“What did she mean, provide her with the one thing her husband could not?”
“Ababy,Evangeline.” Susan shook her head with a sigh. “Obviously.”
Evangeline’s jaw dropped open. “Benedict Rutherford can’t father children?”
“Apparently not.”
“That’s it! That’s why she did it. She could be the mother of the next heir. If she hadn’t killed him, he and Lady Heatherbrook might’ve kept having children until he fathered a son. It explains everything.”
Susan’s eyes widened. “What do we do about it?”
Evangeline hesitated. She’d promised Gavin she’d stop jumping to conclusions, and she’d been wrong about the murderer’s identity so many times before, but…No. She’d rather be wrong yet again than let a murderer walk free.
“We shall stop her.” Evangeline threw open the door. “Quick, go after them before it’s too late. They’ve already brought their carriage round. I’ll go find Gavin and tell him we’ve uncovered the murderer’s identity.”
“Wait. Take this.” Susan jerked open the drawer to a portable desk and rifled through its contents before thrusting a folded parchment at Evangeline. “Here’s a copy of the scandal sheet that ran the column. I saved all the articles to remind myself what can happen when secrets aren’t kept.”
Evangeline took the proffered paper and tore off in search of Gavin.
Chapter 40
Had Gavin known Evangeline might burst into his studio at any moment, he might’ve chosen to work on his niece’s miniature rather than the portrait of Evangeline he was painting from memory.
As it was, she caught him brush in hand, adding a few more flyaway curls to her gorgeous mane of hair.
“Gavin, I—angels above. Is that me?”
He inclined his head. There was no point in denying it.
She blinked at the canvas. “I thought you wanted to paint me nude.”
“I thought if I painted you with clothing, I might hang it in plain sight.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “Good point.”
“This way,” he said gruffly, “even if I can’t hold you at night, at least I can see your smile. That is, unless I’m hung for murder.”
“Never.” She thrust a scrap of newsprint at him, eyes shining. “That’s what I’ve come to tell you. I know who killed Lord Heatherbrook.”
He tossed his paintbrush aside and took the paper. “Truly? Who?”
“Francine Rutherford. She’s carrying Lord Heatherbrook’s child.” Evangeline gestured at the folded sheet in his hand. “Read the article and you’ll understand. Benedict’s already got their carriage round front, but Susan’s making sure she doesn’t go anywhere. I came to tell you straightaway.”
Francine killed Heatherbrook and planned to let Gavin hang in her place. That unbelievable bitch. Thank God Evangeline figured it out before he found himself—
Gavin’s heart slowed, then raced to a crescendo. Wait. If he needn’t fear the gallows, that meant—that meant—
“Stay,” he begged, tugging Evangeline into his arms. “Don’t leave me. Don’t go anywhere. I meant what I said last night. I want—wait for me. I’ll be right back. Just let me make sure Francine doesn’t escape before the magistrate arrives.”
He crushed his lips to hers, then let her go. But only for now. Saints be praised, the moment Francine was arrested he could make Evangeline all the promises he’d longed to make the night before.
“I’ll wait until you return,” she promised, giving him a little smile. “To be honest, the thought of leaving makes me want to throw myself in a river.”
Gooseflesh rippled up his arms. Without thinking, he found himself saying, “That’s how my father died.”
She blanched. “Oh! I didn’t mean…I thought a carriage…that is, I knew you had nothing to do with it, but—”
“I had everything to do with it.”
