“If she is innocent as you believe,” the duchess prodded thoughtfully, “why did she not volunteer this information sooner? Immediately upon her arrival in London, for instance? Instead, she harbored the dynamite and the documents. She also met with one of the Fenians.”
It was a fair question, and one that had also troubled him. But as he searched inside himself now, he could honestly say, his previous concerns had dissipated. Perhaps it was the tender ease she had with Verity. Perhaps it was something more. Whatever the reason, she had won him over.
“She was buying herself time,” he replied. “Miss McKenna has been abused, controlled, and threatened by her brother for the last year. Coming to London was to be her means of escaping him at last. However, she also was keenly aware of the dangerous reach her brother has. She was hoping to wait until the end of her six-week turn on the stage to contact police, so she could then carry on to Paris and not have to remain in a city where her brother has so many foot soldiers willing to carry out his evil for him.”
This, too, made sense. His doubts about Johanna were falling away, one by one, like leaves dropping from an autumn tree. Soon, there would be none remaining. There would be only the other emotions he felt for her. Emotions he would not examine now. Perhaps not ever.
“I must admit, that, too sounds plausible,” the duchess said slowly, casting a glance back at Arden. “I have seen many cases in my past where a family member—a wife, a sister, a daughter—had been too fearful to speak out against someone they knew had committed a crime.”
“I will speak with Ravenhurst,” Arden relented. “If the situation is as you say, and McKenna does indeed have a history of terrorizing his sister, I have no doubt he will be amenable to avoiding laying charges against Miss McKenna.”
“Thank you.” He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. “All I ask is for Miss McKenna to be treated with respect and fairness, and to be kept safe.”
“I make no promises,” the duke warned. “But I will try. God knows you have been responsible for aiding me more times than I can count. And since you helped to save my wife’s life, I am eternally indebted to you.”
Arden referred to when the duchess had been held prisoner by some of McKenna’s men within a London warehouse. By the time their contingent of Special League and Scotland Yard forces had arrived, the Fenians had detonated bombs and set off a roaring fire. Arden, the Duke of Strathmore, and the duchess had just narrowly escaped with their lives.
It was a chilling reminder of just how deadly the men working for McKenna were. Just how great their potential for savagery. They would stop at nothing to gain what they wanted, but he would be damned before anyone else paid in blood.
He rose and bowed. “Thank you, Arden. Duchess. Come to me when you have Ravenhurst’s reassurance, and the investigation can proceed.”
Johanna’s belongings hadarrived from the hotel. All of them, that was, save one trunk.
She stared at the valises and trunk now, sitting end to end in the chamber where she would be spending the next few nights. A few and no more, she reminded herself firmly. She must not get accustomed to this. Even if the chamber was large and sumptuous, the room decorated in stunning style.
“Would you have me unpack them for you, ma’am?” asked the maid who was tentatively hovering alongside the trunks in question. “It would be my pleasure to see you settled.”
The domestic—Owens, as she had introduced herself—was kind and eager to be of assistance. But Johanna felt odd accepting the assistance. Indeed, as she stood in the center of this beautiful chamber, a chamber which had likely once belonged to Felix’s former mistress, she could not help but to feel that she did not belong.
She had never before had a servant attend her.
Nor had she ever had a room as elegant and finely appointed as this one.
But along with her awe at the luxurious surroundings was the heavy weight of dread. For she was running from Drummond, and she had never in all her years been able to run so far or so fast he had not been able to eventually catch her. The last time, it had taken several years. This time, there was no telling.
She suppressed a shiver at the thought, tamped down her fear.
“I will see to the unpacking myself, Owens,” she forced herself to say.
“It is no trouble, Miss McKenna. His Grace has tasked me with seeing to you,” the maid said. “Direct me as you like, and I will see everything tucked away nice and neat, just where you want it.”
Miss McKenna.
How odd it was to be addressed by her true name after so many years. But Felix had informed the staff, and even his daughter had taken to referring to her as Miss McKenna now. She could not deny it left her feeling as if she were in a strange state of vulnerability. But most vulnerable of all, given everything that had happened, was her heart.
An unwanted thought occurred to her then.
“Owens, you were not employed by the last…resident of this home, were you?” she asked, hoping Felix had not also given her his former mistress’s maid.
“Oh no, Miss McKenna.” Owens smiled tentatively. “I am new to this position. Being a lady’s maid has always been a dream of mine.”
The domestic’s admission sent a spear of guilt through her.
“Forgive me for being churlish, Owens,” she hastened to say. “Of course you must do what you like. I merely did not want to cause you extra work or trouble.”
“Nonsense.” Owens opened the first trunk. “Do you have a preference as to where your undergarments shall go, ma’am?”
Johanna wanted to tell the maid not to unpack all the luggage entirely, for she had no intention of remaining here long. But she did not want to see any further shadows of disappointment darken the maid’s expression. And a voice inside, she refused to acknowledge, suggested perhaps she would stay here longer than she supposed.
