How smoothly and swiftly Shaw had built his spider’s web, catching his prey. The beautiful butterfly had been happily captured, not realizing the danger in which she had found herself. He wondered if she understood the depth of depravity to which her husband had sunk, even now. Likely, she would deny it, despite having read the letters yesterday. So despicable and firm was that bastard’s hold upon her.
Even from the grave, George Shaw continued to win.
“Am I to understand Mrs. Shaw had no inkling of her husband’s villainy?” Stone asked.
“Willful ignorance,” Roland said, once more unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “She loved him.”
And that part hurt the most. The knowledge was a weapon, pointed and sharp, inserted directly between his rib bones. All the better to puncture.
“I believe I begin to understand.” Stone slid the stack of letters into a pocket within the breast of his coat. “You were a rival suitor?”
A rival suitor.
One who had lost.
Yes, he supposed he had been that. And more.
He clenched his jaw. “It was long ago, in the past now.”
But it was not in the past, not entirely, was it? His feelings for her had never passed. Rather, they had entrenched themselves deep within his heart. Seeing her so much, speaking with her, had sent him back to that time in ways not even he could comprehend. The longing had not dimmed as he had hoped it might. Instead, it burned hotter and brighter than ever.
“Fair enough,” Stone said. “If you wish to keep your secrets, I’ll not prod the wound. But as I said to you previously, George Shaw was involved with some despicable men. And some of those despicable men are dangerous. If Mrs. Shaw does have any evidence concerning her husband’s crimes, it would behoove her to turn them over to Scotland Yard with all haste. I would hate for her to get caught up in the sins of her husband.”
There it was again, the looming specter of danger. He could not shake the feeling that Stone knew far more concerning Shaw’s past than he had offered. Perhaps because the information was sensitive and could not be revealed lest he jeopardize his investigation.
“Have you any certain knowledge of threats against her?” he asked before he could think better of issuing the question.
Even if there had been threats made against Pippa, it was hardly his place to defend her. Nor would she welcome his defense. But still, he had to know. If there was something he could do, offer her an additional warning, somehow make her believe the seriousness of the situation in which she found herself…
He could not shake the sense of obligation he felt for her. It remained, lingering like the love which would not be chased.
“No certain knowledge,” Stone allowed. “However, it is a concern. Some of the things I have seen, Northwich… Suffice it to say that the more evidence we can gather against Shaw, the better off we shall be, and the sooner we can find all his associates and bring them to justice.”
What a pity that George Shaw could never be brought to justice, thanks to his death. Still, suspicion prodded at Roland, making him wonder…
“Stone, you do not believe there was anything nefarious concerning the death of Shaw, do you?”
His friend settled his empty glass upon the surface of a nearby table before straightening, his countenance once more unreadable. “I do not have immediate evidence to suggest his death was anything other than what it was reported to be.”
The response was somehow lacking in providing Roland any reassurance.
“I did not ask you whether you had evidence,” he countered, noting the care Stone had taken with his language. “I asked you what you believe.”
“I believe George Shaw kept company with very bad men,” the Chief Inspector said, “and I believe those bad men are dangerous. Further, it stands to reason that if they become aware that evidence of their dealings has emerged, they may retaliate in an effort to protect themselves. If your Mrs. Shaw will heed advice, my suggestion is that she provide us with any evidence she can find and then retire to the country for a time. I am sure she will find the fresh air restoring.”
He had never known Stone to be so bloody evasive, and Roland did not like it one damned bit. Especially not as it pertained to Pippa and her safety.
“She is notmyMrs. Shaw,” he said.
And that was the crux of the matter, was it not? She had never been his. And now, she never would be.
Stone plucked out his pocket watch and consulted the time. “Forgive me, Northwich. If I do not take my leave, I will find myself late for another obligation. Thank you for the letters.”
Another obligation indeed.
“I thought we might fence today,” he said, partially because he enjoyed the challenge a bout with a man as large and yet proficient as Stone was provided, and partially because he wanted to prolong this damned conversation until he had some answers.
“No time for that, I am afraid,” Stone said, his tone as well as his expression rather cryptic. “Do give my regards to Mrs. Shaw, should you see her.”
