The Thames River Murders (19 page)

I shared his worry. I pictured Gabriella as Judith—romantic, swept off her feet, then beaten down and discarded when the hoped-for wealth from the marriage did not come. The icy dread in my heart matched what must have been in Hartman’s, and now Woolwich’s.

“I understand,” I said. “I have a daughter myself.”

Woolwich heaved himself from his pillows, still clutching the brandy. He seized my hand with his empty one. “Then please, Captain, I beg of you. Do whatever you can to remove that man from my house, and my daughter’s life.”

His clasp held the fierce strength that had once pervaded his body. He must have led his men by force of personality alone.

“I will do what I can,” I said.

Woolwich’s fingers bit down. “No. You rid me of Bennett, or do not come back. I don’t have the luxury of hope.”

He was compelling. Ship’s captains, at least in the Royal Navy, could be horrible martinets who let their crews and all aboard starve while they feasted, or they were forceful men who ensured that anyone under their command was well looked after. Woolwich struck me as the second sort, but one who brooked no fools.

I needed to speak to Bennett, assess for myself what sort of man he was and whether he’d killed Judith, but I found myself making a rash promise.

“I will ensure that he leaves you and your daughter alone,” I told him. “You have my word on it.”

Woolwich continued to grip my hand as he looked into my eyes. He seemed to be satisfied by what he saw, because he finally released me and sank back, relieved.

“I have heard you are a man of honor,” he said, his voice weakening. “I have little to do these days but read every newspaper that comes my way, so do not be surprised that I know exactly who you are. I know that you cut the face of a man in Brooks’s—you claim for cheating, but I have other ideas. You also lit into a gentleman of the
ton
with your fists for abducting young women, and left him bleeding. I hope you are of the same mettle and haven’t become soft through your marriage. The gentleman I’ve read about is the one who needs to help me.”

“I am that gentleman,” I said with conviction. “As much as my friends despair of me.”

“Good.” Woolwich took another long drink of brandy, then his hand moved fretfully on the covers. “Send my daughter back to me. She is not astute, but she is kindly. Even pretends to like the tales of my voyages.”

“I believe she is quite proud of you,” I said. “Good day to you, sir, and I thank you for your candor.”

“Just take that libertine out of my house,” Woolwich said. “Before he murders me and then Margaret. Viper to my bosom.”

He trailed off into mutters, finished with me. I took my leave, descending the stairs and instructing the footman at the bottom to send Margaret up to the old man.

I also gave the footman my card. “Please tell Mr. Bennett to call upon me at seven this evening,” I said. “In Grosvenor Street. The home of Mr. Grenville.”

The footman looked suitably impressed, as he did with the coins I pressed into his hand. “Yes, sir,” he babbled. “Thank you, sir. I’ll fetch you a hackney, sir.”

***

I’d decided to invite Bennett to Grenville’s for several reasons.
 

First, I did not want him in South Audley Street anywhere near Gabriella. He might see the obvious wealth of the house and get ideas.
 

I also did not want him in Grimpen Lane, because I had the feeling that Bennett was a snob. He’d be more likely to rush to speak to me if I gave him Grenville’s address.

I would have to warn Grenville, of course.

Brewster turned up when the hackney did. Before Brewster could climb onto it for our ride through the streets, I pulled him aside.

“Can you arrange to have this house watched?” I asked. “I fear for the inhabitants inside.”

Brewster glanced at the columned façade and gave me a doubtful look. “As I have told you, Captain, I don’t work for you. I can’t tell my colleagues who to watch and where to go. His nibs wouldn’t stand for it.”

“No,” I said. “But you can hire others, whom you trust. Paid for by me.” My allowance should be put to some good.

Brewster had to think about this. “I’d still want to ask Mr. Denis. He’s already put out with me.”

“He is more put out with
me
, but I am used to it. Even better would be to slip someone into the house, to pretend to be a footman or some such, tell me what happens, and guard the elderly man and his daughter. From everyone, including the daughter’s husband.”

Brewster rubbed his upper lip. “Happens I might know a lad. He’s a real footman, haughty and all. Bit of a thief, though.”

“I will make it worth his while to keep his hands off the silver,” I said testily. “Have your footman tell Captain Woolwich I sent him. I imagine Woolwich still controls who works for the household and who does not.”

“All right, then.” Brewster nodded, a little more at ease. “Where are you off to?”

“To find a horse,” I said.

I’d love to have swung myself up into the carriage on that note and left in dramatic exit, but my knee chose to collapse. Brewster got me inside, conveyed the direction I wanted to the coachman, and slammed the door, looking amused.

***

When I arrived at the South Audley Street house, Bartholomew was waiting for me outside. He had news.

“One Irish hunter, red, with two white stockings and a star,” he said triumphantly as he helped me from the carriage. Then he calmed. “Two, actually. Very well matched, but in different stables from different sires and dams. Fancy that.”

“Never mind their history,” I said, somewhat waspishly. “Where did you find them?”
 

My leg hurt, and I was ready to consign Bennett to the mercy of Brewster and his fists.
 

Brewster could persuade the man to move on if anyone could. I’d be no better than Denis if I employed him so, but at the moment, I did not care.

“One in Hyde Park, for hire,” Bartholomew said, ignoring my bad mood. “The other in Grosvenor Mews. Matthias thought it sounded familiar. It’s a gelding what belongs to one of Mr. Grenville’s neighbors.”

Chapter Nineteen

“What neighbor?” I asked, nonplussed.

“Viscount Compton, an elderly gentleman. He loves this horse. Calls it Irish Red. Very original.”

I’d met Compton a time or two at Grenville’s clubs. “It was not an elderly viscount galloping toward us in the Row,” I said.

“No, indeed. Which is why I believe that it was the one for hire in Hyde Park. Stands to reason.”

“All right, then. Who hired it?”

“Well.” Bartholomew rubbed his chin. Behind him, the hackney driver jolted his coach back into the stream of carts, carriages, and people. “The head groom there, he wouldn’t say.” Bartholomew spoke over the noise of the street. “Says a man should be able to take a horse out without everyone asking about it. I told him what had happened, and he told me that there was no possibility any gent what hired this horse tried to knock young Peter to the ground. That we were mistaken in the mount.”

I trusted Peter’s description. He was in love with all things equine, and noticed everything about them.

“I will have a chat with the head groom,” I said. “Try to loosen his tongue a bit.” I was feeling murderous today.

“However,” Bartholomew said firmly. “I did hang about and talked with the lads who do the mucking. Two of them told me what head groom didn’t want them to, that this precise horse had gone missing for a couple of days, and then turned up, sweet as you please, this morning.”

“Damnation.”

My enemy then, had planned well. He’d know I’d try to discover the identity of the rider. What better way to cover it up than to steal the horse? He risked being caught or seen, of course, but apparently, he hadn’t been. If he were not associated with the horse in any way, how would I ever discover who he was?

He’d either sneaked the horse back early this morning, or the horse had gotten away from him and found its way home.

“I will speak to the groom anyway,” I said. “He might know more than he is letting on.”

“True,” Bartholomew said. “If he were paid well, he might lend out the horse and stay silent.”

“Gabriella’s come-out is in a few days,” I said. “I want to ensure no mischief is done to her by this person who wishes to harm
me
.”

Bartholomew looked worried. “We’ll all keep an eye out, Captain. And I know you’ll solve it by then.”

I could not share his confidence. I entered the house, which was flowing with its usual efficiency, now that Donata was awake and directing things.

I sought Donata in her dressing room as she readied to make calls. Jacinthe scowled as she tugged Donata’s bodice straight, her lip curled, which meant she’d lost an argument with my wife.

“Stay in,” I told Donata. “I had another letter from our anonymous friend.” I took it from my pocket and handed it to her.

“Dear me,” Donata said after she read it. “What on earth can he hope to gain by pretending you are a fraud? Colonel Brandon has known you all these years. All he has to do is proclaim you are who you are, and the rumor will die. Brandon is a respectable colonel, from an old family, well connected, much admired, never mind his bad temper and slow thinking. There is no threat.”

“I have reasoned this, which only makes me more fearful,” I answered. “If this is a madman, to what lengths might he go? And so I repeat, stay in this afternoon.”

“Nonsense. I have many visits to make, more ladies to butter up, so that they will praise Gabriella to the skies and make her a success.”

“About that,” I began. “We should put off the ball as well.”

Donata jerked out of Jacinthe’s hold to round on me. “Now you
have
run mad. We cannot possibly put it off. I cannot imagine a greater difficulty than canceling every plan Aline and I have made for the last sixmonth. I can imagine her colorful language on the subject. Not that I would dare tell her—I would send
you
into that lion’s den. I assure you
no one
will be at the ball that has not been scrutinized a hundred times by the pair of us. Invitations are extremely limited. Those eliminated because their sons are libertines are in an uproar. Those who are invited are preening themselves that they were selected. The lady patronesses at Almack’s are not as rigid in their criteria as we have been.”

“I believe you,” I said. “But, you recall that last year, a man abducted my daughter and hid her in a ruined cellar in order to enjoy her when he was ready. He was part of your precious
haut ton
, and no one knew. How many highly selective come-outs had he been to? A good many, I’d think. You cannot ensure Gabriella’s safety. The ball won’t even be held here, so I can’t simply lock her into her bedchamber if things begin to go wrong.”

“You know why we chose Aline’s house. Much larger and finer than this one.”

“Pare down your guest list even further, and have it here if you will not cancel.”

“Gabriel.”
Donata put her hand on my arm. “What is the matter with you? Shall we bolt the doors and cower inside because a fool writes ridiculous letters? Yes, I was upset that Peter was attacked, which is why he stays in the nursery until you catch who is doing this. But he is a little boy. Shall the rest of us quiver in terror every time we put our nose out of the door? Do not let this man determine your life, Gabriel. Not that I noticed
you
staying home this morning yourself. Off you went, as soon as it was light. This, after railing at me for sleeping—safely—in your rooms in Grimpen Lane.”

“Bloody hell, Donata.”

“Back to swearing. You enjoy that.”

“It is one thing to never go out for fear of what
might
happen,” I said, trying to rein in my temper. “But this man has threatened us directly, tried violence against your son. I must ask—what is the matter with
you
?”

“My dear Gabriel, I have received more threats against me than I can count. From ladies certain I am carrying on affairs with their husbands. From gentlemen incensed I will
not
carry on affairs with them. From ladies angry at me for not inviting them or their daughters to important musicales. From musicians and poets not talented enough to merit my sponsorship. I could write out a long list. Angry and threatening letters, anonymous and signed, are a part of life in the Upper Ten Thousand. One does not let the writers know that they are in any way successful, or one will never have peace.”

“Have any of them sent riders to knock your son to the ground?” I demanded.

“Lady Mary Trent tried to set my gown on fire once—I was wearing it at the time. So yes, violence abounds in the English upper classes. All these silly rules we follow are attempts to contain it.”

“All the same,” I said in a hard voice. “I do not wish you to go out today.”

“You are uncommonly stubborn, Gabriel.”

“When it comes to you, yes, I am. Have you ever done as you are told?”

“On rare occasion. Very well, I will submit to your wishes, and Jacinthe’s, that I stay meekly at home and embroider. But we cannot cancel Gabriella’s ball. That will hang on her for the rest of her life.”

“Not if she goes back to France and quietly marries a French gentleman farmer,” I said. “She knows that life. Is used to it.” My heart wrenched even as I said the words. An English husband would have Gabriella stay in England, with me.

“You have no appreciation for my efforts, or Aline’s. Gentlemen gad about all day with no idea how hard the delicate and weaker sex works. You would be exhausted in a half hour.”

“I have no doubt,” I said. “Very well—you and Aline will win with the come-out ball. But I will make sure that Gabriella is very well guarded. By me, and men more able-bodied than me. Tell Aline to expect extra footmen in her ranks.”

Donata tossed down the reticule she’d snatched up. It clattered among her combs and brushes. “Do not tell me you will insinuate that awful Brewster into Aline’s house. Will Mr. Denis provide the rest?”

“That awful Brewster has saved my skin more than once. He and his cohorts are handy with their fists, and not worried about from what walk of life the men they pummel come. They go, or Gabriella does not.”