The Mayfair Affair

by Tracy Grant

  "You mean how many people he could blackmail?" Cordelia asked.

  "Quite."

  Laura stared through the grimy lamplight at Inspector Roth. His words reverberated in her head, but she couldn't make sense of them. "You can't mean—"

  "That's precisely what I mean, Miss Dudley. You're free to go."

  Relief hit her in a dizzying rush, followed by the tightness of panic. Her role as Laura Dudley had confined her, but it had also defined her. With the revelation of her past as Jane Fitzwalter, Marchioness of Tarrington, those protective walls had come tumbling down. She was no longer Laura Dudley, but Jane Tarrington was still a chasm away. The walls of her cell had at least given definition to her life. She had no idea where to go in the outside world. Or even who she was.

  "The investigation is still open," Roth said. "We may need to question you further. But you're free to go home."

  Laura's hand closed on the edge of the table as she stifled a laugh. "Home" sounded as alien as a castle in Spain. She forced her gaze to Suzanne and Malcolm Rannoch, standing just behind Roth. "I know I have you to thank for this."

  "You have the evidence to thank for it," Malcolm said.

  "Evidence that you uncovered."

  "Laura?" Suzanne spoke in the gentle tone she usually used with the children. She and her husband were standing just behind Roth. "I'm sure your father and stepmother would be happy to have you. We can take you to them. But you're also welcome to come home with us."

  The torrent of emotions loosed by her interview with her father still tumbled within her. To try to sort her life out in the midst of that seemed impossible. And yet— She wasn't Colin and Jessica's governess anymore. "Thank you," she said, "but I'll—"

  What? Go to an hotel? Scandal aside, she didn't have a penny to her name.

  "The children won't forgive us if we don't at least bring you home to show them you're all right," Suzanne said.

  Laura met Suzanne's gaze. There was an element of truth to the words. But Suzanne was also offering her a way out. An excuse to lean on them without feeling as though she were accepting charity. And much as she chafed at leaning on anyone, she had learned to realize when she was out of options. "I wouldn't want to disappoint Colin and Jessica," she said. And then, because she couldn't bring herself to dissemble—irony of ironies—she added, "Thank you. I'd be most grateful."

  "Laura!" Colin raced down the stairs at the opening of the front door and hurled himself at his governess.

  "La!" Jessica called out from Blanca's arms on the half-landing and squirmed to be put down.

  Laura crouched down to embrace Colin. Standing behind her, Suzanne couldn't see her face, but the way the gray fabric of her pelisse pulled across her shoulders showed the tightness of her embrace.

  Blanca had reached the base of the stairs and set Jessica down. Jessica ran forwards on feet steadier by the day and flung herself on her brother and Laura.

  Laura fell sideways under the force of both children, laughing. "I'm glad to see you missed me."

  "I knew Mummy and Daddy would get you back," Colin said.

  "Sensible boy." Laura touched his hair. "You should be the one giving me lessons."

  Jessica tugged at Laura's arm. Laura kissed her. "I swear you're already walking better than three days ago."

  The numb shock on Laura's face when Roth first told her she'd been released had made Suzanne fear her friend would retreat, but, as so often, the children seemed to be a welcome stabilizing force.

  Suzanne picked up Jessica. "Laura needs a bit of time to go up to her room and sort herself out, darlings. You'll have lots of time to talk to her later."

  Colin stepped back and studied Laura. "You are staying, aren't you?"

  Laura touched his hair again. She smiled, but there was an ache at the back of her eyes. "I promise I won't leave without saying goodbye."

  Chapter 29

  Laura regarded Malcolm and Suzanne. "Colin was right. I should have had more faith in both of you."

  "Thank God for dropped earrings," Suzanne said in a light voice. She was relieved to see that Laura had changed into a fresh gown, redone her hair, and wrapped a soft, moss-green shawl round her shoulders. It spoke of a more positive attitude and a greater comfort with her surroundings than Suzanne had feared.

  Laura smiled. "You're persistent. I think you'd have found something else."

  "She's stubborn." Malcolm was at the drinks trolley, pouring whisky. "She managed the same for me in circumstances that seemed as dire."

  Laura looked from Malcolm to Suzanne. "I don't think I've adequately thanked you."

  "Being released from prison can be as much of a shock as being imprisoned." Malcolm put a glass of whisky into Laura's hand.

  Laura looked at the glass for a moment, then took a sip. "In truth, I didn't think it was an option. At least not so quickly. I wasn't prepared for it. And I like to be prepared for anything."

  They had often sat together in this room, but never precisely like this. In three days, the ground had shifted. Colin and Jessica's self-effacing governess with the anonymous past had become the widow of the Marquis of Tarrington. Who also happened to be a former Elsinore League agent who knew the truth of Suzanne's past. The roles that had defined them and bound them together were gone.

  Malcolm handed a glass to Suzanne, then picked up his own. "I've sent word to your father."

  Laura drew a breath, then nodded.

  "I'm sure they'd be eager to have you stay with them," Suzanne said.

  "No." Laura took a gulp of whisky. "I don't mean to be ungenerous. I never thought to see my father again on the terms I did today. I want to see Sarah and the children. But—"

  Malcolm gave one of his sudden, unexpectedly sweet smiles. "Family can be complicated. I can well understand wanting a bit of space of your own in the midst of upheaval. You must stay here."

  "My pride would like to say I'd manage on my own, but I fear I have no other options."

  "Truth to tell, I'd feel better if you stayed here," Malcolm said. "Trenchard's killer is still out there, and you're part of the puzzle. We can protect you better here."

  "And I don't know what I'd say to the children if you left," Suzanne said. "You have a home here for as long as you wish."

  Laura shook her head. "I long since accepted I'd never have a home anywhere."

  "Because you don't think you deserve one?" Malcolm asked.

  Laura took a sip of whisky. "Nonsense."

  Malcolm took a sip from his own drink. "Perhaps I'm simply reading in my own reaction."

  Laura drew a breath as though to reply, then went still as quick, familiar steps sounded in the passage. The door opened to admit Raoul. Somehow he had got to the point of showing himself in. There was a time when Suzanne would not have believed that possible.

  "I came as soon as I heard." He hesitated on the threshold, his gaze on Laura, as though he hadn't really believed she was free of prison until he saw for himself.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Rannoch are miracle workers." Laura smiled at him. A surprisingly easy smile, as was the echoing smile that crossed Raoul's face.

  "I never doubted that. I was a bit more concerned about the intransigence of the British establishment."

  "Roth went out on a limb," Malcolm said. "I'm going to have to be sure he doesn't suffer for it."

  "It's rather remarkable, at this time in my life, to discover there's genuine kindness in the world," Laura said.

  "There are times," Raoul agreed, "when even my cynicism falters."

  Malcolm got to his feet and returned to the drinks trolley. "And yet someone killed Trenchard. And Craven." He poured a glass of whisky and handed it to Raoul. "Now that Laura's free, I think it's time to step back and look at who had motive."

  "Lydia Cranley, as we learned tonight," Suzanne said. "Lily Duval. James." She hesitated a moment. "Mary Trenchard. Lord Carfax."

  "And David." Malcolm dropped back down beside her on the sofa.

  Laura stared at
him. "You don't seriously think Lord Worsley killed Trenchard."

  "What I think doesn't matter," Malcolm said. "He had motive. He had opportunity. We have to consider him a suspect."

  Raoul moved to one of the Queen Anne chairs. "It's hard for me to imagine Worsley being driven to kill."

  "Given Lydia Cranley's revelations, Lord Liverpool and anyone who supports him have motive," Suzanne said. "Not to mention anyone else Trenchard was blackmailing to support him." She told Raoul about Lady Cranley's account of Trenchard's attempt to blackmail her into having her husband support his bid to become prime minister.

  Raoul let out a whistle. "Good God. Trenchard tried to destroy me for helping Louise Doret escape him. Perhaps it's not surprising he tried to ruin Liverpool as well. And even in the eighties he looked down on Liverpool for being part Indian."

  "I wish I could say actually being in India changed Trenchard's attitude toward Indians," Laura said, "but I fear it was the reverse. It was one of the many reasons he and my father never got on."

  Raoul nodded. "It must have galled him to see the boy who had helped best him become prime minister."

  "And difficult as it is for me to see Liverpool as moderate," Malcolm said, "Trenchard's faction thinks Liverpool has compromised with the Liberal Tories on too many issues."

  Laura shivered. "I've never been a supporter of Lord Liverpool. But the thought of Trenchard as prime minister—"

  "You had no inkling of what he was planning?" Malcolm asked.

  She shook her head. "He gave me directions. He didn't confide in me."

  Malcolm looked at Raoul. "Do you think it was the Elsinore League making a bid to control Britain?"

  Raoul turned his glass in his hand. "Given some of Archie Davenport's recent revelations, I think it's more likely at least some of the League thought Trenchard had gone too far."

  "Do you think they were angry enough to kill one of their own?"

  "We know they don't cavil at killing. But one of their leaders, who happens to be one of the most powerful dukes in the country— We need to get Archie's take. If—"

  He broke off as the door opened and Blanca came into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, "but I just heard from Addison. He enclosed this for you, Mr. Rannoch." She held a sealed paper out to Malcolm.

  Suzanne saw tension shoot through Laura as Malcolm slit the seal. He scanned the note. Laura's fingers whitened round her glass. Raoul was clenching the arm of his chair.

  "Addison's spoken with the banker who was receiving the payments for Emily," Malcolm said. "Not surprisingly, he was less than forthcoming. But he was more willing to talk when Addison returned armed with some information he'd discovered from a midnight investigation of the banker's chambers."

  "Amazing one can live in the same household with another person for years and not realize his hidden depths," Laura said.

  "Addison is inclined to have qualms about the less savory sides of the intelligence game," Malcolm said. "But he said in this case it was a genuine pleasure. He has the name of a Mr. Molton, who was apparently acting as trustee for Emily Saunders."

  "Trustee?" Laura's mouth sounded parched.

  "We don't know that that means she lives with him. But it's a start."

  Laura went still, as though it were suddenly dawning on her that her daughter was within her grasp.

  "I can escort you," Raoul said.

  Laura twisted towards him in her chair.

  "You'll want to go at once," Raoul continued. "Malcolm and Suzanne need to stay in London. You shouldn't go alone. Forget propriety, think of safety, not to mention moral support."

  "I don't give a damn about propriety. But Roth—"

  "I'll make it good with Roth." Malcolm leaned towards her. "Find your daughter, Laura."

  Suzanne paused in the doorway of Laura's room. Laura had bidden her come in, but still she hesitated. "I thought perhaps you could do with a fresh pelisse for the journey. This color would be far better on you than me." She held out a pelisse of azure merino trimmed with black braid in the à la militaire style that had been so in vogue since Waterloo.

  Laura gave a twisted smile. "It's lovely. And it would bring out the blue in your eyes as much as in mine. I take it you think I'll make a better impression on Mr. Molton if I'm more expensively gowned?"

  "I think with the work you've done, you can't but realize the value of a good costume. Being an anonymous governess has suited you these past years. But hiding in the shadows isn't what will serve you best now."

  To her surprise, Laura walked forwards and accepted the pelisee. "Thank you."

  "Blanca's hunting out the bonnet and gloves that go with it." Suzanne hesitated. "Your past has given you little reason to trust anyone. But I hope in time you realize you can trust us."

  Laura looked up from smoothing the folds of the pelisse. "Do you trust anyone?"

  There was a time when Suzanne would have laughed at the idea of trust. Now she gave the question honest consideration. "I trust Malcolm. And Blanca and Addison. And Raoul." More, oddly, than she had a few months ago. She nearly added Cordy and Harry and David and Simon, but of course she didn't trust them with her secrets.

  "Did you trust Mr. Rannoch three months ago? Forgive me, I've no right to ask—"

  "No, it's a good question." And it was a strange relief to talk to someone else who knew the truth. For a moment, Malcolm's voice lashed her senses. Malcolm's cold gaze stung her skin. A dozen scenarios had gone through her head. In those first bruising days after he learned the truth, she hadn't been sure if he would try to divorce her, take the children, turn her over to Carfax as a traitor. "If you're asking if I ever doubted that Malcolm is a good person, then, no, I didn't," she said. "If you're asking if three months ago I questioned what he might do to me— then, yes, I did. Given the provocation, I think one would question what anyone might do." Suzanne swallowed. Her pulse had quickened.

  Laura watched her for a moment. "You didn't have to tell me any of that."

  Suzanne managed a smile. "I think we're a bit overdue for honesty. You already know far more about me than I realized."

  "I fear spying is an intrusive business."

  "As I should understand better than anyone."

  Their gazes met like a cautious clasp of hands. "If I were in your shoes—" Laura shook her head. "I'm not sure what I'd do. But I fear I wouldn't be so generous."

  "Call it selfishness. It's a relief not to have to lie."

  "That I can well understand." Laura crossed the room and laid the pelisse out on the bed beside her open bandbox. "You were a fascinating puzzle from the first. Though in truth, it was a relief to realize you weren't quite as perfect as the surface image."

  "God help me." Suzanne moved into the room and dropped down on a straight-backed chair. "If one has any delusions of perfection, I think parenthood quickly banishes them. As you'll learn before long."

  Laura ran a hand over the fabric of the pelisse. "I had a lot of leisure to reflect in prison." She turned and perched on the edge of the bed. "It's difficult to see the situation from Emily's viewpoint when I haven't met her, but I need to try."

  "Laura." Suzanne hesitated, studying this woman, about whom she knew at once so much and so little. "If I felt as guilty as in all good conscience I should, I'd be completely paralyzed by it. And consequently of little use to those who need me. I'd hardly hold my own life out as an object lesson to anyone, but I do know one has to find a way to go on."

  Laura leaned against a bedpost, arms folded in front of her. "You've had your children with you from the start, Mrs. Ran— Suzanne. That makes a difference."

  "Emily would be fortunate to have you."

  "You can't possibly know that."

  "I've seen you with my children. Love counts for a lot."

  "Suzanne— I don't know the whole, but I know enough to know you've been through a great deal. More, in some ways, than I have. But you have Mr. Rannoch. You have his love, which is a rather remarkable thi
ng. And—"

  "His family name, and his considerable fortune. All of which add up to a great deal. I'm more fortunate than I have any right to be."

  "Not that. But while I enjoy indulging in flights of fancy where I can be the perfect mother—about which I pray you not to betray me to anyone—to be ruthlessly practical, I have to admit I have very little to offer Emily, at least in the material sense. It's all very well to say love matters more than material things, but love is not a substitute for food and a roof."

  "I'm sure now he knows where you are, your father—"

  "Move in with him and my stepmother, with a child of questionable parentage? Oh, they would do what they could, but I'd risk bringing scandal on all of them." Laura folded her arms across her chest and gripped her elbows. "I've managed to keep my head above water. Some might say by compromising every shred of morality I possessed, but nevertheless I haven't fallen into the abyss. But I've seen what happens to women who do. It's not a life I could forgive myself for dragging my daughter into."

  For a moment Suzanne felt clawing hands, smelled stale sheets, tasted sour wine and despair. And even in the brothel she'd had food and a roof over her head. She hadn't reached the nadir of the abyss. "Trenchard has left Emily a very comfortable legacy."

  "Which he took from his wife. I'm not sure the will could or should stand."

  "James Trenchard is a decent man. He wants to find Emily. He'll want to do what's right for both of you."

  A spasm crossed Laura's face, as though at the thought of being Jane Tarrington again. "And if he learns the truth of Emily's parentage?"

  "I think there's a good chance Trenchard was lying to you when he said Jack had confided in friends about his discovery of your affair with his father. Otherwise I think Trenchard himself would have been more worried about discovery. But even if James did learn the truth, I think he'd know where to place the blame."