case of the Sanctuary and Mr. Hammond Abbey.
Should she be tied to any part of the scandal, it would be a death knell for her reputation.
Audrey had only stayed long enough at the Bertram’s to inform Mr. and Mrs. Bertram of Sir Gabriel’s intent.
She would let Gwendolyn explain the rest to them as she saw fit.
On Audrey’s way out, however, Flora had followed her and thrown her arms around her waist. She’d hung on for just a moment before peeling her arms back, curtseying, and then running back to rejoin her sister.
If only Bethany Silas had received the same safe homecoming. Safe. Michael’s paramount concern did not seem so unreasonable when viewed in that perspective.
Greer had helped Audrey out of her clothes, gasping in alarm when seeing the bruises on her arm, inflicted when she’d been dragged around the Sanctuary. However, her bruises were nothing in comparison to what Lord Thornton had suffered.
As Audrey led Hugh through the halls of the large, rambling Burdick Close residence back toward where Thornton had been left tied in the chair, they’d come upon him.
He had already been found and released by a few patrolmen.
He’d looked ghastly with his bloodied nose and lips, eyes swollen and bruised, and he’d been cradling his left hand close to his chest.
“I should have taken the tunnel to the left and given you the right,” he’d said in greeting.
Hugh had shored him up with his shoulder, and they’d made their way to the front entrance.
By then it was swarming with police, as well as with Carrigan and Cassie.
Her sister-in-law’s eyes had blown wide at the sight of the physician, whose two fingers had indeed been broken by Abbey.
But Thornton insisted it was because he’d insulted Abbey’s overuse of gold in his décor and that it had nothing at all to do with protecting Hugh.
“You bloody idiot,” Cassie had said. “You need a doctor.”
“Do you know of a good one?”
“No,” she’d replied, but Audrey had heard the wobble in her voice and seen the concern in her eyes as she’d tried to dab at Thornton’s split lip. He’d waved her off, insisting he was fine and that he only needed to return to his home so he could set his own fingers and clean up.
“He is infuriating,” Cassie had complained once they’d dropped Sir and Thornton at the coach field, from where Sir would drive him back to St. James’s Square in Hugh’s phaeton.
Audrey had long suspected her sister-in-law’s feelings toward Thornton went deeper than pure annoyance.
It worried her. She liked Thornton immensely, and his devotion to Hugh spoke volumes to his good character.
But he was at least ten years Cassie’s senior, and Hugh had made it clear that Thornton had not overcome the loss of his wife.
He wasn’t capable of anything serious. Like Michael did, Audrey wanted to protect Cassie from men—even good ones—who might break her heart.
But she also knew she had little control over the matter. She could no more tell Cassie what to do than Michael could.
With a long sigh, she now settled further into the hot, jasmine-scented bathwater.
It was so decadent that Audrey decided she would stay there until she became a prune.
There was nothing to see to now. Nothing pressing to do.
They’d been unable to bring Bethany home, but they’d saved Gwendolyn, and solved a handful of connected murders.
She felt no pity for Mr. Comstock. He’d been a murderer himself, and he’d most likely been forced into an opium overdose—one of Abbey’s clean-up jobs, to protect himself and his secret society.
A society that had given him a sense of power and authority.
Her mind could have gone on all night, picking apart the potential reasons behind the society, why anyone would wish to be a member of such a thing.
But it was all so twisted and dark, and she didn’t want to allow it to consume her.
“Your Grace?” Greer entered the boudoir, thankfully severing her thoughts. Audrey opened her eyes and sat up a little in the water. “This came for you earlier.” Her maid set a letter on the dressing table.
“Thank you, Greer.” When the maid continued to stand still, hesitating, she asked, “Is there something else?”
Her maid came forward. “There is something I would like to speak to you about, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t,” she said, though not without a twinge of worry. It sounded serious. “I’ll dry off and dress, and then you can tell me what it is.”
With regret, she abandoned the bath and stepped into a robe, and soon enough, Audrey was seated at her dressing table, with Greer toweling her hair.
“Why do I feel as if you’re about to give me some horrible news?” Audrey asked.
Greer stilled the towel. “Eamon has asked me to marry him.”
Audrey twisted in the chair, agape. “Eamon? Oh! Carrigan.” She grasped Greer’s hands, still holding the length of toweling, and beamed. “That’s not horrible news at all! I’m thrilled for you.”
One of Greer’s rare smiles cut through her worried expression. Though only for a moment. “I know everything will be changing soon, Your Grace. You’ll be leaving the duke’s household.”
Audrey nodded. “Yes, I will be.”
She thought of the home on Berkeley Square and Hugh’s proposal, and her heart skipped.
They would be marrying soon. There was no need to post the banns either since he’d acquired the special license.
With a jolt of excitement, she realized they could wed as soon as tomorrow.
Greer was right: she’d be leaving this room, Violet House, her life as dowager duchess.
Everything would be changing. She rubbed her sore arm absentmindedly, her palm a little damp.
“Are you leaving service?” Audrey asked. “I imagine you’ll want to start a family with Carrigan—I mean, Eamon.” She felt wretched that she had not known Carrigan’s given name. That Greer’s last name was Babson was a distant memory too.
“Oh no, I’m much too old for that,” Greer said. “We both are.”
“Surely not.” She was in her early thirties, at the most.