Chapter 20 #3
But why risk his neck? She closed her eyes against an image of Melinda asleep at home, Tobias in the nursery, practically forgotten.
She could walk away and no one would know.
But she would know.
And Thomas had already silenced one man.
Those endless hours in his study with the door locked were not spent seeking peace. The nights at the club were not a distraction. The trips to Kent had nothing to do with roses.
“You’re a man for hire.”
A twig snapped somewhere.
Thomas took another step forward. “Come with me, Emma. Don’t test my patience.”
The threat pressed against her skin like cold steel, but it was too late to retreat now. “Why? What will you do? Break my neck?”
“Keep your voice down.” He glanced at Abigail, hovering near the iron gate. “I’ll have to get rid of her if you don’t.”
“That means there’s no way out for me.”
Thomas’ gaze slid over her body. “As my pact with Howden no longer stands, you could marry me.”
She stumbled a little. “You’re married.”
“I don’t have to be.”
Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. She fought the urge to scour the headstones for two bearded men, to beckon Hugh forward and say she’d heard enough.
But the man she loved had been raised by a tyrant. She would not let the same happen to her nephew.
“Your sister has an opium addiction,” he stated coldly. “A tragic death is one vial more than she takes already. A careless mistake by a woman we both hate.”
I don’t hate her.
“What about Miss Carson?”
“Her testimony will prove that Howden killed his father because of the new will. I have an attested copy at home. Insurance, to ensure Howden kept our bargain.”
“That you’d get rid of Mr Bellingham. He knew about the new will because his sister told him.
” She doubted Thomas would admit it outright.
“Or perhaps Lord Howden disposed of the threat with such precision, and you merely provided his alibi. I must admit, he was far more intelligent than I gave him credit for.”
Thomas gave a contemptuous laugh. “He was a buffoon. Do you know the skill required to extract information from a man as he’s dying? Few have that kind of expertise.”
“You haven’t either. You don’t know the first thing about anatomy.” She feigned surprise. “Ah, all those books in the study came in useful. No wonder you spent hours in there.”
“I needed Bellingham to tell me where his sister was hiding. But the fool was loyal to the end.”
“Perhaps you’d have learnt where she was if we’d not disturbed you. You were forced to silence him too early.”
Thomas kicked a stone on the path. “If only you’d not gone sneaking around with Stanton.”
“You’d have had longer to torture Mr Bellingham before ending him and would have had no need to kill Lord Howden.”
“Precisely. Howden panicked after your visit to Long Ditton. I couldn’t trust him to keep his damn mouth shut.”
“But you trust me?” She had what she needed, and every bone in her body said Hugh was nearby.
“We’ve no choice but to trust each other.
” Thomas came so close she could smell his sweat.
“Sadly, Melinda drank a far stronger dose of laudanum than usual tonight, from the bottle you bought at the apothecary. The servants know how much you fought. And it’s the reason you ran away with Stanton.
So you wouldn’t be at home when she drank it. ”
Her knees buckled, and she would have hit the ground had Thomas not caught her.
“I know,” he said, his filthy hands gripping her arms, his breath hot at her ear. “I’ll keep your secret. There’s—”
He was yanked from her and tossed to the gravel.
“Touch her again, and I’ll not wait for the hangman,” Hugh growled. “I’ll fasten the rope myself.”
Abigail screamed.
Thomas’ eyes widened, and he scrambled back. “Wait.”
Mr Stroud moved from behind a monument of a grief-stricken angel. Constables appeared like spectres from the darkness.
There was no sign of Saint-Clair.
Hugh was beside her before she drew breath, holding her tight to his chest as if afraid to let go. “You’re safe now.”
Though she wanted to stay there forever, she pushed out of his hold. “I must go to Soho Square. I need to save Melinda.”
He didn’t say it was probably too late. After a few hurried words with Mr Stroud, they rushed to where Rowton waited on Bedford Street.
“Soho Square,” Hugh said, opening the carriage door. “And drive as if your life depends on it.”
Rowton looked at the tricorn in her hand but said nothing.
She settled against Hugh’s chest and cried for all of the five-minute journey.
Hugh had barely knocked before the butler opened the door. She pushed past him and ran upstairs, Hugh close behind.
Tobias was wailing in the nursery across the corridor.
Melinda’s chamber door stood open. Clothes littered the floor, a glass lay overturned beside the bed, and the sweet, medicinal stink of opium clung to the air.
“Melinda.” She crossed the room and caught her sister’s face between her hands. Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow. A bottle of laudanum lay uncorked on the carpet.
Hugh snatched it up and checked how much remained. Emma moved aside as he pressed two fingers beneath Melinda’s jaw. “She’s alive.”
Emma gripped the bedpost. “What do we do?”
“Keep her awake.” He pulled Melinda upright and slapped her cheek lightly. “Send someone for a doctor. Now.”
The butler fled.
Tobias’ cries rose from the nursery. Emma looked towards the door, torn in two.
“Go to him,” Hugh said. “I have her.”
Melinda’s head lolled against his shoulder. Hugh caught her chin and forced her eyes open. “No, you don’t. Stay with me.”
Emma ran to the nursery, scooped Tobias into her arms and willed her sister to live.