The Spider's Touch (39 page)

“I tried to avoid them, but I did catch a glimpse of Potter talking to Lady Hawkhurst’s brother.” Menzies paused. “And what about Mayfield?” he demanded. “He was sitting in our box, and I know that he attacked Sir Humphrey at Lord Hawkhurst’s card party. He is no Jacobite, but if anyone should be suspected of killing Sir Humphrey, it is he. He’s the one you should be holding up.”

“I am aware of the evidence against Mayfield. You say you saw him?”

“Yes, and from the look on Colonel Potter’s face, I gathered that his conversation was not of the most riveting variety.”

“Did you see them after they parted?”

“No, but when I passed them, I saw a harlot blow a kiss at Mayfield. She seemed to have captured his attention.”

“Anyone else?”

“Only Lovett. He was standing outside the ladies’ withdrawing room. Since he escorted Lady Hawkhurst out, I assume he was waiting for her to emerge.”

“Is that all?”

Menzies said that it was, so Gideon asked, “How long between the time you saw the whore blow a kiss at Mayfield and your departure?”

“No time at all. I headed straight down the stairs and out the door.”

“So you did not see him go down? And you did not glimpse Sir Humphrey at all?”

Menzies emitted an irritated sigh. “I told you, I was trying to avoid being seen. I was keeping a look out for Walpole’s spy, and the last thing on my mind was that oaf Mayfield or any of Sir Humphrey’s party.

“Now,” he said, “I believe I have answered your queries sufficiently. So, it is your turn to answer mine. Who are you, and why are you wearing a mask.”

“If I could answer that, I should have no reason to wear it.”

Menzies’s frustration was palpable. “How can I be certain that you are not one of Walpole’s men?”

“You can’t. I can give you my word, but I suspect you will consider that unsatisfactory.”

He held the pistol up so Menzies could see it, and peered over his shoulder to see how Penny was coming along.

Tom had stopped walking the horses to rub them both down with fistfuls of dry grass.

Out the corner of his eye, Gideon noticed when Menzies took a step. He turned back around, then gestured with the pistol towards Menzies’s lame horse.

“You’d better see if that horse can be walked into Sevenoaks.”

“I can’t. It’s too dark.”

Gideon was not about to fall for any trick. “Then, you can leave it. But you had better start walking if you want to get to Sevenoaks before dawn.”

Menzies let loose with a spate of oaths, but he went to capture the injured animal. This time, he was more successful.

Gideon watched him run his hands over the horse’s legs and check its hooves.

“He’s picked up a stone,” Menzies said.

Gideon allowed him to dig in his bag for a hook, though he carefully covered him with the pistol. Before too many seconds had passed, he heard the clack of a stone hitting the road and let Menzies put away his tool.

Menzies walked the horse in a circle, and Gideon noted that its limp was gone.

“You may go,” he said. “But if I discover that you lied about Sir Humphrey’s death, be forewarned, for I shall find you.”

“Then, we shall not be meeting any time soon.” Menzies climbed into his saddle and asked, “Shall I carry any message for his Majesty?”

Gideon did not miss the irony in his voice. Menzies offer, though, recalled the happenings of the past eventful week. “You should tell him that his army is in disarray, that its leadership is undecided, and that the government has launched a full scale attack on his adherents.”

He heard Menzies hiss. “If I tell him anything of the sort, he’ll give up hope.”

“As, perhaps, he should,” Gideon said. He spoke with regret, but Menzies did not wish to hear it.

He swung his horse around and rode it straight at Gideon. “If you want a message like that delivered, then you can do it yourself!”

Before the horse could ride him down, Gideon leapt out of its way. He landed on his elbow, holding the pistol safely aloft in case it discharged. Ignoring the resulting pain in his arm, his scrambled to his feet, afraid that Menzies would go after Tom, but the sight that greeted him in the moonlight was the rump of Menzies’s horse as it galloped towards Sevenoaks.

Tom came running to see if he was hurt.

“Do you want me to chase him?” he asked, once he saw that Gideon was all right.

“No. But we should leave right away. I can’t be sure that Menzies won’t report us to the authorities. Is Penny all right?”

“I think so, my lord. But I wouldn’t want to see you ride her too fast.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. But, since we’ve got to walk, we’d best leave now.”

When they were mounted and had turned their horses towards London, Tom asked, “Did you get what you wanted out of him, my lord?”

“I can’t be sure. It wasn’t much.”

“Then, what will you do now?”

“I’ll have to speak with Mrs. Kean.”

* * * *

While Gideon had been waiting for dark, before paying his visit to the Duke of Ormonde, Hester had been sitting with her cousin Dudley in the withdrawing room at Hawkhurst House. The Prince of Wales had invited Isabella and Harrowby to his chamber to play at cards, and since the wagers were sure to be deep and the play to go on for hours, Mrs. Mayfield had insisted on Hester’s staying at home to entertain her cousin. The order had left her dismal and frustrated.

It was not that Hester had any desire to watch the Royal couple and their courtiers play until morning, but she had been forced to listen to Dudley’s complaints all evening. Even if she could have felt sympathy for him, his attitude would have rid her of all wish to be of service.

His mother had selfishly accepted an invitation of her own, leaving Hester to be Dudley’s sole ear. And, in the past two days, Dudley had begun to feel very sorry for himself, indeed.

Whether Sir William had spread the word about Dudley’s attack on Sir Humphrey, or other people’s suspicions had led them to be indiscreet, Dudley was being shunned by the members of the Court. Herr Bernstorff, himself, had paid a visit to Hawkhurst House to tell Harrowby that he should not try the King’s grace by bringing his brother-in-law to Court while a shadow of suspicion hung over his head. And even though a direct cut from his Majesty had thus been avoided, it was clear from the behaviour of the peers that Dudley would be excluded from any invitation sent to the Earl and Countess of Hawkhurst.

“I’ve a good mind to go home,” Dudley said, for the third time that evening. As on the other two occasions, he followed this remark with a huff, which seemed to say that it would serve them all right if he did.

Hester bit back an impatient sigh. She had tried to distract him with a game of piquet, but playing cards for no wager with his spinster cousin was not Dudley’s idea of fun, and he refused to be amused. He seemed oblivious to the fact that Hester was no more entertained by his company than he was by hers.

Hester was reluctant to dignify his comment with a reaction, but she found herself repeating the advice she had given him before. “If you were to leave, you would give the impression of running away. And I know you wouldn’t want that.”

“Then what can I do?” he moaned. “The gossips are growing worse. They act as if I was a monster.”

“You must be patient. Eventually, the real murderer will be caught, and they will realize the error they have made.”

“I don’t know why you say he’ll be caught, when nothing’s being done to find him. I thought you said that
we
would discover who did it.”

Hester could not truly blame him for this complaint. Although the magistrate had taken statements from everyone present, no testimony had pointed to the killer. There had been no direct witnesses, and without them, even if a motive were found, there would be no way of proving the murderer’s guilt.

The magistrate had tried to eliminate Sir Humphrey’s guests as suspects by requesting their alibis, but Harrowby was the only one of the gentlemen who had been in someone’s company during every minute of the interval. This left the others under doubt, but since Lord Lovett and Colonel Potter had been Sir Humphrey’s friends for years and were known at Court, it was not surprising that the bulk of suspicion had fallen first on Dudley, next on the missing Mr. Blackwell, and finally on a stranger in the crowd.

Hester could not wonder that the magistrate had given up. It was unlikely that anyone would ever be brought to trial, which meant that Dudley was safe—if forever being thought of as a murderer could be considered safe. No matter how low her opinion of her cousin was, Hester could not be happy to have any member of her family tarred with such a brush. And besides, it would be a great injustice if Sir Humphrey’s murderer went free.

She could not tell Dudley that the St. Mars was helping her investigate. Nor could she share the information he obtained, when Dudley would naturally wonder how she had come by it. But she did have one idea, if she only get Dudley to think, too.

Keeping her eyes on the cards, while dealing another hand, she said, “It would help if someone could testify that he or she saw you downstairs after the interval was over.”

Although she had tried to make her suggestion seem innocent, Dudley’s cheeks still reddened with annoyance.

“I’ve told you. There’s nobody who can do it.”

“Not even one of the women selling oranges? Are you certain you did not stop to speak to one of them? If so, she might be able to remember you.”

“I didn’t—”

But that was as far as Dudley got before the door of the room opened, and Lord Lovett walked in.

He had not been announced, but his visits to Hawkhurst House were so frequent and welcome that the footmen had ceased treating him like a guest.

Hester and Dudley stood to make their obeisances, each with a certain awkwardness. Since the night of Isabella’s card party, Hester had found it difficult to meet this gentleman’s gaze without feeling flustered, while Dudley’s uneasiness stemmed from the way Lord Lovett examined him—as if he searched his face for signs of madness or guilt.

Hester took the role of hostess to fill the awkward moment. “I know how sorry my lord and Isabella will be to have missed you, Lord Lovett, but they were summoned by the Prince.”

“I was aware of their plans this evening, thank you, Mrs. Kean.” His piercing black eyes fixed on hers. “I came to see how you were getting on.”

He shifted his gaze to include her cousin in this statement, but Dudley was so clearly an afterthought that even he could not fail to grasp this fact.

He tried to overcome his discomfort with a jest. “Oho! I shall have to warn my sister of a rival, shall I, Hester? Lord Lovett will be wishing me to the devil.”

Lord Lovett gave him a withering sneer, which made the young man turn red and scowl.

Hester felt embarrassment grip her throat. She did her best to feign ignorance of her cousin’s meaning, but when Lord Lovett turned his gaze on hers, it instantly softened. A smile played at his lips, as if to say that he knew how much she detested that sort of raillery and he would not permit her to be annoyed.

Hester wondered how much should be read into a gaze, for there seemed to be even more in his—a confirmation of what Dudley had implied, and not the denial she had expected to see.

She offered Lord Lovett refreshments, but this unfortunately drew his attention to Dudley’s drinking.

Since the night of the opera, Harrowby had insisted that Dudley only be given watered wine. A carafe with this weakened mixture was standing on the table where they had played piquet. Lord Lovett’s gaze traveled to it, and he immediately raised one brow before turning to Hester with a frown.

“I shouldn’t have thought that Hawkhurst would leave you alone.” He did not seem to care if Dudley was offended by this speech.

Hester gave a quick glance at her cousin and saw that he had grasped Lord Lovett’s meaning. His expression changed from crushed to furious.

Before he could speak, she turned back to Lord Lovett, with a measure of reproof. “I am not alone. I have my cousin here to keep me company. We have been enjoying a game of cards.”

Her words were not enough to remove the sting of Lord Lovett’s, though. Once roused, Dudley’s temper was never easy to smooth down, and his most wounded feelings had just been trounced upon.

“I suspect you mean that she is not safe with me,” he said, taking a big step towards Lord Lovett with his hands in fists.

Hester hurriedly said, “Now I’m certain that his lordship meant nothing of the kind.”

She looked to Lord Lovett for assistance, but he merely stood his ground. His expression said that Dudley might interpret his meaning any way he liked.

She tried again to calm her cousin, speaking firmly. “No matter what anyone says or even thinks, you will never change their minds by becoming upset. What is needed is restraint.”

“It’s easy for you to talk about restraint!” Dudley turned his fury on her. “You aren’t the one being accused of something you didn’t do!”

Lord Lovett made as if to step between them, which would not help at all. Hester tried to stop him by raising a hand, but she was obliged to place it on his chest.

This made her a trifle flustered when she addressed Dudley again. “No, I’m not accused of anything, but since you are, you need all the friends you can get, including your brother-in-law. And I can assure you that he will never forgive you if you start another brawl in his house!”

This warning finally penetrated Dudley’s ill-humour. He struggled visibly to overcome his temper, but when he could not, he pushed past Hester, nearly flinging her into Lord Lovett’s arms, and stomped for the door. “If anybody cares where I’ve gone, you can tell them that I’ve gone out! And I shall stay out until I feel like coming back!”

As soon as the door slammed behind him, Hester realized that Lord Lovett was still holding on to her. One of his arms had gone protectively about her, and the next step seemed that it would be to turn her to face him within his embrace.

Even though her pulse livened at the thought, she would not allow herself to be seduced. She wriggled out of his arms and turned to face him from a safe distance away.