Though I knew he was speaking out of concern for Bree’s safety, his tone was harsh. I suspected his frustration and aching head had something to do with that.
“Yes, sir,” Bree replied meekly, her expression much chastened.
Attempting to soften the sting, I gentled my own voice. “Did you recognize the man? Did he try to approach you or harm you in any way?”
“Nay. He just followed me, and at a distance, so that I couldna see much of his features beyond the hat pulled low o’er his eyes. I tried to foil him at Berkeley Square, to catch a glimpse o’ his face. But he was a canny one.”
“Well, if you should see him again, inform us immediately.”
“I will.” She shifted her feet, and I remembered how her leg often pained her when the weather was damp—the result of a previous injury.
“Is your leg grieving you?”
“No more than usual,” she replied, but I could tell she was lying.
“Well, go and rest it anyway.” I glared at her solemnly. “That’s also an order.”
It did not have the desired effect, for a smile hovered at the edges of her mouth. “Aye, m’lady.”
After she departed, I turned to find Gage watching me. “What?” I demanded.
He shook his head before letting it fall back against the chair. “I would tell you you’re too soft with her, but I’m one to talk, seeing as how my valet runs roughshod all over me.”
My lips quirked. “Anderley would never do that. But I grasp your point.”
We had just settled again when there was another rap on the door. This time it was Jeffers. However, from the guarded look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t there to discuss meals.
“My lady, a letter was delivered for you.” He crossed the room, holding it out in his hand rather than on the silver salver he normally used. His voice was pained as he spoke the next words. “It was left at the servants’ entrance.”
“What the devil?” Gage exploded. “Did anyone see who had the insolence to do such a thing?”
“No, sir. The kitchen maid found it on the floor just inside the door.”
I accepted the missive from his fingers, relieved to see my hands weren’t shaking even if my insides were. It appeared much the same as the last one—scuffed and dirty, the scrawl of my name smudged. I had been expecting a second blackmail note, but that did not prevent my heart from racing and my skin growing cold. Opening it gingerly, I found the contents were much the same, though this one had an addendum.
If you do not do as we ask, we will have to leave a gift on your doorstep. One your naybors will not ignore.
Gage took the letter from my numb fingers and scanned the words, his face settling into forbidding lines. “Jeffers, I want a servant stationed at the front and back doors of the house at all hours, and have them make regular checks of the exterior,” he ordered as he rose to his feet. “Hire more men, if needed. I want to be informed immediately if they see anyone or anything suspicious.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeffers replied.
He read through the short missive again as the butler departed, and then scraped a hand back through his golden hair, making it stand on end as he stifled a curse.
“I’m sorry, Gage,” I murmured in a small voice, standing to reach out to him. “I know this isn’t what you bargained for.”
“Stop talking nonsense,” he snapped. “I knew who you were when I married you.”
“Yes, but . . .”
“There is no ‘but.’ Do you think I would be so shabby as to blame you for this?” The letter crumpled between his fingers as he waved it at me. When I didn’t immediately reply, his smile turned bitter. “I see.”
“No one would fault you if you did,” I finally managed to say, dropping my hands.
“Well, I would!”
I flinched at his vehemence.
He dampened his voice, but not the fire in his eyes. “I agreed to love and protect you through whatever might come. I accepted the troubles of your past, and the problems they might present in the future. But I cannot help you end them if you will not put them aside.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “I didn’t stir up the shadows of my past. They did!”
“Yes, but they are always there lurking. In one form or another, you’re always braced for the next hatchet to fall. You claimed you’d begun to appreciate the good that the pain of your past had caused you, to embrace the knowledge Sir Anthony forced upon you and turn it to a noble use. And yet here you are again, cast into the role of victim.”
“That is grossly unfair!” My voice wobbled as tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. I didn’t ask to be made a figure of fear and scorn.”
“Then stop letting them do so! Stop letting them decide who you are.”
I swiped angrily at the wetness on my cheeks. “It’s not so simple.”
“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “You know those of us who love you will stand by you. To hell with the rest.”
“But what of you, and the baby . . .”
“I mean it, Kiera. If they cannot accept you for who you are, then they are not worthy of my or our child’s time.” His eyes scoured my flushed face, giving me not an inch of leniency. “I will never blame you for what’s been done to you, and I will always be by your side. But I’m also not going to coddle your fears and let you hide from the truth.” He shook his head. “Not when it’s this important.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away, feeling betrayed. Didn’t he understand I didn’t want to feel this fear? I didn’t want it always hovering at the back of my mind. I didn’t want it harming my loved ones.
But then, of course, he didn’t know my biggest fear, or the guilt that walked hand in hand with it. The nameless dread that I’d only recently been able to put into words, though I had lived with it for five years. If I could barely acknowledge it to myself, how was I going to tell Gage?
“Goddard is supposed to call on me tomorrow with an update. I’ll show this second letter to him then.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left the room.
I stared into the hearth until it became blurry with tears, and then I pushed to my feet to stomp up and down the room. If not for the rain, I might have gone out into the garden to cool my cheeks and dry my tears, but I was not so foolish as to venture out in such conditions, even in my state of agitation.
Eventually, I turned my steps to my art studio in the conservatory. If I couldn’t make progress in the investigation or reconcile with Gage and the things he’d said, then at least I could paint. It always soothed me and helped me clarify my thoughts. Which was something I needed now more than ever.
* * *
• • •
I yawned, tipping my head to block the bright sun with the brim of my bonnet as it broke through the clouds, and lifted my skirts to mount the steps to the Marquess of Barbreck’s residence. Though only late morning, I suspected he wouldn’t mind my paying an early call, not when he’d been the one to request I do so. However, I began to wish I’d yielded to my initial impulse and gone back to sleep.
I hadn’t stumbled up to bed until well after midnight, having spent all afternoon, evening, and a good part of the night, closeted in my studio, oblivious to all else. Gage had already been asleep when I slipped between the covers, and that morning when I’d blinked open my eyes it was to find he’d already gone. A note on my bedside table weighted down by a red carnation informed me that he and Anderley had departed early for Bow Street and the special hearing on the inquiry into the Italian Boy.
I’d twirled the flower before my nose, wondering if it was meant to be a peace offering. But that sent my mind along paths I didn’t wish to trod. So I forced myself out from beneath the covers, determined to do something productive with my time.
&
nbsp; Which was how I’d found myself at Lord Barbreck’s door. The old roué would never let me remain steeped in my own morose ponderings. He would expect to be entertained.
When the butler announced me, I was surprised to discover the marquess was not alone. I was even more surprised to discover Lord Marsdale seated with him. He grinned unrepentantly, clearly pleased to have disconcerted me.
I recovered quickly and moved forward to give Barbreck my hands with a smile.
“Here on yer own, are ye?” he remarked in his deep Scottish brogue.
“Yes, Mr. Gage is otherwise occupied.”
“Inquiry business, no doubt. Well, he’s braver than I.”
I tilted my head in perplexity. “I rather thought you would enjoy observing the follies at the Bow Street Magistrates’ Office.”
“Oh, aye.” He chuckled. “I imagine I would. But I meant lettin’ ye venture aboot alone, especially wi’ scoundrels like this one wanderin’ the streets o’ Mayfair.”
I turned to the other occupant with an arch smile. “I trust Lord Marsdale knows what my husband would do to him if he ever attempted to trifle with me.”
“Yes, but I have to say I’m more worried what you would do.” Marsdale’s eyes were alive with amusement. “Still carrying that Hewson pistol in your reticule?”
I arched my chin. “Of course. A lady never knows when she might need to defend herself against unscrupulous fellows.”
He flashed me a blinding grin, which reminded me what an attractive man he was in his own right.
I observed Marsdale as I settled onto the edge of the sofa across from him, finding he looked even more handsome than usual. His skin was bronzed and flush with health, his molasses dark eyes clear and unshadowed. Though I had to puzzle over the matter for a few seconds, I finally realized what the difference was. He wasn’t suffering from a night of overindulgence. In fact, he looked as if he hadn’t overindulged in some time.
His eyebrows rose at this close scrutiny, but I ignored him and turned back to Barbreck, who was speaking.
“I was sorry to hear young Newbury succumbed to his wounds. Always liked that lad.” He pressed both hands to the silver filigreed head at the top of his walking stick, propping it on the floor in front of him between his legs. “Better than his father, at any rate.”
“I take it you’re not fond of Lord Newbury,” I remarked.
“Dinna get me wrong. I’m sure he’s a fine man. But he lives too much in Wellington’s pocket for my taste. But his son, noo.” He lifted his cane, thumping it on the floor. “He was his own man.”
“How do you mean?”
His heavy-lidded eyes sparkled with glee that he knew something I did not. “Rumor has it, young Newbury was more Whig than Tory. Something I’m sure his father didna like.”
I sat back, considering this information. I’d not considered the political ramifications of the investigation before. “Lord Redditch and Lord Newbury are both staunch Tories.”
“Yes,” Marsdale confirmed. “And two fiercer opponents of recent legislative efforts, you won’t find. Particularly the Reform Bill.”
“Aye. There may be some who are wafflin’ in their opinion. Especially in light o’ all the public’s unrest. But no’ them.” Barbreck huffed a dry laugh. “They’d sooner move to the colonies than vote for reform.”
“What of Lord Feckenham?” I asked.
“Never heard much talk aboot his politics, but I canna imagine he wasna the same as Redditch.”
“He was a Tory,” Marsdale stated confidently, draping his arm along the back of the sofa. “Make no mistake about that. And not a moderate one. He would have voted against Wellington’s Catholic emancipation bill, and heartily supported Peel’s Police Act. There was no way he would have wished to cede any further power to the so-called riffraff.”
I blinked at him. “Did you know him?”
“Mainly by reputation. Why do you look so shocked?”
“I’m just surprised to discover you’re so politically savvy.”
In the past, Marsdale would rather have been tried for murder than admit he had any sort of intelligence or honor in him.
He shrugged. “The duke insists I keep informed of such things.”
I narrowed my eyes. He might try to brush it off as his father’s fault, but I suspected it was more than that. After all, his past conduct certainly hadn’t been undertaken to please his father.
If the flattened line of his mouth was any indication, Barbreck seemed to hold similar doubts about Marsdale’s truthfulness, but he showed unexpected leniency in not crying balderdash.
“Regardless, I suppose since Feckenham wasn’t about to switch political affiliation nor was Mr. Newbury, the point is irrelevant to your investigation.” Marsdale actually sounded disappointed by this.
“Perhaps the sons’ affiliations aren’t, but maybe the fathers’ are.” My voice trailed away as I considered the possibility. “What if the connection between the two victims isn’t something about them, but about their fathers?”
Marsdale sat forward, following my line of thought. “The fact that they oppose the Reform Bill.”
“Yes. What if someone was out for revenge or . . . hoped to somehow influence the outcome of the vote?” I turned to the side, pressing my fingers to my lips as I tried to analyze whether such reasoning even made sense. I wondered if Gage had contemplated a political motive. Had we been thinking about this all wrong?
“I need to go,” I declared, rising to my feet. If there was more that Lord Barbreck wanted to prattle about, it would simply have to wait. “You both have been extraordinarily helpful.” I hastened over to press a spontaneous kiss to Lord Barbreck’s wrinkled cheek.
“Always happy to assist a lady. Especially when it results in a kiss,” he chortled.
Marsdale rose politely from his chair, and I turned to offer him my hand. His eyes were alive with teasing as he grasped my fingers. “What? No kiss for me as well?”
I arched a single eyebrow in chastisement. “You would enjoy it too much.”
“That I would,” he replied unrepentantly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I was both surprised and relieved to find Gage had returned home before me, and hastened out to the small terrace which overlooked our garden. That he should have chosen to sit outside was not strange, given the fact the weather was mild and the breeze gentle. But finding him slouched in his chair, nursing a glass of brandy so early in the afternoon while broodingly smoking a cheroot, brought me up short. Gage rarely indulged in tobacco, and never while alone in our home. Perhaps at one of his clubs or with other gentlemen at a dinner party after the ladies had withdrawn from the dining room, but even that was infrequent.
“I take it the special hearing did not go well,” I remarked, continuing out onto the terrace.
He stubbed out the tip of his cheroot in the glass dish on the table out of deference to my presence.
I sank into the chair across the table from him. “What happened?”
He exhaled a long breath before responding. “Precisely what we thought would happen. A padrone from Birmingham identified the body as belonging to a boy named Carlo Ferrari. He said Ferrari had come to England in the late autumn of 1829 to work for him.” His jaw tightened at the casual manner in which the padrone had spoken of the matter. “He said the boy had been signed over to a new master in the summer of 1830, and he knew nothing of him beyond that.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
Gage’s scowl deepened. “The padrone couldn’t speak English, so Joseph Paragalli acted as his translator.”
I frowned, wrapping my paisley shawl tighter around me against the chill as the sun slid behind a bank of clouds. “He was one of the people who first came forward to view the body, wasn’t he?”
He nodded. “He and his wife. He even claimed tod
ay that he’d recalled Ferrari and thought of him at the time, but hadn’t been able to remember his name.” His eyes lifted to meet mine for the first time. “The problem is Anderley speaks Italian. He understood what the padrone was saying, and it was not exactly what Paragalli translated for the court.”
“What didn’t he translate correctly?”
“For one, the padrone was not certain the body was Ferrari’s. He said it was too decomposed, too damaged by the autopsy for him to identify the boy decisively. And he also stated that the last he’d known of Ferrari, he lived in Bristol with his new master. That it was possible he’d run away, but he could not say if that was true.”
“Did you tell the magistrates that?”
“Yes. After the hearing. But they did not take kindly to our interference. They were simply happy to have a name to put to the Italian Boy. They didn’t care if it was the right one.”
“So Anderley was correct.”
He nodded, glaring at the box shrubs bordering the terrace.
I glanced about me, curious where his valet had gone. “He must be upset.”
“I ordered him to shine and polish all my boots and shoes.”
I turned back to him in disbelief.
“He was furious. If I’d let him leave the house, he would have tracked down Paragalli and drawn his cork, or worse. Best to let him take out his wrath on my footwear instead.”
Seeing the wisdom in this, I settled back in my chair. “What of you?” He appeared relaxed, but I could sense the restrained energy rippling beneath his insouciant posture.
He took another drink of his brandy before answering. “I’m fine.” Though it was clear he was not. “Goddard found me outside Bow Street.” He stared down into the amber liquid in his glass. “Said he hasn’t found our blackmailer yet, but he received some new information today that might help point him in the right direction.”
An Artless Demise Page 25
