Dangerous (31 page)

Sebastian lounged against the edge of his desk. “What makes you think I’m going to help him?”

She gave him a fulminating look. “There cannot be any question of it.”

“On the contrary, madam.” Sebastian smiled blandly. “As far as I am concerned, there is most definitely a question. I have already done a great deal for my ungrateful cousin. Or have you forgotten that on two very recent occasions I have concealed evidence that implicated him in the deaths of two men?”

Prudence bit her lip. “You didn’t actually conceal it, my lord. You simply returned it to the rightful owner.”

“Who may very well be the killer.”

“Mr. Fleetwood did not kill Oxenham or Ringcross. I am certain of it.”

“I’m glad you are so certain, because I am not.”

“How can you say that?” Prudence demanded.

“Let me put it this way.” Sebastian straightened and started for the door. “If I thought I knew the names of four men who had been involved in my lady’s death, I would not hesitate to murder each and every one of them.”

Prudence unfolded her arms and gaped at him in astonishment. “Sebastian? What are you saying? That you understand why your cousin may have killed those men?”

“I understand perfectly well why he may have done so.” Sebastian had his hand on the doorknob.

Prudence brightened. “Then surely you want to help him, even if you do think he’s guilty.”

“Not necessarily. I still have my own objectives to consider.” Sebastian opened the door and glanced back over his
shoulder. “And I assure you that helping Fleetwoods has never been one of them. As far as I am concerned, I have done more than enough for Jeremy. He has been warned. I owe him nothing else in the way of assistance.”

“But Sebastian—-”

Sebastian went through the door and closed it quickly. He heard the soft patter of Prudence’s slippered feet running across the carpet and knew he had only seconds to get safely out the front door.

“Tell her ladyship I will not be back until this afternoon, Flowers.”

Flowers gave him a reproachful look as he handed Sebastian his hat and his gloves. “Yes, my lord.”

The library door was flung wide just as Flowers opened the front door for Sebastian.

“My lord, wait,” Prudence called urgently. “Damn it, Angelstone, come back here.”

“Sorry, I must be off, my dear. I fear I am late for an appointment.” Sebastian went swiftly down the steps to the sidewalk.

Prudence stood in the doorway behind him. “I’m not through talking to you.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sebastian muttered under his breath as he reached the safety of the sidewalk. She could not follow him out into the street, he assured himself.

“Coward,” Prudence shouted from the top of the steps.

Sebastian saw several people stop and turn to stare in shock at the sight of the Countess of Angelstone yelling after her husband like a fishwife.

Sebastian could not resist turning around, too. Prudence was standing in the doorway, glaring furiously. Even as he watched, she stamped one small foot in exasperation.

Directly behind her loomed Flowers with an unholy grin on his normally dour face. It occurred to Sebastian that he had never seen Flowers smile like that.

Sebastian’s spirits lightened abruptly. He found himself
grinning, too, in spite of his bedeviled mood. In addition to a host of other endearing wifely virtues, Prudence could play the shrew. Fresh confirmation of what he already knew, Sebastian decided. Life with her would never be dull.

He hailed a hackney coach and gave the coachman the familiar direction of the coffeehouse near the docks. He vaulted up into the cab, sat down, and pulled Whistlecroft’s latest message out of his pocket. It had arrived an hour and a half earlier.

He had not been lying when he had told Prudence that he was late for an appointment, Sebastian thought. He pulled his watch out of his pocket and saw that it was already twenty after twelve. It would not hurt Whistlecroft to wait. Sebastian settled back to contemplate the interview with Jeremy.

Half an hour later the hackney drew up in front of the coffeehouse. Sebastian alighted and walked inside. Whistlecroft had commandeered their usual booth.

“Glad ye could make it on such short notice, m’lord.” Whistlecroft wiped his nose on his well-used handkerchief. “I feared ye might not show. We’ve got a problem with the client.”

“What sort of problem?” Sebastian signaled for a mug of coffee.

“He’s gettin’ anxious, he is. Seems Lord Oxenham was found dead in his study last night. Curling’s very agitated. He seems to think there’s a connection.” Whistlecroft eyed Sebastian closely. “He wants to know why I ain’t makin’ any progress on the investigation, m’lord.”

“Does he, indeed?” Sebastian looked at his mug of coffee
as it was set down in front of him. “Just how anxious would you say your client is?”

Whistlecroft snorted and sniffed a few times. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s afraid he might be next.”

“Interesting.” Sebastian considered that briefly. So Curling was getting anxious. Probably because he knew there were only two Princes of Virtue left: himself and Bloomfield. “You may tell your client that you are making progress and expect to solve the case very shortly.”

Whistlecroft slitted his eyes. “Yer sure of that, are ye? Because my client says if I can’t find out who’s behind the deaths of Ringcross and Oxenham very soon, he’s going to hire another Runner.”

“Do not concern yourself, Whistlecroft. I have every hope that you will be able to collect your reward for another successful investigation.”

“Trust so.” Whistlecroft looked glum. “Now that we’re living in a house of our own, me wife wants to put in one of them water closets like the fancies got. Told her the privy in the garden worked just fine, but she’s got her heart set on havin’ one indoors. You know how women are when they make up their minds.”

“I’m learning.”

At three o’clock that afternoon Prudence returned from a trip to a bookshop. She was still fuming over Sebastian’s cowardly retreat earlier in the day. The fact that she had found several interesting volumes on spectral phenomena had done nothing to sweeten her temper.

She was in the library examining her purchases when Flowers announced that she had a visitor.

“Mrs. Fleetwood to see you, madam.” Flowers paused respectfully and then added smoothly, “I shall, of course, be happy to inform her that you are not at home.”

“No, no, that’s all right.” Prudence glanced critically
down at her attire. Thank heavens she was wearing one of her new gowns, she thought. It was a pale lavender muslin trimmed with matching ribbon and several rows of flounces around the hem. It seemed a bit fussy and frilly to Prudence, but according to Hester the gown was very a la mode. Drucilla Fleetwood would not be able to fault it. “Show her in, Flowers.”

Alarm lit Flowers’s houndlike features. “Perhaps you misunderstood, madam. It’s Mrs. Fleetwood who is calling. His lordship’s aunt.”

“I heard you, Flowers. Show her in here, please. And have tea sent in, will you?”

Flowers cleared his throat with a small cough. “If I might make a suggestion, madam. It would perhaps be best to wait until his lordship returns home in order to seek his opinion on whether or not he wishes his aunt to be received.”

“This happens to be my home now as well as Angelstone’s,” Prudence said coolly. Nothing could have been more calculated to annoy her at this particular moment than the notion of asking Sebastian’s opinion on who she should and should not receive. “Show Mrs. Fleetwood in, Flowers, or I shall show her in myself.”

“Yes, madam. But I would be most humbly grateful if you would give me your word that you will inform his lordship that receiving Mrs. Fleetwood was your idea,” Flowers said dolefully.

“Of course.” Prudence wrinkled her nose in exasperation. “For heaven’s sake, Flowers, there is no need to go about in fear of his lordship. He is a perfectly reasonable man.”

“Allow me to tell you, madam, that you are probably the only person on earth who sees his lordship in quite that light.”

Prudence smiled wryly. “Do not concern yourself, Flowers. I shall deal with his lordship.”

“Yes, madam.” Flowers gave her an odd look. “I am beginning
to believe you might very well do just that.” He backed respectfully out of the library.

A moment later Drucilla was ushered into the room. She made a grand entrance in a beautifully cut green gown. Her velvet pelisse was done in a slightly darker hue. It matched the elegant little hat perched at a clever angle on her head. Prudence noticed that there was only one small row of flounces around the hem of the gown.

“Good day, madam.” Prudence rose politely. “What an unexpected surprise. Please be seated. I have sent for tea. I do hope you will join me in a cup?”

“Thank you.” Drucilla scanned Prudence’s heavily trimmed gown with a shuttered gaze, but she said nothing. She lowered herself gracefully into a chair. Her spine did not touch the back.

The housekeeper appeared with the tea tray. She wore a look of impending doom as she dutifully set the tray down near Prudence.

“Thank you, Mrs. Banks,” Prudence said. “I shall pour.”

“Yes, madam. Expect his lordship will have something to say about this,” Mrs. Banks muttered.

Prudence pretended that she had not heard the comment. She handed a cup of tea to Drucilla as the library door closed behind Mrs. Banks.

“How kind of you to pay me a visit, Mrs. Fleetwood.”

“You needn’t act as if this were a social call.” Drucilla set her cup and saucer down on a nearby table. “I am here on extremely urgent business. Lord knows that only the most dire necessity would bring me to this house.”

“I see. What sort of business would that be?” Prudence asked cautiously.

“Family business.”

“Ah, yes. Family business.”

Drucilla straightened her already extremely straight shoulders. “I have had a long talk with my son. He tells me he is the victim of a most malicious set of circumstances.”

Prudence stifled a small groan. She had hoped Jeremy would not feel compelled to drag his mother into the situation. Prudence’s intuition had told her it would be easier to keep Sebastian working on the investigation if Drucilla were not involved.

“What has Jeremy told you, madam?”

“That someone, very probably Angelstone, is playing a cruel game. Angelstone apparently claims to have found evidence that implicates my son in the deaths of two men. That is utter rubbish, of course. Angelstone is obviously lying.”

Prudence frowned. “I assure you Angelstone is not lying.”

“He certainly is. There is no other explanation. It is clear to me that he has concocted some devious scheme to avenge himself on the rest of us.”

“Angelstone did not invent the evidence against Jeremy,” Prudence said.

“Do not contradict me, madam. I have given the matter a great deal of thought. There is only one explanation for what is happening. Angelstone intends to use my son as a pawn in order to bring scandal and ruin down on the family. I will not have it.”

Prudence’s sympathy for the woman vanished beneath a wave of hot outrage. “I assure you, Angelstone is not responsible for the situation in which Jeremy finds himself. In fact, Angelstone has gone out of his way to keep the evidence from falling into the hands of the authorities.”

“Bah.”

“It’s true.” Prudence slammed her teacup down on its saucer. “Allow me to inform you, madam, that if Angelstone had not acted to prevent it, Jeremy might already have been arrested.”

“My son had nothing to do with the deaths of those two men. He does not even know them.”

“He may very well have to prove that, madam. Because
the way things are going, Jeremy is in danger of becoming entangled in a very sticky web.”

“A web woven by your husband.” Drucilla’s voice was rising.

“That is a lie. Why would my husband want to see Jeremy arrested for murder?”

“For the sake of vengeance.” Drucilla’s mouth formed a thin, bitter line. “He hates all of us. He knows what the scandal of a murder charge would do to the family.”

“I happen to know for a fact that Angelstone has no intention of avenging himself on the Fleetwoods because of what happened in the past. You are safe enough on that score, madam.”

“So you say.” Drucilla gave her a scornful look. “But you never knew his side of the family. You never met Angelstone’s father.” A strange expression flashed briefly in her eyes. “As it happens, I knew him rather well.”

Prudence sat very still. It occurred to her that the look she had glimpsed a moment ago in Drucilla’s eyes might have been pain. “Did you?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.” Drucilla made a small, oddly savage gesture with her elegantly gloved hand. “The man had no respect for family tradition. No sense of his responsibilities. He was cruel and callous and his son takes after him.”

Prudence was shocked in spite of herself at the deep bitterness that blazed in the older woman. There was something more here than the disapproval of a domineering matriarch.

“That is a very sweeping statement, Mrs. Fleetwood. How did you come to know Angelstone’s father well enough to make such a judgment?”

“At one time,” Drucilla said coldly, “there was talk of marriage between myself and Angelstone’s father. It came to naught, of course. He ran off with his common little actress and I married his brother.”

Prudence was thunderstruck. “You were engaged to Angelstone’s father?”

Drucilla’s mouth pursed angrily. “We were never engaged. Matters did not get that far. As I said, there was talk of marriage between us, but that was all Both of our families were convinced it would be an excellent alliance. But, as I said, Jonathan Fleetwood was not concerned with what was best for the families. He believed himself in love with his little actress. He would have her, and that was that.”

“From all accounts he did love her.”

“Rubbish.” Drucilla gave a soft exclamation of disgust. “A man of his station does not marry for love. Even if he was fond of the girl, there was no necessity to run off with her. He could have done his duty by his family and kept his doxy on the side. No one would have thought twice about it.”