by Merry Farmer
He jerked open the door and glared at the woman. “What in God’s name do you want, you odious woman?” he demanded.
Lady Hamilton flinched back as though he’d struck her. Det. Gleason was a step behind her, and if Phin wasn’t mistaken, the man burst into a grin—which he promptly hid—at Lady Hamilton’s shock.
“You are the author of that scandalous rag that has ruined my daughter’s reputation.” Lady Hamilton regained her bluster all too quickly. So much so that she pushed past Phin, marching into his front hallway as though she owned the house. “I have discovered the truth at last, and I am here to tell you that you are the one who is ruined now.”
“Lady Hamilton, I have not invited you in,” Phin said, failing to keep his voice in check. “Lives are at stake in a very real way tonight. I do not have time for your nonsense or your hurt feelings.”
“Hurt feelings?” Lady Hamilton blanched, pressing a hand to her heart. “A young woman’s reputation is in danger, sir.”
“And another young woman’s life is in danger as we speak,” Phin nearly shouted.
Any trace of amusement in Gleason’s expression vanished. “Are Miss Garrett and Mr. Swan here?” he asked, the seriousness of his work coming over him.
“I am.” Lenore appeared at the top of the stairs in Phin’s trousers and shirt. She’d added a belt to the ensemble to keep the trousers tight and a waistcoat to finish the outfit. “And it’s only a matter of time before Mr. Swan arrives as well.”
Gleason opened his mouth to say something, but Lady Hamilton rode over him with, “So now you flaunt your mistress in front of me as well as importuning my daughter? And her, married to another man?” She tilted up her head as though gesturing to Lenore with her nose.
“You saw the way Swan manhandled her at the ball, did you not?” Phin glared at Lady Hamilton.
“I did.” Lady Hamilton’s ferocity faded. “It was abominable, and I am sorry you had to endure that sort of public scandal,” she told Lenore.
Her comment left Phin frustrated enough to pull out his hair. Of course, Lady Hamilton would only see the impropriety of Lenore’s humiliation at Swan’s hands and not the life-threatening danger. But before he could call the woman out for her callousness, Lady Hamilton shook her head, resumed her imperious posture, and railed on.
“Miss Garrett’s misfortune does not change the fact that you, sir, are responsible for the ruination of many a lady of society. You are the author of that horrible Nocturne. I have discovered the truth at last through a combination of Det. Gleason’s investigations and conversation with guests at the ball this evening.”
Gleason looked apologetic and more than a little impatient, but Lady Hamilton wouldn’t let him, or anyone else, get a word in.
“Your days of mocking your betters are over, Mr. Mercer. In the morning, I will take the information I have to my solicitor. You can expect a call from him as I bring a suit against you. All of London will know of your treachery. You will be banned from all good society. You will never be able to walk through respectable neighborhoods with your head held high again.”
“Lady Hamilton.” Phin tried to interrupt the woman, his brown knit in a frustrated frown, but she clearly enjoyed the sound of her own voice too much to be stopped.
“I will see to it that anyone and everyone who has colluded with you in this endeavor is brought to justice,” she went on. “You and your family and everyone who has so much as condoned this horrid publication will—”
“Mr. Mercer isn’t the author, my lady,” Lenore shouted to interrupt her. She took a dramatic step forward. “I cannot let the truth remain hidden any longer. I am the author of Nocturne.”
It was all Phin could do to keep his expression neutral. He wanted to burst out laughing with the insanity of it all, but the most he let himself show was mild surprise. Gleason, too, looked both shocked and amused by Lenore’s declaration.
“You?” Lady Hamilton recoiled, blinking rapidly.
“Yes, my lady, me.” Lenore took another step forward, then did the most outstanding thing he had ever seen her do. She burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, my lady,” she said, crossing the hallway to grasp Lady Hamilton’s hands as tears streamed down her face. “I was a stranger alone in a strange land. My life was so uncertain. I knew that as soon as Freddy learned I was already married, he would toss me aside. I knew that once that happened, I would need to support myself with income of my own. I felt simply awful for resorting to the lowest form of entertainment to secure myself, but what could I do, my lady? What could I do?”
Lady Hamilton’s mouth dropped open, and she gaped like a fish for a few moments before finding words. “I…well…I cannot imagine….”
“I know that what I did was cruel and crass, but I merely wanted to find acceptance with the people I admired so much and wanted to emulate,” Lenore went on. “You cannot imagine how intimidating it is for a humble, backwater American such as myself to become a part of a society that includes such eminent personalities as you, madam. Penning those scandalous tales was the only way I could think of to find acceptance. I assumed that the subjects of my stories would be flattered by the mention, that they would see it as a way to gain attention themselves. I never could have dreamed I would hurt anyone by seeking to elevate them.”
“Oh…I did not realize…I’m sure I….” Lady Hamilton continued to blink and shift restlessly as Lenore clasped their hands together and bowed her head over them.
The scene was so melodramatic that Phin would have laughed, if he weren’t so dumbfounded by the turn the evening had taken. Here he was trying to save Lenore’s life, and she had found a way to save his in the middle of it all.
“Please forgive me, Lady Hamilton,” Lenore rushed on. “I had no way of knowing I would hurt someone as fine and noble as you. I’m just a rube compared to you. I should have come to you first to instruct me in the ways of society.”
Phin had to cover his mouth as Lenore laid it on a little too thick. Gleason did the same, his eyes wide with disbelief. Lady Hamilton lapped it up, however.
“There, there,” she said, freeing one of her hands so that she could pat Lenore’s head, as though she were a child. “It’s perfectly understandable that someone of your limited background wouldn’t know how these things are done.”
“Are you…are you forgiving me, my lady?” Lenore glanced up at her with tear-damp eyes and a look of contrition that was so convincing even Phin felt her regret. “That would be so astoundingly magnanimous of you.”
“I suppose I am,” Lady Hamilton sighed. “And in the end, no real harm was done. Lord Compton seemed very taken with my Agnes this evening, and she with him. I asked around, and do you know, it turns out he is to inherit an earldom one day. And his family is quite well off and well-connected. In fact, I’m not sure I could have found a better match for her myself.”
Phin’s mouth quirked into a grin. Lionel knew what he was doing better than anyone Phin could name when it came to making society matches. He should have hired out those services to make his way in the world instead of other services, though Phin was fairly certain he knew which services were more enjoyable to hand out.
“Now that we’ve sorted this out,” he said, clearing his throat and stepping forward. “If you will excuse us, Miss Garrett and I are in a bit of a hurry. We have a train to catch before—”
His excuse was cut off by a flurry of angry voices coming from the street. The commotion approached the door, and a moment later, someone pounded on the door with a heavy fist.
“I know you’re in there,” Swan’s voice roared through the door. “Let me in or you’ll all be sorry.”
“Oh dear.” Lady Hamilton clasped a hand to her chest as Lenore gasped and dodged behind her, using the woman as a shield. “Is that Mr. Swan?”
Her question was answered as Swan kicked at Phin’s door, splintering the doorframe around the lock and throwing the door itself open. Phin spotted the neighbor’s son dashing away,
which must have been the source of the confrontation. There was no time to think about it, though. Swan barged into the hall, drawing a revolver from his side.
“Where is my wife?” he growled, waving his gun, eyes mad with fury.
Chapter 20
Lenore felt like a coward and a fool for jumping behind Lady Hamilton as Bart made his entrance. Her one saving grace was that she recovered quickly, bolstered by the confidence Phin had shown in her and the fact that they were in his house, on his ground.
Her burst of renewed courage helped considerably when Lady Hamilton shrieked at the top of her lungs and twisted to grab Lenore and thrust her forward like a shield when Bart drew his gun.
“Oh, dear God, he’s going to kill me,” Lady Hamilton screamed.
As soon as Bart noticed Lenore, his eyes narrowed with hatred, his nostrils flared, and he showed his teeth in a vicious grimace. He turned his gun on her. “You fooled me once by running out on me at that hotel in Laramie,” he hissed. “You fooled me twice by getting away again. Well, you’re not getting away this time, sweetheart.”
Bart pulled back the hammer of his revolver. Lenore had less than a second to shove Lady Hamilton to the side before he fired. The wood paneling of Phin’s wall splintered as a bullet struck at point blank range. Lady Hamilton screamed even louder, throwing her hands up over her head and tearing down the hall. She ducked into the nearest parlor before Lenore could regain her balance.
Bart took aim again, but before Lenore could move, Det. Gleason threw himself toward Bart. The gun went off, but the bullet shot straight into the ceiling, raining plaster down on them. Lenore didn’t have time to lunge toward Phin or even to breathe. She could only watch as short, slight Det. Gleason grabbed Bart’s right arm and twisted it behind his back, then kept moving in such a way that Bart dropped face down to the floor with a resounding thump. A moment later, Det. Gleason had his foot planted in the center of Bart’s back and Bart’s arm yanked up at a sickening angle behind him while Bart screamed in pain. His gun skittered across the floor, coming to rest by the baseboard near the door.
Phin hissed a curse that would have curled Lenore’s hair, if it weren’t already standing on end after the confrontation they’d just been through. “Good job, Gleason,” he exclaimed before striding to Lenore to pull her into his arms.
Lenore went willingly, letting out a strangled sigh of relief and squeezing Phin so tight she wasn’t sure she would ever let go. Bart wasn’t done fighting, though.
“Get off of me!” he shouted, writhing and kicking as though he could use what he surely thought was his superior strength to buck Gleason off. “I’ll kill you, you lily-livered limey.”
“Do you really want to go at it with me?” Gleason asked in a surprisingly dark voice, teeth bared, almost as if he wanted Bart to challenge him.
“I’ll rip your puny little head off,” Bart growled in reply.
“You think so?”
Gleason followed up his question by jerking Bart’s arm to the side, making it pop in a way that had Bart hollering once more as he rolled to his side. From there, Gleason kicked him the rest of the way to his back, then dove toward him. He moved so fast that Lenore couldn’t quite follow what he was doing, but judging by the way Bart cried and doubled up, Gleason landed a knee in Bart’s groin before straddling him, his hands at Bart’s throat.
Bart went silent, his eyes and his mouth wide open. Slowly, he started to turn red. He was twice as big as Gleason and built like an ox, but the lithe and apparently dangerous detective watched with cool impassivity as Bart’s face went from red to blue. Lenore was so impressed with Det. Gleason’s agility that she didn’t bother pointing out that he was in danger of killing Bart.
Det. Gleason seemed to know just when to stop, though. He pulled back just as Bart’s eyes began to roll back in his head and stood, keeping a boot planted firmly on Bart’s sternum. “Still want to fight me?” Det. Gleason asked, breathing heavier, but looking utterly in control of the situation.
Bart merely gaped and choked as he tried to catch his breath.
Another commotion sounded from the street as two carriages pulled up in front of the house. Lenore nearly wept in relief when Freddy, Reese, and Jack Craig jumped down from one of them while four uniformed police officers scrambled out of the other. Freddy made it through Phin’s front door first.
“Thank God you’re all right,” he said, raising a shaking hand to his forehead.
Lenore peeled away from Phin to hug him.
“How did you make it back here so quickly?” Phin asked, glancing from Freddy to Reese to Jack and the police officers.
“We were already on our way when we came across Freddy sprinting through Belgravia,” Jack said.
“Sprinting?” Lenore gasped. “But you were headed to Howsden House.”
“Swan did the same thing we did when we followed you from the ball,” Freddy said. “He was on our tail before we’d gone more than a few blocks from the hotel.”
“But how did you know to come here?” Phin asked Jack, pulling Lenore back into his arms, as if he couldn’t risk having her snatched away by anyone else.
“Gleason sent word,” Jack said, moving to Det. Gleason’s side.
“He’s not going anywhere, my lord.” Det. Gleason nodded to Bart as he writhed on the floor, then to Jack. “His shoulder is dislocated and he’ll be sore for a while, but at least he won’t fight when you take him into custody.”
“Good job.” Jack slapped Det. Gleason’s back, then nodded to two of the officers, who wrenched a moaning Bart to his feet.
“You’ll take a man into custody after he kidnaps and attempts to murder a woman, but not before? Not when we told you this would happen all along?” Phin demanded, glowering at Jack.
Jack exchanged a glance with Freddy and Reese, then nodded to Lenore. “I hate to say it, but our intervention is not because of his actions toward you, though I wasn’t going to let that continue any longer than it had to.”
“Then what is it due to?” Lenore asked, utterly confounded by the entire situation.
“Bartholomew Swan is wanted on five counts of murder, or attempted murder, in the State of Wyoming,” Det. Gleason announced. “He managed to escape east, then evade authorities in New York before boarding a ship headed to England under an assumed name. One can only imagine that he planned to murder the only person outside of England who knew of his guilt—” he nodded to Lenore, “—before starting a new life under a new name abroad.”
Lenore could only gape at the detective. “South America,” she breathed. Bart couldn’t have returned to the States any more than she had thought she could for the last year. Which meant his threats against her family were hollow—and it explained why no one from home had mentioned Bart in their letters—but that hardly seemed to matter at the moment. A part of her shouted in triumph that the law had finally caught up with Bart, but she had far more questions boiling in her brain.
“How did you know about any of this?” Phin asked Det. Gleason what she was too startled to find her voice for.
Det. Gleason grinned mischievously. “Your brother suggested I investigate Swan through channels that aren’t available to most people. Not even him. Sure enough, his hunch was right.” He pivoted to nod at Bart with all the cheek of a man who had been underestimated, but got the upper hand in the end. “He’s sloppy, this one. I’ve already alerted the authorities in America of his impending capture. I’m sure you’ll find an extradition request on your desk by morning, my lord.” He finished with a respectful half-bow for Jack.
“Remind me to speak to your superior about giving you a promotion,” Jack said with a grin that kept growing as the full scope of Det. Gleason’s involvement in the situation grew.
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but I am what you might call an independent contractor,” Det. Gleason said with a cocky smile. “I only work for myself.”
“Whoever you work for, there’s got to be a reward in it for you,
” Jack laughed, slapping the man on the back again. “But before we dig one up for you, I’ve got some business to take care of.” He gestured to the police officers, who dragged a now weeping Bart through the door and into the street.
Lenore spotted several of Phin’s neighbors gathered on the sidewalk, whispering away about what police activity in the middle of the night could possibly mean. It almost made her laugh. No matter what she did, it appeared she was destined to be the focus of gossip. But if it meant Bart was out of her life for good, she didn’t care one bit.
“I doubt you’ll have any trouble obtaining an annulment from the bastard now, miss,” Det. Gleason said with a kinder smile for her. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if your so-called marriage to the bloke wasn’t legal to begin with. I have contacts in the States looking into it.”
“You do?” Lenore blinked at him.
“Lionel Mercer isn’t the only one with contacts here and there.” Gleason’s smile turned modest, though his blue eyes flashed with puckishness. It was enough to make Lenore laugh. The wily detective wasn’t at all the man she’d assumed he was while working for Lady Hamilton.
A moment later, Lady Hamilton herself poked her head out around the corner of the parlor she’d hidden in.
“Is…is it over?” she asked in a weak voice.
Lenore rather felt the way Lady Hamilton looked, but she pushed her fear aside, confident for the first time in over a year that things would work out happily at last, and headed down the hall to fetch Lady Hamilton.
“Yes, it’s over at last,” she said, going so far as to hug Lady Hamilton as heartily as she had Freddy and Phin.
“Oh, thank heavens,” Lady Hamilton wailed and hugged Lenore right back.
It was a ridiculous moment in an evening that had been filled with more than its fair share of madness. Lenore laughed and drew Lady Hamilton back down the hall toward the entryway. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get home as quickly as possible, Lady Hamilton,” she said. “I’m certain Lady Agnes will be wondering where you are, at least.”
