by Lynn Landes
“I know. Two people were hurt, including the witness, I need to make sure they don’t attack us again. I will hire guards for the shop and store, but what will you do about Hubbard?”
“Things will fall apart quickly for Mr. George Hubbard once he realizes he doesn’t have access to the shares of Sheridan Furniture. Now we need to find the person he paid to set the fire and discover who his accomplices are. I won’t arrest him yet, let’s just give him enough rope to hang himself.”
Matthew sees the officer out and goes to the office. He sighs at the stack of correspondence and his eyes fly open wide. After calling for help, they move to a table with stack of letters. “What are we looking for?” the young man asks.
“We are looking for a telegram. Start by sorting the mail into piles, letters and telegrams should be separated. I will be back to go through them.” He leaves the young man to work, knowing that he can’t read but understanding that it should be simple enough to sort the two different types of correspondence.
“Now to go through Declan’s coats,” he stops a maid, “Show me to Declan’s coats.” Twenty minutes later he is holding the missing message and note she slipped into Declan’s coat. Not only does it give him proof that she was telling the truth, but it gives the first name of the person who set the fire! Time to hire a private investigator.
Chapter 18
“Lord Sheridan, we need to talk!” London says the moment Declan steps into the suite. He looks frazzled.
“We will, but not now. Are you packed?” he demands.
“Yes, they just took my trunks to the station, but…”
“London,” he grips her by her upper arms gently, “reporters are in the lobby asking questions. It's best if we exit through the back of the hotel using the servant's entrance.” Declan stops speaking and stares at her. “Unless you'd rather talk to them?”
“Absolutely not!” she wrinkles her nose in distaste, causing him to smile. “Lead the way, Lord Sheridan.”
“Excellent,” Declan nods his head in approval. “We will issue a statement through my lawyer in a few days.”
“I know the way, Declan. Follow me.” She grips his hand, forgetting about her injury and blanches.
“Are you okay?” he loops her arm through his as she nods and guides him towards the employee elevator.
“Yes, thank you. Why do they care? Surely there are more important things to discuss?” London drops his arm as they wait for the doors to open.
Declan stares at her and can't help but admire her take-charge attitude. She steps inside, and he is shocked by just how much smaller the employee elevator is. They stand together, and she stares up at him.
“Where are we going, Declan?” Nerves have her trembling slightly.
“To Connecticut, we have a summer home a few blocks from the beach. It’s very private. We will stay until you are properly healed. It’s usually closed for the winter, but Grandfather had it opened and stocked.” He takes her hand and lifts it looking at the damage on her palm. “Thank you, London, for saving him. I’ll never be able to repay you.” He traces a finger around the edges, memorizing the wound, so he’ll never forget what she did for them.
“I did what anyone would’ve done,” she shivers and attempts to pull her hand back.
“No,” his dark blue eyes flash with a determined glint. “I will have the whole story from you soon.” The door opens, and they hurry out, greeted by two bellmen.
“Lord Sheridan, your carriage is waiting.” They are led outside amongst curious stares, and London keeps her head down and follows him inside the carriage, thankful for the reprieve from prying eyes.
London sits across from Declan and sighs in relief when the carriage begins to move. “How long is the train ride to Connecticut?”
“Two hours with stops. Plenty of time to find out all there is to know about you,” he states.
London laughs softly and stares at him. “Lord Sheridan, you would be bored, I’m sure. I will tell you about the fire, and my part in it. That’s all you need to know.”
“I’ll take that for now,” he answers quietly.
Chapter 19
London follows Declan at a fast pace through the densely packed train station. Her limp is making it challenging to keep up. Frustrated, she blows a stray blonde curl that has escaped from her hat. Declan glances back and raises his brow at her before realizing how rude he's being.
“Forgive me, London,” he says when she catches up to him. He offers her his arm, “I’d forgotten about your leg. Shall I carry you?” he teases.
“Absolutely not!” she stammers and blushes when he laughs.
Looping her arm through his, they continue on until they reach the train. “Our train leaves in fifteen minutes, we should hurry.”
“London?” a female voice calls out, and she freezes, tightening her hold on Declan's arm. His hand covers hers, and they turn to greet the caller.
“Reagan?” London gasps as Reagan throws herself into her arms, rocking her back on her feet. Declan steadies them and glances at the young man standing behind her.
“Oh, I'd never have recognized you if it weren't for the paper,” Reagan pushes back and stares at her. “You don't look anything like the Mouse!”
“That was the point,” London replies. “Congratulations, Reagan,” she turns to her new husband. “Edmund, I hope you're very happy together.”
“Thank you, Lady Sheridan,” Edmund says. Declan introduces himself to Edmund.
“Where are you off too?” Reagan asks.
“Out of town for a holiday,” Declan answers for her, purposely not giving specifics.
“I see.” Reagan stares at her, and her eyes grow teary, “I hope you can forgive me for being such a brat, London. I'm so happy that you're out of that house.” She steps closer to her, “Tessa will be out for blood. We are heading to Europe on holiday for a month, but you must promise me that you will be careful. Don’t trust her,” she insists and turns to Declan.
“Lord Sheridan, I hope you understand this was not personal. I love Edmund, and I tried to tell my parents, but they wouldn't listen.” Her eyes glisten with tears, and Edmund pulls her close to his side.
“Not at all, I wish you nothing but happiness,” Declan states.
“You’re very kind,” Reagan sniffs and smiles at the way he stays close to London. “Keep her safe, Declan. My parents were counting on your name and money. Tessa especially had intentions where you were concerned. They will be out for revenge.”
“Thank you, but what could they possibly do now? It's too late.” The whistle blows on a train, and Declan insists, “We have to go.”
London hugs Reagan and fights tears when she whispers, “Be happy.”
“We will stay in touch,” Reagan insists.
“I’d like that,” London says with a smile.
Declan guides her away, stopping to board the train. London keeps hearing Declan say, ‘what can they possibly do?’ She’s nervous, Declan isn’t a man to be trifled with, but she can’t help but wonder how he will react to the rest of the story.
They maneuver through the different railcars and into a lushly decorated hallway with plush burgundy carpet and brass lanterns gleaming on the wallpapered walls. The porter stops and unlocks a door, sliding it inside the wall and steps back.
“This cabin is made for two people. There's a watering closet at the end of the hallway for your convenience. If the sun becomes too much, simply pull the large curtains close.” He gestures to the large window and turns to smile at her. “A porter is always available, simply pull the rope. Lunch is served in the dining car between noon and two pm. If you'd like reservations, I can arrange that for you.”
“No, thank you.” I’m too nervous to eat, she thinks.
“We’ll be eating in our cabin,” Declan says.
“Excellent. I’ll leave a menu for you to choose from. If you need anything else, just pull the cord.” He gestures to the right of the sliding door and l
eaves quickly.
The final whistle sounds causing London to startle.
“Are you well?” Declan asks with concern etched on his face after the train begins to move.
“What? Yes, I'm fine, thank you,” she smiles softly and removes the pin from her hat, and hangs it on a hook. Glancing out the window, she watches the sea of people and frowns. Her hand is throbbing, and her emotions are raw. “It has been a strange few days.”
Declan nods in agreement as he looks at his new bride. “Tell me, London, who are you, and how did you come to be my wife?”
London looks at him and smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. “I've been working for the Hubbard family for four years.” She hesitates. How should I tell him? London bites her lip and decides he doesn’t need to know her life story. “The charade was necessary in order to obtain the job, which I desperately needed. Tessa prefers to surround herself with homely house staff.”
Declan snorts, “She must be blind.” London ignores his comment and continues.
“One day, while cleaning, I overheard her husband, George, discussing your business.”
He leans forward, “Go on.”
“In truth, you have been the topic of many discussions of late.” London pulls off her glove and stares at the wound on her hand. “Mr. Hubbard works from home with his business… not partners but…” she chooses her words carefully, “associates. He was agitated that you wouldn't sell him shares of your business.”
“I see,” Declan frowns. “How is it that you are privy to this information?”
Intelligent eyes pierce him.
“How many times have we met?” she asks.
“A few, but in all fairness, you were wearing a disguise.”
“True, but you have met the Mouse or been in the same room with me eighteen times.” She laughs at his look of shock. “Exactly, as a maid, I am gifted with invisibility. No one notices the maid in the corner. As long as I remain quiet and speak only when spoken too, don’t make eye contact and other rules, my protective cloak remains intact.”
“Brilliant,” he stares at the blush on her cheeks and wonders just who she is.
“No, just a product of the job. On one particular afternoon, they were discussing how to get a hold of your shares, and they schemed against you.”
“What do you mean?” he demands. His dark eyes flash as he waits for London to continue.
“Mr. Hubbard wanted to force the investors to drop your shares so he could buy them all.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Declan sits back in disbelief and runs a hand through his dark hair.
“To be honest, it was a solid plan.” She stares at him when his mouth drops open, but before he can argue with her, she holds up a hand. “Shareholders are finicky and skittish. The slimmest rumor sets them off, and they will sell-off at the slightest indication that a business is in trouble. Even if it is untrue.”
“And you know this, how?” he asks with a raised brow.
“That’s not important, Lord Sheridan.” She leans towards him, determined to make him understand. “I overheard them plotting against you, and I slipped a note in the pocket of your jacket, the night you and Matthew came to the house for dinner. Unfortunately, you didn't find it in time.” She frowns and rubs her leg.
Her pain is affecting him. “Can I help, perhaps a cold cloth?” Declan asks.
“No, thank you, it just needs time to heal,” she sighs. Declan orders a tray of food and sits back down to hear the rest of the story.
“Please continue, you were saying that you dropped a note in my jacket and then what?”
“I waited, but time went by, and nothing was said. I assumed the danger had passed, but just to be safe, I sent a telegram to your office, anonymously.”
“I see,” he watches her face as she talks. Declan doesn’t know what to think. A missing note and a telegram that he never received. It sounds suspicious.
“The day of the fire, I was in the office cleaning, and overhead George outside with a man named Ryan, telling him that it couldn’t wait. He paid him to set fire to the warehouse. Lord Sheridan, he was very specific that you were with Reagan every night, and no one would be in the warehouse, but regardless, it had to be done that night.”
“Please call me Declan. My wife wouldn’t address me as Lord Sheridan.” Declan jumps up, missing her blush and paces in the small space. “I wasn’t with Reagan. She refused to see me the month before the wedding, said some nonsense about bad luck.”
London watches him quietly. He is understandably upset.
“I thought Reagan was meeting with you every day for the past month.” London smiles at her cleverness. “Smart girl.” Her soft laughter fills the room. “Obviously, she was with Edmund.”
“London, is it possible that you misheard them? It makes no sense that he would burn down the business of the man marrying his daughter. That would leave her penniless!”
“Men do not care about such things,” London snaps and glares at him. “I know what I heard. George was planning on buying a majority of the shares, Declan. He doesn’t care about Reagan, only his own purse!”
“Some men do care about the women in their life, London.” He sits heavily beside her. “This is beyond comprehension to me.”
“Human beings are capable of much darker deeds than this, Declan.” The sadness in her voice causes his eyes to jump to hers, and his heart sinks for her.
“What darkness have you seen, London?” he asks.
“The Lord’s hand has always guided my path, Declan I've been luckier than some,” she smiles weekly, “and all is well that ends well.
“Tell me the rest,” he demands.
London sighs. “You know the rest.” Staring at him, she frowns, “I took a carriage to your warehouse, and just as I arrived, the fire started. I saw the man George hired running from the building, and I tried to help you with the door, but it was stuck. I ran around the back, hoping to throw water on the flames, but it only made it worse,” she frowns, thinking about it.
“That’s because he switched it with oil,” he takes her hand and flips it over, tracing the wound with his finger. She shivers and tries to pull her hand back, but he refuses.
“Look at me,” he demands. Her eyes jerk to his, and she's shocked by the emotion reflected in them. “Thank you. You owed us nothing, London. Despite your experiences, you risked your own safety to help us. My Grandfather is all I have left in this world, I’m not ready to lose him.”
“I understand,” she thinks of her father in the workhouse. No matter what his sins are, she's in no position to judge him. That's the Lord's job. “I just wish I could have gotten to you sooner.”
This time when she tugs her hand from his, he allows the separation. “No. If the criminal setting the fire had seen you…” he leaves the sentence to greet the porter with their lunch.
It hadn't occurred to London that he could've seen her. A shiver ripples over her, and she wonders if he stuck around to watch the fire? Declan returns with food, and they spend the next few minutes eating in silence.
After the lunch trays are removed, Declan glances at her. “It would seem that George Hubbard has won. By now, he will have bought all the shares and have majority ownership in Sheridan Furniture.”
“Not exactly,” London says in a quiet voice. His eyes jump to hers once more.
“What does that mean?”
London reaches in her pocket and draws out the envelope and offers it to him.
“What's this?” he asks as he opens the envelop and draws out the paper. His eyes fly open wide, and he stares at it in shock. “Is this what I think it is?”
“I bought enough of the shares to make sure that you’re still the sole owner of Sheridan Furniture.”
Silence fills the cabin, and his hand trembles as he looks at the paper. “How could you do this? Why would you do this?” His dark eyes stare at her, and she forces herself to maintain eye contact.
“I'm no saint,
Declan. Don't give me more credit than I deserve. I had enough money saved from my investments to purchase most, and with Elliot and Dillon's help, I managed to come up with enough to buy the rest of the shares. Your Grandfather knows and promised to pay me back. Consider this a loan, until you reimburse me.” She grins at the look on his face.
“I’m speechless,” he murmurs and tucks the note inside his pocket. “You didn’t answer me, London. Why would you do this?”
“Why? Why, because I didn't want George to win. Someone could have been killed, and he didn't care! He doesn't care about his only child. He was planning on leaving her penniless and married to a man she didn’t love! What kind of human being does that to his own flesh and blood?” London is unaware of the tears slipping down her face. At that moment, she's not sure if its Reagan's abandonment or her own, that is striking her so hard.
Declan sits next to her and pulls her into his side, pressing a kiss to her forehead. London stiffens for a moment before relaxing and taking comfort. “I’m so tired,” she murmurs as she accepts the handkerchief he offers.
“You've been very busy,” he chuckles when she stiffens and attempts to move away. “Just rest,” he murmurs. London should pull away, but he's so warm, and the movement of the train lulls her to sleep.
Her even breathing tells him that she's asleep. “Sleep, angel, it's my turn to look after you.”
Chapter 20
George sits heavily and mops his brow with a soiled handkerchief. “What do you mean, the shares are all gone?” he demands.
“Another investor bought the shares before I arrived,” David snaps.
“I see,” he stares at the books on his desk and trembles with hidden rage. “You’re telling me that one investor, one person bought all of the shares?” He reaches into the drawer and pulls out a revolver. “That could only be someone on the inside.”
David’s eyes grow large with fear. It is widely known what a temper George Hubbard has. “I managed to get the investors name, R. L. Pearce,” he quickly hands over a piece of paper with the name of the investment firm he used.
