“When was the first time he was here?” Sara asked.
Mrs. Kettles sighed heavily as if weary of the conversation. “The very first time was about two years ago, it seems.”
Ross and Sara shared a look. “Two years ago?” he asked through a tight throat. Could this be Meredith’s killer?
“ ’Bout that. Said he’d been on a grand tour. ’Course, none of us believed that. Who the hell goes on a grand tour, then comes to live in the rookery? Nothin’ but tall tales he was tellin’.”
Neither Sara nor Ross said anything as they digested this new bit of information.
“Well,” Sara said, shaking them both from their thoughts. “We appreciate your help. Could you let us know when he returns? We would pay for the information.”
Mrs. Kettles seemed to think about that. Probably debating whether it was worth losing her reputation as a safe place for thieves and beggars. Finally, she nodded. “He ain’t right in the head, is he?”
“No,” Sara said softly. “He’s not.”
“I thought not. He’s a strange one, he is. He ain’t never threatened me or nothing, but I can tell.” She waved her free hand in the air by her ear. “I can tell he ain’t all there. I’ll let you know if he comes back. Might be some time. He can disappear for a few months sometimes.”
The thought of waiting months to speak to this man frustrated Ross to no end, but there was not much he could do except keep following leads. This might not be their man, after all, but his gut was telling him otherwise. He handed the crown to Mrs. Kettles and gave her Montgomery’s address for future correspondence. Montgomery lived in a part of town where solicitors and other men of business lived. Ross had no intention of letting Mrs. Kettles know where he lived.
When they were back on the street, Sara breathed deeply. Ross had the urge to do the same. Here the air was at least somewhat cleaner, though only marginally. However, people were still staring. It might have helped that they’d emerged from Mrs. Kettles’s establishment, but Ross didn’t want to stay around to find out. He practically pushed Sara into the waiting carriage and climbed in after her. The carriage rumbled away, but not fast enough for Ross’s peace of mind.
“Well,” Sara said, “I can now cross ‘visit a nethersken’ off my list of things to do before I die.”
Ross was so disgusted and disheartened by everything that had just happened that her comment surprised a laugh out of him. Her eyes twinkled in amusement, and she laughed with him. It broke the tension and lightened the mood, and Ross relaxed as much as he could in the foul hack.
“How do you think it went?” she asked.
“Not the way I wanted it to.”
“Did you expect Mrs. Kettles to tell you exactly who we were looking for and point him out to you?”
“That would have been helpful.”
“So what we know is that a man named Charlie is a frequent tenant. He’s well educated and meets the description we gave her.”
“What we don’t know is if Charlie is his real name. There are many well-educated people who slip in and out of tenements in the rookeries for one reason or another.”
“And what reasons would those be?”
“Believe it or not, there are solicitors who cannot find work because they’re unscrupulous. They’re known for creating false documents for people.”
“Do you think that’s who our person is?”
“I don’t know.” He wished to hell he did know.
“I hate that we have to wait for him to make another appearance. It could be months, and he may not even be the right man.”
And if this “Charlie” knew they were looking for him, would he even return to Mrs. Kettles’s nethersken?
“My heart goes out to the children,” Sara said softly, her eyes dimming.
“There are so many.”
“That young girl holding the baby,” she said. “I just wanted to scoop the two of them up and bring them with us.”
“You can’t save everyone,” Ross said, hearing how callous he sounded but not knowing what else to say. The girl and the baby broke his heart as well.
“I’d like to at least try,” she said as she turned to stare out the window.
They fell into silence. It seemed to take less time to return to Grosvenor Square than it did to get to the rookery.
“Where are we going?” Sara asked when the hackney took a different turn.
“We’re returning later than we intended. I thought it prudent to have the hackney drop us off in the mews behind my home.”
She shot him a confused look.
“It’s calling time, and when my mother is in residence, we get endless visitors.”
Sara smiled. “Because your mother is in residence or because the duke is in residence?”
Ross grimaced.
“Do you never intend to marry?” she asked, still teasing.
“Eventually. It’s my duty to the title, but not yet.” His mother had been making noises that it was time he find a wife. Ross had responded by hightailing himself off to India. But she was right. He’d put it off for two years, using Meredith’s death as an excuse. Truth be told, he didn’t want to marry. Not because he still mourned Meredith, but because he had no desire to fall in love and risk loss again. He’d thought he was in love with Meredith, though he’d had his doubts about their union. In a way he’d felt trapped, unable to extricate himself from a situation he didn’t want to be in anymore. The betrothal had happened too quickly, and they’d not had time to get to know each other. He’d avoided any future entanglements that might lead in that direction.
“What about you?” he asked. “Will you marry someday?”
Sara looked away, and he regretted the question, but he was curious. Why hadn’t she married? She was past the age when most girls did.
“No.”
He waited for more of an answer, surprised when none was forthcoming. “Just no?”
A slim shoulder came up in a shrug. “At one time that was my future, but no longer.”
“Because of Meredith?” he asked, surprised.
“Because Meredith’s death changed everything. I can’t leave my father. He needs someone to watch out for him, and since my mother left, that falls to me.”
“So you give up everything for your father?”
“Of course.” She looked at him as if surprised that he would conceive of another option.
What a waste. Sara would make someone a wonderful wife. She was compassionate. She was undemanding. She thought of others more than she thought of herself. She would run a house efficiently. She was perfect.
For someone else.
The carriage pulled up to the mews and stopped. Ross jumped out, then helped Sara down. He paid the driver and indicated that Sara follow him. “This way.” He led her through a well-oiled gate and past the carriage house. “You were remarkable back there,” he said. “You could easily have a career in the theater.”
She laughed, and something inside him began to burn. He loved the sound of her laugh and wanted to hear more of it.
“Thank you, fine sir.” She spoke in a cockney accent, pronouncing fine like “foine.”
“You went right along with my story, and I must say, you were very convincing.”
“Would it be horrible to say that I enjoyed myself? Well, not the nethersken part—I didn’t enjoy seeing the children—but the playacting was fun.”
“Who knew you had such a strong sense of adventure?”
They were laughing when they entered the house through the kitchen. Too late, Ross realized what it looked like as the cook and her kitchen staff all stopped to stare at them.
He nodded to them and hustled Sara through the kitchen and up the steps. His very angry mother met them in the hallway as they were about to ascend to their respective rooms.
Chapter 14
“Where have you been?” Elizabeth asked with the pinched look that had made Ross tremble as a small boy. With a sweep of her gaze, she t
ook in their attire.
All of Sara’s acting ability had deserted her, for she was silent, her face pale and her eyes wide, as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. He knew this didn’t look good, the two of them sneaking into the house, looking the way they did.
“We went riding,” he said.
“I see.” His mother looked Sara over, obviously displeased with her appearance. “There are guests in the drawing room. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce Sara to some of our friends.”
Ross didn’t think it was possible, but more color leached out of Sara’s face, alarming him.
“Your Grace, I don’t think right now is a—”
“Oh, but I think it is,” the duchess said with steel in her voice. Ross could have told Sara not to argue with his mother when she was in this mood. “I suggest you both retire to your chambers and change. Sara, I expect you in the drawing room shortly.”
Sara lowered her head. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Ross wanted to curse his mother for frightening Sara to the point that she had retreated into herself. Where was the strong, outspoken woman who had stood beside him in the rookery and the one who had debated with him during the carriage ride home?
He watched Sara climb the steps with heavy feet. She glanced over her shoulder at him but quickly turned away.
When she had disappeared, his mother said, “I would speak to you in the music room.”
“Not now, Mother. I have business to attend to.”
“It was not a request, Gabriel. I will speak to you now.”
He always knew he was in trouble when she used his Christian name; there was no getting out of this discussion. He followed her to the infrequently used music room, his steps nearly as heavy as Sara’s.
The drapes were closed, and the piano sat silently in the shadows draped in dust cloths. Never having been musically inclined, Ross had spent little time in this room.
His mother spun around to face him. Her expression was thunderous. “Where were you this morning with Sara?”
His own anger was coming to a head, but he stamped it down. It was never smart to argue with his mother when she was like this. “We went for a ride.”
“Unchaperoned.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked away, his guilt heavy. “Yes.”
“What are you thinking, Gabriel?”
He’d been thinking that he wanted to make Sara happy, that she needed some excitement in her life, and taking her to the rookery would be exciting for her. He’d been thinking that he could spend a little more time enjoying her company because he liked being with her. He enjoyed their discussions. He obviously had not thought too much on the consequences of his invitation. But he couldn’t tell his mother any of that. “We had business to discuss.”
“What possible business could you have with Lady Sara Emerson?”
He pressed his lips together. In this he would not budge: He would not reveal to his mother the extent of his business with Sara.
She stepped closer and pointed at him. “Don’t trifle with her, Gabriel. Lady Sara is not your type.”
His gaze flew to hers. “Not my type? What do you mean by that?”
“I mean she is a sweet, quiet girl. She is not used to the ways of men like you. I will not see her hurt.”
“Men like me? Mother, I’m offended.”
“Good. I meant to offend.”
He stepped back and crossed his arms, valiantly trying to control his rising anger. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”
“Let me be clear, then. Sara Emerson is a wonderful girl. But she’s also naive. She is defenseless against your charm and charisma. The parties and balls, the drinking, the staying out all night at your clubs. That’s not who Sara is. You will chew her up and spit her out and leave her bleeding, and I will not have that.”
“I would never—”
She made a shushing sound, slicing her finger through the air so close to his nose that he was forced to rear back or have his nose slapped. “You wouldn’t mean to, but nevertheless it will happen if you don’t leave her alone. That poor girl has no mother to watch out for her and no father to protect her. It is up to me to stand in for her parents.”
Ross was so astounded and so hurt that he had no words to defend himself. “Do you think so poorly of me?”
Her expression softened and she pressed her palm to his cheek. “I don’t say these things to hurt you but to make you realize what damage you could do to her. She isn’t like Meredith. She doesn’t run in the circles you do. She is a wounded soul who needs protecting.”
His mother was right in more ways than she knew. Sara did need protecting, but not in the way his mother thought. “I would never hurt her,” he said.
She looked at him sadly. “You would never intentionally hurt her.”
“Can’t you see that I’m a changed man?”
“Are you?” She stepped back, her hand sliding from his cheek. “Leave her be, Gabriel.”
—
Sara sat in the drawing room with a pretend smile, feeling like a chastised child. Elizabeth acted as if she had not just caught Sara and Ross sneaking in through the back of the house wearing old clothing and acting as if they were doing something wrong, but Sara could feel the duchess’s displeasure.
She took her lead from the duchess and pretended nothing was wrong. She’d just told Ross that she enjoyed playing a role, but this was one role she never enjoyed. The duchess couldn’t have devised a more brutal punishment for Sara.
She hated social gatherings. She wasn’t good at small talk. Her mind stalled. She couldn’t find the words she needed, and if she did, they were inane and the conversation quickly died. More often than not, she was left to herself because people generally gave up on trying to draw her into their conversations.
She’d found that her anxiety wasn’t as acute in Hadley Springs. She knew the women on the festival committee almost as family and was so comfortable with them that she spoke freely, although infrequently. But London was another story. The intrigue, the gossip, the backstabbing were not to her liking, and she was forever in fear of saying the wrong thing, so she rarely said anything. Which could be just as bad. She’d lost count of how many pitying looks she’d intercepted over the years. The looks caused her to withdraw even more.
She’d counted three such looks in the past half hour. Poor Elizabeth was valiantly trying to pull Sara out of her shell.
“We invited Lady Sara to stay with us at Rossmoyne House when we discovered she was traveling to London,” the duchess was saying to the group of ladies sipping their tea and looking at Sara out of the corners of their eyes.
Lady Harriett Connor turned to Sara with a polite smile, and Sara wanted to shrink into the shadows. “And what brings you to London?”
“Oh, uh…” She shot a desperate look at the duchess because all she could think of was the truth, and Ross definitely didn’t want her blurting out that she was receiving threatening letters. She didn’t want to blurt out that she was receiving threatening letters.
Well, you see, I’ve been receiving letters from someone who we believe might be Meredith’s killer. The duke and I traveled to a nethersken today to question the proprietor in the hopes of discovering the identity of the letter writer. Have you ever visited a nethersken? No? Oh, you definitely should put it on your list of things to do. The suffering would astound you.
That would not do.
“Shopping,” Elizabeth said a bit too brightly. “Sara has come to do some shopping.”
Lady Harriett smiled encouragingly, obviously expecting Sara to elaborate, but for the life of her, Sara couldn’t think of anything to add. The silence seemed to drag on interminably, until Lady Harriett’s smile started to slip and she appeared confused.
“Yes, well,” Lady Harriett said. “That’s wonderful. There is always good shopping on Bond Street.”
“Yes,” Sara said. “Yes, there is.”
Lady Harriett’s eyes narrowed a bit, and to Sara’s immense relief, she turned her attention to the person beside her. “I found the most adorable little shop run by a Frenchwoman. She makes the best hats—”
Sara’s gaze wandered around the room until it alighted upon Elizabeth, who was looking at her in confusion. The duchess wouldn’t understand Sara’s feelings about being in social situations. Her position and responsibilities included entertaining people. Just like Ross’s wife would have to someday.
Sara desperately wanted to run her shaking, damp hands down her skirts, but she kept still, more afraid to draw attention to herself. She didn’t even take a sip of tea, terrified that she would spill it and people would look at her. She prayed the afternoon would end soon.
Alas, the afternoon was just getting started. Once Lady Harriett and her entourage left, another took their place, and more after that. An endless succession in fifteen-minute increments.
They talked as fast as they could to get in all of the gossip before the constrictions of society forced them to move on to the next house and do the same thing all over again. What foolishness all of this was.
Sara spoke only when spoken to. Ladies tried conversing with her, but her one-word answers put them off. Though she knew they thought her arrogant, that was far from the truth. She didn’t have anything to say to them. She didn’t know what to say to them.
Not like when she was with Ross. She could talk to him forever with nary a heart thump of anxiety or fear of her palms sweating or the terror of saying something wrong.
She could converse just as freely with her best friend, Lady Blackbourne. Why couldn’t she do that with strangers? Why was it so difficult for her to find something to say? Why did her body want to recoil from all of it and her stomach turn until she thought she would be sick?
Her mother had always chastised her for what she considered shyness, and God knew Sara had tried to be different, but this went far deeper than being shy. She’d tried to force herself to be more animated in social situations, but it always came out wrong, and eventually, she’d sit back to let Meredith take over.
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