They climbed in single file to the top of the landing. A twitch of the weapon told Wrexford to turn right.
“Open it,” ordered Blodgett as they came to a closed door.
Lord Blackstone looked up from the pile of papers on his desk and slowly removed his gold-rimmed spectacles.
“He was in the engine room, and managed to free the urchins,” announced Blodgett.
A frown thinned Blackstone’s mouth, but his expression quickly relaxed. “Come, Geoffrey, it’s nothing to worry about.”A curt laugh. “Even if the brats dared to tell anyone, who would believe them?”
“I say we shoot him now. It’s clear he’s not going to do as we asked.”
The marquess’s face hardened to a frown. “You’re becoming a little too fond of shedding blood,” he said sharply. “As I’ve cautioned you, a smart man solves problems with his brain, not his more primitive instincts. Put down the pistol.” A slap of his palm indicated a spot on the desk. “Now.”
Blodgett paled but did as he was told. “Y-You thought it an exceedingly clever plan to murder Ashton and frame Hollis for the deed,” he muttered, moving back to stand by the side table covered with tools.
“So it was. But Nevins was unnecessary. And now . . .” Blackstone leaned back and tapped his fingertips together in thought.
It was a gamble, thought Wrexford, but perhaps the tension between father and son could be turned to his own advantage. Otherwise, he would soon be a dead man.
And he wasn’t quite ready to shake hands with the Devil.
“Since I’m not long for this world, Blackstone, kindly satisfy my curiosity on how you put all of this together. I’m assuming it was Blodgett who killed Ashton and carved the symbol on his belly. But Hollis—”
“Hollis had received a note—one he thought was from Ashton—revising the rendezvous at Half Moon Gate to twenty minutes after the original time,” exclaimed Blodgett hotly. “You frightened him off before the night watchman I sent could catch him.”
Ah, the noise he had heard by the body, thought Wrexford, as more pieces of the puzzle fit together. But there was still something that wasn’t clear. “How was Hollis drawn into the plan?”
“I knew him from his loitering around the mill,” answeredBlodgett. “It was pitifully easy to have one of our hired men convince him that Ashton was, like himself, an altruist and wanted to discuss sharing the profits of any new inventions with his workers. However, Hollis was warned that he needed to set up a rendezvous during Ashton’s visit to London, and that it needed to be done with great secrecy, as Mrs. Ashton was dead set against giving any blunt away.”
“Clever,” conceded Wrexford. “But—”
Blackstone sighed. “But then I fear Geoffrey overreacted. He felt it necessary to eliminate Hollis so he didn’t start putting two and two together and figure out he had been set up to take the blame.”
“I tell you,” muttered Blodgett, “I had reason to believe he had overheard us in Leeds talking about the patent papers.”
“I fear you have an overactive imagination,” murmured the marquess.
Wrexford didn’t correct him. Instead, deciding to play thorn-in-the-side to the hilt, he thrust the point in a little deeper. “It was, as Blodgett said, an exceedingly well-thought-out plan,” he said loudly. “Even Hollis’s death might have slipped by without the authorities connecting it to Ashton. But . . .” He looked at Blodgett. “Killing Kirkland was the nail in your coffin.”
The earl then slowly shifted his gaze to Blackstone. “And yours, too. I doubt the House of Lords will show mercy to a man who kills his own firstborn son.”
“Iwas first,” rasped Geoffrey. “Just as I was always first in my father’s affections. Kirkland was an indolent wastrel, while I had the intellect and ambition of a true son of Blackstone.”
“Yes, yes, no need to get yourself in a pucker, Geoffrey.” Blackstone rose, his eyes never leaving Wrexford, and went to stand close to his bastard son.
The earl wondered whether the move was meant to calm Blodgett or to block him from making a rash move for theweapon on the desk. Either way, his needling seemed to be getting under the skin of both men.
“You have no evidence to link us to anything,” continued the marquess. “We were very careful. And now, with Hillhouse’s disappearance, it will be believed that he is the guilty party. Once we clear out this warehouse and move the machinery to another location, his body will never be found.”
“On the contrary, said Wrexford calmly. “We have a witness who saw Blodgett’s face clearly when he was walking with Kirkland. He saw the two of them enter the building, and then, a few minutes later, he also witnessed Blodgett run out and toss away the knife. We have the weapon, still covered in your heir’s blood.”
“That’s a lie,” spat Blodgett. “No one was there.”
“The fellow was pissing behind the crates where you threw the knife.” He shook his head. “It was rather sloppy of you not to notice. Hubris can be a weakness, too, Blodgett. A fatal one.”
Blodgett started to take a step but his father held him back. “Is it true, Geoffrey?” he asked. “Did you throw away the knife as he described?”
“Yes, damn him. It’s true. But I tell you, it doesn’t matter! The authorities aren’t going to take the word of some drunken street sweep over that of a marquess. You can swear I was with you.”
