“Do not,” she said breathlessly. “It was one thing to allow your kisses while we were still at Wolfhaven Hall… but now, here, with her downstairs, I cannot. Regardless of the circumstances of your marriage, you are still married. And it would be disastrous for either of us to forget that fact even for a moment.”
Unable to refute her words, Alex let her go, stepping back and allowing her to enter her room. When the door closed softly, the click of it rang as resolutely as any pistol shot. But he wasn’t giving up. There had to be some way, whether by divorce or annulment, that he could be free of her. If it was divorce, all of the moneys that came with the marriage settlement would remain with her family, but the estates that had been stripped from him would be returned. It would not be a luxurious lifestyle by the standards of most, but it would be enough.
Cursing Helena again, he wondered what it was that had prompted her return. Entering his chamber, one word suddenly rang in his mind, eclipsing everything else. Davies. He’d set Davies to watch Hamilton and it was likely Hamilton had killed him. Albert had abandoned her to save his own skin rather than be taken for murder. That was why Helena had fabricated her elaborate resurrection. Of course, it didn’t matter. Legally, regardless of how immoral, perfidious and unconscionable that she was, she was still his wife. To that end, he was tied to her forever.
If he could prove that Hamilton was guilty of Davies’ murder, assuming he could find him, he did not question that the man would turn on Helena without a qualm if it meant a lesser punishment for himself. He needed to speak to Branson Middlethorp.
*
Mary closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. It might have been better if she’d thought her feelings for him were entirely one-sided. To know that he longed for the same thing she did and would be forever denied it only intensified the heartache for her. At least she would be free to move on, to perhaps find someone else with whom to share her life, while he would be forever trapped with the vile Helena.
She didn’t weep. In truth, she’d have been crying more for lost possibilities than for anything truly lost in the moment. They had not explored their feelings for one another, and had not made declarations of those feelings until they both knew doing so was utterly futile. Because there should have been more time.
Why had Helena turned up on the same day they’d arrived in Bath? How was it possible that she’d managed to escape her captors and flee in the exact direction of her abandoned husband? It was all too convenient, frankly. Helena had to have known they had arrived and if that was the case, then she had to have been close enough to see them. It was unlikely she would have seen the Ambrose crest on the door of the carriage if she’d been locked away in the upper floors of a house. She’d have to have been outside near the street or, at the very least, peering through a window no higher than the first floor. That hardly coincided with her description of being imprisoned. Given that Mary had firsthand experience with being imprisoned, she felt she had a certain amount of expertise on the subject.
Stepping away from the door, she moved to the bed and considered how best to proceed. Miss Masters. Elizabeth. Benedict would help, but he would ask far too many questions about her motives. He did not appear to be supportive of any feelings that might have developed between her and Lord Wolverton, but Elizabeth was another matter entirely. From the very moment they had met out front, it seemed that she had sensed the undercurrent between them and had given her very hearty approval.
She would still have to leave in the morning. Withstanding the temptation of being in such close proximity to him, coupled with the desperation brought on by their current situation, was simply too much for her.
A knock on the door had her heart pounding in her chest. Part of her hoped that it was Wolverton and part of her feared that it was. Calling out, she said, “You may enter.”
The door opened and, as if she’d been summoned, Miss Masters entered. “I wanted to check on you after… well, after everything. I cannot imagine how awful this must be for you both.” Elizabeth stepped deeper into the room and closed the door behind her, closing the distance until she could sit on the edge of Mary’s bed. It was rather like the late night chats she’d had with the other girls at school, Mary thought.
Mary sighed. “Were we really so terribly obvious?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I think when you are as happily and desperately in love as I am with your brother, then you tend to look for it and find it in others. It was obvious to me immediately that he cared for you. I didn’t know that it was love… not until I saw his reaction to his wife’s return. It is the answer to all of his problems as far as his legal and financial woes, yet there was nothing in his face but bitter disappointment. And then he looked at you, and I saw something else. I saw longing. I think, if he were free to do so, he would offer for you. I also believe that if he were free to do so, you would accept.”
“Without hesitation,” Mary admitted. “I was drawn to him immediately. Strange as it was, when I was in his presence, I was never afraid of him. Of course, when I was alone, my imagination would get the better of me. There is something I must ask of you.”
“Anything,” Elizabeth said. “Whatever you need.”
“I know that we are all quite aware that Lady Wolverton has lied horribly. I do not for one moment believe that she has been Harrelson’s prisoner,” Mary replied. “But she said that she’d recognized Lord Ambrose’s carriage. The only identifying mark upon it is his coat of arms and that is on the doors. It would be visible from the lower floors of the house, the ground floor and, perhaps, the first floor, but anything on the second or third, given how narrow the streets are, she could never have seen!”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. “I had not considered it, but you are quite right. It would be impossible! So how did she know?”
Mary shrugged. “Either she was given free rein of the house or she was not in the house at all. She might have been out and about on the street.”
An odd expression crossed Elizabeth’s features and her lips parted as if to speak. But she hesitated.
“What is it?” Mary demanded. “If there is something that you think may help, no matter how small it is, please, I beg of you, tell me!”
“When I was approaching and I saw your carriage, just beyond, near the end of the terrace, was a Bath chair and the woman who was in it wore black and was heavily veiled. So heavily veiled that it appeared off, as if she were trying to conceal her identity rather than just showcase her mourning. Perhaps, if we can find the right chairmen, and get them in close enough proximity to Lady Wolverton, they might recognize her voice. It would do nothing save prove that she had the means and ability to return to her husband and did not. It would also completely negate her statement that she did not know he had been blamed for her death.”
“It would cast suspicion on her… enough that, perhaps, he might be able to free himself of her,” Mary whispered.
“I will tell Benedict and then we will discuss this with Lord Wolverton—”
“No! I don’t want to give him false hope. And I don’t want him to feel… well, he and I have said our goodbyes, as it were. I’d rather not have him think that I am still working on ways to circumvent his marriage when there is no guarantee that it will even be effective. Let’s see what can be discovered first. I will wait for word at the King’s Head tomorrow evening if you need to reach me.”
“Are you certain you must leave, Mary? I think staying here and seeing this through might be for the best,” Elizabeth suggested gently.
“I cannot. If I stay, I will do something that I will regret, and that he will regret, as well. It is better for all of us if I go, at least for now,” Mary insisted. “First thing in the morning, you’ll start speaking to the chairmen?”
“Not even then. I’m going to send Benedict out to canvas the area and talk to them tonight. They should all be out and waiting for the mass exodus from the Assembly Rooms.” Elizabeth nodded, “Yes.
The sooner the better, I think. Sleep well, and if anything is discovered, I will wake you.”
Mary watched her leave and then settled back onto the pillows. There was very little for her to pack. The few gowns and possessions she’d had with her at Mrs. Simms were already safely folded into her valise. The borrowed gowns that had been Helena’s, well, she couldn’t stomach the thought of ever touching them again much less wearing them.
Closing her eyes, Mary willed sleep to come and her tears to stay at bay. She failed on both counts.
Chapter Seventeen
Albert Hamilton laughed, smiled and played the part of a gentleman as he made his way through the Assembly Rooms. It was slightly scandalous to have been in society so soon after the death of his uncle. His purpose in being there was twofold. First, he needed to put on a calm and collected facade for the world to witness. In short, he needed not to look like a murderer. Secondly, he needed to know what was being said about the murder itself. Society loved nothing better than gossip, after all, and the lot of them would be standing about, engaging in hysterics about how they might all be murdered in their beds. If only they knew that he was wandering amongst them at that very moment, he thought caustically.
He loathed the lot of them, and yet he needed to fit in, to blend in and be part of their world. To that end, he’d reached a very painful conclusion. He would have to untether himself from Helena’s desperate clutches. She’d sent the note round earlier informing him that she’d preemptively gone back to Wolverton because he’d shown up in Bath. It was a bloody nightmare. She should have waited until they could formulate a better plan; one that he could be sure would not incriminate him in anyway. In one regard, he and Helena would always be similar. They would each take care of themselves before anyone else. While he adored her, admired her willingness to dirty her hands and her complete lack of morality, and he certainly enjoyed her wanton and abandoned nature in the bedchamber, in the end, he would sacrifice her to save his own hide.
Rumors were rampant that evening. Lord Vale’s miraculous return and, now, Lady Wolverton’s dramatic escape from an unknown captor to return to the loving arms of her husband—those topics were on the lips of every man and woman present. From the oldest to the youngest, and even to the dull, staid companions lurking in plain dresses in the corners, they all whispered about them. She’d made a grave error in judgement in returning in such a public fashion. But then, she’d always enjoyed dramatics.
Making his way toward the doors, chatting casually with all those he passed, he made certain to give the appearance of a man with not a care in the world. Once he’d made it outside, he didn’t bother with a sedan chair. He intended to walk the short distance to the house in Royal Crescent. He would go through it room by room to be certain there was nothing there that could tie him to the place. A few well-placed coins and the servants would disappear, leaving the house dark and deserted and no one the wiser. At least the house was in Harrelson’s name. It would become Freddy’s misery.
Making his way along the street, he passed a blonde-haired man—a gentleman, obviously—speaking to a sedan chair driver. He paid them no more heed than that and continued on his way, oblivious to the fact that their conversation would incriminate him as well as his lover.
*
Benedict had been less than pleased to make his way out into the darkness in the wee hours of the night to question the men who carted Bath’s leading citizens about in sedan chairs. When Elizabeth had knocked upon his door, he had thought it would be for much more enjoyable activities than the one he currently found himself engaged in. He cursed under his breath as he made his way along the rows of sedans chairs lining the streets outside the Assembly Rooms. While many people utilized carriages, the sedan chairs were a far more convenient mode of transportation on the narrow, crowded streets. Those gathered for the evening’s entertainments would be emerging soon, seeking transportation home. To that end, he was running out of time to question the remaining operators of the many sedan chairs lining the street.
He had his doubts about whether or not that avenue of investigation would bear fruit, but he’d told her he would see to it and so he was. Approaching another of the chairmen, he said, “I’m looking for information.”
The chairman gave him a look that said information could be had, but only for a price. “Aye, sir, if I have it.”
“Have you transported a woman here in this area, today specifically, who wore a dark and heavy veil?”
“Oh, aye. Been transporting her about the city for nigh on a year now. Not every day, but every few days like, we’ll be fetched by one of her servants and will take her to the baths, or a shop. Sometimes we take her to an address near Avon Street, which is right odd for a lady of her standing… always at odd times though, when there’s fewer folks about.”
Benedict hadn’t expected to actually find the man. “Where do you fetch her from? What address?”
“She’s at Number 27 Royal Crescent,” the driver said.
Had it really been that easy? “What’s her name?”
“Don’t know it. She weren’t the kind to talk much and her servants always just summoned us to the address and never said who we’d be transporting. Didn’t give it much thought at the time, but I reckon it were right odd now that I think on it.”
Of course, his first estimation had been right. A woman hiding her identity and the fact that she still numbered amongst the living would have taken steps to conceal such details.
“What shops did you take her to?”
“We always set her down outside the Pump Room or at the end of Milson Street. But I reckon she came back with boxes from that fancy milliner’s shop there one day.”
“Bertrand’s?”
“Aye, sir, that one. I could take you to the house if you like.”
“No, thank you,” Benedict said. “The address in Avon Street… do you know who lives there?”
“A man… a gentleman from the looks of him, well turned out. But don’t know his name. Dark haired and tall, but—” The man broke off abruptly. “It was that gentleman what passed us a moment ago. I didn’t make the connection right off, but I’d say he’s headed home now. Or to one of the many taverns or bawdy houses near there! I could take you there.”
Benedict shook his head, but produced several coins from his pocket and passed them to the man. “You’ve been more than helpful. I may have to have a magistrate speak to you about this woman. Where can you be found?”
“I’m here most every night,” the man said. “Name is Jeb, sir.”
“Thank you, Jeb.”
Benedict left the row of chairmen and made his way back along Brock Street to the Circus. Mary and Elizabeth had been correct. While that didn’t surprise him, the ease with which he had discovered the man transporting Lady Wolverton around the city did shock him. It seemed to him that her decision to plunge back into Wolverton’s life must have been impulsive. Otherwise, Hamilton, or possibly Lady Wolverton herself, would have tidied up such loose ends. Harrelson’s death had left them scrambling and the subsequent confusion and lack of leadership had likely contributed to Hamilton’s actions in the death of Wolverton’s employee, Mr. Davies.
Returning to the house, he found Elizabeth waiting for him in the hall. “Well?”
Benedict removed his coat. “I found him. He confirmed that not only did he bring her by here today, but that he’s been transporting her over the entire city for the past year. And he’s always asked to fetch her from Royal Crescent. Later, when the streets are more deserted and I’m unlikely to be seen, I’ll go to that address and uncover what I can.”
“Take Wolverton with you,” Elizabeth suggested.
Benedict balked at that immediately. “Why on earth would I do that? I cannot abide the man.”
Elizabeth looked at him rather disapprovingly. “Because his life is hanging in the balance here… as is your sister’s future happiness,” she said softly. “You only dislike him because you know that
Mary has feelings for him. You’re being an utter hypocrite. You revile him for feeling about your sister the same way that you feel about me!”
“I love you. I don’t know that he loves her!” The protest was sharper than he’d intended for it to be and significantly louder.
She stepped closer to him, placing a staying hand on his arm. “Then perhaps taking Lord Wolverton with you would offer you an opportunity to assess his motives and his intentions. It might be just the thing to let you determine the character of the man your sister loves!”
Benedict struggled to find an argument for that. When he failed, he let out a sigh and replied, “Well played, my darling. Well played.”
Elizabeth leaned in, the scent of her perfume teasing his senses. Her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered, “Let us find a way to occupy your time until you are to embark upon your larcenous nighttime activities. It might even improve your mood.”
“You’re simply trying to distract me from my intense dislike of the man,” he complained.
“Is it working?” she asked with a smile.
“Of course, it is,” he admitted. “I’m helpless to resist you. You are a wicked woman, Elizabeth Masters.”
“Then let us go and be wicked together, Lord Vale,” she teased and danced away from him to the stairs.
Benedict followed her, eager to be alone with her and to show her precisely how wicked he was.
*
Helena watched the couple disappear up the stairs. She noted how they couldn’t stop touching one another, whispering sweetly in one another’s ear. A part of her envied Elizabeth Masters in that moment. What would it be like to savor such a tender touch? What would it be like to not be haunted by dark cravings and vicious moods that would always make her question the presence of love in her life? She was driven by a need to push others away, utterly convinced that they would abandon her regardless, and so she attacked them until they were left with no other choice but to do just that. Isn’t that how she wound up ensconced in the midst of the Vale townhouse, beset with suspicion and disbelief? She’d had no faith in Albie’s promise that it was only a temporary setback, and she’d done something reckless in response. Now, she was paying the price for it, or would soon enough.
The Mystery of Miss Mason (The Lost Lords Book 5) Page 19
