"It seems," James said, "that we have stumbled upon something far more sinister than we imagined."
James needed more information, and he needed it quickly if he was going to see Hawthorne imprisoned before he could harm Selina. Turning back to the ruffian, he fixed him with a steely gaze.
"You may not know about Lord Hollyfield directly, but surely, Hawthorne said something. Think, man. Your life depends on it."
The ruffian swallowed hard, his eyes darting between James and Selina. "He... he did mention something about a race. Said it was a shame about the accident, but some men just don't know their limits. And now the pair of you are catching on and he can’t have that."
Selina's sharp intake of breath cut through the tense atmosphere. James glanced at her, noting the pallor of her face and the trembling of her hands. He longed to comfort her, but knew he had to press on.
"A race, you say? That's oddly specific for a manwho claims to know nothing," James prodded, his voice dangerously low.
The ruffian's resolve crumbled further. "Alright! He... he laughed about it. Said he'd arranged the perfect accident, and no one would ever suspect. Saved himself a great deal of money for the effort."
James felt a cold fury building within him. He turned to the coachman, who now stood beside the carriage, a large bump on his forehead where the attackers must have hit him with something. "You, there. Get me some rope, then go fetch a Bow Street Runner. We will need official testimony."
As the coachman scrambled to do his bidding, James returned his attention to the ruffian. "Now, my good man, you are going to cooperate and tell Bow Street everything. And I do mean everything."
The ruffian nodded as the coachman handed James a length of rope.
James tied the attacker’s hands together before forcing him to sit beside the carriage. As they awaited Bow Street, James paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving the bound ruffian. Selina sat rigidly on the carriage seat, her fingers twisting the fabric of her gown as she peered out at them.
"How long do you think it will take the Runner to arrive?" She asked, her voice barely audible.
James glanced at her, his expression softening momentarily. "Not long, I hope. But rest assured, this vagrant is not going anywhere."
The ruffian shifted uncomfortably, the ropes creaking against the wood of the carriage wheel. "You can't keep me here forever," he growled, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"Oh, I assure you, we can," James replied coolly. "And the longer we wait, the more inclined I am to extract every sordid detail of your association with Lord Hawthorne." James patted the pistol in his pocket for good measure.
Selina's eyes darted between James and the ruffian. "What if... what if the other one’s return?"
James wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his pistol. "I am ready," he said firmly, his gaze never leaving their captive.
The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow. Every rustle of leaves, every distant sound of hoofbeats made them tense, wondering if it heralded the runner or some nefarious ally of Lord Hawthorne.
Finally, the sound of purposeful footsteps approached. James positioned himself protectively in front of the carriage door to guard Selina as the footsteps neared.
“Mr. Sullivan,” Selina called out as the runner approached. “How fortuitous that it would be you.”
He bowed, his weathered face etched with determination. "Lord Blackwood, Lady Hollyfield, I came as quickly as I could. What's this about a confession?"
James felt a wave of relief wash over him. "We have a most interesting tale of murder and conspiracy, courtesy of this… man."
The Runner's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. "Is that so? Well then, let us hear what he has to say."
James watched Selina as the ruffian confessed his actions as well as told Mr. Sullivan the sorted details of Hawthorne’s involvement in Lord Hollyfield’s death.
“When the ruffian stopped talking, Mr. Sullivan turned his attention to James. “I’ll be,” Sulivan said. “The evidence in my investigation was pointing else ware. I must say, I am glad we have found our villan.” Sullivan nodded, offering a slight smile. “I will take this ruffian to lockup and ensure he goes before the magistrate at first light, my lord.” He looked at Selina. “It seems we have solved your husband’s murder. I do hope you find some peace now, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Selina said, offering a nod. “My peace will come once Lord Hawthorne is made to pay for his crime.”
“I assure you he will pay dearly, my lady. I will see to it personally.” He tugged on his prisoner, causing him to sway. “But first I must get this one in front of a magistrate and take an official statement. I shall see it done with haste, but until Hawthorne is charged, I must insist that you stay clear of him. Go home and wait for word from me.”
“Indeed,” James drawled. “We will expect to hear from you by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“My lord. My Lady.” Mr. Sullivan gave a nod, then hauled the ruffian away.
James turned to the coachman, his gaze moving to the nasty bump on the man’s forehead. “Are you able to drive?”
