Heart of Courage (27 page)

“Aye, miss.”

The horse plodded off, the wheels of the rig bouncing over the cobbles as the cab wound its way through the heavy traffic. It seemed to take hours, but finally the conveyance arrived. Lindsey paid the fare and a little extra and departed the carriage. Unfortunately, when she dashed up the wide brick steps into the station, Michael wasn't there.

“I'm terribly sorry, Miss…?”

“Graham,” she told the bulky sergeant who manned the front desk. “I should like to wait for him, if I may.”

“It might be a while, Miss Graham.”

“That's all right. I shall just take a seat over there.” She pointed toward a wooden bench along the wall. Perching on the edge of the seat next to a long-faced woman in black, she waited anxiously for the lieutenant's arrival.

It was nearly two hours before Michael walked into the station, his expression weary, his hair wind-tousled. Exhausted herself from worry, Lindsey rose the moment she spotted him and hurried in his direction.

“Michael!”

He stopped and turned.

“I need to speak to you. It is important.”

He nodded, but he didn't look happy. It was clear he knew why she was there and also obvious he wished she hadn't come. He wanted to remain as neutral as possible in the matter of her brother, and her appearance at the police station wouldn't look good.

Michael escorted her down a long narrow hallway, into a room furnished with a wooden table and four wooden chairs.

“I wish I could help you, Lindsey. You know I can't.”

She clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. “I didn't come to ask for your help. I came to tell you that I believe I may have found the man who killed those women.”

He arched a light brown eyebrow.

“It wasn't my brother—it was Stephen Camden, Viscount Merrick.”

Michael looked stunned. “Merrick? Why in the world would you think Lord Merrick killed them?”

“It's a long story, Michael. I pray you will give me the chance to explain.”

He tipped his head toward the table, indicating she should take a seat, and both of them sat down.

For the next half hour, Lindsey poured out the information she had collected: beginning with the notes she had received, how she had followed the clues that led her to Merrick Park, led her in search of Penelope Barker. How the young girl had disappeared and her mother was convinced Lord Merrick was the man who had killed her.

When she finished, Michael sighed. “Listen to me, Lindsey. The proof you have is nothing more than gossip. This girl, Penelope Barker, you say she disappeared, but her body was never found. You don't even know if she is actually dead.”

“Her mother believes she is.” She went on to tell him about Silky Jameson and his cruelty to the women at the Red Door. “Silky says that Merrick likes to hurt women—that he ties them up with
scarves. Scarves,
Michael—surely that means something.”

“It means the man is a sexual deviate.” His gaze fixed on her face. “Tell me you didn't personally go to the Red Door.”

She glanced away. “One of my friends went with me.”

She could read the disapproval in his face. “That is hardly appropriate behavior, Lindsey, for a young, unmarried woman—and especially not one who may well become my bride.”

Her chest squeezed. As attractive as Michael was, she couldn't imagine being married to a man so concerned with the dictates of society.

“My brother's life is at stake. That is more important than any chance of scandal my actions might cause. Besides, I was extremely careful. No one there knows my name.”

He sat back in his chair. “Well, I guess that is something.” He released a slow breath. “I'm sorry to say this, Lindsey, but all the information you have given me is moot. The police have irrefutable evidence that Rudy is the man who killed those women.”

She came up out of her chair. “That is impossible. My brother is not a murderer.”

“This time a clue was left at the scene of the crime. Constable Bertram found the button off a gentleman's greatcoat. This morning, when the police arrived at your house, they found the coat with the same missing button. That coat belongs to your brother, Lindsey. I am sorry.”

“No…” Her legs began to tremble. “It isn't possible.”

“I'm afraid it is. As I said, I am sorry.”

“Stephen must have planted it. Rudy saw him earlier in the evening. He must have somehow taken the button. He must have left it at the scene of the murder.”

“Why would he do that?” Michael asked gently. “What reason could the viscount possibly have?”

“I don't know.” Lindsey gathered her strength and with it her resolve. “But I intend to find out.”

 

Lindsey left the police station and headed straight for Newgate Prison. Her brother had already been checked into the master's side. She handed a pouch of coins to one of the guards, then followed him along a narrow corridor that led deep inside the dismal stone walls. When she came to a crossroads, she heard the sound of weeping. The smell of sewage filled her nostrils and she fought down a wave of revulsion.

Dear God, poor Rudy!

When she reached his cell, she found him sitting on the edge of his narrow bed, unshaven and dressed in the same trousers and shirt, wrinkled now and stained, that he had been wearing when they brought him in earlier that day. He looked wan and pale and utterly distraught. He glanced up at her as she entered the stark, wood-floored chamber but didn't bother to rise.

“You don't believe I did it, do you, sis?”

She hurried to where he sat on the bed, knelt in front of him and took hold of his pale, icy hands. “Of course I don't believe it! I know you would never hurt anyone, especially not a woman.”

He swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down. “What am I going to do?”

She rose and tugged him up from the bed, over to the rough-hewn table, and urged him down in one of the chairs.

Lindsey sat down across from him. “The first thing you are going to do is listen to what I have to say. You are going to keep an open mind and then you are going to tell me what you know about Stephen Camden.”

“But—”

“No buts, Rudy. Your life is at stake.”

Rudy nodded, propped his elbows on the table and rubbed a hand over his unshaven face. “All right, I'll listen.”

Lindsey started from the beginning, telling him about the notes, about what she had learned in Foxgrove, about Penelope Barker and what Silky Jameson had said.

“God's teeth, sis, Silky works at the Red Door, don't she? Tell me you didn't go in there.”

“I found out Stephen frequented the place—or used to. I wanted to ask the women about him.”

“God's bones! Isn't there anything you won't do? No wonder you can't find a husband.”

An instant of hurt went through her, followed by a thread of irritation. She was getting extremely tired of condemning males. “Actually, at the moment, I have more potential husbands than I can handle.”

The breath rolled out of him. “Sorry, sis, I didn't really mean it. I'm just so…” He shook his head, unable to put words to his despair.

“It's all right. I can only imagine the way you must be feeling.”

Rudy inhaled deeply, sat up a little straighter in his chair. “So what did Silky tell you?”

Lindsey's thoughts returned to the reason she had come. “Silky said Merrick enjoyed hurting women. She said he liked to whip them. She said he tied them up with scarves—and the police think that is what was used to murder those women.”

“I can't believe you're talking about the same Merrick I know. Stephen always seemed disinclined to any sort of violence. Tried to get him to box a couple of times, but he wasn't interested.”

“Well, perhaps he is interested in a different sort of violence. I want you to tell me about him, anything at all you remember.”

Rudy shrugged. “Not much to tell. Stephen was always kind of a loner. He was four years older, you know. I was just starting university when he was finishing up.”

“Did the two of you ever have an argument, something that might have stayed with him, something that might have made him angry enough to want revenge?”

Rudy shook his head. “As kids, we played together whenever I was at Renhurst, but he was never allowed to stay out very long. I used to feel sorry for him.” He looked up. “I got to tell you, sis. I think you got the wrong man.”

“You saw him at White's the night of the latest murder, right?”

He nodded. “He was there at the club like he usually is.”

“Is there a way he could have taken the button off your overcoat?”

“What?”

“The police found a button at the scene of the murder. They found the same button missing from your greatcoat.”

He looked even more defeated. “I left my coat in the cloakroom. Anyone could have taken the button.”

“Did you go straight to the Golden Pheasant after you left?”

“I did.”

“And afterward…you said you walked around for a while before you came home. Did you stop anywhere else?”

He shook his head.

“That means that the button had to have been taken at the club or by someone at the Golden Pheasant.”

“I kept my coat with me at the Pheasant. Didn't intend to stay very long.”

“Then it had to be Stephen or someone else at White's that night.”

Rudy mulled that over. “Merrick ain't a killer.”

“Maybe he is, maybe not. Right now I'm leaning toward he is.” She stood up from the chair. “I've got to go. In the meantime, I want you to think back, try to remember anything you might have done that would make Stephen want you to take the blame for murder.”

T
hor rapped on the front door of Baron Renhurst's big stone mansion, which took up half a block in Mount Street. A second series of knocks and the door swung open to reveal a thin, silver-haired butler panting from his efforts to reach the door.

“May I help you?” he asked, tipping his head back to look Thor up and down.

“I need to speak to Miss Graham. Tell her Thor Draugr is here about her brother.”

“Yes, sir, I'll just be a moment. If you would like to wait in the drawing room—”

“Great heavens—Thor!”

Lindsey stood at the top of the stairs, slender and feminine, elegant in that way she had, and so womanly it made his chest hurt. She started down the stairs and her skirts fluffed up, exposing her trim little ankles, and a jolt of hunger stabbed sharply into his groin.

By the gods, his need of her would have to wait. He conquered the surge of lust and started striding toward her. He hadn't quite reached her when a tall man with her same fair coloring, tawny hair and eyes stepped into his path.

“And just whom, may I ask, are you?”

Thor looked over at Lindsey, who had paused near the bottom of the stairs. He felt a surge of possessiveness so strong he fought an urge to haul her over his shoulder and carry her off as his captive, as the men of his island would have done.

“You are Lindsey's father?”

“I am.”

“I am Thor Draugr—the man who is going to marry your daughter.”

“What!”

“Now is not the time, but soon we will talk. For now, I need to speak to Lindsey. I have found information that might help your son.”

The baron just stared, his eyes bulging in shock. As Lindsey hurried forward, he seemed to regain his senses. “This man, Lindsey—what on earth is he talking about?”

“I'm not quite certain myself, Father, but if he is here, it must be important.”

“I am not about to let that man get anywhere near—”

“Lindsey and I must speak, Baron,” Thor said. “Now.”

Lindsey rested a hand on her father's arm. “It is all right, Father. I have known Mr. Draugr for some time. We work together at
Heart to Heart.
He has been helping me try to find the Covent Garden Murderer.”

“Good God! Have you lost your mind, girl? Murder is no business for a woman.”

Lindsey looked at him as if she had heard those words too many times. “Give us a moment, Father. I need to hear what he has to say.”

The baron cast a hard glance at Thor. “All right, you may have just that—two minutes in the drawing room. And leave the doors open.”

Thor made a slight inclination of his head. “As you wish, my lord.” Following Lindsey, he let her lead him into an elegant drawing room and they sat down on the sofa, careful to keep an acceptable distance between them.

“If this is about anything other than my brother—”

“I know you have not yet forgiven me. I am here with information that might help.”

She eyed him with a hint of suspicion. “What have you learned?”

“I went to see Simon Beale. I thought he might know this woman, Tilly, that Silky Jameson told you about.” On the carriage ride home, he had demanded to know what she and Krista had learned from the women at the Red Door and reluctantly she had told him.

“What did Beale say?” she asked.

“He said the only Tilly he knew was Tilly Coote, Stephen's nanny. He said she was already out of the marquess's employ by the time he took the job as young Merrick's valet.”

“Did he remember anything else?”

“Only that he didn't think Merrick liked the woman. During Beale's years as valet, the viscount had few good things to say about his childhood.”

Lindsey stood up from the sofa. “I've got to find her. I've got to talk to her.”

Thor felt a surge of triumph. He had known what Lindsey would wish to do and the first part of his plan had just fallen into place. “I have found her. I will take you to her.”

She started shaking her head. “Just tell me where she is.”

“I will not do that, Lindsey. It is too dangerous. If you wish to go, I will go with you.”

“Damn you!”

“That is the way I have felt since the day I said those awful words to you. Come, I will take you there now.”

He reached out a hand, held it there, hoping she would take it. Lindsey cast him a long, hesitant glance. But she took hold of his hand and let him lead her toward the door.

“I have borrowed my brother's carriage, but soon I will have one of my own.”

She looked up at him, let go of his hand as they stepped into the hallway. Her father still stood in the entry, his legs braced apart, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I was just about to come for you,” he said to Lindsey. “It is past time for your friend to leave.”

“He is going, Father. But I have to go with him. Thor may have found the proof we need to save Rudy.”

“Thor? You call this man by his first name?”

But Lindsey was already hurrying out the door, heading down the steps to the carriage.

“Come back here, Lindsey!” the baron shouted, striding after her out the door.

“Don't worry, Father—” she called back through the open carriage window. “I shall be back very soon.”

Thor settled himself in the seat across from her and the driver whipped the team of bays into a steady trot. They pulled away from the house and Lindsey assessed him from the opposite seat of the coach.

“You told my father you were going to marry me. How could you do something like that?”

“Because it is true. You belong to me. Deep inside, you know this, Lindsey.”

Her chin went up. “I don't belong to any man and especially not you!”

Thor said nothing. Lindsey was there with him and that was a start. She was determined to speak to the woman named Tilly Coote and he meant to help her. Lindsey was certain her brother was innocent of murder. Thor had learned to trust his woman's instincts.

May…
perhaps
this would give them the evidence they needed to prove Rudy Graham's innocence.

Then he would deal with the matter of making her his wife.

 

Tilly Coote lived in a tumbled-down, wood-frame house at the edge of the city. Grass grew up through the boards in the porch and the wooden steps were cracked and broken. Tilly came to the door in a worn, printed muslin dress beneath a moth-eaten sweater, an older woman with blond hair turning gray and teeth that were beginning to yellow. Once she might have been pretty, years ago when she had been Stephen's nanny. Not anymore.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Coote,” Lindsey said pleasantly.

“Afternoon. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Lindsey Graham. This is Thor Draugr. We came to talk to you about the years you worked as a nanny for the Marquess of Wexford. Do you think you might have a moment to speak to us?”

“It's
Miss
Coote, and I suppose I've got time. Not much else to do these days.” She stepped back to allow them into the house, which was cluttered with bric-a-brac collected over the years, stacks of yellowed newspapers, and too much furniture for the size of the house.

Miss Coote offered them tea, which Lindsey and Thor declined, and instead they all took seats in the sitting room.

“I worked for his lordship for nearly thirteen years,” Miss Coote said proudly. “Good man, he was, always kind to his employees. When little Stevie reached the end of his thirteenth year, the marquess figured my job as his nanny was done.”

“He fired you?”

“Retired me. Gave me my severance plus a bonus for doing such a good job. That's what he said…‘You did a fine job of raising my boy, Miss Coote.' Said I'd done right, teaching little Stevie to mind his manners.”

“Was Stephen a hard child to handle?” Lindsey asked.

“Not so hard, once we came to an agreement.” She shook her head. “But he was a terror in the beginning. Wouldn't mind a thing I said, always running off to play when he should have been doing the schoolwork his tutor, Mr. Barnes, gave him.”

“What did you do about it?”

She chuckled. “I fixed the little devil. Tied him up, I did. Borrowed a couple of nice silk scarves from his mum so it wouldn't hurt him. Tied him to the bed when he wouldn't behave.”

Her heart was pounding. “You tied him up?”

Tilly smiled, showing her yellowed teeth. “He calmed himself right away.”

“And his mother knew what you were doing?”

“Lady Wexford, she was glad for it. You see, Stevie wasn't really her son. He was born to the first Lady Wexford, who died. Her ladyship and little Stevie didn't get along.”

“How did you and
little Stevie
get along?” Thor asked darkly, his tone catching Lindsey's attention.

“We were fine. I had a nice stout birch rod, you see. Kept it right there in the nursery. Took it to his little arse when he misbehaved. Didn't take long for him to figure out he was supposed to do what I said.”

“What about when he was older?” Thor asked. “What did you ask him to do for you then?”

Lindsey turned toward Thor, not sure what he meant. When she looked back at Tilly, the woman was sweating.

“Didn't do anything he didn't appreciate. He was growing up, wasn't he? Needed to learn things about women. I just helped him learn.”

Lindsey just sat there, trying to digest what Stephen's nanny was saying. Surely it didn't mean she had pressed herself on the boy in an intimate fashion. But from the dark look on Thor's face, Lindsey realized it must be true.

She stood up from the sofa, a little shaky on her feet. “I think it is time for us to go, Miss Coote. We appreciate the information.”

“Like I said, I just taught him what he needed to know.”

“I'm sure you did,” Lindsey said. But she was thinking that no wonder Stephen hated Tilly Coote. And she thought she had just found out why he had murdered those women.

 

“Are you all right?” Thor's voice reached her from the opposite side of the carriage.

“I am all right.” She looked up. “How did you know what she had done to Stephen?”

His jaw hardened. “There was something in her face…the kind of need a man recognizes in a woman, no matter what is her age. She had no man—not now or then. It was a good guess she had satisfied her need with the boy.”

More instinct than guess, Lindsey thought. One thing she had learned, Thor was a man with keen instincts.

She sighed. “It makes me sad to think what Stephen must have gone through as a child.”

“A lot of people have troubles when they are young. It isn't an excuse to do murder.”

There was something in his voice that alerted her. She had always been curious about his past. “What about you? Did you have a troubled childhood?”

He shrugged his powerful shoulders, lifting the fabric of his dark brown tailcoat. He wore a stylish waistcoat, as well, and a perfectly tied cravat. If she didn't know better, she might actually believe he was a gentleman of the highest order.

“My mother died when I was eight,” he said, surprising her since he rarely talked about his life before he came to England. “I barely remember her. Leif was oldest so he was closest to our father. In a way it was good, I suppose. It forced me to grow up early, learn to take care of myself. It is a good thing for a man to know.”

But she thought that he must have missed having the love of a mother. As she looked back on it, thought about his independent nature and the distance he kept from others, she realized that perhaps what Thor needed most and never had was a woman's love.

Her heart squeezed. There was a time she wanted to give him that love more than anything on earth.

“I have not thought of my mother in some time,” he said. “My father said I was born with her more gentle nature. I do not know.”

But Lindsey thought it was true. She thought that although he was the most masculine man she had ever known, there was a side to him that was sensitive and caring. The combination was lethal. It was the reason she had fallen in love with him.

Her heart pinched. Things were different now.

Weren't they?

Lindsey glanced out the carriage window, saw a stray cat dart into an alley, heard the sound of a trash barrel turning over.

“You had better take me home. I need to talk to Lieutenant Harvey, give him this new information. And my father will be wondering where I am.”

“I will take you back, but not yet.”

She looked up at him. “Then where are we going?”