The Scarlet Bride (31 page)

“It may be nothing,” Simon cautioned. “Westwick comes from an old family. They must have properties scattered throughout England. However, it is curious to hide the deed, unless there’s a reason he didn’t want it discovered.”

Dread fell over Laura. “Westwick carefully kept his darker proclivities hidden from society, so I suspect the property must have a disreputable history. I believe that as we delve into the cracks and crevasses of Westwick’s life, more evil deeds will come to light.”

The coach stopped at Collingwood House, and Crawford stepped down. “I shall advise His Grace of our findings and prepare to leave for Suffolk. I don’t expect to be gone for more than a few days.” He looked at Laura. “Keep yourself safe.”

“I will.”

Crawford closed the door and the coach rolled off. Laura leaned back on the squabs and met Simon’s eyes. “I wonder if we were followed today.”

Simon squeezed her hand. “I assume so, though I saw no one. There is no reason to hide our activities if Henry has been watching you. He already knows everything about you.”

Her stomach knotted. “Do you think he really does know about the courtesan school?”

Simon paused before answering. “Yes.”

“Then we must alert Miss Eva and Miss Sophie immediately. They must be on guard in case he attempts to confront me there.”

“Already done.” He met her worried eyes. “Guards will be watching the school and Thomas will be ever vigilant. But I have reason to believe he’ll not go there. You will be staying with me at our town house through the conclusion of this case.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “I cannot. I thought I was to stay only for a few days. This matter could last weeks, months even.”

“Aunt Bernie likes you and you’ve already been established as her companion. As such, I can keep watch over you while we continue our hunt for an auction guest, or until we unmask your mysterious Henry.”

He did have a point. Still, “My presence at the town house will bring danger to both you and your aunt.” She worried her bottom lip. “I should take shelter at an inn until this investigation has been concluded.”

Smiling, Simon leaned forward. “It would be difficult to guard you in such a public place. People arrive and depart at all hours. Henry could sneak in without notice.” He drew her hand to his mouth. “I promise to keep both you and my aunt safe.”

The confidence in his voice eased a few of her concerns. Staying in his family’s town house would certainly be safer than the school or an inn. “I hate the thought of anyone endangered because of me.”

“Eva has already arranged for some clothing and necessities for your stay and has advised Sophie of your change in residence. All you need to do is agree.”

She watched him draw a finger down her arm and claim her hand. She shivered. “I’m not certain that living under your roof is an ideal solution. It will give you many chances to misbehave.”

“I promise to be a pillar of propriety.”

The words fell flat when he turned her palm up and found a bit of exposed skin just above her glove. He nibbled the place.

Laura’s knees wobbled. “I can see how much your promise is worth,” she scolded lightly and her mouth parted slightly. “You cannot even behave for a few minutes in a hired hackney.”

With his mouth still on her skin, he looked into her eyes.

“You cannot fault me for a nip here or a kiss there. I am male after all.”

She grinned. “You are shameless.”

“Unapologetically so,” he agreed and glanced out the window. “I think we have less than a minute before we reach the town house. If you’d like to be kissed, you need to lean in quickly before our moment is lost.”

Laura was still smiling as he pulled her into his arms.

T
he house is lovely, my dear,” Aunt Bernie said happily as she greeted Mrs. Peet, her old friend. The strains of music swirled from somewhere in the house as guests filed into the manor. “I do love the new paper. Is it silk?”

Laura stood a few feet away as the two women discussed wall coverings and other things. Simon lingered politely beside his aunt but sent a covert glance at Laura, his amusement evident. After kissing her for that full minute in the coach, he’d dropped her at the town house and left without explanation.

She scowled at him from behind the spectacles. She suspected he’d known exactly how she’d spend her day and wanted no part in the arduous hours ahead.

She’d suffered the entire afternoon in the garden with Aunt Bernie, discussing plants and birds until her head ached. Afterward, she only had time for a quick toilet before a maid came to dress her in a new gown of uninteresting gray and they were off to a musicale at the home of Mister and Mrs. Peet.

As she listened to the musical warbling of the oldest Peet daughter, Laura understood why Aunt Bernie imbibed
in sherry to soothe her frayed nerves before these performances.

And as the days followed slowly after the Peet rout, Laura learned that once released from her opulent prison in Kent, Aunt Bernie could not turn down an invitation. From the Peets, they went to the Baneses the following night, then to Lord and Lady Malbury’s the evening after, and on and on it went for the rest of the week.

By Saturday, she was exhausted.

“I cannot sit through another social function,” Laura grumbled over breakfast with Simon. “Another week of this and I shall drop dead.”

“You are bearing up well, sweet.” He chuckled.

She grumbled some more under her breath and arched her back. “At least you get to dance. Do you have any idea of how uncomfortable it is to sit for endless hours in too- small chairs? It is torture.” She rubbed her neck. “This would be worth the discomfort if I’d managed to flush out at least one auction guest. Not one all week! I’m beginning to think they all live outside London.”

He nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “I suspect the murder has sent those men fleeing from town; otherwise, you would have recognized one before now. They must want to put as much distance between themselves and the crime.”

Her frustration welled. “This charade has been futile.”

“It is disappointing.”

Laura was saved from replying by the arrival of a footman with a note. Simon opened the missive and read it. She stabbed at a sausage as her spine ached beneath her corset.

“It appears Crawford has returned from Suffolk.” He folded the note and laid it on the table. “Our presence is requested at Collingwood House posthaste.”

S
imon stood silently as Crawford arrived. The man looked as if he’d ridden all day. He was rumpled and dusty, his face grim.

“Would you care for a brandy?” His Grace asked and
pressed a glass into Crawford’s hand without waiting for an answer.

“Thank you.” Crawford drank down half, sighed, and looked at Miss Eva. “I apologize for my appearance, Your Grace. I knew you wouldn’t want to wait for my report.”

The duchess waved her hand. “My sensibilities have not been offended. Please do tell us what you’ve found.”

Leaning against the mantle with his arms tightly crossed, Simon braced himself for bad news.

“It wasn’t difficult to find the house. The small local populous called the place haunted,” Crawford began. “It was a run-down manor set far off the road, with a small tumbledown stable behind it. I went in through a broken door and discovered it had been years since anyone had called it home.”

“No one lived there?” Laura’s shoulders drooped.

“No one,” Crawford said. “I searched for an hour or so and discovered nothing that gave any indication why its ownership should be kept secret.”

“That is regretful,” Simon remarked. He’d hoped to discover something that would help Laura. The case was a series of clues that went nowhere. “The trip was fruitless.”

“Not exactly.” Crawford looked from Simon to Laura to Eva and the duke. “There was a farm some distance up the road. It was there that I learned the truth about the house.”

Simon saw how eagerly Laura clung to Crawford’s words. He wanted to hurry the investigator along for her sake, but clearly the man enjoyed building anticipation.

“Oh, do go on,” Eva snapped. She wasn’t as patient as he.

Crawford nodded sheepishly. “Yes, Your Grace. The farmer had lived there all his life and he was quite old. As such, he wasn’t reluctant to discuss the elder or current earl with me. He knew both father and son. His own son worked in the earl’s stable and was privy to bits of gossip.”

He sipped his brandy. “Though his tale was long, and his memory spotty, the basic story was that Westwick’s
father had bought the place many years ago. He housed a young woman there who was very beautiful. Mary. She was his lover and, according to the farmer, a reluctant lover. She was no more than fifteen and innocent.”

This time, Eva did not urge Crawford on. They all took a moment to ponder this. After refreshing his drink, the investigator continued, “Mary was a frail creature, shut up in the house with only the servants and occasional visits from the elder earl to keep her company. She eventually bore him a son, just days before the old earl died.”

L
aura’s stomach pitched. Her heart ached for the young woman not old enough to leave the schoolroom and forced to bear the old man a bastard child.

“How horrible,” she said. She felt Simon move up behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“The farmer said the child was sickly but survived the birth. He was about three months old when the younger Westwick came. He’d discovered the deed and hoped to find a property of some value. Instead he found
her
.” He paused. “Without the old earl to pay the bills, the household was slowly decaying and food was becoming scarce. Most of the servants had left, leaving only a few to care for mother and child.”

Laura saw Crawford’s inward struggle. Some topics were not fit for polite company. Laura braced herself for what was to come.

“Westwick took Mary into his bed. Her already frail mind and body broke. The next morning, she was found in a pond behind the manor. There was some speculation that she hadn’t killed herself but was murdered. Regretfully, there was no proof and the last of the servants ran off right after the body was found. The farmer’s son took the baby to a foundling hospital and that was the last he was seen.”

“Do you think Henry is that boy?” Miss Eva asked.

“Perhaps. Henry would be around the right age. The farmer thought the lad would be about twenty-three or so.
He wasn’t certain, as his memories were a bit muddled,” Crawford said. “I tried to find the foundling hospital, but the place burned to the ground ten years ago. If there was any information about the child, it was destroyed in the fire.”

“Poor child,” Laura said. Simon’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Westwick has damaged so many lives. If Henry is his brother, it would explain the darkness in him. The entire family breeds wickedness.”

“This would certainly explain why he’s focused on Westwick and why Henry had a reason to kill him,” Simon added. “If the farmer’s tale is correct, then Westwick was only twenty or so himself and already ruining lives. Even if he had no direct hand in killing Mary, he certainly drove her to her death.”

The room fell silent. It was a dismal tale with many twists. Laura wished both Westwick and his father were alive to pay for their crimes against Mary. Even if the girl had gone to the elder earl as part of an arrangement, she was far too young to have successfully protested the matter. And Westwick? He would have seen her vulnerability and taken advantage, taking her to his bed as his right.

“We are left with finding Henry.” Simon walked to the sideboard and refreshed his glass. “If he is the brother, he might hope to inherit from the estate.”

Laura shook her head. “If Westwick didn’t care enough for the boy to raise him, and left him to an uncertain fate, he would not be kind enough to leave him a portion in his will.”

“I agree,” Simon added. “Still, Henry purposefully hunted down Westwick. He might have hoped to gain something from his death. We already think Laura was part of his plan. Perhaps jewelry or property was the financial motivation? There are ways to forge documents.”

Laura tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I wonder if Westwick ever knew the truth about Henry. He never said anything to me and never would have looked into the background of his new friend. As long as Henry showed himself
a loyal supporter of depravity and abuse, he’d be welcomed.”

“It’s also possible the man came to him under false pretenses,” Simon added.

“True,” His Grace added. “Unless Henry chooses to share his tale, we may never know the true reason he aligned himself with Westwick.”

The maid came in with a tray of cakes. She laid them out and withdrew.

Crawford reached for one and took a bite. “We are basing this speculation on Henry being the lost brother. He might be just a man who has an unsavory obsession with Laura.”

“And who displayed his poor taste in choosing Westwick for a friend,” Miss Eva said.

After a few more minutes of speculation, the party disbursed. Simon and Laura took the duke’s coach to the Harrington town house. There was no need to travel in hired hackneys when Henry was well aware of Laura’s every movement.