A few minutes later, Carrow appeared in a nightshirt and trousers, grey hair flattened to one side, eyes still fogged with sleep.
“Answer one question. Do so honestly, and you’ll be spared prosecution when the magistrate learns of Miss Bourne’s criminal deeds.”
Carrow paled. “I’ll do my best, milord.”
Gabriel prayed the man had a good memory. “Ten years ago, the night Miss Bourne left Islington, did she leave with someone? Did you take her to the stage? Or ferry her to Dover?”
Carrow gave a half-shrug and stared at his boots.
“She didn’t just disappear. You took her somewhere. I advise you answer. I’ve no desire to whip an old man. But I’ve reached the end of my tether.”
“She met a fellow at a coaching inn in Rochester. I left her there.”
“And this fellow? Do you know him?”
Carrow shifted, clearly rattled. “I never got his name, milord. But he wasn’t a stranger.”
Gabriel firmed his jaw. “I’m in no mood for games.”
“No.” The coachman’s hands twitched at his sides. “He was a friend of yours, milord. Handsome fellow. A visitor at Studland Park.”
Gabriel cursed inwardly. Yet relief slackened his shoulders like a rope cut from a winch. “Justin Lovelace?”
“I didn’t ask no names.”
And he didn’t need to hear more.
Minutes later, he was back in the carriage with Rutland, Dalton, and Gentry. The door slammed, Kincaid cracked the reins, and Wynbury Hall disappeared behind them.
No one spoke.
Gabriel looked between them. “Did anyone here know Lovelace and Miss Bourne were lovers? Say now, and I’ll stop the carriage. You’ll have my forgiveness—God knows it wouldn’t have been easy to tell me—but you’ll no longer have my friendship.”
Too much had already been lost to silence.
He’d lived with half-truths while the rest of it rotted in the dark.
He couldn’t stomach more lies.
Not from those he trusted most.
Rutland met his gaze without flinching. “Had I known, I’d have told you. Loyalty is everything between friends.”
Dalton scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you think I’d keep something like that from you? I know the price you put on betrayal.”
Gentry held his gaze, a shared pain behind his eyes. “I’d have dragged him through gravel if I had.”
The ache in Gabriel’s chest eased.
He hadn’t doubted them.
“Then we’ll not mention it again.”
The rest of the journey passed in silence.
They arrived at Mrs Hodge’s cottage to find the front door open, the frame splintered, a side table overturned, and the woman sprawled on the floor, clutching her middle.
A silver hilt jutted from her abdomen, glinting faintly in the dark. Blood soaked her white nightgown, the crimson stain spreading fast, the coppery scent already rising in the still air.
