More than a Masquerade by Adele Clee
Chapter 15
They leftthe coaching inn at dawn. An overturned carriage blocking the road near Guildford meant it was five o’clock that evening when they eventually reached London. The visit to The Wild Hare to discuss their progress with Lucius Daventry resulted in him arranging a meeting in Hart Street the following morning.
The housekeeper, Mrs Gunning, greeted them on arrival. “They’re all waiting in the drawing room, dear. I’ll hurry along and fetch refreshments.”
“All?” Rachel asked, aware the hum of conversation emanating from the room meant Mr Daventry wasn’t alone. “Mr Daventry has summoned other agents?”
“He’s called all those available.”
“I see.” Rachel’s stomach churned.
Was the master disappointed with her progress? Did he plan on letting another agent take the case? Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Eli.
Rachel tried to look on the bright side. At least she’d have an opportunity to speak to Eliza and Honora. Since her intimate encounter with Eli two nights ago, she’d struggled to rouse a logical thought and desperately needed a woman’s advice.
Rachel glanced at the handsome man who had stolen her heart. It had taken every effort not to join him in bed last night. She had heard him pad along the corridor, stop outside her door. But something prevented him from knocking. Something made him retreat to his room and sleep alone.
“No need to wait,” Mrs Gunning said when she noticed Rachel lingering.
Eli opened the door. “After you, Miss Gambit.”
He did not step back but gestured for her to squeeze past his muscular frame. Being within inches of him left her pulse pounding in her throat.
He bent his head. “We’ve much to discuss, you and I.”
She met his intense gaze and nodded.
After the traumas she’d encountered with the Hanaways, she had sworn never to place herself in a vulnerable position again. Foolishly, she’d believed herself in control of her emotions. Stupidly, she’d not thought love could be so complicated.
She gathered her composure and scanned the faces of those in attendance.
Mr Daventry was seated on the sofa, engaged in a private conversation with Dante D’Angelo. Eliza and Honora occupied the two chairs opposite and were chatting amongst themselves.
“Ah, Hunter. Miss Gambit.” Mr Daventry stood. “Take a seat.”
Mr D’Angelo pushed to his feet. “So you’ve stayed the course, Miss Gambit, survived Hunter’s rigorous tests.”
Eli tutted. “The tests at Vauxhall proved Miss Gambit has gumption.”
“Judging by what’s happened during this investigation, you’ve had many opportunities to study her performance.” From the mischievous glint in Mr D’Angelo’s eyes, he was teasing.
The gentle sigh from Eli’s lips suggested he was mentally appraising a different performance. “Miss Gambit is exceptional in every regard.”
Rachel stole a glance at Eliza, who was currently examining the width of Eli’s thighs. Silent messages passed between them: Rachel’s plea for help and Eliza’s nod of acknowledgement.
Mr Daventry motioned for them to sit on the empty sofa positioned around the low table. “I’ve informed your colleagues of the current state of affairs.”
“You’ve told them about my position in your organisation?” Eli sounded surprised. He waited for Rachel to sit before settling beside her.
Heavens! She’d never concentrate with him sitting so close. The heat of his body and the alluring scent of maleness roused memories of their lovemaking.
“I trust my agents, Hunter, and you need their assistance. There are too many lines of enquiry, and I want the traitor caught before he sells us all to the devil.”
“You’re supposed to be in your sickbed,” Eli countered.
Mr Daventry shrugged. “This meeting is more important than fooling the Council. And I expect Miss Gambit to have solved the case within the next few days. As I’ve already updated our colleagues on your progress, perhaps we should hear from Miss Dutton.” He turned to Eliza. “What would be your next line of enquiry?”
Eliza’s eyes widened. Like Rachel, she was desperate for her first case. “You mentioned two keys are required to enter the Sanctum.”
“Yes. But they’re not like any keys you’ve seen before,” Eli said.
“Then I would visit the locksmith. We must make certain the man didn’t copy the key. Or no one stole the cast.”
“Agreed.” Mr Daventry took the pencil off the table and scribbled in his notebook. “I shall accompany you. The man is sworn to secrecy and will refuse to tell you anything.” He turned his attention to Honora. “Miss Wild? Do you have any suggestions as to how we might approach the case?”
Honora looked through spectacles perched on her nose. “Based on the conversation Rachel had with the doctor, we should attempt to find the footman. It shouldn’t be difficult to locate the whereabouts of his potential new employer.”
“Lady Chadwick,” Rachel added. “Perhaps he might shed light on whether Mary did give birth to a child.”
Mr Daventry nodded. “An excellent idea. You’ll be responsible for locating the footman, Miss Wild.”
“Me?” Honora clutched her hand to her throat.
“Have faith in your abilities,” the master said. “You’ve a logical mind and must overcome your fears. I may have a case for you, and so this will be your test. You’ll take my man Bower. He’ll be on hand should you need assistance.”
Honora nodded though took to nibbling her bottom lip.
“D’Angelo? What are your thoughts on the case?”
The man with the dangerous persona sat forward. “While I doubt we can trust Jacob Hanaway’s word, Belton accusing the boy of theft rouses suspicion. I shall check Belton’s background. Perhaps he’s been plagued by thieves and thought Scrivens’ stepfather had stolen something from the emporium.”
“See if Mr Belton owes money to lenders or gaming hells,” Rachel said. Few men would think to capitalise on a murder. Most would find the whole business disturbing. “Mr Hunter and I will use the information from Dr Baker to intimidate Lord Meyer’s staff. Their mistress is a liar, and they need to know they’ll face a perjury charge for supporting her story.”
“I thought to give you different assignments,” came Mr Daventry’s shocking announcement. His gaze shifted to Eli, then to Rachel. “One of you can question Lord Meyer’s staff. The other can spy on Truscott now he’s returned to town.”
He wanted them to work separately!
Every fibre of her being fought against the idea.
Eli appeared to find the notion equally distressing. “There’s every chance Jacob Hanaway will come to town. Having persuaded Miss Gambit to question the fellow, I’ll not leave her open to an attack.”
Mr Daventry considered Eli’s comment. “Miss Gambit, you’re skilled enough with a blade to defend yourself against the oaf. Do you feel it necessary to remain at Blackstone, to have Hunter be your protector?”
Rachel’s chest tightened at the thought of leaving Blackstone, leaving Eli. But she had to choose her words carefully. Mr Daventry was a perceptive man.
“Jacob Hanaway will seek me out, sir. I believe he planned to wait until my first meeting with the solicitor before attempting to get rid of me. Now he knows where to find me, I doubt he’ll have the patience to wait.” The man was definitely of unsound mind.
“All the more reason you should return to Howland Street and Miss Trimble’s care. D’Angelo will keep watch on the house.”
Desperation scratched at her throat. “Sir, Jacob Hanaway will probably set the house ablaze. In all honesty, I would feel safer with Mr Hunter. At least until we’ve solved the case and determined Jacob’s intention.”
“Very well. A few more days can’t hurt. With Blackstone being on the outskirts of town, no one will know you’re there.”
She resisted the urge to sag in relief. “The case occupies every waking hour. We spend very little time at Blackstone.”
Eli relaxed back in the seat. “Any news from the Hatton Garden office regarding the re-enactment of the crime?”
Daventry nodded. “I received word a little over an hour ago. Scrivens lacked the strength to wield the heavy weapon, let alone drive it into the grain sack.”
Thank heavens!
“Then surely they must release him.” Rachel knew it was more complicated than that. They needed to find a motive for Belton killing the man first.
“The prosecution will seek to discount the evidence. We need something more substantial.” Mr Daventry addressed the room. “We must work quickly and will reconvene here tomorrow.” He stood. “Before you leave, Hunter, I’d like a private word.”
Despite being curious as to why Mr Daventry wanted a private word with Eli, Rachel was relieved to have a moment alone with Eliza and Honora.
They congregated on the pavement outside the Hart Street office, waited for Mr D’Angelo to bid them good day and climb into his conveyance before bursting into conversation.
“What’s going on between you and Mr Hunter?” Eliza was as direct as the Great North Road. “His gaze lingers whenever he looks at you. There’s a softer tone to his voice when he mentions your name.”
There was no point hiding the truth. She could trust these women with her life. “We’re attracted to each other. We’ve kissed, and we’ve …” Both women were astute enough to fill in the missing words.
Honora clasped her hand to her mouth.
Eliza seemed shocked but then laughed. “I knew it. And I imagine Mr Daventry knows it, too, hence why he suggested giving you separate assignments. No wonder he kept Mr Hunter behind.”
Panic gripped Rachel by the shoulders.
Would Mr Daventry forbid Eli from pursuing a relationship? Would he threaten to remove Eli from the Council? Threaten to dismiss Rachel from the Order for fraternising with a client?
“I’m in love with him,” Rachel blurted. “I’m in love with Mr Hunter.” She exhaled deeply and then laughed. “Oh, it sounds ridiculous. Me. In love. But he lives in my dreams, commands every waking thought. What else can it be?”
Honora got over her shock. “It could be infatuation. Perhaps Mr Daventry is right. A separation would give you time to consider your feelings.”
“My whole body hurts at the thought.”
“It’s an addiction, then,” Eliza offered. “If one can become addicted to laudanum, one can become addicted to kissing.”
All the words one associated with addiction—craving, dependency, an uncontrollable fixation—described how she felt about Eli Hunter. Perhaps Honora was right. One had to remove oneself from temptation to overcome the addiction.
“I’m definitely addicted to the taste of his mouth.”
“Rachel!” A blush stained Honora’s cheeks.
“I can see why.” Eliza sighed. “He’s quite captivating.”
“Perhaps I’m over-thinking. It will all be over in a few short days, and we will go our separate ways. Mr Daventry will assign me another case, and Mr Hunter won’t have time to meet at a coffeehouse, let alone conduct an illicit affair.”
Yes, then she would realise it wasn’t love. And she would remember it as two lonely people seeking a moment’s solace.
With a renewed sense of faith, the knowledge that she wasn’t drowning in a sea of romantic notions, Rachel straightened. “Have you heard anything about your potential assignments?”
Eliza tutted. “No. Lord Greyson visited the office three days ago. He wanted to hire an agent to find his half-sister. After hearing the sad tale, Mr Daventry told him we were all occupied with cases and sent Mr Sloane.”
Rachel thought it odd. “Mr Sloane is already dealing with a matter of fraud. How will he find the time to work two cases?”
Eliza shrugged. “I heard Mr Daventry tell that fool Lord Roxburgh that if he wishes to hire an agent to help find his conscience, I was available.”
“Roxburgh?” The lord was handsome and witty, but he was a rake and a gambler and a man any principled woman should avoid. “Has Mr Daventry forgotten your father gambled away your fortune?”
“It can’t have slipped his mind.”
Honora shook her head. “As if you could ever conceive working with such a degenerate. If Mr Daventry is so undiscerning, one wonders what he has planned for me.”
Rachel suspected it had something to do with the master’s recent visit to Kent. “Lord DeVille wishes to hire an agent. Mr Daventry went to see him at his cliff-top mansion in Whitstable.”
Honora’s eyes widened, but she dismissed the notion she might be a candidate. “He won’t send a female agent to stay in Whitstable.”
“No. Probably not.”
There was no time to continue the conversation. Eli appeared looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He smiled as their eyes met. Clearly, Mr Daventry hadn’t threatened him or given him an ultimatum.
He gestured to his black carriage parked on the opposite side of the street. “If you’re ready, Miss Gambit, we should visit the Meyer household and frighten them into confessing.”
Rachel tried to ignore the swarm of butterflies tickling her stomach. “I’m ready to leave now. Do you have Dr Baker’s confession?”
Eli tapped his coat pocket. “Indeed.”
Rachel hugged her friends and bid them farewell. Once seated inside Eli’s carriage, she broached the subject uppermost in her mind.
“Did Mr Daventry warn you against consorting with his agent?”
Eli smiled. “He apologised for the inconvenience of having you stay at Blackstone. He said he hoped the matter would be concluded quickly, mentioned you returning to Howland Street soon, presumed I longed for some semblance of normality.”
“And he had no clue we’ve been intimate?”
The word failed to convey the powerful surge of emotion she’d experienced when Eli Hunter moved deep inside her. He’d claimed her body and soul that night.
“If he did, he never mentioned it. He asked about our progress with the coded letter and suggested you spend the evening studying the symbols.”
“I’d planned to do just that upon our return to Blackstone.” She had to find something to occupy her mind while attempting to break free from her addiction.
“Daventry said the fact Swanson lost his key and failed to interview Jacob Hanaway rouses some suspicion.”
“Mr Truscott failed to interview Dr Baker.”
Eli gave a curious hum. “Yes, I can forgive Swanson, as he was likely in a panic after someone stole his key. But Truscott is one of the most experienced men on the Council. It’s strange he didn’t make the trip to Brighton himself.”
They sat in silence for a time, undoubtedly considering their passionate night in a coaching inn, not the evidence.
“How did Mr Crocker come to be the custodian of Trēowith?” she asked.
“He worked for Viscount Alderney, was sent by the peer’s youngest son to visit Mr Trentham and collect on a promissory note. Crocker watched Trentham count the money and place it in a leather pouch. When Crocker returned with the pouch, it contained nothing but slips of paper. Trentham accused him of stealing the contents.”
Rachel sighed. “It must have been difficult to prove Mr Crocker’s innocence.” In such cases, the servant was always presumed guilty.
“Daventry’s father-in-law, Atticus Atwood, dealt with the case. An investigation into Trentham’s financial affairs showed the man was on the verge of bankruptcy. Had he not paid on the promissory note, Alderney’s son would have called him out.”
“And so he saved Mr Crocker from the noose.”
“Indeed.”
But what if Mr Crocker had stolen the money? Could he have deceived the Council? Could he have lied about the intruder? He had access to the Sanctum once the members had left the room.
As instructed, Eli’s coachman slowed the carriage to a stop on the corner of Park Lane and Upper Brook Street, adjacent to Hyde Park. Rachel shuffled forward, but Eli placed a stalling hand on her knee.
“Today, our minds are occupied with the case. Tonight, we need to discuss what happened between us at The Swan Inn.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of their passionate lovemaking. “There’s nothing to discuss.” Talking would only feed her addiction. “We took advantage of the moment.”
“I took your virginity. Don’t imagine that means nothing to me.”
What did it mean? Surely he didn’t feel obliged to offer for her now.
“You didn’t take it, Eli. I gave it freely. And you already know why.”
“And that’s all you have to say on the matter?” He raised a questioning brow. “Might we take advantage of the moment again, do you suppose?”
She shrugged, yet given a chance, she would gladly throw herself into his arms. “I imagine so. Should we both feel the inclination.” She glanced out of the window and quickly changed the subject lest she tell the man she was addicted to his smile, his smell, his taste, his touch. “We should focus on what we plan to say to Lady Meyer’s butler.”
Eli opened the door and exited the carriage. “We’ll continue the conversation this evening. As to how we’ll approach Lady Meyer’s servants, I think we’ll avoid a direct confrontation.”
“What have you in mind?”
Eli helped her to the pavement. “There’s no one more loyal than a man’s butler, and I’d rather avoid Lady Meyer overhearing our conversation. I suggest we venture into the mews and speak to a groom, have him relay the information to the rest of the staff.”
“You should give him your calling card. If they recall important information, they might send word to Blackstone. And explain the seriousness of lying to a magistrate.”
“Agreed. The Woods’ mews service those houses on the north side of the street.” He offered his arm, and she gripped it without question. “It’s but a hundred yards.”
Touching him was like that first desperate nip of laudanum. It warmed her insides, settled her nerves, relaxed every muscle. It induced a hypnotic trance where sentiment reigned supreme.
Lord Meyer commanded the third carriage house on the row. The double doors were open. A young lad with a freckled face and a dirty cap was busy scrubbing the wheels of a town coach.
Eli coughed into his fist to get the lad’s attention. “I’m looking for Lord Meyer’s head groom.”
The boy dropped his brush into a bucket and whistled to someone inside. A slim fellow with bushy side-whiskers and a long nose strode into the yard. He scanned their attire and waited for them to state their business.
“We come with news your colleagues might find interesting,” Rachel said.
The fellow frowned. “If yer from Spitalfields Orphanage, we ain’t takin’ on any more help.” He gestured to the lad, who looked no older than ten. “The boy works like a dog, so he does, but the master won’t take another.”
“We’re not from the orphanage.” Despite the man reeking of stale sweat, Eli beckoned him closer. “It’s concerning Mary Harcourt. We’re investigating her case on behalf of the Home Secretary and have evidence to confirm your mistress is lying.”
The fellow listened but said nothing.
“We come to warn them that if they continue to pervert the course of justice by supporting Lady Meyer’s lies, they will be considered accomplices to her crimes.” Eli retrieved the letter from Peel and showed it to the head groom.
“Ain’t no point givin’ me that. I can’t read a word.”
“But you can see the official stamp?” Eli tucked the letter back in his pocket and removed a silver case. “Take my card. Give it to anyone who wishes to retract their earlier statement.” Eli thrust his card into the groom’s hand. “We understand the staff may have been forced to lie. A confession will mean they escape arrest. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the punishment for perjury is transportation or the pillory.”
The man’s ruddy cheeks turned ashen as he fingered the card.
Rachel decided to press him further. “We know what happened to James Tinsley. We doubt he took the stage or hired a hackney, which means he travelled in Lord Meyer’s coach. It means you know where he is.”
For fear Dr Baker had been duped into thinking the footman had gone to work elsewhere, Rachel made no mention of Lady Chadwick.
“I can’t afford to lose this job.”
“You’re likely to lose more than your job if the magistrate discovers you know something that might shed light on the truth.” Rachel tutted. “Have you no conscience, sir? Do you not care that an innocent woman may hang?”
“Aye, it don’t sit right with me.” The fellow leant closer and assailed them with his foul breath. “James, the footman, he didn’t want to say them things.” He took a quick peek over his shoulder. “The mistress made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. His mother was in the workhouse over in Cleveland Street and took sick. The mistress hired them a cottage on the road out past Mile End.”
“In exchange for his testimony?” Eli said.
“Aye. All he has to do is tell a story about the maid, and Lady Meyer will let them stay at the cottage and will provide food and medicine.”
“Tell a story about Mary Harcourt?”
He nodded. “I hear the gossip but ain’t been party to what’s go on.”
After a brief silence, Eli gestured to the card in the groom’s grubby hand. “The staff have two days to come to me with their confessions. After that, it may be too late to save Mary, too late for them to escape punishment when the truth comes to light.”
The groom nodded.
“Two days,” Eli reminded him. “No more.”
They left the man to his work and returned to Eli’s conveyance.
“We need to send word to Howland Street. Tell Honora about the cottage near Mile End. Have Mr Bower take her to search for James Tinsley.”
“We’ll stop on our way back to Blackstone.”
“But it’s only one o’clock.” If they returned to the house now, they’d be alone for hours. She’d become consumed by her addiction, and they’d find themselves in an intimate clinch. “We could venture out of town. See if we can find the footman’s cottage. It will save Honora the trouble.”
Eli gave her a knowing look. “Miss Wild needs to prove her worth if she’s to get her own case. Surely you don’t wish to hinder her chances of success.”
He was right, of course.
“No. Finding James Tinsley will give Honora a much-needed boost of confidence.” Rachel tried to think of another excuse to waste a few hours. “We could visit Belton’s Emporium, examine the bloodstains. If David Scrivens drew the sword from the body and had it in his hand when the Beltons wrestled him into the pantry, there should be a blood trail.”
“An excellent point. One we will broach when we have evidence to prove Belton had a motive for murder.” He narrowed his gaze and rubbed his jaw. “It seems you’re keen to avoid spending time alone with me. Daventry gave you the option of working separately. You don’t have to stay at Blackstone.”
Oh, her head was a muddled mess.
He’d said honesty was the best argument, so she decided to convey some semblance of the truth. “Eliza and Honora fear I’m a little obsessed with you. They’re worried this dalliance won’t be as straightforward as we’d originally thought.”
“They are?” Eli relaxed back in the seat and folded his arms across his broad chest. “You told them about the night we spent together at The Swan?”
Heat crept up her neck to warm her cheeks. “Not in so many words, but they are very astute.”
“They are.” His amused smile reached his eyes. “But let’s agree to speak plainly. You’re worried that you’re growing too attached to me. You’re scared because we’ve spent a night together, and you didn’t expect to find your emotions engaged. You fear once we reach Blackstone and we’re alone together, this obsession will override all rhyme and reason.”
Her pulse raced. Was she so transparent?
“Something like that. How can you tell?”
His smile turned sinful. “Because we’re suffering from the same ailment.”
