A footman entered. “Lord Barraclough has arrived, Your Majesty.”
“Show him in.”
King George questioned Barraclough while they enjoyed Château Lafite Rothschild, a superb vintage from France. “You bring us news of Crowthorne?”
“He has been seen in London with Percy Woodruff. Woodruff has since been interrogated by Bow Street but gave us no information about Crowthorne’s present whereabouts. It appears the baronet has slipped through our net, Your Majesty. His two cohorts, Goodrich and Wensley, however, were found dead with their throats cut at Goodrich’s house in Kent.”
“So Crowthorne did dispatch them,” Flynn said. It chilled him to realize how far Crowthorne would go.
Barraclough nodded. “They’d been dead for some weeks.”
“I’ve a fair idea who killed them. The cutthroat at Hazelton’s house.” Flynn leaned back, savoring the wine. “Crowthorne said he feared they’d lost their nerve. He was afraid they’d panic–give the game away.”
“Crowthorne never intended to share the proceeds from the sale of the diamond,” Barraclough said. “He always meant to sell it on the Continent, possibly after having a jeweler carve it up into smaller stones. If he sold the jewel in England and split the money, he would not have enough to settle his debts. Plus the sale would be traced back to him. We’ve learned that he’d set up a network of thieves in London, to steal from theton, but failed when he came up against a rival east London gang. All his hopes then centered on the diamond.”
“No honor amongst thieves,” Flynn observed.
King George raised his glass with a jovial smile. “To you both, gentlemen. Your efforts shall be handsomely rewarded. Let Bow Street get the runners onto it. We must move on to matters of more importance.” He stood. “My chef has planned a superb dinner for us.”
Flynn left Carlton House later that evening decidedly uneasy. Crowthorne had proved to be more corrupt than any of them had guessed. It was quite possible he was hidden away somewhere in St. Giles with the last of his loyal band, where it was almost impossible to find him. And now that the king had the diamond, he was intent to let the matter drop.
Taking a hackney, Flynn tensed as disquieting thoughts raced through his mind. Barraclough’s network of spies had been called off. Crowthorne could still be in London. As the matter was to be hushed up, he wouldn’t discover the king possessed the diamond. He was like a rat trapped in a sewer and would be growing more desperate by the minute. Fear forced men to take terrible risks. To Crowthorne’s thinking, Althea must still represent his best chance of getting his hands on the diamond, as her husband had it in his possession when he died. A shiver went down Flynn’s spine. While Crowthorne continued to evade the runners, she was in danger.
Flynn needed to take Althea somewhere safe. But where?
By the time he reached home, he knew what he would do.
*
When Mrs. Grimshawleft, Althea sat pensively stroking Jet. She had intended to reproach her but changed her mind when she discovered Brookwood’s lover to be a sad, lonely woman, who despite everything, stirred Althea’s compassion. While she couldn’t like her or approve of her, the lady was remarkably honest. She’d expressed deep regret at not sending Althea the diamond. She certainly would not have kept it had she known.
“I’m sure you hate me, Lady Brookwood,” she said, straightening her narrow shoulders. “I’ve given you every reason to.”
“I don’t, Mrs. Grimshaw.” Hate was too strong a word for what Althea felt. If not her, than some other woman would have warmed her husband’s bed. And at least, he left her alone most of the time. “It’s all in the past now.”
Mrs. Grimshaw stood. “I shan’t overstay my visit. I’m retiring to the country to live with my sister in a few days. London has become too expensive.”
Althea stood. “I quite agree.”
As she walked to the door, Mrs. Grimshaw turned. “Your memories of Brookwood will be sad ones. Perhaps it might help if I tell you what your husband confided in me. He felt unworthy of you.”
Surprised by this woman’s boldness, Althea listened with bewilderment. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, wishing the woman gone. “Perhaps you misunderstood him.”
“You are a desirable woman, Lady Brookwood,” Mrs. Grimshaw said. “You drew attention from other men wherever you went. Brookwood found that…difficult.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Althea said, hot with resentment and humiliation. Brookwood had always said he’d bought her from her father and she’d been a poor purchase.
“You’ve been more gracious than I expected or deserved.”
Althea held out her hand. “Enjoy your new home. Good day.”
When the door closed, Althea sank into a chair and broke into wild sobbing. The force of her emotions shocked her until it occurred to her that she’d cried little since the worst time of her life. When she’d lost the baby. If Brookwood’s heir had lived, would things have been different?
The cat jumped into her lap and tapped her face with its paw. She sniffed and blotted her tears with her handkerchief, giving a watery smile. “It’s all right, Jet. We’re all right now.”
