“What else could he have wanted? I told him not to return unless he had a warrant for my arrest.”
Her eyes widened, and he knew the sharp pang of regret for his blunt speech. “Is it as bad as that, Hudson?”
“It should not be,” he answered truthfully. “I am an innocent man, and yet it seems that others are working against me at every turn for reasons I can scarcely fathom.”
“The witness he spoke of, a Mrs. Lamson, was murdered last night,” she said, her voice hushed. “He came to tell me that she was found writhing in agony when someone came upon her just after she had been seen with a man bearing your description. She was taken to hospital, but it was too late. She died. Chief Inspector O’Rourke claims she was poisoned.”
His blood went cold. “What the devil?”
“It is indeed the devil at work, I suspect.” She was solemn, as mournful as someone keeping vigil at a deathbed. “I believe Chief Inspector O’Rourke came to persuade me of your guilt, and to apprehend you. However, I told him that you were with me all night and morning.”
A pink flush stole over her cheeks, and even with the heavy weight of dread in his gut, he could not stop admiring her natural beauty. “Do you believe I am innocent, Ellie?” he asked, because he had to do so.
He needed to hear the answer from her lips. Hell, if she told him no, he would scarcely blame her. By the day, her brother’s observation about death following him seemed increasingly apt.
“Of course I do,” she reassured him, her gaze unwavering. “You must never doubt that, Hudson. O’Rourke did not initially believe me when I told him you were with me for the duration of the evening, without end. Apparently, a sergeant has been trailing you, and that man watched my brother call for the carriage and go to the Black Souls club last night. The sergeant confused Royston for you. After O’Rourke took his leave, I discovered he had interviewed the groom for confirmation of what I had told him. He left in quite a rage, if Gosnell’s word is to be believed.”
“Damn it.” This was far worse than he had believed. “If this Mrs. Lamson was truly poisoned, it means someone wanted her silenced. She was already lying about having witnessed me entering the rooms while I was at the Black Souls club.”
Elysande’s hand tightened on his arm. “Do you suppose someone asked her to lie about what she had seen?”
“I wish I knew for certain. In my experience, sometimes witnesses lied to collect rewards or to gain notoriety. Others lied to protect others. Mrs. Lamson could have been attempting to protect the true murderer, whomever he may be.”
Elysande nodded, eyes going wide. “Oh, yes! If she was lying to muddy the waters of the investigation and deflect attention from the true killer, then whoever is responsible for the murder of Mrs. Ainsley may also have poisoned Mrs. Lamson.”
He nodded, feeling suddenly overheated in his greatcoat.Curse it, his brow was sweating. On a rush of wild energy, he shrugged away from her and moved toward the sparse library furniture. He tossed his hat to a nearby table and shrugged out of his coat, draping it over a chair’s back.
But she followed him. Of course she did, bringing with her the gentle scent of lily of the valley and the sweet benediction of her presence and support.
“Hudson?” Her hand was on his back. Gentle and seeking. Offering comfort.
He suddenly felt as if he were burning alive. Slowly, he inhaled, then exhaled, seeking relief, some measure of calm. “I spent so many years solving cases. Never did I suppose I would be involved in them in such fashion…suspected of not just one murder but two.”
“Something is dreadfully amiss with this investigation.” Her palm glided up his spine, traveling slowly over his shoulder. “These stories, none of them make sense. Nor does Chief Inspector O’Rourke’s insistence upon finding you guilty.”
O’Rourke wanted to see him in prison for Maude’s murder. No question of that. All the events which had unfolded since her death gave proof to that undeniable truth. However, what was O’Rourke’s motive? Was it vengeance? Did he resent Hudson for having inherited a dukedom and leaving Scotland Yard behind? Had he been angered by Hudson’s determination to pursue Reginald Croydon? Or, as they had earlier wondered, was he indeed somehow involved with Croydon himself?
During his time at Scotland Yard, jealousies had run rampant. Nor was the Yard any stranger to corruption. The ramshackle offices with their case files stacked unceremoniously, accessible to nearly anyone, had not helped matters one whit.
“I am damned sorry I dragged you into this mess, Ellie,” he rasped, bowing his head against a rush of guilt.
He did not deserve her.
He never had.
Never would.
His wife’s touch moved over his other shoulder, and then her second hand joined the first. Her clever fingers found all the knots of tension and strain in his shoulders and began digging in, working on soothing them.
“I am your wife,” she said. “There is no dragging me into anything. We stand together.”
He tucked his chin to his chest, allowing her to work on his shoulders as his mind frantically attempted to make sense of all the information flowing through it. He was like a sea at high tide, whipped into a frenzy, foaming and crashing and wild. He needed to regain control of himself.
“We know that Mrs. Lamson was lying,” he said, stating facts. “We do not know her reason for dissembling, but she was most certainly not telling the truth when she claimed to have seen me at my rooms along with Mrs. Ainsley earlier in the evening. Mr. Seward’s own testimony corroborates my presence at the Black Souls club. He was very clear in his assertion that he saw Mrs. Ainsley alone, and that he was the one who provided herentréeinto the rooms.”
“Furthermore, since we know Mrs. Lamson was not telling the truth, and she has now been poisoned herself,” Elysande said slowly as she worked his taut muscles, “one could reasonably assume that she had been lying to protect the true killer. Or that perhaps she had been given an incentive of some sort to lie. Either way, the only person who would have given her such motive would have been the murderer of Mrs. Ainsley, which means he must have poisoned Mrs. Lamson as well. But why?”
Good sweet God.Realization flooded Hudson, cold and shocking and deuced numbing all at once. Why the hell had he not reached the inevitable conclusion sooner?
