“Unfortunately, yes. But believe me, she is not crazy, just a little early for old-age eccentricity.”
Amy picked up a glass of warm lemonade, and they began to stroll the room. Aunt Margaret twirled by, chatting away with Lord Pembroke.
“I had hoped to see Mr. Montrose tonight,” William said. “I know he attends on a somewhat regular basis, but the last few times we were here, he was missing.”
Amy scanned the room. “Your Mr. Harding really was involved in despicable behavior. I don’t wish ill on anyone, but I can’t help but think after speaking to some of his victims that he was lucky to have not been murdered before now.”
“That reminds me.” William cleared his throat as if to make a formal announcement. “I saw Patrick Whitney today.”
Amy drew back and stared at him. “You did? How did that come about?”
“Nick Smith sent me the information.”
She raised her chin, and her eyes narrowed. “And why wasn’t I asked to go along?”
William ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want you there.” He held up his hand as she felt her anger growing. “Because I had no idea what I was facing. He could have greeted me with a pointed gun.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“But I didn’t know that ahead of time. Seriously, Amy, I decided I would rather face your wrath than put you into a position where you might be harmed. I don’t think my mind is completely recovered from us being shot at.” He shook his head. “I won’t put you in danger again. If that riles you up, then so be it.”
Well then.
“What did you discover?”
“Patrick Whitney is much younger than I had thought. He seemed to be no older than his late twenties. He is staying with a woman, Mrs. Millie Johnson, that he claims is an old friend.
“Do you doubt that?”
“That they are just friends? I’m not sure. However, it seems the very night Patrick threatened Mr. Harding and left Mrs. Whitney’s home, he continued to drink and the next morning found himself lying in an alley somewhere feeling dreadful. He assumed it was merely the results of a night of overconsumption. However, when he got worse instead of better, he made his way to Mrs. Johnson’s home, where he has been quite sick with an ague of some sort ever since.”
“Do you believe his story?”
“After seeing the man? Yes. Even after a couple of weeks, he looked like he’d come close to knocking on death’s door. I didn’t get a chance to speak with Mrs. Johnson to back up what Whitney said, but he told me she works at the pub we visited before.”
“Which one?”
“The one where the man told us an individual—most likely Harding—had met people every couple of weeks for what looked like an exchange of money. The King’s Garden.”
“That was quite a sleazy place, if I recall. Yet we did not meet her then?”
“No. Patrick was a bit nebulous about the hours she works, but since you and I we were at the King’s Garden in the afternoon, I’m thinking she might work mostly nights.”
“I believe another trip to the pub is in order.”
“Yes.” He looked down at her. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay safe at home this time?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” His eyebrows shot up. “You will stay safely at home and allow me to go by myself?”
“Wrong, my lord. I said yes, you cannot convince me to stay home.”
“I should have known.”
They continued their stroll, stopping to speak with various people. Soon a waltz began, and William took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor.
Things were becoming a bit different between her and William. Comfortable. Although at the beginning she had been troubled by her body’s reaction to him, she was growing accustomed to it and had started to look forward to it.
“Isn’t that Mr. Davidson?” Amy nodded in the direction of two men who seemed to be in the middle of a heated argument.
“Yes. And that’s his friend, Mr. Rawlings.”
“They don’t look too friendly now, do they?”
While keeping up with the music, they continued to watch the men, whose quarrel began to draw attention. Mr. Rawlings threw his hands up in the air and stormed off. After a minute or two, Mr. Davidson followed him out.
“Well, that was certainly interesting,” William said.
“Oh, I also forgot to tell you about my visit with Miss Gertrude. Aunt Margaret and I made a call there. We were the only visitors, and while I wouldn’t say the ladies were rude in any way, I didn’t get the feeling that we were very welcomed. They made it a point to mention that they were not holding morning calls that day.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“One thing I thought noteworthy was that Miss Gertrude had scratches on her face. It made me think of the person who attempted to steal the ledger and then ran through the woods and stumbled.”
“You think it was Miss Gertrude?” He seemed to think for a minute. “That’s fascinating. I never considered that our shooter could have been a woman.”
“I’m not saying it was, only that the scratches on her face brought that to my attention.”
“Did you ask her about them?”
“Yes. She mentioned a cat that wanders her neighborhood that they feed on occasion. She said the animal scratched her.”
The music came to an end, and William walked her to where Aunt Margaret stood with Lord Pembroke, Lady Wethington, and Mr. Colbert.
“Must he stay by her side all night?” William groused.
Amy grinned. “You are by my side most nights.” She stumbled and sucked in a breath, heat rising to her face at the image her statement produced. “I mean most nights at the Assembly.”
He had the nerve to grin at her discomfort. “That’s different.”
They had already made it to the group, so Amy did not pursue the conversation and hoped the redness of her face would diminish before anyone noticed.
“Wethington, I just invited your mother to attend the theater with me Friday next,” Mr. Colbert said. “Would you and Lady Amy care to join us?”
“As a chaperone?” William muttered under his breath. Amy nudged him in the middle with her elbow.
“I love the theater,” Amy said, turning to William.
He sighed, obviously feeling trapped. “Yes. Of course we would love to attend.” He looked about as happy as he did each time she brought Persephone with her on one of their jaunts.
“Lady Margaret, would you care to join us as well?” It appeared Mr. Colbert was going to make it a group outing.
Lord Pembroke spoke up. “I’m afraid Lady Margaret and I already have plans for next Friday.”
All heads turned toward her aunt, who looked back at them as if daring them to ask questions.
How very odd.
William stiffened as he glanced across the room. “If you will excuse me, there is someone I must speak with.” Before Amy could ask a question, he was gone.
She studied him until she saw him stop and begin a conversation with a man she did not recognize.
* * *
Not having seen Mr. Montrose at the Assembly since he and Amy had started their investigation, William was quite surprised when he glanced across the room to see the man leaning against a wall, speaking with another gentleman.
Not wanting to appear as though he was conducting an interrogation, William slowed his walk and sauntered up to the two men. “Good evening, Montrose. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Montrose stuck out his hand, and they shook. “Good to see you too, Wethington.”
The man whom Montrose had been speaking with stepped back. “If you will excuse me, I see someone headed for the door that I need to speak with.” He made a quick turn and strode toward the exit.
“Did you hear about James Harding’s death?” William watched Montrose carefully.
The man’s lips tightene
d, and his face flushed. “The man was a crook, a cheat, and a snake. Drowning was too good for him.”
William was a bit taken aback. Harding had truly been a hated man, and what troubled William the most was that he’d worked with the man for a few years and somehow missed all this. He did not consider himself neglectful or stupid, yet his man of business had stolen from so many. “He was my man of business too.”
“You would be wise to check your financial records,” Montrose said. “He stole quite a bit from me, and it was my fault for not double-checking everything he did.” The man shook his head.
“Yes. Well, I have a bit of a problem myself.”
“What is that?”
“Harding was stealing from me as well and also forging my name to contracts that have done a bit of damage to my business reputation.”
Montrose shook his head and blew out a soft whistle. “He was truly a devil. I am in the process of having my barrister solicit the courts to get back my records, which the police currently have in hand.”
William leaned his shoulder against the wall. “How successful have you been?”
“Not very. Since I was out of the country when the man died, I was a couple of weeks behind in the news.”
William’s ears picked up. “You were out of the country?”
“Yes. Spent a few weeks with my parents in Scotland. Near Aberdeen.”
Another suspect to be crossed off their list. It wouldn’t take much to have Montrose’s parents confirm he’d been visiting them when Harding took his final swim in the river.
“I hope all is well with them?”
“Yes. They are getting on in years, and you know how it goes. I should really make an effort to get out there more often.”
Mr. Colbert strode up to the two of them, nodding in Montrose’s direction and then turning his attention to William. “I will be escorting your mother home this evening.”
“What?”
“Yes. She has agreed, and we will be leaving soon. She said she has a bit of a headache.”
Remembering how upset she’d been earlier, William was not surprised. “I can leave now and see her home.”
He slapped William on the back. “No need. I’m more than happy to see her home.” He turned and walked back to where William’s mother stood conversing with Lady Margaret.
William studied his mother for a moment. She didn’t look to him as if she was suffering any headache. Before he could march over and demand that he personally see her home, Amy stepped up to his side, a very feminine smile on her face.
“Leave them alone, my lord.”
CHAPTER 24
William looked up as his butler, Madison, entered the library, where he was struggling to make sense of his finances.
“My lord, Mr. Frank Wilson has arrived.”
“Send him in.” He’d been employing Wilson ever since Harding died. His new man of business came highly recommended by Lord Winchester, among others, and William actually felt sorry for the poor man on account of the financial tangle he was having to unravel for him.
“Good morning, my lord.” Wilson strode into the room and extended his arm.
William stood, and they shook hands. “Have a seat.”
Wilson settled in and placed a portfolio on the desk in front of him. He took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “My lord, you are in a mess.”
“Tell me something I do not already know.” William sighed. “What I’m anxious to find out is, can I recover my good name?”
“Absolutely.”
The man’s confident assurance went a long way toward easing William’s anxiety. “I am happy to hear that and am willing to do whatever you think is necessary to clear up this dilemma.”
Wilson pulled a pile of papers out of his portfolio. “One thing I discovered in my efforts to unravel all of this is most likely the reason Mr. Harding went from a reputable man of business to a thief.”
That certainly got William’s attention. “Pray tell.”
“Apparently Mr. Harding chose a very risky investment for a few of his clients.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. You were one of the investors, as were two others.”
William had a good idea who those other investors were: Lemmon and Montrose. “He never said anything to me about that.”
“Just so.” Wilson studied the paper in front of him. “Rather than advising these clients, it seems, in an effort to recoup his losses, he began taking money from other clients and using it to gamble.”
“Gamble?”
“Yes. In order to keep it as quiet as possible, he made trips to London for that purpose.”
William shook his head. “Only a foolish man attempts to make money on gambling.”
“From what I’ve discovered, he got deeper and deeper into trouble, and dipped once more into your account and then pulled some other shenanigans which are just now coming to light. It was only a matter of time before his nefarious deeds became known.”
It crossed William’s mind that perhaps Harding had not been pushed into the river but had gotten himself drunk on purpose and taken a dive. It would not be the first time a man had done such a thing to escape a bad situation.
“Thank you very much for that information, Wilson. Now I suggest we look at how bad things are and what we can do to correct it.”
* * *
It was Tuesday evening, and as the carriage made its way to Amy’s house, William patted his pocket, where he did, in fact, carry a gun. Even though he’d told his mother he didn’t have one and constantly thwarted Amy’s intention to buy one, he did have two pistols locked away in his library.
However, unlike the ladies, who thought they could pick up a gun and shoot anyone who threatened them dead center, he had spent years practicing and was quite confident in his skill.
At least he would not shoot himself in the foot.
On the way home from the Assembly Saturday, William had made one final effort to convince Amy not to accompany him to the pub. But she had been stubborn and adamant.
“We can bring a gun,” she’d said.
He’d pressed his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. “No gun.”
Amy was ready and eager to go when he arrived at her house. However, since fate loved to play little games, Lord Winchester was also home, and invited him in for a drink.
“Where are you off to tonight?” Winchester swirled his brandy and smiled a warm and frightening smile at him.
Well, my lord, I am about to bring your daughter to one of the seedier parts of town. In fact, next to a place where a man was killed. But then, I’m sure you don’t mind. No need to worry, since I am carrying a gun, because once before when we were out and about, we were shot at. May I have some more brandy, please?
“We are making a trip to the bookstore.”
“The bookstore? Don’t you go there every Thursday?” Winchester frowned. “Today is Tuesday.”
William cleared this throat. “Yes, very true. However, the book we are to read for this week’s meeting was unavailable last week, but the store clerk said it would be in today. Late shipment.”
Winchester nodded and then quickly changed the subject, for which William was grateful until he heard the question. “Young man, I would like your support in something.”
Amy glared at her papa, and William got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Yes, my lord?”
“Amy tells me that you are aware of her writing hobby.”
“Hobby! Papa, I write well-selling books that I make money on.”
Winchester pointed his finger at her. “No matter. A woman has no need to earn money if she has respectable men in her family. Only the lowest of the low must send their wives and daughters out to seek employment.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Am I not right, Wethington?”
How the devil was he going to get out of this one? He decided to play the diplomat. “I agree that there is more female employment in the lower classes.”
> He didn’t applaud himself for avoiding the issue, because he knew Amy’s father was not finished. The questions were only going to get harder to answer if he wished to maintain his friendship with Amy and not vex her father at the same time.
Since William had been considering marriage of late, Lord Winchester would be the man to approve or disapprove when he came with a request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He would have to tread very carefully here.
“Lady Amy tells me her publisher is requiring her to appear at some book fair.” Lord Winchester waved his hand around in a sign of dismissal.
Since that was not a question, William merely nodded and looked longingly at his empty brandy glass. He could use a bit more, facing the interrogation.
“I have the perfect solution, but my daughter is not happy with the perfect answer.”
“Oh?” Here it comes.
“I suggested we hire someone—a man—to appear as this E. D. Burton person at the book fair and make everyone happy.”
William groaned inwardly. This would not make Amy happy, and in this case he had to agree with her. There was simply no easy way of getting out of this. Straightening his shoulders, he looked Winchester in the eye. “My lord, I find I cannot agree with you.”
Winchester’s brows rose. “Indeed?”
“Yes, sir. With all due respect, Lady Amy has worked hard on those books, and while she has abided by your wish to keep her identity private, I cannot support your idea, which would wipe out all her work and hand the accolades and praise for such fine books to an unknown man.”
Amy’s father stared at him for a few moments while William sweated it out. “Is that right?” Winchester gulped the last of his brandy.
William looked over at Amy, and the glow on her face and happiness in her eyes was worth whatever misfortune he had just brought down on his head.
“I have matters to attend to right now.” Lord Winchester stood and placed his glass on the table in front of him. “Enjoy your trip to the bookstore.” With those curt words, he strode from the drawing room, leaving Amy and William staring at each other.
“At least he didn’t have Stevens throw me out.” William stood and took Amy’s hand. “Let’s go before he changes his mind.”
The Sign of Death Page 19
