“He made it onto a ship bound for America before we could get to him.” Beckworth’s tone was clipped, frustrated. His hands tightened on the shoulders of Ernest’s former nursemaid, who squirmed but didn’t dare protest. “This one was on the docks, screaming at the ship like a jilted lover—says she worked for you once. Seems Northwoods was playing more sides than we gave him credit for,” Beckworth finished.
“No one went after the ship?”
Westcott was already shaking his head. “It was too far out. We were too late.”
So… Northwoods was on the run.
Malum’s gaze settled on Mrs. Green then. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the nearest chair.
She hesitated, perhaps contemplating her limited options, but then lowered herself onto the edge of the seat.
Malum folded his arms as he studied her. “Let’s start with the obvious, Mrs. Green,” he said, forcefully redirecting hisfrustration. “How is it that you—a working-class wench—came to know an earl?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Through the Duke of Crossings,” she muttered.
Of course. It always led back to Crossings.
“And what were you doing for Crossings?” Malum couldn’t keep the sharp edge out of his voice.
Her lips tightened, and for a moment, it seemed she wouldn’t answer. But then, as though the weight of the room pressed it out of her, she admitted, “I was hired…” She looked up to glare at Malum, almost defiantly. “To watch you. To report back to him.”
“So you weren’t sent by the agency, then?”
“No.” Her jaw ticked. “It was all him. The duke.”
“No wonder you were so horrible with the baby,” Malum murmured.
She bristled, her cheeks flushing. “I didn’t hurt the boy! I took care of him—proper care. But the duke… he made it clear. My priority was to stay close, to watch, to listen.”
Recalling the image of her asleep, both ears plugged, Malum’s lips twitched in a fleeting smirk. Not a good nursemaid nor, apparently, a good spy.
Crossings really had been desperate…
“And when you were sacked,” Malum continued, “Crossings told you to go to the papers.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
But with the scent of an accelerant burning in his nostrils, Malum suspected Mrs. Green had been used as a pawn for more than just Crossings. “How does Northwoods fit into this?”
Her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her eyes glinting with something raw—anger, betrayal… pain. “Like I said, I met him through the duke. At first, it was just… casual. But then…” Her voice faltered, and her shoulders sagged.
“But then?” Standish prompted, his voice cutting.
The woman glanced away from them all, raising the back of her wrist to her mouth to stifle a sob. “We fell in love,” she said, her voice trembling. “He said he loved me. Promised we’d be together. I was going to be acountess!He said… after…”
“After what?” Malum was running out of patience.
Her head snapped up, looking defiant again. “After he took care of you and Crossings and the girl.”
The room stilled.
Malum was sure he already knew, but he had to confirm it first. “And which girl do you mean?”
She looked down again. After a brief pause, she seemed to come to some sort of decision, and her words spilled out in a rush. “Lady Melanie Rutherford. He would get rid of the duke, and I’d take care of the lady who had seen him start that fire last year. Then we would run away together. Start fresh.”
Malum’s hands tightened into fists at his sides.
“But he lied,” she spat, her voice rising. “He never meant it. I went to the docks, just like he said. But Milton—Lord Northwoods—he told me to go to the wrong ship. It was only luck that I saw him on the deck ofThe Atlantic Star. And he wasn’t even sorry. He was only using me! He used me and then he left me!”
