The Princess and the Pauper (16 page)

The spirited fire in her eyes
cooled.

Grey pulled a flustered hand through his
mussed hair, the one part of his attire he would not domesticate.
“Damn it, I didn’t mean that, Emily. Come with me. If Dr. Snow
confirms your suspicion, I’ll let the matter rest.”

“
And if he doesn’t say what
you want to hear?”

“
I will continue
searching.”

“
Why? Let Papa rest in peace. You
asked me to trust you.
Prove
to me I can trust you. Honor your word,
Rees.”

“
I can’t.”

When he saw the glistening moisture in
her eyes, his heart fell.

“
Why are you doing this?” she
whispered. “To exonerate yourself?”

“
No, to find out who hurt
you.”

“
You hurt me, Rees. Right
now.”

Her voice twisted with grief. He
didn
’t want
to cause her any more suffering or build a wall between them, but
he had to know the truth, to protect her. It was too late to turn
back now and ignore the past. One day, she would come to
understand.

“
I’m sorry, Emily.”
He crossed the
dressing room and hooked her arm in his, steering her out the door.
“Fetch a shawl and bonnet. We have an appointment with Dr.
Snow.”

~ * ~

The carriage ride to
Harley Street
was
dramatically quiet. Every subdued breath sounded like a
train engine gathering steam, and soon the sharp whistle would
blow.

Grey focused on Emily throughout
the journey, but she maintained a
rigid profile, her eyes fixed on the
shambles of street life. Despite the uneasy sensation in his gut,
he knew he was doing the right thing. Once Emily heard from Dr.
Snow she was innocent of her father’s death, she’d be free of her
false guilt. She’d forgive him, then.

He hoped.

The vehicle rolled to a stop
before
a
handsome, brown brick townhouse with white framed windows and a
polished, dark wood door.

Grey st
epped out of the carriage first, then
offered Emily his hand. She descended without his assistance,
remained impassive as she climbed the stone steps and rang the
brass bell marked “patients and visitors.”

He settled
at her backside, one step below
her. She shivered. He would not let her forget their bond. He would
not let her push him away. And he would not let her carry her
misplaced guilt a minute more.

A few moments
later, they awaited
the doctor’s arrival inside his neat, fashionable office. There was
an adjoining exam room, fresh cut flowers in a vase on the
windowsill, and a comfortable set of leather chairs in front of a
heavy oak desk. A divan near the window completed the furnishings,
and Emily stood beside the glass, bonnet in hand, intent on traffic
rather than him.

Grey, seated in one of the
matching
leather chairs, dropped his chin between his thumb and
forefinger, his own eyes secured on Emily.

Prove to me I can trust
you.

He would regain her trust, he vowed. And
even as a feeling of dread circled his windpipe, he remained firm
in his conviction. He would regain her trust.

The office door opened and a short,
lean gentleman with bushy white side-whiskers entered the
room.

He extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure
to meet you, Mr. Rees.”

Grey stood and
returned the
handshake. “Good morning, Dr. Snow.”

“
My wife and I attended your
performance at the Royal Albert Hall. A splendid event.”

“
Thank you.”

“
Please have a seat.” He rounded
the desk. “How can I help you?” It was then the physician noticed
another figure in the room. His eyes widened. “Miss
Wright?”

Emily looked away from the window and
offered a courteous bob of the head. “Dr. Snow.”

“
What is the meaning of
this?”

“
I’d like your assistance
in a delicate matter,” said Grey.

The doctor reclined in his chair and
pulled his features together, his expression inscrutable. “How can
I be of assistance?”

“
Miss Wright and I would
like some information about her father.”

“
And who are you in this
matter?”

“
A friend,” returned Grey,
his voice low. “Mr. Wright’s condition—”

“
Condition,
sir?”

“
He suffered from madness,
did he not?”

“
He did,
indeed.”

Grey glanced at Emily, but she remained
still and silent. She was not unmoved, however. He sensed the
energy change in the room. It pulsed with tension . . . and he
realized much of that tension was coming from Snow.

“
Have you more to say,
doctor?”

The physician’s
light blue eyes
narrowed. “Have you come to threaten me, Mr. Rees?”

Emily dropped her chin and turned her
ear to better hear the exchange.

“
And why would I threaten
you?” wondered Grey.

“
You are the second man to
inquire about Mr. Wright in the last two days. I suspect you’ve
come to ensure Miss Wright’s secret is not revealed.”

“
And what secret would that
be?”

The older man cast his disapproving gaze
on Emily.

“
It’s all right, Dr. Snow. I have
no secrets from Mr. Rees. Tell him the truth. I know Papa confided
in you. Tell him Papa went mad because of me.”

“
You admit it,
then?”

“
I do,” she said primly.
“Are you satisfied, Rees?”

The doctor rose from his chair and
headed for the door. “I shall send for the police.”

Grey bound
ed to his feet and blocked the
door. “I beg your pardon?”

“
She confessed,” said Snow. “I
heard her, as did you.”

“
And her father’s illness
is a crime?”

His white brows elevated. He
blustered, “Murder is a crime, Mr. Rees!”

The word “murder”
rooted in Grey’s
throat, and he found it impossible to breathe. “She is
not
guilty of
murder.”

“
Let him pass, Rees.” Her voice
trembled. “If Dr. Snow believes it murder, he must be allowed to
follow his conscience and summon the
authorities.”

In that moment,
Grey’s entire world
fell apart. Again. Were they
both
mad? Even if Wright had lost his wits because he’d
found his daughter in a servant’s arms, it was hardly a chargeable
offense.

“
No,” Grey
snapped, scrambling to piece
together his crumbling life. What in bloody hell had possessed him
to chase after the truth? He should have left the past alone, as
Emily had pleaded with him. “There is no murderer here. I refuse to
believe our affair drove Wright mad.”

“
Aha, so you’re the
chimney sweep,” the
man charged. “A friend, indeed. You’ve both come to silence me
about the truth. But I’ve been silent for far too long.” As Grey
still blockaded the door, the doctor turned toward Emily. “How
could you do it? He adored you. He did everything for
you.”

She shuddered. “I know.”

Grey could hear the despair in
her voice. He could
feel
her guilt. “Emily, no.”

“
He’s right, Rees. I—I
killed him.”

“
An
d in such a vile, unholy manner,” the
doctor fulminated. “I wanted to summon the authorities then, but he
begged me not to reveal your transgression and cause a scandal. I
was wrong to promise him my silence. He deserves
justice.”

Grey stalked across the room and
gathered a weakened Emily into his arms. “Go then,” he
bit out. “But you’ll
not convince the police she’s a murderer.”

“
I have her and her
father’s
deathbed confession,” the doctor returned. “It’s more than
enough for a trial, and her false tears will not save her from a
guilty verdict.”

She sobbed on his chest. Her
every tear placed a load on
Grey’s shoulders until the oppressive weight
almost crushed him. “Wait!”

The doctor paused at the door. “What is
it?”

Grey gathered his desperate
thoughts, begged,
“There must be some other way to resolve this
matter.”

“
Bribery? I’ll not hear a word
about it.”

“
You’re a man of
science
, damn
it. Do you really believe a father can go mad if he finds his
daughter in a compromising situation?”

“
Balderdash! Do you think to fool
a jury with such rot? I’m talking murder. Poison!”

Grey bristled. “Poison?”

“
P—poison?” she stammered and
gasped for air “W—what poison?”

“
I suspect it lead,” said the
doctor, his hands in the air, “but I can’t be sure. A few other
toxins can cause muscle pain, memory loss, even delusions. I’ll
have the body exhumed. A coroner in the legal medicine department
will be able to identify the poison. If lead, there are telltale
signs in the bones.”

“
No!” she cried. “I—Papa
believed I poisoned him?”

“
He disclosed everything just
days before he perished,” said Snow. “How he found you in a lover’s
embrace. How you hated him for tossing out the chimney sweep. How
you wanted him dead in revenge.”

“
No! I would never hurt him!” Her
face paled. “Rees, he thought I . . . I . . .”

She blacked out.

~ * ~

The room was spinning.

Emily heard voices, hushed voices. She
closed her eyes again and breathed deep, grasping for
clarity.

“
What’s happened?” she
whispered.

A figure
approa
ched.
Its shadow covered hers. “Emily?”

His voice sounded far away, and she
squinted to make out the shape. The body kneeled and an attentive
face appeared.

“
Rees?”

“
It’s all right,” he murmured and
stroked her temple, her cheek. “You fainted. Here. Drink
this.”

He cupped her head and lifted
it, pressing a glass to her lips. She swallowed the tonic without
question, then grimaced as
fire spread through her belly. Brandy.

But it had roused her from her
listless sleep. She was upright in seconds. Lightheaded, she
swooned for a moment, then regained her bearing.

She gripped the edge of the divan and
looked around the room. She was still in the doctor’s office. Her
eyes next lighted on the physician, who watched her from his desk,
clearly troubled.

As soon as she met his gaze, she
cried, “I did
not
poison Papa!”

“
I’m beginning to doubt that,
too,” he returned with some reservation.

Rees settled beside her and wrapped an arm
around her waist. His touch soothed her thrumming nerves, and she
sighed, leaning against him.

“
I’
ve had a word with Dr. Snow,” he said
gently. “He will listen. Tell him.”

“
I don’t know what else to
say.
I didn’t
hurt Papa. I would never hurt him.” Her memory flashed to the night
he had found her in Rees’ arms, in the arms of the ‘chimney sweep,’
and while Rees had never cleaned the flues, only tended to the
stoves and firesides as part of his many duties, it was clear Papa
had been heartbroken by her choice of suitor. She amended, “I would
never hurt him like that. And I certainly didn’t hate him. I
never
hated
him.”

If anything, she
ha
d hated
herself.

“
Passion is a powerful motive,”
said Snow, his searching eyes fixed on her. “You might have killed
him with the intent of obtaining his money and living with your
lover.”

“
No! If I wanted his money, I
would’ve
declared him insane. His solicitor, my then fiancé, all
begged me to have him committed and save what was left of his
empire. But I refused to publically humiliate him.”

“
Well, Miss Wright, the fact
remains.
Someone
poisoned him.”

She gasped. “I—I don’t know who
poisoned him.
Papa was an honorable businessman.”

“
How do you know he was
poisoned,” questioned Rees, “if no autopsy was
performed?”

“
The sudden o
nset of symptoms, of course. Mr.
Wright’s own suspicions, as well.”

Her heart spasmed again at the thought
Papa believed she’d poisoned him. “How could he think I’d poison
him? I loved him more than I loved myself.”

“
He wasn’t well,” consoled Rees.
“He suffered from delirium, remember?”