With a sigh, Seth said, “Aye, we might as well.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. With luck, he may be able to get himself out on his own recognizance, and back to Phoebe. At least she was safe in Gavin’s hands, though the thought wasn’t terribly comforting, especially when he thought of the silk robe she’d been wearing and how she felt under the thin, cool fabric.
While waiting for his solicitor, William had him sign the necessary documents, and then covered the basic information and procedures of his arrest. It was not long before the constable opened the door to admit his solicitor, Mr. John Campbell.
“Inspector.” John shook William’s hand, and then gave Seth’s a hearty shake before taking a seat at Seth’s side. Listening to the charges being brought against his client, he jotted down notes in his book.
Seth had not seen him since just before his departure to the Outlands, when he’d had his will drawn up. Seth had also used the man for passing the patents on his tinkerings and any other legal matters that should arise. A more cunning man he could not recall; he only hoped the old man was up to handling the charges of murder. With a silent prayer to the gods, he hoped ‘cunning’ would be enough to get him back to Phoebe’s arms rather than those of the executioner.
***
It was nearing two in the morning, and still they sat gathered around the small table, the hard wooden chair cutting into the back of Seth’s legs. He was exhausted, but it looked like they were finally making progress.
John consulted his notes, then looked up at William. “You have no other witnesses, am I correct?”
“No.” William’s mouth twitched with what Seth thought was humor. “It appears the coachman present at the time of the incident cannot remember enough to identify the persons involved. Only that there were two of them, both male.”
“So you have no witnesses other than Lord Fenwick himself, who was courting and refused by my client’s fiancé. Do you not think it possible, under the circumstances, that these charges have been inflated in order to seek revenge for being rejected?”
William sighed and then leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Look, we all know that’s the case of the matter, especially considering his mishandling of Lady Hughes, but your client does not deny assaulting the man.”
John’s gaze flicked to Seth, and it was clear he was not happy. “Despite his actions, it is obvious that this is a simple case of assault to defend the honor of his betrothed.”
William nodded. “With luck, the judge will feel the same way regarding the matter. Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done until the case is seen in the morning. I wish there were something I could do, but unfortunately Chief Inspector Murdock issued the order of arrest, so I do not have the authority to release you. It looks as though you’ll be spending the night here.”
John glanced at Seth and gave him a rueful shrug. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning to see your case before the judge. Until then, try and do your best to get some rest.”
Seth nodded, knowing things could be far worse.
To William, John added, “I hope you’ll take good care of my client. I’d hate to find him mistreated in any way.”
“No, of course not, Mr. Campbell.” William stood and got ready to take Seth to his cell. “Are you ready?”
Seth managed a smile and said, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Chapter Thirty Nine
Phoebe must have cried herself to sleep, for when she awoke, it was to find herself tucked under the covers of her bed. Gavin slept at her bedside, slumped in a chair with his legs propped on her mattress, his plaid doubling as a blanket.
She slid out from under the covers trying to make as little noise as possible. The fire had died down, but enough light remained, allowing her to find her way. Getting into a dress would be far too difficult to do alone, and she did not trust herself to manage it without making any noise. Instead, with her back to Gavin’s slumbering form, she pulled on her riding breeches and a cotton blouse, fumbling with the buttons in the semi-darkness.
“What are ye doing, Phoebe?” She nearly jumped out of her skin, at the sound of Gavin’s voice.
Holding her shirt closed, she spun around and nearly bumped into him. Cursing she said, “Dammit, Gavin, you just scared the life out of me. Why are you sneaking up on me like that?”
His eyes narrowed, pinning her to her spot, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “Sneaking up on ye, am I? Seems I’m not the only one doing some sneaking, aye?” He reached out and flicked the collar of her shirt to make his point. “What are ye up to, lass?”
She glanced down at her shirt, which was far too sheer without a corset underneath. With all that had happened between them, she felt too naked and vulnerable standing before him barely decent, but she’d be damned if she was going to let Gavin know that. She drew herself up, clutching her shirt together, and thrusting her chin out. “Nothing that’s any of your concern.”
“Not my concern, is it?” His lips curled into a disconcerting smile, and she took an involuntary step back only to find herself against the wall. “Do ye think I dinna ken what ye’re up to?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” She tried to get the buttons on her shirt done up in an attempt to cover herself, but Gavin’s eyes flicked down to the expanse of exposed skin, and she felt herself flush crimson.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Her own voice sounded distant and breathless. She tried to step around him, the door only feet away, but Gavin grabbed her arm and held on tight, preventing her from going anywhere.
“Listen to me, love. Seth has left ye in my care and if ye think I’m going to let ye out of my sight, ye’ve gone soft in the heid.”
Phoebe needed to get out, needed to help Seth, but Gavin had a steel grip on her arm. It was clear that reasoning with him would be an attempt at futility, but she did not think violence upon his body would have much effect either. Phoebe’s mind raced through the possibilities. There was no time to lose.
Drawing on the emotions she’d been trying so hard to keep in check since Seth’s departure, she looked up at him, letting her eyes well with tears and her lips wobble.
She saw his look soften. “Och now love, it’ll be all right. Don’t be worrying yerself like this.” He pulled her close, and held her there against him. She allowed the tears to flow for a few moments, until he softened his grip on her.
“I’m sorry.” She lifted her head off his chest and wiped at her tears, sniffling. “I’m just so worried, Gavin. What will happen to him?”
“He’ll be back to ye before ye ken, aye?” He tilted her head back so she could look him in the eyes.
“How can you know that? If Victor truly wants him tried for murder, he has enough influence to do just that. Do you know what the punishment for attempted murder is? And Victor a Lord, no less?” She shook her head, fighting another wave of tears, and said, “I need a drink. Gavin, would you?” She gestured to the bottle on the table by the fireplace.
“Of course.”
She waited until he was in the middle of pouring her a whisky, and then bolted for the door. She fumbled with the handle, yanking with all her might, her panic growing with each passing moment, but the door would not budge. And then it hit her. She spun to find Gavin standing across the room, his arms crossed over his chest and a grim look on his face.
“You locked the door?” She could scream. She probably did. But it was all too much for her. She slumped to the floor in pieces, the tears streaming down her face in earnest.
Her only hope of saving Seth was to talk some sense into Victor, to try and get him to drop the charges. Surely, he’d see reason if she explained matters to him, but it would never happen with Gavin watching her every move.
Gavin squatted before her. “Phoebe, love. We’ll see him safe in no time. Come, stop yer tears.” He reached out to her, but she swatted his hand away.
“Leave me be, Gavin.” Why wouldn’t he just go away?
“Och lass, ye’ll catch yer death laying there on the cold floor. And then what will I tell yer man when they let him free?” Ignoring her protests, he threw a blanket over her shoulders. “Come now, love. We wouldna want to let that whisky go to waste, aye?” He held out his hand waiting patiently for her to take it.
Swiping at her tears, she glared at him for the longest time, but he just stood there waiting. Seeing no other option, and hoping a drink might help, she finally took his hand and let him pull her to her feet and into his arms, where a fresh wave of tears fell. Gavin sat them down in the chaise by the fire with her head resting on his shoulder, his hand stroking her back to try to sooth and calm her down.
Reaching over to the side table, he grabbed the abandoned glass of whisky. “Here, love. A drink will help, aye?”
She nodded, swiping at her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She took the offered glass and polished off half the whisky in one go.
“Easy there, lass. Keep up at the rate yer going and ye’ll be stinking drunk.”
Before he could snag the glass from her, she polished off the remainder of her drink. “I think that’s the point.” Perhaps if she were oblivious, if she could push Seth from her thoughts, then it wouldn’t hurt so much. A familiar herbal taste lingered on her tongue. “Is there Viridis in the whisky?” She already knew the answer, just hadn’t been expecting it to be there.
“Aye, there is. I know the herbal has a calming effect, and thought ye could do with some help. A bite to eat and a bit of rest wouldn’t go amiss either, eh? Ye havena had any dinner yet, and things never look good on an empty stomach. Let me have a bit of something brought up for ye.”
She lifted her head off his shoulder and shook her head no. “I couldn’t, Gavin.” Her curls came loose, dislodged from their pins in her struggles. “Not right now. I think I’d be ill if I tried to eat anything.”
He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, his eyes intent on hers. She had to look away, his gaze too intense. He cleared his throat, and then said, “All right then, love. Perhaps some rest?”
She let him ease her head back onto his shoulder, the warmth of him comforting, as were the soft-spoken words of Gaelic. She had not the slightest idea of what he spoke, but her tears eased as he rubbed her back, the rhythmic motion lulling her into a calm.
She did not know how long she stayed curled against his side, but at some point she became aware of something more.
Perhaps it was the Viridis or just the closeness of their bodies, but her skin prickled, sensitive to every touch, and by all accounts, she wasn’t the only one to sense the change between them. His touch slowed, and she could now feel a tension in his body, each breath deeper, slower. She glanced up at him, only to find him looking back at her, his eyes soft with emotion and need, her own heart racing at the nearness of him.
After all that had recently occurred between them, the last place she should be seeking comfort was in Gavin’s arms. It could not be easy on him and it wasn’t right. She sat up, feeling guilty. “I think it’s best I get to bed,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
“Aye. ‘Tis late and ye’ve been through a lot. Sleep will help, and Seth will be back to ye before ye ken.”
Phoebe settled into her bed, and he took a seat on the side of the mattress, covering her with the heavy wool blanket.
She sat up, holding the covers to her chest, once again aware of her unbuttoned shirt. “Gavin…” she took a deep breath. She wanted to apologize for using her tears to manipulate him. “I’m sorry about earlier. It was not terribly nice of me.”
He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek. “Och, lass, I cannot really blame ye. And I hope you’ll find it in ye to forgive me for locking the door.” He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but manage a small smile back.
“You’re a sneaky bastard, I’ll give you that.” Phoebe was once again all too conscious of the energy between them. “Will you sleep in the spare bedroom? It should already be made up.”
“No, love. I’ll be right here for ye.” He got up, kissed the top of her head, and then sat back in the chair by her bed, his long legs once again propped up on the edge of her mattress, arms crossed over his chest. “I trust ye’ll not be trying to escape out the window, aye?”
“No. Probably not.”
Chapter Forty
The judge was scheduled to hear Seth’s case at ten that morning, giving William only a few hours to speak to Victor. He’d already been to Archer Enterprises and was indeed able to confirm Victor had written two cheques, each for a thousand pound Sterling. It was a risky move to confront a man as volatile and powerful as Victor, but he’d be damned if he would ignore the evidence.
The footman begrudgingly showed him to the sitting room to wait. Victor strode into the room mere moments later, looking like all was right in the world.
“Inspector. A good morning to you.” Victor motioned him into a seat before sending his footman off for tea.
“And to you. A good morning indeed,” William said, settling into his chair. “Tell me, Lord Fenwick, are you at all familiar with Lord Niles Hawthorne?”
“Yes, of course. Horrible tragedy, and for one so young. However, I do not see what this has to do with me.”
William said nothing for a moment, letting the silence eat away at Victor’s defenses. It was clearly working— the muscles in Victor’s jaw pulsed while his fingers tapped on his leg. The man was obviously hiding something. William just needed to find what he was guilty of. “What was your relationship to Lord Niles Hawthorne?”
Victor, who had seated himself directly across from William, blanched visibly. “What— what do you mean? I had no relationship with the man. He was just an acquaintance.”
William did not think a man could turn such a brilliant shade of crimson, and though William hated to admit it, it satisfied him deeply. “Same gentlemen’s club, I believe. Browning’s? Did you have any business with the man?”
“Did I not just tell you? I only knew him in passing. Nothing more. Why are you harassing me? Do you not have criminals to catch?”
William could not help but smile just a little. “That is exactly what I’m doing, sir. I’m tracking leads on a murder and a theft.” He continued before Victor could protest. “Do you mind telling me why you would give someone that is no more than an acquaintance two thousand pounds?”
Victor crossed his leg over his knee, trying to look at ease, though his face, now the color of sour milk, betrayed him. “I haven’t the foggiest idea as to what you are talking about, and quite frankly I’m insulted by your line of questioning. I think you should leave.”
“And I think you should answer my question. Lord or not, I have every right as an officer of the law to question you if the evidence points in your direction. I would hate to inconvenience you by bringing you down to the station, but I’ll do just that if you do not cooperate.”
“How does my giving Lord Hawthorne two thousand pounds make me guilty of anything? Perhaps it was he who was guilty of extortion.”
“Extortion?” William tilted his head in acknowledgement. “It would be a good motive for murder, would it not?”
William had the pleasure of watching Victor choke and stammer, his face going an ungodly shade of plum as he spat, “How dare you accuse me of murder! I’ll be speaking to your superiors about this.”
William waved away the threat, leaning forward in his chair. “Let me explain a few things to you, your Lordship. I have evidence of Lord Niles Hawthorne receiving two thousand pound sterling in the form of two cheques, written upon your personal request, according to your accountant. I also have evidence that Lord Hawthorne came to have in his possession the formula for Viridis, stolen from Lady Hughes. Take into account that you’ve been aggressively courting her, and I do believe even my superiors may be loathe to overlook the facts.”
Victor blinked repeatedly, his mouth opening and closing like a trout. However, William did not give him the chance to find his v
oice, continuing with his last piece of business, and the one that gave him the most satisfaction.
“I am also here to formally charge you with the assault of Lady Phoebe Hughes.”
Chapter Forty One
“Wake up, love. ‘Tis just a dream.”
Phoebe awoke with a start, Gavin at her side, gently shaking her to pull her out of her nightmare. Her eyes filled with tears, her words but a whisper. “The cell— it was horrible.” She could not tell him of the terrible cold and damp, chilling one to the bone. Nor could she bring herself to mention the suffocating fear that threatened to consume her, the gallows right outside the cell window.
“Well get him home, aye? Come here, love. You’re shaking like a leaf.” He reached out and touched her, a curse on his lips as his hand went to her forehead. “Och, lass, ye’re burning up.”
“I feel so cold.” She pulled the blanket around her but it still was not enough. With the miserably cold weather they’d been having, along with the stresses of the last few days, it was no surprise she had fallen ill.
“Let me get the fire going.” Though he was already moving away from her, she could hear him cursing under his breath in Gaelic, a sure sign he was upset and worried.
She sat there with her teeth chattering, while he tossed a few logs on the embers, and got the flames flaring up in no time at all. He then went to the door, unlocked it, and summoned Martha, who peeked into the room with a mix of concern and scandal, her eyes darting between Phoebe and Gavin.
Gavin instructed her to fetch some tea and breakfast, and anything else she might have handy for a fever, then closed the door firmly on her prying eyes. Without a word, he crossed to the bed, wrapped Phoebe in a second blanket and scooped her up.
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