Devil in My Arms: A Loveswept Historical Romance (The Saint's Devils)

by Samantha Kane

  “And when they go looking for information about Elizabeth and there’s none to be found?” Julianna argued back. They both seemed to have forgotten she was in the room. “They’ll be suspicious. We should have had Hil create a history for her. He could do it. We can still ask him to.”

  “How does one go about doing something like that?” Roger asked. “Even if he could do it, and I don’t know if he can, it can’t be done in time and I couldn’t be a part of it, not if I want to continue to practice the law.”

  “We’ll just have to brazen it out, then,” said Alasdair. “Say all her records were destroyed in a fire. We can find a fire somewhere, can’t we?”

  Eleanor just sat there, slumped in a chair and picking at the finger on her glove. It was stained red. Roger had told her she’d made Enderby’s nose bleed when she’d punched him. Good.

  They’d all been living in a fantasy world to think this deception would work. She had to run again, before Enderby showed up with the authorities. She wasn’t going to tell Roger and Harry. They’d be questioned. She didn’t want to force them to lie again. They were quite bad at it.

  “Should we bring her to Sir Hilary’s?” Harry asked tearfully. “Or send for him?”

  “No,” Roger said firmly. “It wouldn’t do for her to be found at Hil’s if they come looking. And I’m not sure he’s at home. Wiley said something about another inquiry. I’ll send him a note first thing in the morning.” He sighed and rubbed his head wearily. “We dismissed the guards too soon. I thought you were safe. I failed you. I’m sorry, Eleanor.”

  “I’m exhausted,” she said suddenly, standing. The room came to a standstill, everyone staring at her. She forced a smile. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.” She kissed Harry’s cheek and patted Roger’s arm as she walked past. “Don’t worry,” she said to no one in particular. “It will be fine.”

  “That’s right,” Roger told her. “You go to bed. Nothing will happen before the morning. I’ll refuse to release you to Enderby without due process. If he had the paperwork, he wouldn’t have tried to snatch you at the opera, would he? We’ll go see Hil tomorrow. He’ll have some ideas, too. He certainly has contacts that can help. Then I’ll track down a magistrate or two and I’ll get an order remanding you into my custody until this can be sorted. Then we’ll bring charges of abuse and endangerment. He won’t win this time.”

  She said nothing, just smiled vaguely as she left. She climbed the stairs slowly. She was beaten and she knew it. Enderby had already won. Her new life here was ruined. She wouldn’t let him drag Harry and Roger down with her, which would certainly be the case if there was a nasty trial and she was exposed as an adulteress, and they her accomplices. Regardless of the facts, that is how society would paint her. She had to gather a few items, and then when the house was quiet, she’d slip out. But before she left London she was going to see Hilary one last time.

  * * *

  A knock on the front door awakened Hil. It was a furtive knock, if you could say such a thing about knocks. He sat up, rubbing his face vigorously. He was surprised that he’d fallen asleep. But he’d been so damn tired after being out with Wiley all day, tracking down some leads on a new investigation, another missing-person case the police had not been able to solve. Sleep had come hard the last week. He’d tried drinking to forget Eleanor, but that only made Wiley’s frowns and disgust harder to bear. Then he’d tried working. He’d finished building the ten feet of wall. By himself. It had been exhausting. He’d paced, he’d argued with himself, he’d rationalized—which he was very good at, normally—all to no avail. He still wanted her desperately.

  “Who is it, damn it?” he called out, not even sure the footman downstairs could hear him. There was a hushed conversation that he couldn’t hear properly. He threw off the covers and stomped to the door, grabbing his abused banyan from off the floor. He pulled it on and was buttoning it as he opened the door and stomped over to the steps. “It’s the middle of the night,” he groused.

  “I’m sorry I’ve woken you, Hilary.” Her voice floated up to him and he caught his breath. “I seem to make a habit of it, don’t I?”

  “Eleanor,” he breathed out. He took the stairs down two at a time, and she met him at the bottom. He didn’t say a thing, just yanked her into his arms. “Have you been doing more of that blasted thinking?” he asked gruffly. “It took you a week to show up.”

  He kissed her cheek and then began to kiss her entire face. “I’m sorry,” he said between kisses. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He stopped for a moment, holding her face between his hands, staring into her beautiful eyes. “I don’t say that very often. However, I will say it to you whenever it applies. I swear it.”

  “Oh, Hilary,” she said. She cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry. What a great fool I am. I don’t care anything about your secrets. Keep them. I was running scared. I still am.”

  He wrapped her in his arms just to feel her heart beat against his. “So am I,” he admitted. “This business is all new to me.”

  “Yes,” she said, “me, too.” She broke away and paced over to the wall and then spun to face him. He saw then that she wore boys’ clothing. His heartbeat tripped.

  “How did you get here?” he asked, worry furrowing his brow. He hadn’t sent a carriage.

  “I walked,” she said. “It took me awhile.”

  “Walked?” he practically yelled. “Even in those clothes you were ripe picking for any ruffian looking for trouble. How long is ‘awhile’?”

  “Hours, actually,” she said, worrying her upper lip. “I had to take a roundabout way.”

  “Why?” The hair on his nape was standing. That always happened when trouble was coming.

  “He’s here.” She sounded frightened. Rushed. He took a moment to assess her. He’d been so glad she’d finally come he hadn’t truly looked at her. Not only was she wearing boys’ clothing, there was a small satchel by the door.

  “Who is here?” he asked, though he knew the answer. He was already frantically trying to think. What could they do? Where could they go? He didn’t have enough to ruin him yet, to steal Eleanor away.

  “Enderby. He tried to grab me at the opera, but I fought him off and ran. Roger chased him away and brought me home, but it isn’t over. He wants me back.”

  “Well, he can’t have you,” Hil said immediately. “You’re not his.”

  Her laugh was full of despair. “According to the laws of England I am.” She shook her head, bewilderment written clearly on her face. “I don’t know why he wants me back. He’s got a new wife, a child on the way. Does he think I will ruin that for him? I don’t understand. But he was adamant. He was … frightening. Perhaps he means to kill me this time.”

  “Damn it, why didn’t you send word to me sooner? I would have come to get you. We’ll go away.” Hil grabbed her arm and started to drag her to the stairs. “I’ll just pack a few things and we’ll leave. We’ll go to America. I have it all planned out.” Damn it, he’d known Roger had dismissed the guards. But like Roger, he’d thought she was safe. It had been so long. And he almost had enough to ruin Enderby without dragging Eleanor into it. So close. He would have done it, too, if he weren’t fleeing the country.

  “Hilary!” she cried, trying to pull her arm away. “You can’t. You know you can’t. I have to go alone.”

  “I can, I will, and I shall,” he said firmly. “There is nothing holding me here.”

  “Someday you will regret it,” she pleaded. “You have a full life here that you would miss. I don’t want to be the cause of that. And I have no idea where I’m going, or how far I will have to run. You have to let me go.”

  “Eleanor,” he said, pulling her in and grasping at her—there was no other word for it. His mind was racing. He’d never really thought this could happen, that he actually risked losing Eleanor to her brutish husband. Logic had convinced him it wouldn’t. But logic did not apply here, it would seem. Passion ruled them all.

&nb
sp; Enderby had to die. Wiley knew people who could make that happen. Hil knew some, as well. But if he let someone else do it, he left it to chance that it would be done right.

  He had to do it.

  First he had to convince her to stay. “I don’t think I have a life without you. I tried that this past week. It did not go well.”

  “You are perilously close to a declaration,” she whispered into his neck, her arms wrapped around him.

  “Yes, yes I am,” he said. He was going to say more, but the sound of horses outside caught their attention. They broke apart quickly. “Hide,” he told her. “Go up to my room.”

  “You’ll be charged with kidnapping or worse,” she cried out in distress. “I’m going out the back.”

  “What’s going on?” Wiley demanded from the top of the staircase. “Why does she need to hide?” He took the stairs down two at a time. “I’ll take her out the back.” He wasn’t dressed. He had on only a pair of pants, and his feet were bare.

  A pounding came at the door. “Open up!” a familiar voice called. “Inspector Vickery here to see Sir Hilary!”

  “It’s just Vickery,” Hil said, relief coursing through his veins. “He’s an old acquaintance. He must need help with a case. He wouldn’t be investigating a runaway wife.” Vickery only handled important cases that carried a hefty reward, such as murder or embezzlement.

  “Don’t!” Eleanor cried out, but Hil opened the door in spite of her protest. Wiley planted himself in front of Eleanor, his feet wide and his arms crossed. He glared at Hil and at the Bow Street runner standing there with several other officers.

  “Vickery,” Hil said congenially. He scanned the walk behind the officers and saw no sign of a stranger. As he’d thought, Enderby wasn’t with them. “This is a bad time, I’m afraid. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  Vickery peered around him to look at Eleanor. She was now pressed against the back wall watching them, her eyes wide in her pale face. “Mrs. Fairchild?”

  Her gaze darted to Hil before answering. “Yes.”

  “How the devil do you know her name?” Hil asked, alarmed.

  “She’s why we’re here,” Vickery said. He gently pushed Hil out of his way. “I’m afraid we have to take you in, Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “Like hell,” Wiley growled, stepping in front of her again.

  Suddenly a very disheveled Roger was trying to push past the other officers. “Don’t say another word, Mrs. Fairchild,” he shouted.

  “What for?” Hil confronted Vickery angrily. “He has no right to take her.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Vickery asked smoothly, pinning Hil with a speculative gaze. Hil said nothing. He’d said too much already.

  “I won’t go back,” Eleanor shouted. “He has no right. He’s not my—”

  “Elizabeth!” Roger yelled. “Be quiet!” He was being kept out by two burly officers and he was straining against their hold.

  “What is going on?” Hil demanded with a suffocating sense of foreboding. Roger had used her assumed name, not her real one. So had Vickery. He backed up and put his arms around Eleanor.

  “You’re under arrest, Mrs. Fairchild,” Vickery continued, “for the murder of Mr. Jacob Enderby.”

  Eleanor fainted dead away in Hil’s arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “No, I did not leave my house last night,” Hil repeated. “And I did not sneak out to wherever Enderby was holed up and kill him. Satisfied?”

  He sat in a small room with Inspector Vickery at Bow Street. The room was stark in its simplicity. A table and several chairs, a boarded window, and a small fireplace were the only items in the room, he and Vickery the only occupants. It smelled of sweat, beeswax, leather, and desperation. Vickery was a big man, filling more than his fair share of the tiny room, but he was not a bully. He was a good inspector who did his job without calling attention to himself.

  “Yes, actually,” Vickery said, laying down his pen. “Got the same story from your servants. And no sight of you around Enderby’s rented rooms.”

  Hil leaned forward. “Where was he staying?”

  “The Bull and Mouth, on Ludgate Hill.” Vickery sat and let him digest that information, watching him carefully. “Why do you suppose he chose a coaching inn and not a hotel?” he asked at last. “Had the blunt for a hotel.”

  “I don’t know,” Hil said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Vickery huffed out an annoyed breath. “Going to be like that, is it? Not going to give us a thing on this one, I see.”

  “I’ve nothing to give you,” Hil told him, keeping his voice and his face neutral.

  “How about what the connection is between your light o’ love, Mrs. Fairchild, and her dead cousin’s husband?” Vickery said with a wag of his bushy, graying brows.

  Hil counted to ten, refusing to take the bait. Vickery was deliberately trying to anger him and he was not going to play that game. “Obviously they were distantly related through marriage,” Hil offered mildly.

  Vickery sighed. “Obviously.” He tapped his fingers on the table between them. “Heard there was an altercation at the opera tonight.”

  “Was there?” He must mean when Enderby tried to grab Eleanor. “I wasn’t in attendance.”

  “Why?” Vickery sat back and crossed his arms. “I understand that you and Mrs. Fairchild have been damn near inseparable the last few weeks. And then all of a sudden you both disappear, and then she shows up at the opera, without you. Lovers’ quarrel?”

  “Nonsense,” Hil said, trying to keep his chess piece ahead of Vickery’s. “Because of rampant speculation, including unflattering pieces in the so-called newssheets, we decided it would be better if we were more circumspect in our affair.”

  “You admit you were having an affair with her?” Vickery asked, leaning forward.

  “Of course,” Hil said. “Why would I deny it? The lady and I have an understanding.” Of what kind he still wasn’t sure, but there was something between them.

  “What kind of understanding?”

  Hil mentally cursed. Of course he’d ask the one thing he didn’t have an answer for. “The kind between a gentleman and a lady who are not married and yet enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Bedding her, were you?” Vickery asked with a lascivious grin. “Bet the others that you were.”

  “I do not think I like the idea of my intimate relations being the subject of betting between you and your associates,” Hil said, letting some of his anger show.

  Vickery paled. “Wasn’t an actual bet,” he muttered.

  “Too bad,” Hil said. “I would have liked to take the money and then beat you into a bloody pulp. Do not forget that Mrs. Fairchild is a lady, and will be treated as such. She did not perpetrate this crime, and I will certainly have a thing or two to say to the magistrate about her detention and your behavior.”

  “Well now, you go right ahead, Sir Hilary,” Vickery said. “I’ve got no qualms about either. I had good reason to arrest Mrs. Fairchild.”

  “I am interested to know what those reasons are.” Hil gave him an imperious stare, but Vickery was not cowed.

  “I’m sure you would,” he said, and they were at a stalemate.

  It was Hil’s turn to tap his fingers on the table as he and Vickery stared at one another. Hil blinked first. “She was with me all night.”

  “Aw, now, Sir Hilary, don’t be trying that sort of stuff on me. We’re both too good for that.”

  “Fine,” he relented. “I believe he was staying at the coaching inn in order to spirit Mrs. Fairchild away in the most expedient fashion.”

  “Do you, now,” Vickery said. “That was my conclusion as well. The question is why? What do you know about him?”

  Hil shook his head. “I have no idea why,” he answered honestly. Truly he had no idea what Enderby had been thinking. Taking Eleanor would have accomplished nothing. Enderby had the most to lose should her living state be discovered. The question he should be asking is, who had the
most to gain? “Nor do I know much about him other than that he was married to Eleanor Enderby. I believe he recently remarried, or so Mrs. Templeton told me.”

  “Did he? Well, all right,” Vickery said with a smile. Hil was not fooled. He’d been on the other side of the interrogation table too many times. “Now we’re getting somewhere. How about this one? Why was Mrs. Fairchild at your house tonight?”

  “For the most obvious reason,” Hil answered. “After all, I have already admitted we are having an affair. She has often snuck over to my house at night, dressed as a boy.”

  “According to your servants, she only did that once. After that, you sent the carriage for her.”

  Hil sighed as if forced to confess something he’d rather not. “Fine. It’s true that we fought last week. This was her way of making up. She chose to sneak over to my house in the same fashion she did the first time we were together.” He hated having to paint Eleanor and what they’d shared in such a light, as if she were a lady of loose morals.

  “Do you think she and Enderby fought as well? Perhaps they were having an affair, too. Wouldn’t be the first time a trusted relative slipped in between a man and wife. Maybe Enderby came to drag her back because that’s what she wanted. Or had in the past. Only this time she had you on the line, a much bigger fish. Maybe she killed Enderby because she didn’t want you to know that about her.”

  Hil was utterly taken aback at the direction the interrogation was going. “Of course not! Mrs. Fairchild would never stoop to bedding her cousin’s husband. Who, might I remind you, has remarried someone else. She is not that kind of woman. And certainly not the kind of woman who will turn murderess to hold onto a man, any man, including me.”

  “The man is always the last to know,” Vickery said sadly. “Don’t feel bad that she duped you, Sir Hilary. It happens to the best of us.”

  “Mrs. Fairchild is innocent,” Hil insisted. “Why won’t you believe me now, when you routinely seek my counsel and advice on cases such as this?”