Lady gambit, p.11
Lady Gambit, page 11
“I’m not afraid of Mrs Haggert.” Miss Chance looked up from her glass, though the uncertainty in her eyes said she was afraid of something.
Perhaps of how quickly they’d devoured each other’s mouths. Perhaps the power of their mutual attraction was a thing to fear. Next time, there might be no one to stop them succumbing to their desires.
“Good, as we may need to question Mrs Haggert again.” Daventry straightened the ink well and the pile of papers on his desk but did not ask how they came to be askew. “Did you make a list of suspects?”
Dorian cleared his throat. “Not yet. We were busy discussing Mrs Haggert’s revelations.” That much was true. “What did you need from Bow Street?”
“On your advice, I asked Sir Malcolm to provide me with a list of foreign guests staying at the Pulteney Hotel during the summer of 1814. It’s unlikely the hotel keeps records dating back seventeen years, but it was the Jubilee, and the long-serving staff might recall something important.”
Miss Chance sat bolt upright in the seat. “You think I may have fled from the hotel? That my parents weren’t English?”
Mrs Haggert had mentioned Miss Chance’s faint accent.
Or had she meant to throw them off the scent?
“I don’t know what to think. After all these years, checking the facts will be almost impossible.” Daventry’s tone turned grave. “Sadly, we must presume your parents are dead.”
Miss Chance hung her head and nodded.
“Mrs Haggert wouldn’t have kept her if there was a chance she’d be accused of kidnapping or abduction,” Dorian said, knowing there was more to the story than the crone had admitted. “And she would not have risked Aaron Chance’s wrath by lying to him.”
Daventry pursed his lips. “Agreed.” He thought for a moment. “Visit Bethlem Hospital tomorrow. Question Nora Adkins again. My coachman Gibbs is trained in all manner of combat. He’ll be your driver for the duration of the case.”
A shiver of trepidation ran over Dorian’s shoulders. “If it’s a matter of gathering evidence, wouldn’t it be better if I went alone?”
Was it wise for Miss Chance to enter Bethlem? Her problems began shortly after his last visit, and he would rather there were no witnesses when he questioned the Superintendent.
Daventry grinned. “You’re not going to Bethlem to collect evidence. You’re going to lure a snake out of its basket. Miss Chance will be the bait.”
Chapter Nine
“You’ve been holding that teacup for five minutes and haven’t taken a sip.” Mrs Maloney’s smile carried the warmth of a winter blanket. Her presence helped soothe everyone’s woes. “I’ve never seen you so out of sorts, dear. There’s no need to worry about Theo. The doctor said he’s making excellent progress. He always was a strong boy. Never a day ill in his life.”
Delphine returned the cup to the saucer, grateful for Mrs Maloney’s support and that they were the only two people left at the breakfast table. She’d defy any lady to concentrate when sitting opposite the enigmatic Mr Flynn.
Staring at his mouth had become her new hobby. Her heart raced whenever she recalled their passionate kiss in Mr Daventry’s office. Every muscle in her body grew tense, anticipating the moment they would indulge themselves again.
“Guilt is a hard emotion to master,” she admitted.
With every illicit kiss, her list of sins grew by the day.
“You’re not to blame for what happened to Theo.” Mrs Maloney snatched the silver tongs and dropped another lump of sugar into her tea. She was sweet by nature and infinitely wise. “I told Aaron years ago, nothing good grows in the dark. But that boy is as stubborn as the emperor Caligula. Now he’s learning that you can’t control fate.”
Her brothers were strapping men, not boys, but Mrs Maloney liked to dwell on the days when she took a damp cloth to their dirty faces and tucked them into clean beds. She’d done her best to guide Aaron, but his pain ran deep.
“Aaron is convinced one of his patrons is to blame. He spent yesterday trying to locate Mr Tindell, but the gentleman has vanished into thin air.”
All three brothers had arrived with Mr Daventry last night to have supper with Theo and discuss which peers might be suspects. It was the first time they had closed the doors to Fortune’s Den.
Nothing mattered more than family.
Aaron had scoured the corridors of Mile End looking for her, desperate to question her about her visit to Mrs Haggert’s house. He’d waited until Aramis and Christian had stopped hugging her before ushering the men out of the library and closing the door.
I don’t trust that woman.
Everything she does is self-serving.
She mentioned the rumour that Lord Meldrum wanted to marry her to force Aaron to tear up his vowels.
I’d no sooner let you marry that fool than I’d let you marry Flynn. You need a husband who won’t gamble with your future. A husband who won’t end up dead in a ditch over some damnable missing person’s case.
Her obedient nod was at odds with her body’s demands. The more time she spent with Mr Flynn, the more she longed for his company. But he spent long periods away from home. Work was his focus. He had said so himself. Why would she abandon her family to spend endless nights alone?
“Perhaps Mr Flynn can find him?” Mrs Maloney said.
“Find who?”
“Mr Tindell. Our host has a skill for finding missing people, does he not?”
“He does.” He had excelled at helping her find the passionate woman hidden within. “Though Mr Flynn refuses to believe a peer would be foolish enough to have my brother shot.”
To avoid an argument, he had made himself scarce last night, though both Aramis and Christian had spent time alone with him in his study.
“I hope someone told Mr Flynn about the other possible suspect,” Mrs Maloney said before sipping her tea. “Perhaps the attempted kidnapping was a ruse to shoot Theo. The earl would sooner see my boys rotting in a shallow grave than disgracing his family.”
She was referring to the men’s estranged uncle, the Earl of Berridge—or the Earl of Arsedom as her brothers called him when cursing him to Hades. No one had saved the boys from the gutter. They’d been left shouldering the blame for their father’s mistakes.
“I agree with Mr Flynn. Why would a peer risk his neck or make an enemy of my brothers? It makes no sense.”
“A man can be born to privilege and still be a dolt, dear.”
They ate their breakfast, the conversation turning to how long Theo might remain at Mile End.
“Mr Daventry thinks it’s best to wait until the villain is in custody.” She was of no mind to argue. Not because Theo’s safety was a priority. Not because she relished the idea of spending time alone with Mr Flynn. But she sensed a change in her brother’s mood. An inner anger had stolen the sparkle from his blue eyes. The notion he had something to prove had robbed him of his playful grin.
“Let’s pray it’s soon, dear. Mr Flynn must have the patience of a saint to suffer us all living under his roof.”
Yes, he’d taken to muttering under his breath quite frequently.
“He’s used to spending time alone and rarely has company.” A mirthless chuckle escaped her when she thought about the years she’d spent staring at the bedchamber walls. “He says he enjoys the solitude.”
He enjoyed kissing, too, but what did it all mean?
Mrs Maloney nodded. “Like Aaron, he spends a lot of time brooding in his study. He was there until midnight last night.”
Had her brothers not visited, she might have sought Mr Flynn out. They might have kissed again without fear of interruption.
“Sorry I didn’t come to say goodnight to you.” She had planned to take a glass of sherry to Mrs Maloney’s room and sit talking like the old days. “I was with Theo until quite late.”
She’d crept into Theo’s room once her brothers had left. She’d cleaned his wound, mopped his brow and told him about her visit to Mrs Haggert.
I was frightened the night I hurt my head.
And Mrs Haggert doesn’t know why?
She says not.
Perhaps she knows but doesn’t want to incriminate herself.
She had sat thinking about the last comment long after Theo had fallen asleep. “It was so late. I don’t recall climbing into bed.”
“You wouldn’t.” There was a mischievous glint in Mrs Maloney’s gaze. She reached across the table and gave Delphine’s arm an affectionate pat. “Miss Darrow found you asleep on Theo’s bed. She couldn’t rouse you without disturbing him so summoned help.”
“Oh.” It was not surprising. She had not slept properly in days.
“We had to fetch Mr Flynn from his study.”
Her pulse skittered. “Mr Flynn?”
Mrs Maloney covered her heart with her hand and smiled like all was well with the world. “He appeared like an errant knight, though he stared at you for so long we thought about calling the butler. Then he hauled you into his strong arms without waking you or poor Theo.”
Delphine froze. “Mr Flynn carried me to bed?”
She’d been wearing nothing but a nightgown.
“Yes, dear. I know it might be inappropriate, but we didn’t want to wake Theo. We can’t have him relying on laudanum to sleep. And while we’re all living together under one roof, we must make allowances.”
Suspicion flared.
She might have pressed Mrs Maloney for more information, suggested she had taken to playing matchmaker, but the man in question entered the dining room and her heart skipped a beat.
“Forgive the interruption. We need to leave for Bethlem Hospital soon.” He’d chosen to wear the dark blue coat she loved. The one that gripped his muscular shoulders like a second skin.
“I assume we’re collecting Mr Daventry on the way.”
“Erm. No. He’s been detained. We’re to continue without him.”
Detained? Mr Daventry had assured Aaron he would be working with them on the case. “Oh well. I’m sure he’ll join us at some point.”
“While we’re out, we’ll take Gibbs and visit my lodgings above the Old Swan. I need to discover the identity of the man who came looking for me. It could be related to the case.”
She smiled. “I can be ready to leave in five minutes.”
He arched a brow in surprise. “I was of the impression most women require at least an hour to ready themselves for an outing.”
“I’m not most women, Mr Flynn.”
His gaze swept over her. “No, Miss Chance. You’re unlike any woman I have ever met.”
Bethlem Royal Hospital
St George’s Fields
“I’m afraid you can’t see Nora today.” Mr Powell, the gaunt-looking Superintendent, shuffled a few papers on his desk. He had barely looked them in the eye since they’d signed the visitors’ book and taken a seat in his cold office. “We had an incident here late last night.”
Before Mr Flynn could say a word, Delphine sat forward. “What sort of incident?” She got the sense this man kept many secrets. Heaven knows what went on in such an eerie place after sunset. “I pray this isn’t a ploy to prevent us from questioning Miss Adkins.”
Mr Powell rocked nervously in the chair. His eyes were dull and droopy, and he looked like he’d barely slept a wink. “Nora tripped and hit her head. The gash required stitches. She was sent to the infirmary.”
“Tripped?” Mr Flynn said with obvious suspicion. “On what? There’s nothing in her cell but a bed.” He stood abruptly. “I want to see her. I want access to the infirmary.”
Mr Powell gestured for him to sit. “You can’t see—”
“Do I need to remind you this is a criminal investigation?” Mr Flynn braced his knuckles on the desk and glared at the Superintendent. “You better hope I find her alive and well. If one of your men hurt her, there’ll be the devil to pay.”
His masterful tone had Mr Powell squirming. “You can’t see Nora Adkins because … because she’s not here. She absconded last night and is probably in Dover by now.”
Mr Flynn jerked in shock. “Absconded?” It took him a moment to absorb the information, then he slapped his hand on the desk and growled, “You’re lying. The woman has been a prisoner here for years. Why would she wait until now to escape? A mere week since I paid her a visit and demanded to know who is funding her keep.”
Was it more than a coincidence?
Was Nora in fear of her life, too?
“Nora hit Dr Collins with a bottle of castor oil and stole his keys.” In his eagerness to cast the blame elsewhere, Mr Powell’s frustration turned to anger. “Perhaps you persuaded her to take matters into her own hands. You gave her the idea it was easier to overpower the doctor than a guard.”
Mr Flynn’s laugh said the notion was absurd.
“These baseless accusations are not helping matters, Mr Powell.” Although she wasn’t a skilled enquiry agent, it was clear they needed two things before they left Bethlem Hospital. “The Home Secretary has sanctioned this investigation. Your failure to help with our enquiries has been duly noted.”
Mr Powell’s contemptuous glare said he believed all women were mad. “Maybe you should leave the men to their work and wait outside, madam.”
A growl rumbled in Mr Flynn’s throat, but she raised a calming hand and smiled. “Might I deal with the matter, sir?” She would make this fool pay for his disparaging tone.
Looking a little intrigued, Mr Flynn nodded.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Aaron said the key to unnerving an opponent was to act like you’ve already won. He employed the same tactic in any conflict situation. She had let her emotions overwhelm her. Let guilt and fear affect her ability to help Mr Flynn with the case. It was time she acted like the sister of four dangerous rogues and not like a naive debutante.
She looked Mr Powell keenly in the eye. “We’re not leaving here without Nora Adkins’ file. If you don’t have it, I shall visit Whitehall and explain that your incompetence is hindering our investigation.”
Mr Powell resisted. “We lost the file during the move from Moorfields, but you’re welcome to rummage through the crates in the basement.”
All men have a vice.
Remember that, Delphine.
You may use it to your advantage.
What was Mr Powell’s vice? He wasn’t a gambling man, or he would be quivering in his boots at the mention of her name. Gluttony might be his weakness. The whiff of brandy on his breath and the broken capillaries on his cheeks said he drank liquor to excess. When inebriated, men often had no memory of their wild antics.
“I want the file, Mr Powell. And I want to interview the doctor. If you prefer, I can turn this office upside down. Or I might share a story with my friend at The Morning Herald. The public would be keen to hear how men in positions of authority accost their patients while in a drunken stupor. I’d wager five pounds there’s liquor in your desk.”
The man’s face turned claret red. He yanked his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “This is tantamount to blackmail.”
“Yes, I do believe it is.” She lifted her chin, feeling quite pleased with herself. “The file, Mr Powell. And we want to interview Dr Collins.”
The chair scraped the tiled floor as the Superintendent stood abruptly. “I’ll summon Dr Collins and have all paperwork relating to Nora Adkins brought to my office.” He rounded the desk, pausing to threaten them in an effort to preserve his dignity. “Then you’re to leave my hospital. Do you hear me? I’ll not tolerate your interference any longer.” He stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Mr Flynn chuckled. “Remind me never to cross you, Miss Chance. I’d hate to read what your friend at The Morning Herald might say about me.”
She laughed, too, though a warm feeling filled her chest whenever he smiled. “I wouldn’t dare put your name in print. I’d not risk the ladies in London reading about your heroic deeds.”
“You don’t think I deserve some credit?” he teased.
“My motives are entirely selfish. With a host of beauties rushing to form a queue behind Miss Montague, what hope would I have of kissing you again?”
The roguish look in his eyes marked a sudden change in him.
“Every hope.” His velvet voice stirred the hairs on her nape. He reached for her, his firm fingers sliding slowly over hers, alluding to something illicit. “I could find you in a crowd of a thousand women. There wouldn’t be a queue. There’d be you. Only you.”
A coil of desire tightened in her belly. He’d carried her to bed last night, touched her in places no other man had. Had he taken liberties? If only she could remember every tantalising detail. “As honesty seems to be the theme of the moment, I believe you have something to confess.”
He did not hesitate to answer. “What do you want me to say? That it’s you I think about in bed at night? You’re on my mind when I rise each morning. I’ve imagined stripping you out of those clothes too many times to count.” The intimate nature of his comments had her sex pulsing. “Tell me, Miss Chance. Do you dream about me?”
She liked this playful, passionate side to his character. It encouraged her to be bold. “I dream of more magical kisses. I’ve imagined you carrying me to bed, your large hands slipping over every soft curve. You didn’t tuck me in but climbed in beside me.”
For once, neither of us slept alone.
He hissed a breath. “We play a dangerous game.”
“Is it a game?” she said, “or just two lonely people seeking comfort?” Aaron would beat him to within an inch of his life if he ruined her. It was only right they discuss the threat. “Either way, I’ll not have you risking your life for one night of pleasure. Besides, I’m told such feelings are fleeting.”
Mischief danced in his dark eyes. “I have every reason to believe one night would not be enough.”
Judging by their fervent kisses, he was right.
“One night is all we might have. If Aaron found out, he would make you pay in ways you could not imagine.”
