“I wasn’t ill at all. He made that up. He also destroyed our letters,” Maddie said.
Cathy moaned. “How deceitful of him.”
Maddie would not reveal his attempt on her life. She leaned over and placed her hand on her aunt’s, where she sat with her tea growing cold. “But there is nothing to concern you, Aunt, for my uncle can do no more to hurt me. Now I am married to a kind, decent man.”
“I remain a little hazy on the details of your betrothal,” her aunt said with a faint smile. “But I gather you met him again in Bath when you came to see me.” She looked relieved as she gazed around the room. “I couldn’t be happier for you, my dear.”
When her aunt left the room, Maddie took the newssheet from a bureau drawer. She came and sat down next to Cathy. “What do you make of this? It arrived this morning. Should I show Hart? Or relegate it to the fire?”
Cathy read it. “It’s a dreadful scandal sheet. I’ve heard about it.” She looked up with a questioning frown. “But who sent it? And why would they send it to you?”
“I don’t know, but suspect it was to hurt me. To make my first appearance in society more of a trial.”
“Then destroy it. And just forget about it, Maddie dear.”
“Then I shouldn’t show it to Hart?”
“I wouldn’t. He would tell you the same thing. There are always those who seek to hurt those they envy. Pay no attention. Shall I destroy this for you?”
Hart didn’t need to see it. While she doubted he’d take much notice of it, he would feel bad for her. “Yes. Burn it.” Cathy went to the fireplace. She tore the newssheet into pieces and dropped it among the coals. “There, think no more about it.”
Maddie stared at the flames eating up the last of the paper. “Now, please tell me what has happened since you came to London, Cathy. Do you have a beau?”
Cathy’s cheeks grew pink, and she pushed a fair curl behind her ear. “Not exactly, but I danced twice with Mr. Blackburn at the Smiths’ ball.” Cathy sighed. “He has beautiful manners, and has made me promise him a dance at our next ball.”
“Does Aunt Libby like him?”
“Yes. I think so.”
Maddie said, delighted to see her cousin so happy, “Come upstairs and see my new gowns. They’ve only just arrived.”
They climbed the stairs while Cathy chatted about fashion. Maddie merely nodded. She had an awful feeling the distress the newssheet brought was only the beginning.
Chapter Nineteen
The magistrate, SirJoshua Fleming, was a stout man with a ring of white hair circling his bald head, and a round face which made him appear amiable. But his gray eyes were sharp with a clear intelligence, and a man would be a fool to underestimate him. Hart explained how he and Boyle came to witness Wakeham’s demise. He added a sketchy description of their association with Maddie’s uncle.
The magistrate confirmed he had ordered the bodies to be exhumed and Wakeham’s closest relative, a female cousin, be informed. He selected a muffin from the tea tray and raised his white eyebrows. “You saw this peer of the realm order the killings?”
“I did. The runner and I witnessed it from the trees.”
“You didn’t recognize him?”
“No. The light was poor. But I’m quite certain I’ve never met him.”
“But might you still identify him? Should you see him again.”
Hart thought back to the scene where Wakeham breathed his last. The most distinguishing feature of the lord was his voice. A hoarse, chilling whisper. The callous voice of someone familiar with violence, which had made the hairs stand up on Hart’s neck. “I am not sure, Sir Joshua. But I might. The thing is, that before he died, Wakeham told him I was to blame for what happened to one of his henchmen now in jail. I have an interest in this, as his niece is now my wife. Wakeham also threatened to kill the man in jail before he can talk to the authorities. I suggest, Sir Joshua, the man be questioned as soon as possible.”
With a nod, Fleming leaned back in his chair, causing a shriek of complaint. “That we will do. Parliament is to sit for Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary, to approve the bill to suspend the Habeas Corpus Suspense Act. Magistrates will then have the power to send anyone to prison who might be likely to commit an act prejudicial to public order. This lord might appear in the House,” Sir Joshua said. “Might you be there, my lord?”
“Yes, I will.”
Hart did not agree with it. He saw it as an overreaction, which would allow magistrates to throw a man into jail for the paltriest of reasons, even if the magistrate didn’t like the cut of his jib. But Hart did not voice those sentiments before Fleming.
“Good. A man of mine has infiltrated the smugglers on the Kentish coast. Some turn their backs on smugglers, believing it to be justified to smuggle high taxed goods over the Channel, but these cutthroats are responsible for many murders of innocent people. When my man advises me about their operation, we will round them up and put them behind bars. But you, Lord Montford, could be of invaluable help to me if you could identify this lord. Then we’ll have the lot of them. After all,” he sat back again, “a fish rots from the head down, you know.”
Hart left with the firm conviction that he must find this man. He didn’t want to chance more violence coming into Maddie’s life.
