Devil in My Arms (20 page)

“The law is on my side,” Enderby hissed.

Eleanor’s eyes were closed, as if she could pretend he wasn’t there if she couldn’t see him. But she’d know that voice anywhere.

“You’re attracting attention,” Harry whispered frantically.

Roger shoved Enderby out of the box, into the hallway behind, where two of the attendants now stood with what appeared to be the theatre manager. A few curious heads peered around from other boxes, and Eleanor turned her back to them. “Sit down,” Harry hissed. She pushed Eleanor into the nearest chair and then she and Julianna sat down on either side of her. “Look at the stage as if nothing’s wrong,” Julianna ordered. Eleanor obeyed, hardly able to think.

He was here
. She felt sick to her stomach and wrapped her arms around her middle.

Roger came back into the box looking angry and disheveled. “We’re leaving,” he whispered. “Get your things.”

Harry grabbed her shawl and Eleanor’s, and her reticule. It was then Eleanor realized her reticule was still around her wrist. She clutched it to her chest. Thank God she hadn’t lost it when she was fleeing Enderby. Hilary’s handkerchief was in there.

* * *

Roger paced the Templeton drawing room while Harry cried and Alasdair and Julianna argued. The Sharps thought she should go back to the Earl of Throckton’s country estate and hide there. Their gay clothing mocked their serious demeanors.

Eleanor sat on the sofa where Hilary had pleasured her. She just wanted to see him again.

“He hasn’t got a leg to stand on,” Alasdair argued. “He’s remarried. He had her declared dead. He identified the body as Eleanor. We simply have to maintain that Eleanor died and this is Elizabeth.”

“And when they go looking for information about Elizabeth and there’s none to be found?” Julianna argued back. They both seemed to have forgotten she was in the room. “They’ll be suspicious. We should have had Hil create a history for her. He could do it. We can still ask him to.”

“How does one go about doing something like that?” Roger asked. “Even if he could do it, and I don’t know if he can, it can’t be done in time and I couldn’t be a part of it, not if I want to continue to practice the law.”

“We’ll just have to brazen it out, then,” said Alasdair. “Say all her records were destroyed in a fire. We can find a fire somewhere, can’t we?”

Eleanor just sat there, slumped in a chair and picking at the finger on her glove. It was stained red. Roger had told her she’d made Enderby’s nose bleed when she’d punched him.
Good
.

They’d all been living in a fantasy world to think this deception would work. She had to run again, before Enderby showed up with the authorities. She wasn’t going to tell Roger and Harry. They’d be questioned. She didn’t want to force them to lie again. They were quite bad at it.

“Should we bring her to Sir Hilary’s?” Harry asked tearfully. “Or send for him?”

“No,” Roger said firmly. “It wouldn’t do for her to be found at Hil’s if they come looking. And I’m not sure he’s at home. Wiley said something about another inquiry. I’ll send him a note first thing in the morning.” He sighed and rubbed his head wearily. “We dismissed the guards too soon. I thought you were safe. I failed you. I’m sorry, Eleanor.”

“I’m exhausted,” she said suddenly, standing. The room came to a standstill, everyone staring at her. She forced a smile. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.” She
kissed Harry’s cheek and patted Roger’s arm as she walked past. “Don’t worry,” she said to no one in particular. “It will be fine.”

“That’s right,” Roger told her. “You go to bed. Nothing will happen before the morning. I’ll refuse to release you to Enderby without due process. If he had the paperwork, he wouldn’t have tried to snatch you at the opera, would he? We’ll go see Hil tomorrow. He’ll have some ideas, too. He certainly has contacts that can help. Then I’ll track down a magistrate or two and I’ll get an order remanding you into my custody until this can be sorted. Then we’ll bring charges of abuse and endangerment. He won’t win this time.”

She said nothing, just smiled vaguely as she left. She climbed the stairs slowly. She was beaten and she knew it. Enderby had already won. Her new life here was ruined. She wouldn’t let him drag Harry and Roger down with her, which would certainly be the case if there was a nasty trial and she was exposed as an adulteress, and they her accomplices. Regardless of the facts, that is how society would paint her. She had to gather a few items, and then when the house was quiet, she’d slip out. But before she left London she was going to see Hilary one last time.

* * *

A knock on the front door awakened Hil. It was a furtive knock, if you could say such a thing about knocks. He sat up, rubbing his face vigorously. He was surprised that he’d fallen asleep. But he’d been so damn tired after being out with Wiley all day, tracking down some leads on a new investigation, another missing-person case the police had not been able to solve. Sleep had come hard the last week. He’d tried drinking to forget Eleanor, but that only made Wiley’s frowns and disgust harder to bear. Then he’d tried working. He’d finished building the ten feet of wall. By himself. It had been exhausting. He’d paced, he’d argued with himself, he’d rationalized—which he was very good at, normally—all to no avail. He still wanted her desperately.

“Who is it, damn it?” he called out, not even sure the footman downstairs could hear him. There was a hushed conversation that he couldn’t hear properly. He threw off the covers and stomped to the door, grabbing his abused banyan from off the floor. He
pulled it on and was buttoning it as he opened the door and stomped over to the steps. “It’s the middle of the night,” he groused.

“I’m sorry I’ve woken you, Hilary.” Her voice floated up to him and he caught his breath. “I seem to make a habit of it, don’t I?”

“Eleanor,” he breathed out. He took the stairs down two at a time, and she met him at the bottom. He didn’t say a thing, just yanked her into his arms. “Have you been doing more of that blasted thinking?” he asked gruffly. “It took you a week to show up.”

He kissed her cheek and then began to kiss her entire face. “I’m sorry,” he said between kisses. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He stopped for a moment, holding her face between his hands, staring into her beautiful eyes. “I don’t say that very often. However, I will say it to you whenever it applies. I swear it.”

“Oh, Hilary,” she said. She cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry. What a great fool I am. I don’t care anything about your secrets. Keep them. I was running scared. I still am.”

He wrapped her in his arms just to feel her heart beat against his. “So am I,” he admitted. “This business is all new to me.”

“Yes,” she said, “me, too.” She broke away and paced over to the wall and then spun to face him. He saw then that she wore boys’ clothing. His heartbeat tripped.

“How did you get here?” he asked, worry furrowing his brow. He hadn’t sent a carriage.

“I walked,” she said. “It took me awhile.”

“Walked?” he practically yelled. “Even in those clothes you were ripe picking for any ruffian looking for trouble. How long is ‘awhile’?”

“Hours, actually,” she said, worrying her upper lip. “I had to take a roundabout way.”

“Why?” The hair on his nape was standing. That always happened when trouble was coming.

“He’s here.” She sounded frightened. Rushed. He took a moment to assess her. He’d been so glad she’d finally come he hadn’t truly looked at her. Not only was she wearing boys’ clothing, there was a small satchel by the door.

“Who is here?” he asked, though he knew the answer. He was already frantically trying to think. What could they do? Where could they go? He didn’t have enough to ruin
him yet, to steal Eleanor away.

“Enderby. He tried to grab me at the opera, but I fought him off and ran. Roger chased him away and brought me home, but it isn’t over. He wants me back.”

“Well, he can’t have you,” Hil said immediately. “You’re not his.”

Her laugh was full of despair. “According to the laws of England I am.” She shook her head, bewilderment written clearly on her face. “I don’t know why he wants me back. He’s got a new wife, a child on the way. Does he think I will ruin that for him? I don’t understand. But he was adamant. He was … frightening. Perhaps he means to kill me this time.”

“Damn it, why didn’t you send word to me sooner? I would have come to get you. We’ll go away.” Hil grabbed her arm and started to drag her to the stairs. “I’ll just pack a few things and we’ll leave. We’ll go to America. I have it all planned out.” Damn it, he’d known Roger had dismissed the guards. But like Roger, he’d thought she was safe. It had been so long. And he almost had enough to ruin Enderby without dragging Eleanor into it.
So close
. He would have done it, too, if he weren’t fleeing the country.

“Hilary!” she cried, trying to pull her arm away. “You can’t. You know you can’t. I have to go alone.”

“I can, I will, and I shall,” he said firmly. “There is nothing holding me here.”

“Someday you will regret it,” she pleaded. “You have a full life here that you would miss. I don’t want to be the cause of that. And I have no idea where I’m going, or how far I will have to run. You have to let me go.”

“Eleanor,” he said, pulling her in and grasping at her—there was no other word for it. His mind was racing. He’d never really thought this could happen, that he actually risked losing Eleanor to her brutish husband. Logic had convinced him it wouldn’t. But logic did not apply here, it would seem. Passion ruled them all.

Enderby had to die. Wiley knew people who could make that happen. Hil knew some, as well. But if he let someone else do it, he left it to chance that it would be done right.

He had to do it
.

First he had to convince her to stay. “I don’t think I have a life without you. I tried that this past week. It did not go well.”

“You are perilously close to a declaration,” she whispered into his neck, her arms wrapped around him.

“Yes, yes I am,” he said. He was going to say more, but the sound of horses outside caught their attention. They broke apart quickly. “Hide,” he told her. “Go up to my room.”

“You’ll be charged with kidnapping or worse,” she cried out in distress. “I’m going out the back.”

“What’s going on?” Wiley demanded from the top of the staircase. “Why does she need to hide?” He took the stairs down two at a time. “I’ll take her out the back.” He wasn’t dressed. He had on only a pair of pants, and his feet were bare.

A pounding came at the door. “Open up!” a familiar voice called. “Inspector Vickery here to see Sir Hilary!”

“It’s just Vickery,” Hil said, relief coursing through his veins. “He’s an old acquaintance. He must need help with a case. He wouldn’t be investigating a runaway wife.” Vickery only handled important cases that carried a hefty reward, such as murder or embezzlement.

“Don’t!” Eleanor cried out, but Hil opened the door in spite of her protest. Wiley planted himself in front of Eleanor, his feet wide and his arms crossed. He glared at Hil and at the Bow Street runner standing there with several other officers.

“Vickery,” Hil said congenially. He scanned the walk behind the officers and saw no sign of a stranger. As he’d thought, Enderby wasn’t with them. “This is a bad time, I’m afraid. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Vickery peered around him to look at Eleanor. She was now pressed against the back wall watching them, her eyes wide in her pale face. “Mrs. Fairchild?”

Her gaze darted to Hil before answering. “Yes.”

“How the devil do you know her name?” Hil asked, alarmed.

“She’s why we’re here,” Vickery said. He gently pushed Hil out of his way. “I’m afraid we have to take you in, Mrs. Fairchild.”

“Like hell,” Wiley growled, stepping in front of her again.

Suddenly a very disheveled Roger was trying to push past the other officers. “Don’t say another word, Mrs. Fairchild,” he shouted.

“What for?” Hil confronted Vickery angrily. “He has no right to take her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Vickery asked smoothly, pinning Hil with a speculative gaze. Hil said nothing. He’d said too much already.

“I won’t go back,” Eleanor shouted. “He has no right. He’s not my—”

“Elizabeth!” Roger yelled. “Be quiet!” He was being kept out by two burly officers and he was straining against their hold.

“What is going on?” Hil demanded with a suffocating sense of foreboding. Roger had used her assumed name, not her real one. So had Vickery. He backed up and put his arms around Eleanor.

“You’re under arrest, Mrs. Fairchild,” Vickery continued, “for the murder of Mr. Jacob Enderby.”

Eleanor fainted dead away in Hil’s arms.

Chapter Fifteen

“No, I did not leave my house last night,” Hil repeated. “And I did not sneak out to wherever Enderby was holed up and kill him. Satisfied?”

He sat in a small room with Inspector Vickery at Bow Street. The room was stark in its simplicity. A table and several chairs, a boarded window, and a small fireplace were the only items in the room, he and Vickery the only occupants. It smelled of sweat, beeswax, leather, and desperation. Vickery was a big man, filling more than his fair share of the tiny room, but he was not a bully. He was a good inspector who did his job without calling attention to himself.

“Yes, actually,” Vickery said, laying down his pen. “Got the same story from your servants. And no sight of you around Enderby’s rented rooms.”

Hil leaned forward. “Where was he staying?”

“The Bull and Mouth, on Ludgate Hill.” Vickery sat and let him digest that information, watching him carefully. “Why do you suppose he chose a coaching inn and not a hotel?” he asked at last. “Had the blunt for a hotel.”

“I don’t know,” Hil said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Vickery huffed out an annoyed breath. “Going to be like that, is it? Not going to give us a thing on this one, I see.”

“I’ve nothing to give you,” Hil told him, keeping his voice and his face neutral.

“How about what the connection is between your light o’ love, Mrs. Fairchild, and her dead cousin’s husband?” Vickery said with a wag of his bushy, graying brows.