“And implicate my mother.” Eleanor’s body vibrated with outrage.
“That almost didn’t come about. I’d intended to leave the entire letter your mother wrote, crumpled at the edge of the grate. Edgar tore it from my hand, came at me. I had to shoot him. And when he collapsed, the letter fell into the fire. I only had the small portion. It was fortunate Bow Street had such competent agents to compare the handwriting as your mother’s signature at the bottom had been destroyed.” Miss Abbott shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, your mother may end up free. After you kill Lady Mary, the suspicion for the other murders should shift to you, as well.”
Eleanor had no answer to that, only stared with her mouth gaping wide.
Miss Abbott raised the gun. “Close that desk drawer, if you please, Lady Mary. Whatever trinket you think will help you from there, I can assure you it won’t beat my gun.”
I ground my back teeth and did as she’d ordered.
“Stand up, both of you.” Miss Abbott smiled, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m feeling nostalgic. Let’s adjourn to the Great Room, shall we?”
Eleanor and I locked gazes. We both knew what waited for us there, and, if I read her expression correctly, neither of us had any idea how to avoid following her orders without being shot.
I stepped around my desk, my chin raised. There was only one direction to go and that was forward. I could only pray an idea would come to us before it was too late.
Chapter Forty-Two
Frederick
“I’ve told you.She is being well taken care of.” Quinton tipped onto the back two legs of his chair and glared at the ceiling. “With that maid of hers in there with her, she’ll likely have a more comfortable bed then either of us will tonight.”
Those were the words Frederick wanted to hear, but they didn’t reassure him. How could they? The mother of the woman he loved was in a cell. No matter it was a room kept for higher-class arrestees, that it boasted a bed, dining table, and fire grate, it remained a cell.
And Eleanor still couldn’t forgive him.
Quinton brought his chair down with a thump. “Have you caught up with Lewis? He’s still got a knot in his smallclothes about talking to you.”
“Not yet.” Frederick gripped the back of his neck. Lewis and he hadn’t spoken much since Frederick had been promoted to officer and left patrol behind. The man most likely wanted to drink an ale or two and talk about old times. They’d patrolled the streets together for nigh on two years, and as Frederick had nowhere else to go, he might as well join the man in a pint. “I’ll go find him. He still working Lincoln Inn Fields?”
Quinton nodded. “He’s got a girl that lives near there. He doesn’t want to leave.”
Frederick knew the feeling. With feet dragging, he found a hackney on the street and took it to the neighborhood. It wasn’t long before he saw the scarlet waistcoat that the Bow StreetPatrol were known for. He called out to Lewis before hopping out of the cab and shoving a coin in the driver’s direction.
“Oy! Freddie. You finally remembered your old friend.” The smile on Lewis’s face took the heat out of the statement.
They shook hands. “I hear you wanted to speak with me,” Frederick said. He turned up the collar on his coat. Night was falling, and all the day’s heat seemed to have fled with the sun.
Lewis leaned back against the pole of a gas lamp. “I heard you was working the case of that high in the instep hoyden we stopped a while back. ThatLadyRichford.”
Frederick’s brow furrowed. “That’s right.”
“Too bad about her. She looked right nice in a pair of breeches.”
Frederick pressed his lips together. If all Lewis wanted was to gossip about the death of a member of theton, he wasn’t interested. “Yes, and I’ve arrested someone for the murder. If you want to discuss the case, it will have to wait until after the inquiry.” Or never. This was one case Frederick never wanted to think about again.
“Oh, well, if you’ve already caught yourself the killer, I guess it don’t matter.”
Frederick turned his gaze from a search for another hackney and narrowed it on Lewis. “What doesn’t matter?”
“The information I had. About that night.”
Frederick shoved his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t shake the man. “What night? What are you talking about?”
“The night we picked up Lady Richford. She weren’t alone.”
Frederick thought back. He and Lewis had broken up a small shoving match between some young bucks and who they’d discovered to be the viscountess. There had been a few people observing the scuffle, but at that time of night it hadn’t been many. “Who else are you talking about?”
“Well, after you left with the lady, I started interviewing the witnesses.” He sniffed. “Wanted to see if anyone else had noticed it was a woman’s arse in those trousers that could make trouble for her. I knew you wanted to help her keep it secret.”
