Kent’s keen gaze shot to Richard. “We found the lovers.”
“Pardon?” Richard didn’t follow.
“The lovers Wormleigh overheard in the library—turns out he was telling the truth about them. MacLeod here accomplished what three of the magistrate’s men couldn’t. He tracked down the purchase of a pair of tickets to Gretna to a station two villages away. The tickets were sold a week ago to a Mr. and Mrs. Cedric Burns.”
“They were supposed to leave the morning that the de Brouet woman was killed. According to the ledger, the couple didn’t show for their journey,” McLeod said. “The tickets went unused.”
“At first Burns refused to say anything,” Kent went on, “but somehow Amelia Turbett got wind that we were interrogating him, and she rushed to her lover’s rescue.”
Richard’s head jerked. “Miss Turbett, you say?”
Kent nodded. “Apparently she and Burns have been carrying on in secret for months. She told us everything. How Monique overheard her and Burns in the library. Threatened to blackmail them. One thing led to another, and Miss Turbett pushed Monique into the fireplace. An accident, she claimed. She and Burns thought she’d killed Monique so they panicked, called off their elopement plans, and tried to wait things out.”
Richard’s head spun. “They have the necklace?”
“Burns claims he knows nothing about stolen jewelry,” Kent said. “We searched all of his and Miss Turbett’s belongings and found nothing.”
“Our theory is that someone else came upon Monique in the library,” McLeod added. “Saw the necklace and stole it, smothering Monique in the process.”
“We need to question Goggs,” Richard said sharply.
Kent frowned. “Goggston? Why—”
Richard gave a rapid-fire summary of what he’d discovered about the drugged cider.
“What is more, Goggs is swimming in debts,” he said in grim tones. “Parnell confirmed that both he and Goggs have been dodging moneylenders for the past year. Parnell has his papa to fall back on, but he says Goggs’ father cut him off months ago. Goggs is in desperate straits.”
“So he had motive to steal the necklace—to take it from Monique by any means necessary.” Cursing, Kent said, “Let’s go get him.”
Leaving Parnell in McLeod’s custody, Richard and Kent took off running to Goggston’s chamber. When Richard’s knock went unanswered, he took a step back and kicked the door open. He rushed inside, Kent at his heels; the empty room with its unmade bed confirmed his fear. After a quick search that revealed no clues as to Goggs’ plans, they went to the stables. Goggs had left behind his own mount, taking one of Billings’ carriages instead.
“Goggston won’t get far,” Kent said. “He has no more than a few hours’ lead on us. I’ll send men along all the main roads—”
“Why do you think he took a carriage?” Richard said tersely. “He’d make far better time on horseback.”
“What are you getting at?”
“He knows we’re onto him—that’s why he lied to me and cast blame on Parnell. He knows he’s only bought himself a little time and can’t outrun us.” Goggs’ words hammered at his brain.Would have liked to say my goodbyes before she was packed off to London.“And he also knows where Violet is headed.”
“Bloody hell.” Kent paled. “The bastard’s gone after her. For insurance.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Pfftt.The wooden arrow hit the apple, the impact pushing it over the edge of the table. It hit the floor with a soft thud. A direct hit.
Sighing, Violet put down her crossbow and went to fetch the fallen fruit. Since sleep had eluded her, she was trying to distract herself with target practice. Unfortunately, the crossbow reminded her of Richard and all the uncertainties in their future.
How were they going to save Wick? Would Ambrose ever forgive them for hiding evidence? And why had Richard acted so angrily—so unreasonably—in the churchyard? Was there something he hadn’t told her about his past? Because she had an inkling that his failed courtships might have had something to do with his reaction…
Placing the apple back on the table, she took another shot, driving it over the edge once more.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t youeversleep?”
Rosie’s grumbling voice, which emerged from the bedchamber adjoining the sitting room, broke Violet’s reverie. She was sharing a suite with Rosie and Polly.
“Sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I was trying not to make too much noise.”
A sound like “grrr” came in reply.
