They held them roughly every six weeks or so, varying the times and the days to keep the magistrates off their trail. Neither man could have imagined in their wildest dreams how successful they would be.
The only fly in the ointment at the beginning had been the unexpected arrival of John Witherspoon’s sister Lizzy after the death of their mother. But even that turned out to be fortuitous as around the same time, Nicholas Sinclair had been forced to resign his commission and return home to Blackmore to assume the mantle of Duke on the death of his father.
Meanwhile, Charlie Fletcher had become somewhat of a liability due to his penchant for drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. It was therefore decided that Fletcher would make an honest woman of Lizzy and take her to live in Blackmore to keep an eye on Sinclair. Not that they thought the new Duke would give them any trouble, but at the end of the day, a body couldn’t be too careful.
So Charlie was dispatched to Devonshire with the promise of regular money providing he kept Lizzy sweet. Everything would have worked perfectly except they forgot the part about sending the blunt. Which resulted in Fletcher turning up out of the blue like a bad penny…
Of course there was another slight problem. What to do with the poor unfortunates who lost their fights. Despite being on the edge of the Rookeries, it wasn’t that easy to dispose of a body without attracting unwanted attention.
At that point, the enterprising Mr. Phelps came up with the idea of donating the corpses for medical science. Or rather handing them over to the Resurrectionists, since medical science had a disturbing tendency to ask where the corpse had come from.
So, all in all, despite the few hiccoughs, they had a very profitable business. Until Stanhope had the bloody gall to come back…
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sudden demise of John Witherspoon in Newgate prison was noted by hardly anyone, except perhaps the gallows bird in the cell next door, who actually reported it.
According to the account given by one John Smith who was serving a life sentence for pilfering a lady’s undergarments, he couldn’t rightly say how it had happened, though the word carved out on the unfortunate Witherspoon’s posterior in big bloody letters was a good indication that the Upright Man did not like leaving loose ends.
∞∞∞
Chastity and Christian’s wedding was scheduled to take place at the end of May. The Earl had been a guest at Blackmore for a little over a month while he began the repairs on Cottesmore Hall, though it would take nigh on a year before the house was again liveable. Until then, as soon as the wedding was over, the Earl and Countess would reside in their townhouse in London.
Mercy had flourished in the weeks she’d been staying with the Duke and Duchess. She got on with Peter and Jennifer famously, and when he arrived, Christian could not believe the difference in his lonely daughter. Indeed, he finally began to see signs of the confident, captivating woman she might become. He would be forever grateful to Grace and Nicholas for taking her into their home and their hearts.
Naturally, it wasn’t all roses. Prudence too had imprinted her mark on Mercy, and if his daughter’s confidence was a little on thedeterminedside, well, her father reasoned that would be another man’s problem to deal with.
By the middle of May, her grace was increasing nicely. She had finally revealed her condition to Nicholas after he’d returned from London. As predicted, he was equally delighted and fearful by turn, leading Grace to demand on more than one occasion that he stop hanging around her like a deuced mother hen.
Felicity too remained a guest at Blackmore, and the Duchess would not hear of the matron returning to Bath until she was certain her dear friend had fully recovered, a stance which was fully endorsed by Malcolm. Indeed, the Duke’s valet demonstrated an unexpected enthusiasm to assist with Miss Beaumont’s recuperation.
To Reverend Shackleford’s relief, his parishioners had not entirely given themselves over to less Godly pursuits, and he was actually quite gratified to discover how much he’d been missed. Well, in the Red Lion anyway.
As for Percy. Well, he was no longer quite so convinced that curtain lectures were not for him, and he and Lizzy went back to enjoying their twice weekly glass of milk. Though to be fair, things had progressed a little further, and Lizzy now came to the vicarage for supper once a fortnight. In truth, the widow had become quite a catch, since she inherited the gambling den on her brother’s unfortunate demise. Naturally, not holding with the idea of becoming a Madam, Lizzy had quickly put the building up for sale, and the proceeds had been enough to purchase her a large cottage on the edge of the village.
Naturally, this turn of events prompted the Reverend to offer Percy some sage advice, the gist of which was that the curate should remove his head from his posterior and propose to the widow before she had her head turned by someone with charm, charisma and considerably more hair.
∞∞∞
It was two weeks before the wedding, and Chastity was sitting in Blackmore’s orchard along with Grace, Nicholas, Felicity and the children. Despite it being warm enough for shirt sleeves, the Duchess was bundled up in her bath chair as though it was the middle of winter. Fanning herself with her straw hat, Chastity eyed her sister in sympathy, wondering if she would show the same admirable restraint if Christian thought to mollycoddle her so.
Unbidden, the thought brought on a sudden flood of anxiety. She and Christian had still not yet discussed the possibility of more children. Oh, she was no longer concerned that the marriage bed would remain idle. Indeed, she could hardly wait for the Earl to incite more of the astonishing sensations she’d experienced in his arms that night in Tempy’s garden, though she was not yet entirely sure what exactly that would entail. In truth, she was hoping Charity could be persuaded to offer some clarification when she arrived in the next few days.
But even more importantly, he had not repeated the endearment he’d mouthed when he thought he was about to fall, and Chastity was beginning to fear she had imagined it.
But in all fairness, when had he had the time? Indeed, actually indulging in any kind of in-depth conversation with her betrothed had been almost impossible since they arrived back in Devonshire. If the Earl wasn’t at Cottesmore, he was out with Nicholas, or she was attending fittings for her wedding dress, or the bridesmaid dresses or deciding which flowers she’d prefer, or… Truly she’d had no idea that a wedding entailed so muchpreparation. Indeed, she was a little miffed at Charity for not warning her. But then if her twin had divulged the full extent, Chastity might well have suggested eloping.
Still, Lord Cottesmore was returning to Blackmore this very day and had promised not to leave again until after they were wed, after which, she fully intended to be with him.
As though her thoughts had conjured him up, Chastity suddenly spied a tall figure walking towards them. It was Christian. She would know him anywhere. Her heart began beating faster as it always did whenever the Earl was near, and she had to resist the urge to jump up and run to greet him. But then…
She looked over at her companions, fully occupied with watching the children. Abruptly making up her mind, she jumped to her feet, picked up her skirts and ran towards her intended.
Christian stopped as he caught sight of the diminutive figure sprinting headlong towards him. He knew immediately it was Chastity, and his heart soared at the sight of her. Laughing, without a care for who was watching, he held out his arms and unhesitatingly, she threw herself into them, squealing as he spun her around.
‘God I’ve missed you,’ he breathed as he finally put her back onto the ground.
‘Have you, my lord?’ she whispered, her hand tracing a pattern on his linen shirt. Christian glanced over towards the others who had obligingly turned their backs. With a small smile, he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. ‘Have I told you I love you, Chastity Shackleford,’ he murmured hoarsely.
