by Joyce Alec
“I would presume so,” he agreed. “I have sent a footman in search of Mr. Martin and hope he will call very soon. I did ask for the man to come here, Mary, given that I would need to explain it all to you also.” A frustrated look came into his eyes as he looked at her, pressing her hand tightly. “It was all well thought out, I think. Right from the very beginning”
Mary did not know what to say to this, her mind scrambling to understand it all. If she had been deterred by the dead man, if she had looked at him and, in seeing the likeness to her late husband and believing it to be so, had run from the house, then Lord Johnston would certainly be in a good deal of trouble, particularly if there were items belonging to Thomas Copper within Lord Johnston’s house. It was clear now that someone had been trying to get Lord Johnston to face the gallows and, to her mind, that person was Lady Moore.
Although there had to be some others working alongside her, for the lady could not have undertaken such a thing herself.
“We will find a way through this,” Lord Johnston whispered, evidently seeing her fright. “You need not worry, Mary, my love. Without you, I would be struggling to clear my name, but as it is, I have no fear in telling Mr. Martin everything we have found and everything he will find amongst Thomas Copper’s things. In fact, I am surprised they have not come to me already, for surely they must have searched the man’s things by now?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I do not know, Lord Johnston, but I am grateful for the delay. It has given you the advantage, for to go to Mr. Martin with this news and the items you have found only adds to your innocence, for a guilty man would not come forward with such things. No, I am quite sure you will be safe.”
“I have no doubt of it,” he replied with a glimmer of a smile. “Now, why do you not read the doctor’s instructions aloud, so that I know myself what it is I am to do. I will not demand you do it alone, my dear, for I am determined to return home this very afternoon, once I have recovered my strength a little.”
Mary wanted to protest but kept her mouth closed at the sight of the determination in his eyes. She carefully helped him to sit up, aware of just how painful it was for him to do so by the hiss of pain that escaped him. Resting his head back, he managed a tight smile to reassure her that he was all right and, carefully letting go of him, Mary made her way over to the table and picked up the note.
“Here it is,” she murmured, unfolding it and letting her eyes rest on the scribbled instructions.
Except, they were not instructions. They were only a few short words. She read them over and over again, before turning back to Lord Johnston, seeing how he watched her with a touch of confusion in his gaze.
“This is not what I expected,” she murmured, sitting down heavily as a sudden tiredness entered her limbs. “The note says this: ‘Lady Moore has found a kindred spirit. Danger comes upon not one, but two. Remember the knife.’” Her brow wrinkled as she looked at the letter again, reading it over and over before lifting her eyes to Lord Johnston, who was staring at her as though she had become some sort of ethereal spirit.
“The doctor wrote this?” he asked hoarsely, his eyes fixed on hers with such an intensity that she was taken aback. “Are you quite sure?”
“Yes, indeed. More than sure,” she replied, not able to understand it. “But why? Who is he?”
“I did not get a good look at him, such was my pain,” Lord Johnston answered slowly. “Describe him, would you? As best as you can?”
Mary set the note down beside her, clasped her hands and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “He was not overly tall, carried himself well, and had vivid green eyes that were constantly fixed on whatever he was doing.”
“And did he have brown, curly hair?” Lord Johnston asked, his breathing quickening. “Youthful. Not an elderly man?”
Nodding slowly, Mary tightened her fingers in a frantic anticipation. “Yes. Yes, his curls fell over his eyes, and I remember thinking to myself that he was the youngest doctor I had ever seen. Not that it mattered, given that he did such marvelous work.”
Lord Johnston let out a long, shaky breath. “And you are sure you have never seen him before?”
“I did not let my eyes linger,” Mary protested weakly. “I was much too distressed about you. Why? Who is he?”
“I think,” Lord Johnston said slowly, his eyes glowing with an almost feverish hope. “That the man in question was Lord Shafer.”
12
Stephen saw Mr. Martin frown as he finished his explanation, trying his best not to appear too eager to be believed. He laid out the facts as they stood, explaining that the doctor who had tended him would be able to confirm to Mr. Martin earlier that Stephen had been unconscious in bed for some days.
“I quite understand,” Mr. Martin said eventually, rubbing one hand over his stubbled chin, his dark eyes flickering from Stephen to Lady Ashton and back again. “I think, Lord Johnston, that in its own way, it does make sense.”
Lady Ashton let out a sigh of relief.
“I mean, it is just too ridiculous to believe, in one way,” Mr. Martin continued, with a shrug. “A man who plans to kill another does not go about leaving some of his belongings in the other man’s house. Oh yes,” he grinned, seeing Stephen’s startled look. “We found a couple of your missing things, Lord Johnston. Not your keys, but the kerchief and the watch were plain to see.”
“But that means that your house could still be broken into at any time and your seal used to write any sort of letter!” Lady Ashton exclaimed, looking at Stephen with dismay.
Mr. Martin nodded sagely. “That may well be the case, my lady, but it may also be the opportunity to discover the person responsible.”
Stephen frowned, aware that Lady Moore had never once rejected outright Stephen’s suggestion that she had organized all of this, even though she would not have taken part in the actual killing herself.
“Might you explain a little more, Mr. Martin?” Lady Ashton asked, suddenly looking rather desperate. “As you can see, Lord Johnston has already been injured by someone attempting to either prevent him from going to you to speak about what he has discovered, or to stop our marriage from ever taking place. I can only fear for the future at this point.”
Mr. Martin smiled kindly, taking some of the steel from his otherwise grey eyes. “I can well understand that, my lady,” he began in a quieter tone. “This must be terrible for you both. You must realize that there is some person, if not more than one, seeking to ruin Lord Johnston’s life for whatever reason. You may be the obstacle in their path, Lady Ashton. You must ensure you are protected at all costs.”
Stephen nodded, having felt as much himself. This was, as far as he was concerned, a rather personal vendetta by Lady Moore and whomever else she was working with.
“Might I ask, Mr. Martin, if I was to have a suspicion as to who might be responsible for such a crime, what I should do in order to bring them to justice?” he asked carefully. “Being the nobility, I understand that such a thing is difficult, unless the case is without doubt.”
“As it would have been in your case, save for Lady Ashton,” the Bow Street Runner replied, with a wry grin that sent a shiver down Stephen’s back. “Yes, you are quite right to state that it is difficult. In fact, it is almost impossible. However, if someone confesses then that is different. Of course, things being as they are, those in the upper classes, even if they do confess, tend to disappear almost as soon as they can – to Scotland and the frozen north, or to a ship that will take them far away to start life over again.” He shrugged, looking a little frustrated himself. “That is how things are, my lord. But I would suggest that it would be best to discover such a person as soon as you can and try to wiggle a confession from them. As things are, you are much more able to do something like that than I can.”
“I understand,” Stephen replied slowly. “You have no suspects of your own, then?”
Mr. Martin shook his head. “None. Thomas Copper was a well-known rogue, a
nd it could have been any number of people wanting to take their revenge on him. We have no clue as to who took the keys from your house, if you believe them to be missing, or to know the footman who drugged your drinks.” He spread his hands, as though in apology. “I confess, to my shame, Lord Johnston, that the Bow Street Runners are not as effective as we could be. There are too few of us and too much going on to bring anyone to fair trial. I wish that I could be more helpful.”
Stephen shook his head, finding himself grateful to the man. Not all Bow Street Runners were the same, he knew, and to find someone as astute and wise as Mr. Martin had been a blessing. “You have accepted my word and the word of Lady Ashton without question,” he said gladly. “You have listened to what I have discovered and have judged fairly. I cannot find any sort of sorrow over your lack of progress in the case, not when I am still seen as an innocent man. Not when I have Lady Ashton by my side.” He smiled at Lady Ashton, feeling his heart swell within him. She really was the most remarkable creature. Just the way she had cared for him, had stayed by him, spoke to his heart. He could not be without her now.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Martin,” Lady Ashton murmured, dragging her eyes from Stephen’s as the Bow Street Runner made to take his leave. “If there is any new information, you will come to inform us, will you not?”
Mr. Martin bowed graciously towards her. “But of course, my lady,” he said at once. “But do please ensure that you are both protected whenever you leave your houses. I should not like to be informed that the knife has found its way home the next time.”
A little chilled by the notion, Stephen inclined his head, thanked Mr. Martin, and apologized for not rising to his feet to bid him farewell. Mr. Martin stuck his cap back on his head and, with another nod in Lady Ashton’s direction, took his leave.
Silence flooded the room for a minute or so. Stephen watched Lady Ashton as she took in all that Mr. Martin had said, seeing her face still quite pale. How he longed for this matter to be at an end so that they might be free from trouble!
“Wait.”
Lady Ashton suddenly rose to her feet, and Stephen noticed her hands trembling as she clasped them and unclasped them in front of her.
“Mary?” he asked, shifting a little in his chair so that he might see her better. “Mary, whatever is the matter?”
Lady Ashton turned to look at him with a wide-eyed, startled look that made him suddenly tense.
“The note,” she breathed, looking all about for it. “Where is the note? The note from the doctor – I mean, Lord Shafer.”
“I have it,” Stephen said, quickly pulling it from his pocket and handing it to her. “Why? What is troubling you?”
“There.” She sank down beside him, pointing at the second sentence. “‘Remember the knife’.” Turning to face him, she shook her head, her eyes squeezed tightly closed. “Of course. I should have realized before now, but I was so desperate to leave her side that–”
“Explain to me what you mean, Mary.”
“The knife,” she said softly. “Lady Moore, she mentioned the knife before I had ever told her how the man in the study had died.”
Stephen’s mind went blank a moment, and then, with a sudden rush, he began to work through everything all over again. “When she spoke to you, she said that her staff told her about what had occurred?”
Mary nodded.
“But she could not have known about the knife,” he continued, speaking quickly. “For none but Mr. Martin, yourself, my butler, and I knew that particular detail.”
“So how did she know?” Mary asked softly. “Do you not see, Lord Johnston? We have the evidence we need to confront her!”
The idea immediately shattered by his feet. “No, Mary. We cannot. You cannot. Not after what occurred this afternoon.” He shot a glance to his side and saw that she took his meaning.
And then a memory pierced him.
“Good gracious.”
It hit him so hard that he felt as though he had been flung backwards into the chair, hit with a tremendous pressure.
“What is it, Johnston?”
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Lady Moore once mentioned Lord Hertford to me, Mary.”
Her eyes widened.
“I did not recall it until now. It was some time ago and just in passing – perhaps it was a test to see whether or not I would react to the name but, at the time, I was so confused by what had occurred with Lady Moore that I did not.”
Mary shook her head. “Lady Moore has a good many acquaintances, does she not? It is not surprising then that he would be one of them?”
“But he is also a gentleman you have refused on multiple occasions,” Stephen answered quickly. “A gentleman much like Lady Moore in his arrogance and conceit. Whilst she would never wed him, given his poor fortune and the fact that he is almost as prideful as she is, they might work together to bring about some disaster upon us both.”
Mary swallowed hard, her hand reaching for his. “On us both?” she whispered, unable to put any strength into her words.
“I think that is what the note means,” Stephen replied, trying to smile in order to bring her some comfort in what was not exactly an easy situation. “When the doctor, or Lord Shafer, whoever he may be, wrote that ‘Lady Moore has found a kindred spirit. Danger comes upon not one, but two,’ I believe they meant to warn you that you might also be under attack.”
“But why?” Mary asked, hoarsely, her blue eyes wide with fright. “I have not harmed anyone, have I?”
“No, but you have rejected a good many gentlemen, including two who are most dogged in their attempts to court you,” Stephen reminded her gently. “Lord Hertford and Lord—”
“Masters,” she completed for him. “But why did the doctor – I mean, Lord Shafer – why did he not write to tell me which one it is?”
Stephen did not know the answer. “Mayhap he too does not yet know and is seeking to discover the truth but wants to put you on your guard.” Whoever this Lord Shafer was, Stephen had the distinct impression that he was attempting to keep himself hidden from society whilst still trying to protect them both. “I think, Mary, we will have to find more courage than we have ever known before.”
“Oh?”
“I am going to enlist the help of my good friend, Lord Turner and his wife, Lady Turner,” he replied, with a quick grin. “I had news only this morning that they are already on their way to London, and I hope they will be willing to use their standing in society to our benefit. And then, mayhap, we will need to call upon Lord Hertford ourselves, or, as it turns out, mayhap Lord Masters. At that point, we must hope that all will come to light.”
Mary watched him closely, evidently aware that he had a plan in mind. “What is it you intend to do, Johnston?”
“Find the truth,” he replied firmly, his plan forming even as he answered her. “But I will need your help, Mary. Will you be able to give it?”
She smiled at him, albeit a little tremulously. “Always,” she promised.
13
Four Days Later
“Do you understand what you are to do?”
Mary felt herself tremble violently but nodded. “I do.”
“And thereafter?”
“I am to ensure I remain close to Lady Turner,” she stated with a calmness she did not feel. “And if the worst should happen, deny all knowledge of your actions and ensure I return home with Lady Turner.”
Lord Johnston chuckled, one hand on her arm. “We have planned this with enough care and attention that I feel as though I know precisely where to put my feet,” he smiled, bending down to kiss her cheek. “Come now, my dear love, you must not be so anxious. You know that Lord Turner and Lady Turner are well aware of what I intend to do and just how much suffering we have both endured. I am truly grateful to them both for being able to arrange such a thing. Turner’s sway over society is remarkable indeed!”
Mary nodded slowly. She had only met Lord and La
dy Turner the once—a day after they had arrived in London. She had been taken with Lady Turner and, having been warned about Lord Turner’s scars, had managed not to react to them in any way whatsoever. She had been quite astonished at Lord Turner’s almost instantaneous agreement to Lord Johnston’s plans, for she had thought that to convince a gentleman to throw a dinner party would be almost an impossible endeavor. Apparently, Lord Turner had managed to do so with only a few words in Lord Hertford’s ear. They had been playing cards together, and Lord Hertford, being something in awe of Lord Turner as Lord Johnston had once been, had immediately taken up the opportunity to further his acquaintance with the man by suggesting a dinner party. Lord Turner had agreed and had made a few suggestions as to who else Lord Hertford might wish to ask to the table, in order to make for decent conversation and an excellent atmosphere. Lord Hertford had agreed at once.
Should this fail, should Lord Hertford not be the culprit working with Lady Moore, then they would have to do the very same all over again with Lord Masters. However, Lord Turner believed that Lord Masters was nothing more than a stinging nettle – sharp, poisonous words but with no strength or stability of his own. Easily plucked from the ground and destroyed. Mary had to hope he was correct.
“If anything goes awry, then Lady Turner will climb into the carriage with you and return back to the house. I will return with Lord Turner sometime after.”
“I pray it goes well,” she murmured, feeling the imprint of his lips lingering on her skin. “Oh, Johnston, do be careful.”
She had not meant to, but found herself pressing herself against him, her hands clinging to either side of his jacket as her head came to rest on his shoulder. For a moment, Lord Johnston did not move, but then, to her very great relief, his arms wrapped around her waist and he held her tightly against him, his breath coming out in a long, heavy sigh of contentment.
