The Mystery of Miss Mason (The Lost Lords Book 5)

by Chasity Bowlin

  Her gaze drifted toward the couple again, as they paused to share a kiss at the top of the stairs. She both envied it and was revolted by it. Or perhaps, it was simply her nerves or her distaste for all of them that left her feeling on the verge of casting up her accounts. There was one undeniable fact in all of it, however. It was just as Albie had warned. Her own impulsiveness had sealed her fate. They would prove, without question, that her tale of abduction was a lie and then heaven knew what would happen. She’d be arrested for a fraud and hanged, or she’d have given Alexander precisely the ammunition he needed to see them divorced or annulled. She had rushed headlong with her plan which hadn’t been a plan at all. Now she was well and truly caught and there was no way out.

  A flood of emotions filled her. Anger, fear, resentment—above all resentment. It bubbled inside her, rising to the surface and creating a vicious need to lash out. She needed a place to direct her anger, a way to free herself from it even temporarily. But there was also a need to create the maximum amount of damage. All of the people in that house were contributing to her downfall. But there was one person, that if she hurt her, it would hurt everyone else. Mary Mason. It would break Alexander’s heart, as he had clearly fallen in love with the girl. It would destroy Lord Vale, who was so protective of the girl and had only just been reunited with her. And watching him suffer would inflict so much pain on Lady Vale and Elizabeth Masters that she couldn’t stop the wicked smile that curved her lips at the thought of it. As for Mr. Middlethorp, no doubt he’d feel responsible. That was his way, after all.

  But it wasn’t just that it would hurt the others. It was pettiness. Alexander was like a toy to her, one she had never wanted, until someone else did.

  “She will pay for this, and they will all pay with her,” Helena muttered. “Whatever happens to me, I will not allow that wretched creature to take what should have been mine.”

  With those whispered words, Helena eased back into the shadows and made her way to the study. If there was one thing she understood, it was men. And if there was a weapon to be had in the house, it would be that masculine domain.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex was awake and in misery. He didn’t want to let Mary leave, even if he knew it was the best possible course of action for them both. In just over a week, he’d grown not just accustomed to her presence, but dependent upon it. The intimacy they’d enjoyed at Wolfhaven, interrupted only occasionally by Mrs. Epson’s foul temper, had provided them greater time together than what he’d experienced with Helena in their courtship, and possibly even their marriage. He certainly knew Mary better than he’d ever known his wife. Even when she’d lied, when she’d hidden information from him about her brother and his suspected identity, he’d not questioned her integrity. There was a light in her, a goodness, that was impossible to deny and impossible to ignore. And he was going to lose it forever.

  Biting back a curse, Alex rose and stalked to the door. He’d confront Helena, demand a divorce and be done with it all. Money and scandal be damned. But as he yanked the door open, he found himself face to face with Lord Benedict Middlethorp, Viscount Vale.

  “Going somewhere?” Vale asked.

  “I had thought to have a confrontation with my wife and demand a divorce so that I might marry your sister,” Alex snapped.

  Vale arched one golden brow. “A rather ambitious undertaking for four in the morning… perhaps a bit of larceny, first?”

  Alex frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Elizabeth, my intended, and Mary, almost your intended, had a conversation earlier and realized that Helena had to have lied about seeing the carriage. She could not have recognized the coat of arms if she’d been looking at it from the upper floors where she was supposedly locked away. After some investigating on my part, at the behest of my betrothed, I stumbled upon a sedan chair porter who recognized my description of Lady Wolverton based on what Elizabeth saw today. He’s given me an address. And it’s only two streets over. In Royal Crescent.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Alex demanded.

  “For you to put on your boots,” Vale said, gesturing to Alex’s stockinged feet.

  Cursing under his breath yet again, Alex retreated into the chamber, donned his boots and his coat, ignoring his cravat and disheveled waistcoat. “I meant what I said. If there is any way possible to extricate myself from this, I mean to marry her.”

  Vale inclined his head. “And if you extricate yourself from this, and Mary consents, I will not attempt to stop you. Elizabeth insisted that your intentions or, at the very least, your affections, for my sister were genuine and honorable. It appears she was correct… again. I don’t mean to let her know that just yet, if you please. She gets rather insufferable about that sort of thing.”

  They said nothing further on the matter, but slipped quietly from the house and kept to the shadows as much as possible as they made their way to Royal Crescent. By mutual and unspoken agreement, they used the servants’ entrance. If Vale was surprised when Alex produced the same lock picking tools he’d used to gain entrance to Harrelson’s home, it was displayed by nothing more than an arched brow and a quirk of his lips that might have been a grin.

  Once inside, they moved quietly, making their way past the servants’ quarters and through the kitchens until they could take a narrow staircase, thankfully free of creaks, up to the ground floor. They moved silently down the corridor, past the dining room and toward the morning room just beyond it. There was a small writing desk in the corner. Lighting the single candle atop it, they went through the contents quickly, finding nothing of any import. It was all lists for the market and bills from the butcher. But it was Helena’s handwriting. Alex recognized it easily enough.

  Taking the main staircase, they bypassed the drawing room and music room on that floor and headed to the second instead and what would likely have been Helena’s chamber. As they neared it, the door opened. They ducked back into an alcove and waited. After a moment, Albert Hamilton appeared, carrying an armload of clothes and a heavily-stuffed valise. He stopped mid-stride as some of the items fell from his heavily-burdened arms to the carpet at his feet.

  Hamilton cursed as he stooped to gather the things, just as Alex stepped forward. “A rather hasty and furtive exit, Hamilton. But then, I’d expect little better from you.”

  Hamilton looked up, met his gaze, and the other man’s jaw steeled with anger. “What do you want, Wolverton?”

  “I want you and Helena to pay for ruining my life. Harrelson already has, it would seem,” Alex replied evenly. His tone was cold and sharp, his gaze steady and his fists clenched at his sides. “And then there’s the little matter of your involvement in the abduction scheme that proved so very lucrative for Harrelson and managed to harm someone I hold very dear.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied.

  “What about Davies? Do you recall him? About yay high,” Alex said, holding his hand up to chest height, “Skinny fellow. Rough spoken. You shoved a knife between his ribs, apparently.”

  Hamilton rose, but it wasn’t to face the accusations. Instead, he tossed the valise and ran. But he didn’t know that Vale was there, as well, still hidden in the shadows. The other man rushed forward, taking Hamilton to the ground easily.

  “A couple of those cravats should do nicely at tying him up,” Wolverton said, snatching a few from the floor and dropping them next to Vale.

  “We’ve no authority to arrest him. It’s abduction,” Vale pointed out.

  “You keep forgetting something… you are a lord. A peer of the realm. They won’t take you to prison for it,” Wolverton stated coldly. “I know that for certain.”

  Vale sighed, looped the neckcloth over Hamilton’s wrists and bound them tightly. When it was done, he hauled Albert up. “And now what do we do with him?”

  “We take him back with us and call that magistrate, Hillyard, to come and interrogate him,” Wolverton said, pausing to pick up th
e valise. “He would not have come here in the dark of night to collect his things if there was not something in them that could incriminate him.”

  “Go to hell,” Hamilton said. And jerking his head toward Vale, he added, “And take this gutter-raised bastard with you!”

  Vale only laughed at that. “We’ll meet you there, then!”

  The three of them left, Vale holding on to Hamilton primarily because Alex didn’t trust himself not to strangle the bastard. Looking at him made his stomach turn as he thought of all the misery that had been wrought on so many, himself included, thanks to Hamilton’s and Helena’s self-serving greed.

  It was nearing dawn as they reached the Vale townhouse once more. The servants were beginning to stir, heating water for washing and beginning the preparations for breakfast. Once inside the house, they passed maids and footmen going about their morning routines. All of them appeared utterly confounded to have the rest of the household up and about at such an ungodly hour. Of course, it likely didn’t help that they were bringing a prisoner with them.

  To one of the footman, Vale directed, “Go and fetch Magistrate Hillyard. We have need of him.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the servant replied and dashed off immediately.

  Ushering Hamilton, who was sullen and recalcitrant, toward the library, they found Middlethorp awaiting them there. “I see the two of you have put aside your differences… for the moment at least. I take it this is the erstwhile Albert Hamilton?”

  “It is,” Alex confirmed. “We went to investigate the house that the sedan chair porter had identified as Helena’s and found him attempting to flee into the night with his things.”

  Middlethorp nodded. “I see. Hamilton, this is your only chance to tell us everything. If you do not, and the magistrate takes you, I will do everything in my considerable power to see you punished to the full extent of the law. In case you are confused, that does mean seeing you hanged… and Lady Wolverton, as well. If you have any honor at all, you will speak now.”

  “You think I’ll take the blame and let her walk away from all this?” Hamilton laughed. “She’s not a hapless victim. Who do you think bludgeoned that poor maid that was discovered next to Wolverton’s falling down chapel? It wasn’t me. And Harrelson would never have killed a woman that he could sell for a profit!”

  Middlethorp frowned. “Have a pair of footmen fetch her down, willingly or otherwise. I’d rather not have to relay the accusations they will make against one another. It’s better to confront them together.”

  Dropping Hamilton unceremoniously onto his rump in one of the chairs, Benedict rang the bell pull and when the butler arrived, issued the appropriate instructions. Watching it all, Alex considered the possibilities. Would they grant him a divorce? Adultery was clearly grounds, but framing him for a murder that didn’t happen would surely sway both the church and the court to his cause, would it not?

  *

  Mary handed her small bag to the coachman. She was making free of Lord Ambrose’s carriage to get her as far as the King’s Head and would then take the mail coach the rest of the way to London. The maid had retreated to the kitchen to fetch some food and provisions for the journey as the cook had insisted they not eat any of the filth served at coaching inns.

  As she stepped into the darkened interior of the carriage, helped up by a footman, a sensation of foreboding filled her. The shades of the carriage were drawn so that no light penetrated it, but she did not need it to know, instantly, that she was not alone.

  “Do not make a sound or I will shoot you right where you stand.”

  The voice belonged to Helena, yet it was devoid of the dramatics and hysterics of the prior evening. Instead, it was cold and calculating. There was no feeling in her voice at all, and that was all the assurance Mary needed that the woman meant precisely that. She considered, briefly, simply falling backwards out the door and hoping for the best. But the paving stones, carriage wheels and horses’ hooves were just as deadly, if not more so, than the pistol that Helena had trained on her. It glinted in the dim light, the barrel aimed directly at her.

  Uncertain if her actions were born of cowardice or wisdom, Mary eased deeper into the carriage and settled onto the seat. Mary was careful to arrange her skirts so she wouldn’t trip on them if she had a chance to overpower the other woman or make her escape. Though given that Helena was considerably taller and likely outweighed her by a stone at least, the possibility seemed rather remote.

  “What is it that you want of me?” Mary asked softly, after the door had shut behind her.

  “My name is Lady Wolverton… I realize my husband now fancies himself in love with you, but he is still my husband and you will show me the respect due my position.”

  Mary gritted her teeth. “Very well. What is it that you want of me, Lady Wolverton?”

  After a moment of tense silence, she gestured with the pistol. “Knock on the ceiling and urge the driver on. We haven’t all day to sit here.”

  Reluctantly, Mary did as she’d been told and the carriage lurched forward, the wheels rumbling over the cobbled street.

  Across the expanse of the carriage, the other woman smiled, her teeth gleaming in the dimness like those of a predator. “That’s better. It’s always good to know one’s place, I think. And you, outside your rather weak connection to Lord Vale, are nothing more than a gutter-born trollop.”

  Mary refused to be baited by her. “I asked what you wanted of me. I did not ask for your opinion of me. I am to assume that there is some reason you have concealed yourself within this carriage as I use it to leave the city. Is that it? Safe passage out of Bath?”

  “Oh, no, my dear. If that was all I wanted it would have been easy enough to arrange,” Helena replied drolly. “No. I want something much more unique to our particular situation. You see, I hate my husband. Loathe him, really. And despite his unimpeachable honor, he is rather hopelessly and obviously besotted with you!”

  “And I am leaving, so I fail to see what that has to do with anything!” Mary snapped.

  Helena laughed. “Well, let me put it in terms you might understand. I want to cause him pain. To see him suffer unimaginably, I must take everything from him. And I tried that. We managed to take his wealth, his land, his reputation—and then he found you. There is finally something he cannot live without. You see, when I kill you, and I shall, it will finally break him!”

  The woman was utterly unhinged. “You are mad. Completely mad.”

  “Perhaps. But I have killed before. After all, there had to be a body for poor, dear Alexander to find on his property, didn’t there? We’ll get far enough out of town that I can put a pistol ball right between your pretty, brown eyes… then the other gun I have tucked in beside me will see an end to the coachman. Then I’ll drive myself on to London, throw myself on the mercy of my relatives. While I’m not overly keen on the idea of going to America, there are certainly wealthy enough men to be had there.”

  In the other woman’s mad ramblings, Mary seized upon one fact. There was another gun. If she could manage to get Helena to fire wildly, and miss her, then she might have a chance. It was the only way, but the risk was great. Mary desperately did not want to die. The guilt of it would destroy all of those she loved, both Benedict and Lord Wolverton. Alexander. If she was going to risk her life to spare his conscience, then she would not stand on that ridiculous formality that she’d used to maintain distance between them. Had he not kissed her passionately? Had he not told her how much he cared for her and that it was she whom he wished to be with? And if it were not for the wicked, evil woman seated across from her—a woman whose only pursuits in life were to inflict pain and misery upon others—they might have found their happiness together.

  “You will never get away with this,” Mary insisted. “I would think that Wolverton would avenge me. And even if he should fail to do so, you cannot think that my brother would not! Benedict will hunt you to the ends of the earth!”

  Helena laughe
d bitterly. “You are such a naïve, little fool! Wolverton may. Out of some misguided sense of honor, he may, in fact, feel the need to see me brought to justice! But your brother… no, my dear. Men who are in love are led around by their cocks. And Miss Elizabeth Masters has your brother’s firmly in hand. He’ll look for me for a bit. And then he will grow lonely and miss her, and then you will be a distant memory—nothing more than a sad and fleeting thought that crosses his mind from time to time. Tell me, did you fuck my husband?”

  The words were not unknown to her. She’d heard such foulness from their parents when she was younger. But it had been years. Benedict had worked so very hard to shield her from such ugliness. It was unfathomable to her that a woman such as Helena, who’d been born and raised into polite society, would actively engage in and seek such ugliness for herself. “Now who sounds like a gutter-born trollop?” Mary asked, unable to keep the scorn from her voice.

  Helena smiled then. “Well, clearly, you’re nothing but a little prude. No doubt, Alexander was a perfect gentleman and you were a perfectly behaved, shriveled spinster. How delightfully boring you all are. It’s a pity, really! You’re perfect for one another.”

  “Why do you hate him so? He’s an honorable man who made every effort to be a good and faithful husband. What is there to despise in that?”

  Helena cocked her head to the side. “Because he saw me. He was not blinded by my beauty. He was not swept away with the need to possess me. He looked at me and thought that I was… acceptable. And when he thought me dead, he simply went on with his life. Had it not been for the lack of money, he would have married some other woman and forgotten me entirely! That is unforgivable, Miss Mason. Whether I desired him or not, he was supposed to want me… he was supposed to crave me and worship me above all others. But I don’t suppose a mouse like you could ever understand that.”