Comprehension dawned, and with it a blossoming sense of vindication.
“My brother, Lord Royston, took a carriage to his club last night, Chief Inspector Rourke,” she said, recalling Tristan’s late departure. “My family arrived in London yesterday and spent the night as our guests since their town house was not yet prepared. If your sergeant did indeed see anyone leave last night, it was Royston, and not Wycombe. As I said, my husband never left my side.”
O’Rourke paled. “That is impossible. I do not believe my sergeant can have been so mistaken.”
It was entirely possible, as the inspector was no doubt aware. In the darkness of the night and the glow of the street lamps, mistaking one tall, dark-haired gentleman for another would prove far too easy. The sergeant had believed he had been watching Hudson, but in fact, he had been trailing her brother.
“Nonetheless, he was,” she said. “Naturally, I am willing to offer testimony that my husband was by my side all last evening and until dawn, when we both woke and joined my family for breakfast. If the unfortunate Mrs. Lamson was indeed poisoned, I suggest you extend your investigation elsewhere, because it cannot have been the duke.”
The inspector’s nostrils flared. “I will need to speak with my sergeant and Lord Royston separately. Where is your brother to be found now, Your Grace?”
She smiled benignly. “I cannot say, sir. He could be anywhere. Royston does as he pleases. If that will be all, I do have some matters to attend to myself.”
He nodded and offered a curt bow. “Of course, Your Grace. I will take my leave.”
She watched him go, relief mingling with a stinging sense of unease. She did not trust Chief Inspector O’Rourke, and the terrible sense of suspicion curdling her stomach told her this was not the last she was going to see of him.
* * *
Hudson was exhaustedby the time he returned home to dress for dinner. He wanted nothing more than to sink in a hot bath and go to bed for the night with his wife at his side. He entered through the rear from the mews, not yet accustomed to descending from the carriage with formality and entering the town house in the fashion of a duke.
But then, he was still not a proper duke was he?
He doubted he would ever be.
He found Elysande in the main hall conferring with the housekeeper. She was already dressed for dinner, wearing a bold scarlet evening gown that set off her chestnut hair and soft, pretty features to advantage.
When she spied him, she excused herself and rushed to greet him. A rush of love, so profound and overwhelming he felt it in his very knees, hit Hudson.
“You are home,” she said. “I must speak with you at once.”
Her urgency took him by surprise. “Of course.”
She took his hand. “Come.”
It was quite unlike Elysande to attempt to haul him about. Her actions, coupled with the expression on her face, heightened his concern. He followed her into the nearest chamber, which happened to be the library.
When the door was closed behind them, ensuring their privacy, he turned back to her. “What is amiss, Ellie?”
“Oh, Hudson! Chief Inspector O’Rourke paid me a call today,” she said, her eyes wide as she shook her head. “He came to tell me about a witness who claimed she had seen you entering your rooms with Mrs. Ainsley on the night of the murder.”
Christ.He had never told Elysande of the impossible claim O’Rourke had made concerning a female witness who had come forward rather conveniently late. The omission had been largely because he had not wished to cause her undue worry. But also, he was desperate to hold on to her through this hell. If he lost her trust, her belief in him, he did not know what would become of him. She had become utterly essential to him in such a short amount of time.
Necessary. That was what she was. As vital as the beats of his heart.
He attempted to rake a hand through his hair and belatedly realized he was still wearing his hat, which he promptly removed. He had been so bloody distracted that removing his outerwear had not occurred to him.
He doffed the black silk with d’Orsay roll, a finer hat than he had once ever hoped to own, clenching the brim in a tight, crushing grip. “He told me a similar story when he called here previously and interviewed me. I did not want to tell you for several reasons.”
In truly Elysande fashion, she nodded as if she completely understood his reasoning before he even offered it to her. “Very likely, you did not wish to cause me additional worry.”
Bloody hell, not only was she more important to him than he had ever dreamed anyone could be, she also knew him. Knew him so well.
“Of course I did not wish to make you fret. This investigation is my burden to bear, not yours.” He paused, attempting to find the best means of explaining himself. “But also, there is no bloody means by which another witness could have seen me at those rooms at the time O’Rourke claims. Not only did this witness come forward late, but her motives are suspect. Indeed, I find it highly curious that the inspector managed to procure this miraculous witness whilst he has yet to interview any of the individuals who can prove I was present at the Black Souls club at the time the murder was committed.”
She closed the distance between them, her countenance reflecting her anguish. He would have given anything—his soul—to keep her from hurting. He had done nothing but bring death and danger to her. Worry and fear. Debt and dilapidated homes. And yet, she remained steadfast and true, an angel among women.
Her hand settled on his upper arm, the gesture a bracing one. “That was not the only reason Chief Inspector O’Rourke called.”
