The Sinful Scot (Saints & Scoundrels)

by Maddison Michaels

  Hammond looked slightly perturbed. “I’m not certain, but when I asked her if anything unusual occurred yesterday, she mentioned two things.” The young constable glanced briefly over at the assistant coroner, who was still busily inspecting the body, then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You remember the telegraph we received from Inspector Johnson late yesterday?”

  “Aye, what about it?” The lad was referring to the information the inspector had sent through, advising them that the Duchess of Kilmaine had escaped from Castle Kilmaine and was possibly headed for Inverness. Though what that had to do with the doctor’s murder, Jarrod had no clue.

  The lad was silent for a minute. “Well, you see, sir, when the lady started telling me about Doctor Howlett’s day yesterday, she began describing his three last visitors for the afternoon.”

  Jarrod waited for Hammond to continue, but for some reason the lad’s eyes had wandered over to the bloodied body, which was now being turned over by Doctor Latham as part of his on-scene examination. Though it wasn’t the first dead body the boy had seen, it was the first truly gruesome one. “Come on, lad, don’t keep me in suspense.” Best to try to divert Hammond’s attention back to the matter at hand rather than the grisly sight of death.

  Hammond shook himself before returning his gaze to Jarrod. “Sorry, Sergeant. Um, yes, well, the description of one of the visitors was rather specific.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket. It was one of the sketches of Duchess of Kilmaine that Jarrod had had a lad at the station draw up last night to distribute to the constables this morning, with which to keep a look out for her. She was a beauty, that was for sure.

  “I showed this here drawing to the receptionist a moment ago, and she said that was one of the visitors the doctor had yesterday afternoon.”

  Jarrod’s body went on alert. The duchess had visited Dr. Howlett only hours before he was killed? And the woman herself was potentially a murderer who had stabbed her husband to death. “Who were the other two visitors, then?”

  With a shrug, the lad shook his head. “Apparently there was a man with her who was extremely tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome—her words, not mine.”

  “And what about the third?”

  “That’s the thing, sir. Apparently about an hour after the duchess and the mysterious man visited the doctor, Lord Fergus Campbell demanded an audience with Dr. Howlett.”

  “Oh blimey.” This murder investigation was potentially going to turn into a very messy situation, both politically and socially, and Jarrod did not like investigating matters that involved either of those two aspects. Made things darn complicated. “I think we’d best get word to Inspector Johnson immediately. I daresay if he hasn’t already left Castle Kilmaine, he’ll be wanting to do so and head to Inverness quick smart.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And get that sketch to the printing press. Tell him we need a hundred copies urgently.”

  “A hundred copies, sir?”

  “Aye. And once you’ve got them, get ten men to plaster them across the city.” He wasn’t going to be the one responsible for letting a possible murder suspect escape Inverness, especially with another murder victim lying in front of him.

  Jarrod didn’t know if the duchess had anything to do with the doctor’s death or not, but the fact that she’d seen him only hours before and that she was suspected of stabbing her own husband only days prior, was too great a coincidence to ignore.

  Before nightfall, the whole city would know that the Duchess of Kilmaine was wanted for murder.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  After a somewhat awkward breakfast, Connie and Alec were heading toward the Hellfire and Hound Club to hopefully speak with the apothecary Mr. Trenton. Alec had made some inquiries earlier that morning and confirmed that Trenton always breakfasted at the club between nine and ten.

  How Connie was supposed to be accepted into the premises, she didn’t know, but Alec seemed to have a plan. When did he not?

  “I don’t have any servant’s clothes with me to wear—you do understand that, don’t you?” she asked him.

  There was a rather quizzical look in his eyes as he glanced at her sideways, before comprehension dawned. “Ah yes… You’ll be glad to know you have no need of a servant’s costume.”

  “I don’t? How am I going to get in, then?” She had to increase her pace to stay abreast of him as they hurried down the laneway that intersected with the main street on which the club’s entrance was located. But instead of heading straight, Alec abruptly turned to the left, walking down a small laneway that seemed to be running parallel to the main street.

  “I have arranged for a note to be given to him, asking him to meet us in one of the private rooms.” He paused at the back gateway of what was presumably the club and pulled out his pocket watch. “Which should be handed to him very shortly.”

  “How on earth did you arrange such a thing, and when?” Connie asked.

  “I popped downstairs when you were sleeping this morning and asked Malcom to arrange it.”

  “Malcolm was at the inn again? Did he find out any new information?”

  Alec hesitated. “The apothecary store was locked up tight when he went last night, so he’s been unable to speak to the assistant there. However, he did find out something about the men who attacked us.”

  “He knows who they are?”

  “Not exactly.” Alec seemed to be considering his words. “However, a telegraph arrived in Inverness yesterday morning, shortly after breakfast, posting a reward for our capture.”

  “But we hadn’t even arrived in Inverness then.” The new information was thoroughly confusing. “No one really even knew we were heading here at that stage.”

  “Lady Lorelie and Angus MacKinnon did.” Alec’s eyes were dark and filled with suspicion.

  “They would not betray me.” Connie was very certain of that.

  “Well, someone certainly seems to be,” Alec said, pulling open the gate and gesturing her into the back courtyard.

  Connie swept past him, noting the area was absent of servants, though they were all probably inside attending to their duties. “How did Malcolm arrange for us to chat with the apothecary here?”

  “The McGuiness name is well respected in the Highlands.”

  Connie arched a brow at him. “Feared, don’t you mean?”

  “Aye, that, too.” He winked at her, and her traitorous heart did a somersault. That silly organ of hers was so susceptible to that darned wink of his.

  Then, when Alec took ahold of her elbow and brushed his thumb against the material of her dress for a mere moment before releasing his grip, it felt like a percussion band was beating in her chest. His touch had the ability to render her speechless, it seemed.

  “The manager, Mr. Sampson, should be waiting for us,” he said.

  And just as Alec said, the man was indeed waiting for them at the back entrance. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit and made no comment as to their somewhat travel-worn clothing, though she could see the man’s eyes keenly observing everything. His brown hair had been combed back into a slick part, and he bowed deferentially to Alec.

  “My lord, it is a pleasure,” Mr. Sampson enthused before straightening and motioning them into the dimly lit back hall. He seemed to prefer not to comment on a lady being present and entering what was clearly a very masculine domain.

  While he and Alec exchanged a few pleasantries, Connie couldn’t help but glance around, even though there was not much to see along the back corridor. They climbed a set of stairs to the first level and walked down a hallway similar to the one downstairs, though this had several wooden paneled doors situated every so often along the corridor, all of which were firmly closed, and she couldn’t hear a peep coming from any of them, though she did try.

  “They’re soundproofed,” Mr. Sampson said,
obviously having seen her inclining her ears toward the doors. He smiled. “Normally we do not let ladies into the establishment…” There was a congenial tone in his voice, but rather than set Connie at ease, as she was sure had been his intention, instead it set her on edge. “But for special families, exceptions can always be made. And I can certainly see why you would specifically wish to bring the lady,” the manager said to Alec. “She is exquisite. None of our ladies, exceptional though they are, could match.”

  For a moment, Connie wasn’t exactly certain what the man was talking about. But then awareness hit her, and she didn’t know whether to be somewhat flattered or highly insulted. Insulted won.

  The manager obviously didn’t know who she was, or he wouldn’t have dared to say such a thing in the first place. Though it was probably fortuitous he didn’t know her identity and instead thought her a lady of the night.

  Mr. Sampson stopped in front of a door and twisted the handle before pushing it open and ushering them over the threshold. “This is one of our more requested suites,” he advised. “You will note the mirrors above the bed, which are a very popular feature.”

  Stopping partway in the room, Connie saw the massive four-poster bed dominating the center of the room and the ceiling mirrors the man was referring to. Good Lord, the room was ostentatious, with velvet drapes and gold brocade furniture throughout, and each and every wall was peppered with artwork of naked women and men fornicating. Suddenly, she had a very good idea of exactly what the room was used for.

  She felt a blush rise on her cheeks, as swift and as bright as an early sunset. Oh, Good Lord. The club was a pleasure palace.

  “I will ensure Mr. Trenton attends forthwith, and then you can all commence with your fun and games.” The man smiled slyly at Connie before once again bowing to Alec and then turning on his heel and leaving the room. The door closed softly behind him.

  “Is this really what I think it is?” she asked Alec, her eyes flickering between the bed and the paintings. She’d never been in such a place before, and surprisingly she was keen to actually see the main areas of the club and not simply the rooms the patrons obviously made great use of. “Some sort of pleasure palace?”

  Alec chuckled. “A rather apt name to describe the place.”

  “And Duncan was a patron here?”

  Alec nodded before he walked over to her. “I’m sorry you’ve had to be exposed to this more degenerate part of his life.”

  She drew in a swift breath at his nearness and was engulfed in his deliciously wonderful scent. A simple combination of just soap and Alec, but a scent she could inhale all day and never tire of. “The fact that he was rather more of a bastard than even I suspected is not all that shocking to me.”

  “I still don’t like you being hurt from finding out things about him.” There was an intensity in his gaze that sent a raw hunger twisting inside her, almost begging to be fed.

  “He’s already hurt me too much to do so anymore,” Connie replied. She broke her gaze away from his, unable to stand the close scrutiny as his eyes penetrated deeper into her soul. “What does Mr. Trenton think he’s meeting us in here for?” It was a feeble attempt to change the subject, she knew, but she had to do something. “Not what that manager thinks we’ll be doing, I hope?”

  Alec laughed softly. “No, nothing of that nature, I can assure you.”

  “Then how are you getting him to meet us here?”

  “I threatened to go to the authorities, implicating him as potentially being involved with the duke’s death, if he did not meet us.”

  Yes, Connie supposed that would work. Any hint of scandal or disrepute against the apothecary would ensure all his society clients dropped him like a basket of hot coals. Which would mean a loss of income and was something, in these harsh financial times, she suspected the man could ill afford to lose.

  Almost on cue, there was a knock at the door.

  Alec strode across and peered through the peephole. He opened the door and there, standing at the entrance, was a tall and rather gaunt man, who appeared to be in his early fifties, with thinning gray hair and what was obviously a very nervous disposition, if the slight shake of his hands was anything to go by.

  “Do come in, Mr. Trenton.” Alec’s deep voice reverberated around the space, causing the man to jolt slightly before hastily crossing the threshold and coming to stand awkwardly a few steps inside the room.

  Alec closed the door behind him, and the man spun around to face him.

  “I had nothing to do with the duke’s death,” he blurted out. His voice was rather pinched and full of nerves. “I promise you that.”

  Alec said nothing but continued to watch him like a hawk.

  Connie had to admit, Alec staring steadily at the man, without expression, was in itself very daunting, and she could understand the man’s increased nervousness as he started to fiddle with his cravat. Alec was extremely intimidating when he had that look of no nonsense fixed firmly upon his face, and combined with his brawn, he truly was a man to be reckoned with. Mr. Trenton was sensible to be afraid.

  “I didn’t sell a sedative to Fergus Campbell,” Mr. Trenton implored. “I would have recognized him if I had.”

  “How do you know Fergus Campbell?” Alec asked. “I was led to believe he is not a member of this club, nor do you go about in any of the same social circles.”

  “Well, I don’t know him personally,” Mr. Trenton was quick to point out. “But he’s had to come here many times on account of his brother.”

  “Why?” Alec’s word was like a bullet.

  “Who knows?” Trenton implored, raising his hands to the sides. “But there were whispers that it was to clean up the duke’s messes. The duke apparently liked it rough with his ladies and, I hear, would sometimes get carried away.”

  Truer words have never been said, Connie thought darkly.

  “You’d best talk to the manager about that, though,” Trenton continued. “I don’t know anything beyond the rumors that swirled about the club afterward.”

  “Then why was it that a remedy you yourself made for Lord Fergus was used to murder his brother?”

  The man fiddled with his collar. “I never made a remedy for Lord Fergus. I swear on my mother’s grave that I haven’t.”

  “According to your record books you did,” Connie spoke up.

  Trenton turned to her, almost as if realizing for the first time that there was someone else present in the room aside from him and Alec. “I made no remedy.”

  “I’m not satisfied with your answer, Trenton.” Alec walked over to the man. “And unless you can come up with an explanation, I will ensure your name is run through the mud. Your business will be in tatters when I’m done with you.”

  “But I’m just an honest businessman—”

  “Who happily sells any and all drugs to those willing to pay for them.”

  “It’s only a bit of fun,” Trenton tried to justify. “Those sorts of drugs don’t hurt them any, just mess with their senses for a bit. They beg me for them, you see.”

  “You’ll be begging for mercy in a minute if you don’t start telling me the truth,” Alec warned, an unwavering conviction in his words.

  The man visibly gulped, and Connie rather hoped Alec would indeed run his name through the mud.

  “But I am telling the truth. I didn’t make a remedy for Lord Fergus,” Trenton implored again. “And the reason I didn’t is because I can’t make any remedies anymore.” He held up his shaking hands in front of him. “I developed the shakes over six months ago, and I haven’t been able to measure or mix any ingredients properly since. My assistant, Mr. Middleton, has been the one mixing and dispensing all the remedies under my name. He doesn’t have his proper apothecary license yet, you see, so we have to pretend that I’m still doing everything. That’s why I’m always here at the club—it is far too depres
sing to be at my shop and unable to even prepare the simplest of tonics. Even more depressing that with all my knowledge, I can’t even make a tonic to stop these blasted shakes.”

  Alec swore softly under his breath. “Why didn’t you tell us this at the start?”

  Trenton sighed. “If it became known I wasn’t the one personally mixing up all my brilliant formulations, I would be ruined. All the other apothecaries in town would pounce on the knowledge, and no one would come to my store anymore.”

  “Why would Middleton tell us you were the one who mixed the remedy, then?” Alec asked.

  There was uncertainty in the man’s gaze. “Perhaps he thought he was trying to protect me? And himself, I suppose. After all, if my business did collapse, then he too would be out of a job.”

  What he said was true, Connie thought. Perhaps Middleton had simply been trying to protect both his employer and his future employment. They’d have to go and see him again, though, to be sure. “He did mention he was worried about such a possibility, especially with his children and wife to feed.”

  “Middleton is not married,” Trenton replied. “He’s too damn greedy to want to share anything with a wife and children.”

  Connie’s eyes met Alec’s. “That would mean Middleton lied to us.” She turned her gaze back to Trenton. “Or you are lying right now.” Though Middleton had looked somewhat uncomfortable when she’d mentioned the man’s family earlier.

  “I’m not.” The man shook his head fiercely. “I swear it!”

  “We shall have to have a chat again with Middleton himself, then. However, if you attempt to warn him to expect us,” Alec growled, “I will make certain your business practices become known far and wide. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal.” The man bobbed his head up and down, backing away as Alec and Connie walked past him to the door.

  Connie followed Alec out of the room and into the hallway, but instead of turning left and returning the way they had come, Alec went to the right. “We’re not leaving just yet?”