“It could mean your husband’s death was no suicide.”
Jemina looked at me and I at her. I hoped she couldn’t read my thoughts. It couldn’t be murder. I saw the note he’d left, accusing me of making him so depressed that he wanted to die. Colin was steeped in anguish. His careful script was broken, even sloppy, so not like him. I burned his note. I had to.
“Ladies, well, Lady and LaCroy. You have to ask yourself, why would a man with canceled debts kill himself? One who would be getting a small fortune of a marriage settlement in a couple of months? You had written him again that you’d borne a son?”
“Yes. I kept writing him. Then I wanted him to come see our son, right away. The next I know Markham appears telling me Colin’s dead.” That suicide note and Markham’s hideous smile as I sobbed—I’ll never forget either. Never.
Thackery rubbed his hands together. “Delightful. My apologies, but I haven’t tried a capital case in a year. I’ll have to convince the Lord Mayor for the assignment.”
The smart barrister looked gleeful, and my innards twisted. “My husband was depressed. He suffered moods.”
“True. When a person decides he’s done, it’s hard to stop him, but I’m inclined to think that whatever caused an inspector to cheat his gaming hell might lead him to rid himself of the problem, permanently.”
I rubbed at the pain in my neck. My headache returned. “Now you have me rooting for the minister.”
Jemina nudged my shoulder, then settled in with her embroidery. “Don’t let Mr. Thackery’s bluster make you lose heart. You identify Sullivan, and we’ll be off to Hamlin and Lionel to determine the next steps.”
My babe.
I missed Lionel, but my boy needed the truth, and I hoped the truth was that Markham was at fault. If it was mine, then I’d own it and work every day to make it up to my son.
But I had to know.
I took comfort that my boy was with Repington. I knew he’d be safe. Repington would never let anything happen to Lionel, even if his mother courted danger.
Thackery adjusted his brass spectacles, then set down the diary, stashing it on his seat. “Mrs. St. Maur? You don’t seem very quiet, very different from when we first met.”
“Chains at Bedlam will steal your tongue.”
He tweaked his lenses. “Or perhaps it’s been liberated with all the sneaking and danger of the Widow’s Grace business. Do you approve of this adventure?”
“I approve of Patience. If this is the lengths we must go to discover the missing parts of her husband’s life, then I’m for it. A woman needs to know what she needs to know.”
“ ’Tis true. My compliments to your sewing. You butchered my waistcoat and breeches quite nicely for Jordan here. I know where to come if I’m ever in dire straits and my tailor is busy.”
My friend raised her needle, then lowered it as if she thought better of the action. “Since waiting on your lawyering and the Widow’s Grace has proved slow, we are called to act.”
Jemina’s tone sounded sharp, and I had the feeling that she’d tired of waiting, of hoping for someone to arrive with the information needed to save her.
I clasped her pinkie in solidarity. I would help her even if it meant delaying our trip to Demerara.
Staying wouldn’t be so bad, giving Lionel a little more time with the duke. It would be dreadful if my baby couldn’t have some part of the honorable man.
The duke might be crazed with his drills, but I felt safe with him. He might not believe that someone could get in the house, but he added patrols to the catacombs. I saw them as we left.
Was this an indication that we could work together for Lionel’s benefit?
The lights of the near village dimmed. It would be an hour or more before we reached London. My palms were dripping wet.
“Justice is slow sometimes, Mrs. St. Maur, but I don’t see you traipsing about in refined menswear. You don’t have the height for it?”
“Silly goose.” She started her needlepoint again, long scarlet stitches. “Too many of us could raise suspicions.”
The man chuckled. “Yes. I don’t want to raise suspicions, going to gaming hells with pretty men at my side.”
“Men drinking or under the influence of the games won’t be looking for anything but luck. I won’t be discovered.”
“You obviously haven’t been a man long enough.”
