Gramma’s eyes widened with horror. “I don’t understand why he would be, my dear.”
“When the man who shot Papa rode into the grounds, he could have seen me at the long window on the staircase.” Prue dragged in a shaky breath. “Perhaps he fears I can identify him.”
Gramma reached over and patted her hand. “That seems unlikely. How would he have known where to find you? Well, I shall have the housekeeper move you to the chamber adjoining mine. First thing tomorrow, we’ll send for a Bow Street Runner. An armed footman will remain on duty in the corridor for the rest of the night, but it would be extremely foolish for this man to return.”
Jack Ross.His name came to Prue, and she immediately felt calmer. The one man she could trust. But would he come here if she asked him? They had not parted on particularly good terms after he’d made it clear he would not involve her in the investigation. Still, she had to try. She would write to him tomorrow.Dear God, please have him come.He might relent and tell her what he knew. She thirsted for any scrap of news, which would make her feel there could soon be an end to this nightmare.
“Let’s return to our beds. William will stand guard outside your chamber,” Gramma said, rising from the table.
Despite the reassuring presence of the footman brandishing a firearm outside her door, Prue was certain she would lie awake staring into the darkness until dawn. Would she ever feel safe again?
*
Jack came fromhis meeting at the Home Office, where he’d learned abreakthrough had been made in the conspiracy he and Bain had been investigating. The plotters had foolishly met at the coffee house again and fallen afoul of the law—Lord Craven and the Hon. Francis Saxon, who were under suspicion, among them. In the back offices of Bow Street Court, the men were questioned separately about Sedgwick’s murder, but all fiercely denied any knowledge of it. While some element of doubt remained as to who else might have been involved, this stroke of luck left Jack free to pursue the earl’s murderer unencumbered. He cursed roundly when he learned that Will Darby, whom they’d been keeping under surveillance, had somehow slipped through their net and gone missing during the night. But then he’d inexplicably returned in the morning.
Pye, the man responsible for the failure, shuffled his feet and stared at a spot beyond Jack’s ear. “Must ’a slunk down the backstairs, milord.”
Jack ground his teeth. “Devil take it! You were lucky we didn’t lose him. Why didn’t you have a man stationed at the rear of the building?”
“Evans was off sick that night, milord. Thought I could ’andle it. The man retired about midnight every night and never came out again until late morning.”
“You fool. How long was he gone?”
“Back early in the morning, milord, bold as brass. Not aware of us, perhaps. Wehavebeen careful. The blighter won’t thwart us again.”
“And during that time, he could have met with the man who’d hired him and been paid. If that is the case, we’ll have lost our chance to find out who that man is.”
Pye’s face took on a crimson hue. “What do we do now, milord?”
“We’ll continue to watch him but continue to keep out of sight. When he leaves again, follow him. And search his room for money. He’ll have a bundle hidden there if he has been paid off. For God’s sake, leave things as you find them. If he twigs to us watching him, we’ll get nothing more from him.”
“Right you are, milord.”
Returning to his house, Jack’s factotum, Stoker, gave him a letter. “Arrived not long ago, by hand it was, my lord.”
“By hand, eh? Pour me a brandy, Stoker. Have one yourself.” He went to sit behind the study desk and reached for the letter opener. Slicing the missive open, he laid the paper out. An icy shiver passed down his spine as he read Lady Prudence’s anxious words. Had the man in her bedchamber been Darby, the man they had been tailing? Dash it all! Had the murderer seen her when he’d ridden in to shoot her father? But it begged the question of how the villain would have known where to find Lady Prudence. Polishing off the last of the brandy, Jack went to change into his riding gear.
When he came down, he found Stoker in the hall. “I’ll be out for the evening until late.”
“You don’t require the curricle, milord?” Stoker handed him his greatcoat and hat.
“No, I’ll ride Juniper.” Jack ran down the rear steps of his townhouse and crossed to the stables in the mews behind it. Riding out of London, he found the traffic light. Lit by oil lamps, the new gas lamps not yet installed in all parts of London, the poor lighting kept people at home, but for watchmen and tavern-goers. On Jack’s return later in the evening, the roads would grow busier as deliveries were made and goods transported. London would soon to be choked with traffic as well as the smoke from coal fires.
Dusk was falling as Jack rode through the gates of Waterford Manor. The neglected gardens were painted with sinister shadows, reminding him of the danger stalking Lady Prudence. He glanced up at the old manor house and frowned. It would be easy to find a way in. At the stables, he left his horse with a groom and walked back to the front entry, where the door stood open, throwing light out onto the porch.
“No need to announce me, Barnes. I am expected.”
The old butler bowed stiffly. “The ladies are in the drawing room, my lord.”
Jack ran up the stairs, where a footman announced him.
“It is so good of you to come, Lord Hereford.” Lady Prudence rose quickly from her chair and came to him, her anxious gaze meeting his.
“Lady Prudence.” Jack took her hand, which quivered in his. The sight of her pale, worried face affected him deeply. He fought the urge to take her in his arms and reassure her, to hold her and kiss her. But how could he guarantee her safety without being here himself? Rebuking himself for not keeping a clear head, he went to bow over Lady Aldridge’s hand.
The old lady gestured to an armchair. “Please be seated, Lord Hereford. It was very kind of you to come so quickly. Would you care for a glass of Madeira?”
“That would be welcome, thank you.”
