The viscount inclined his head. “I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes, Miss Sims. I will certainly do what I can to ease your grief if I can.”
“That is very kind of you,” Aislynn murmured.
Cordell nearly reached out and took her hand in his to give it a gentle squeeze of comfort, but he didn’t want the viscount to get the wrong impression. He wasn’t the sort of man who would fuel any rumors, but Cordell didn’t want to take that chance.
Lord Alton withdrew a pair of spectacles from his inner vest pocket and slid them over his ears. He examined the document at length for some time and then he shook his head. “I will need to keep this to compare with various signatures I have collected over the years, but I admit there is one which has a certain likeness to this script.”
Cordell saw Aislynn straighten slightly, although he was the one who replied, “Who is it?”
The viscount removed his spectacles and tapped them almost thoughtfully on his knee before he said, “It very closely resembles yours, Mr. Steele.”
If he had been standing up, Cordell was certain that he would have doubled over as if he’d been punched directly in the gut. The coincidence wouldn’t have been so devastating if it hadn’t been for the sharp gasp that came from the woman next to him. He wanted to earn her trust, not destroy it all with doubts and conjecture. Whatever The Wolf had told her that morning was enough to sow those seeds, and combined with Alton’s announcement, it was possible that he might never fully recover his innocence in Aislynn’s eyes.
He rose to his feet. “Thank you, Lord Alton. I hope you can give us a firm estimate when you have had time to look over the handwriting at greater length.” He started to go but paused when he realized Aislynn wasn’t following behind him. She looked pale, as if she had just seen a ghost. And perhaps it wasn’t far from the truth. No doubt this letter drudged up all sorts of unwanted memories for her. “You need to get to the theatre to prepare for tonight’s performance, do you not?”
That seemed to shake her out of her reverie. She blinked and glanced up at him. “Er… yes. Indeed.” She cleared her throat and stood, smoothing her skirts as she did so. Looking at the viscount, she offered him a tentative smile. “I appreciate your consideration on this matter, my lord. I do hope we are successful in finding this senseless killer.”
“That is my hope as well, Miss Sims.” Alton bowed over her hand and offered a slight kiss to her bare knuckles.
Cordell’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to sweep Aislynn in his arms and proclaim to one and all that she was spoken for, that she was his, but he did not have that right and never would because of his vow. Because of his sordid past.
He ground his teeth together and led the way outside to where he’d asked the hackney to wait for their return. He tossed a coin at the driver and instructed, “Take the long way to Drury Lane,” and then climbed inside the vehicle.
Once Aislynn was inside and he shut the door, they set into motion. Her eyes were wide as he leaned forward and encased her with an arm braced on either side of her on the opposing seat. “What the hell did The Wolf tell you this morning?”
“I… do not know what you mean?—”
He despised liars. “I think you do and we are not leaving this carriage until I discover what it is.”
“You mean to hold me against my will?”
“If that is what it takes, then yes.” He forced himself to lean back and quell some of the anger that was rising within him. Aislynn wasn’t the one at fault here. It was that traitorous snake under his roof. He regretted the night he’d stitched up his wound and saved his life only to be betrayed in this manner.
“That is not very gentlemanly behavior,” she returned curtly.
He gave a light snort. “Sweetheart, I never claimed to be a gentleman. I am an inquiry agent who is good at getting answers, and right now, I want them from you.”
Devil take it. Aislynn wasn’t in the habit of losing her demeanor. She was an actress, primed to take the stage and portray any character without any extra show of personal emotion. However, when Cordell’s dark gaze was boring into her very soul, she found her resolve weakening. But instead of cowing under his demanding gaze, she lifted her chin and folded her arms. “Very well. If you must know I was warned to stay away from you. It appears you have secrets that you were unwilling to divulge to me.”
He didn’t appear concerned. A brow lifted. “Such as?”
She swallowed and forced herself to speak the truth. “It seems that your father wasn’t the only one who suffered from troubles. Why did you not tell me you were a patient at an asylum?”
His eyes darkened slightly and then he slowly sat back away from her. She waited for him to deny her claim, to speak out against The Wolf, but he did not. “I can see nothing gets by The Pack in London,” he murmured. He paused, as if to consider his next words. “I am sure you can understand the reason I was put away for a brief time. It was the direct result of my mother’s death. There is a part of my memory that I cannot recall from those dark days.”
Aislynn did not want to feel sorry for him, to feel any sort of empathy, but it was impossible not to do so. Nevertheless, she had to know the truth if her trust were to be restored. “Tell me what you do know.”
He looked so forbidding in that instant that Aislynn could easily picture him as a mass murderer, lurking in the alleyways of London to attack an unsuspecting victim. With his darker coloring, the frightening image only grew. The only difference was that she thought he might appear to be that man outwardly, and although the evidence was against him as far as his father’s history and his own mental stability at question, she still wanted to believe the best in him. She didn’t want to believe that he could ever be capable of such heinous acts, that he truly wanted to break the cycle that his father had somehow created.
“I was seventeen years old when my father abruptly changed. It seemed as though it happened overnight, but I refused to acknowledge that it was a sudden fever of the brain that had infected him. There were too many signs that I ignored until that fateful day, that I should have recognized, that I would have recognized now.” He paused. “I was old enough to understand loss and grief but not so mature that I could handle the devastating cause of it. My uncle was the one who found me. I was wandering around the East End of London, barefoot and muttering something incoherent with blood on my hands. I do not recall anything about that day or the few weeks that followed. It is nothing more than a hazy blur, like a heavy London fog through the center of my memory.”
Aislynn put a hand to her stomach. Not only did she mourn the suffering for such a young man but she feared for the crime he might have committed when he was not himself. “Has anything ever been discovered about the blood?”
“Only that it was found not to be mine. I had no injuries to speak of.” His mouth twisted. “And if you are wondering if anyone came up missing or dead after that, the only people that were found deceased were from my father’s hand and not mine.”
She closed her eyes briefly, to stop the stinging and to blot out the image of such a picture of misery.
“To answer any other questions you may have, my uncle, the Duke of Otlingham, ensured that I was brought to his estate and secured in one of the guest chambers. He employed the best physicians around London to treat me, and believe me when I say you do not want to know the details of such things. It is not just unpleasant for a woman’s ears but for anyone. To this day, I can hear my screams and not feel as though they were my own.”
