The Scarlet Bride (21 page)

Crawford shook his head. “He offered no further information, though I suspected he was speaking of Lord Westwick. His courtesan is a suspect who has gone missing, and I have heard of no other murdered men who fit that information.”

Eva slumped onto the settee. “I trust your instincts. Thank you for your discretion.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Then Simon asked, “How would a servant have the money to pay an investigator and why?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” His Grace said. “If what I’ve heard about Westwick is true, the servants would be pleased to be rid of him.”

Laura nodded absently. Westwick
was
a horrid master. He terrorized everyone in his employment just for the pleasure of doing so.

“It’s true,” Laura said, her voice thin. “They hated and feared him. If not for constant threats to hunt them down and have them whipped, or worse, they would have fled him in droves.”

Crawford stared. Laura felt his keen eyes take her measure. After a long pause he spoke. “You are the missing courtesan?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I expected only an Amazon of a woman could take down Westwick. He was reputed to punish his courtesans with his fists.”

Simon spoke up. “Do not let her size confuse you. Laura is a fighter.” He briefly explained her history.

When Simon finished, Laura looked Crawford straight in the eyes. “I assure you that I did not kill Westwick. Unless wishing for his death is what killed him. When I escaped, he was still breathing.”

“We believe the killer used her disappearance to cover his guilt and make her the main suspect,” Simon added. “It was an unfortunate coincidence and may have saved her life.”

The investigator crossed his arms. “Interesting. I thought
the servant’s arrival was odd. Now I believe someone else put him up to the query, a man who wanted to distance himself from the crime.”

“The murderer?” Miss Eva said.

“Possibly,” Simon replied. “But other than the servants, and half of the fathers and brothers in London, why would anyone kill Westwick? He was just another spoiled lord who never had to account for his misdeeds. If every nobleman who fit that description were executed for those failings, half of the Ton would be dead.”

“Yes,” His Grace agreed. “
Why
Westwick?”

“That seems to be the question plaguing this situation,” Simon replied. “I believe Laura is at the root of the crime.” Crawford lifted a brow and Simon continued, “From what Laura told me about her time with Westwick, his evil deeds go back years. He’d collected enemies since boyhood, when he attacked his first housemaid. Surely there were many times since when someone wanted to kill him but hadn’t the courage to murder a peer.”

“It is the timing of the murder that I find suspect.” His Grace briefly explained the auction. “The auction ended with the killing.”

Crawford’s eyes darkened with anger. He stared at Laura. “Lord Westwick received a just punishment. The killer should be knighted.”

Heads nodded all around. Laura took comfort in the tide of sympathy from those gathered. If the Runners did find her, she’d have a small group of powerful voices speaking for her.

Simon stepped away to refresh his drink. “Though I have no proof, I think Laura became the object of a twisted desire. The man may have disposed of the earl to have her.”

The investigator settled his attention on her. Laura tried not to fidget. The duke and duchess clearly respected Crawford. She somehow knew his opinion of her would solidify her innocence, or guilt, in the mind of the duke.

Finally, he nodded. “That is quite possible. Westwick was a man who did not discriminate with women. He
abused at will. He would find Laura’s spirit challenging.” Crawford paused. “It isn’t improbable that she could inspire another man to feel the same passion. Throw shrews together in the same bucket and eventually they’ll cannibalize each other.”

“You know much about the man,” Simon remarked and his eyes narrowed. “How much?”

Looking at Simon, Crawford answered, “Years ago, I worked a case for him. My only and last. I learned enough about the earl during our brief association to keep clear of him in the future.”

Laura closed her eyes. Crawford did not look like the sort of man to be intimidated by anyone. For him to consider Westwick dangerous confirmed that she was lucky she wasn’t dead.

“I would like to hire you to look into the murder.” Simon returned to his place beside Laura. “There were men at the auction who travel in circles of which I am unfamiliar. If you can find any information from that quarter, then we can certainly cover more avenues. This could lead to a rapid conclusion of this matter.”

“Mister Crawford is a skilled investigator,” Miss Eva stated confidently. “He has helped on several cases of which I am familiar.”

Laura didn’t like feeling more beholden to Simon than she already was. And yet she hadn’t the funds to hire Crawford herself. Although if he was as good as the duchess claimed, he was well worth any cost.

“When I find a position, I will repay you for whatever you spend,” Laura said softly.

Simon shook his head. “I expect no repayment.”

“I insist.” She met his eyes. Her level stare showed she’d accept no argument. “I will not allow it otherwise.”

He frowned. “You are a stubborn woman.”

She indicated her agreement with a wry smile. “I was kept and imprisoned for over a year by a monster. I will not accept charity from any man not my husband. We will have an agreement, or I will not cooperate with this fool’s
mission.” She darted a glance at the other three people as they watched to see if Simon would agree. Miss Eva nodded her approval.

Finally, he tipped his head. “I agree.”

Satisfied, she reached for her teacup. She glanced at the duke over the rim. She thought she detected a glimpse of admiration, but the moment was fleeting.

Though Miss Eva and Simon thought her innocent, neither truly knew her. They formed their opinion not on facts but emotion. The duke, however, had no connection to her and would look at her situation through facts alone. So far, he seemed to lean toward believing her. Hopefully, by the time the day ended, her innocence would be solidified in his mind.

The maid returned with a tray of mixed pastries. She fussed over Miss Eva before the duke dismissed her.

“Perhaps we should get to business.” Crawford claimed a chair beside the fire. “There are still many paths to cover.”

S
imon would never take money from Laura, but knew she’d remain steadfastly stubborn if he refused. He also knew that unless she found employment, there was little chance she’d ever have funds for repayment.

The chances of her gaining a respectable position were minuscule. Who would hire such a beauty if the household was full of men? A wife or mother would see future trouble arising from her presence and chase Laura off.

He watched Crawford press Laura with clipped questions. The interrogation was meant to draw out facts. She held herself well, answering each with an emotionless tone.

“How many men were in attendance for the auction?”

“My guess is thirty. There may have been more,” Laura answered, pressing her clasped fists to her mouth. “I was terrified by the tension in the house. Some of the men were frightening and I worried that I would be caught alone in a hallway or darkened corner and attacked. As for my escape, it was luck that left me unattended for those few minutes.”

“You said the men were not all noblemen?”

She shook her head. “Some were dressed impeccably and others were a bit frayed. I wouldn’t have known their occupations had I not eavesdropped on their conversations.” She paused and scrunched up her face. “I remember there was an Italian merchant and at least two slavers from some faraway place. They were dressed in unusual clothing. I believe there was a French count and several merchants from America.”

“And the rest?” Crawford pressed.

Laura rubbed her forehead. “I’m certain one of the men was a baron from somewhere south of London. A few others may have been noblemen, but I’m not positive. The rest were a mix of which I cannot claim knowledge.”

Simon lifted a brow. “I am impressed. In spite of the trauma you faced, your memory is surprisingly clear.”

Rubbing her arms, Laura said, “I had hoped to find an ally in the group. Unfortunately, I learned rather quickly that the men would not come to my aid. The earl had handpicked them all for their discriminating tastes.” Her mouth turned downward. “Once I was sold, I would never be seen again.”

“Oh, dear,” Eva said. Her face was pale.

“The bastard,” the duke said.

Simon’s jaw tightened. “I wonder how many other women have fallen prey to similar circumstances.”

Crawford shook his head. “No telling. If the women are orphaned or without protection, they would be vulnerable.”

“Thankfully, I am quite certain that I was the first.” She worried her bottom lip. Then, “Westwick had a friend, a confidant with whom he plotted his evil deeds. They hoped the auction would be successful and, if so, would consider it the beginning of a new venture.”

“Do you know this man’s name?” Simon asked.

She shook her head. “Westwick called him Henry, but I suspect the name was false. The earl slipped once and called him Charles.”

“Both are common names,” Crawford said. “Can you describe him?”

“Medium height, trim, dark hair, cold eyes.” She paused and picked through the bits of memories in her mind. “He spoke as if educated, though I believe he wasn’t wealthy. His coat was worn and his boots scuffed. However, I would know him instantly if I saw him.” She shuddered. “I spent many nights in his company. I think that had he the wealth to afford me, he would have outbid the others.”

“Then we shall consider him a suspect,” the duke said.

The room fell silent. The mantle clock ticked to fill the quiet.

“Wait.” Laura’s face brightened. “I don’t know if this will help, but one of the merchants always wore a red waistcoat when he arrived during the week of parties. I thought it odd. Plain red, red and white stripes, some sort of pattern in red—he clearly preferred the color.”

“How interesting,” the duchess said. “It cannot be Byron Little. He prefers yellow.”

Crawford smiled evilly. “I know the man of whom you speak. The man is a salvager and thief, though he calls himself a legitimate businessman. He sells stolen goods from cargo ships that have run aground. In fact, many believe he is a wrecker himself.”

“Why hasn’t he been arrested?” Laura asked.

“He gets away with it because the items have questionable ownership. Neither the local constables nor the Bow Street Runners have yet to catch him committing the crimes,” Crawford explained. “He works out of a run-down warehouse in Whitechapel.”

Simon stepped forward. “There is no time to waste. We can be in and out of Whitechapel before dark if we leave immediately.”

His Grace agreed. “I shall call for a hackney. We will leave at once.”

“Absolutely not!”

M
iss Eva came to her feet, a hand protectively over her abdomen. It was then that Laura realized the duchess was with child.

“I will not have my husband and cousin sneaking around Whitechapel chasing a murderer. It is too dangerous a place. You will be targets for thieves and cutthroats.”

Both His Grace and Simon smiled patiently. Laura could tell by looking into the eyes of the men that they’d not be dissuaded by the protesting duchess. They were clearly looking forward to this adventure. Danger—or the duchess—be damned.

It was Simon who spoke up as he looked down at his expensive gray coat. “Eva’s correct. We will be easy targets. We need to borrow some less costly clothes.”

“We have some old servants’ clothing that is destined for charity,” the duke said. “There should be something that fits.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” the duchess snapped and was rewarded with a kiss on her brow from the duke.

“I shall return shortly, love.”

Before she could launch a more zealous protest, the
three men hurried from the room. The duchess expelled an exasperated sound. She slowly turned and reclaimed her seat.

“Men. They are not happy unless they are plunged into danger,” Laura said, agreeing with the put-out look on Miss Eva’s face. “Thankfully, they are robust fellows. There are three of them and Mister Crawford looks like a man who has faced peril and survived. He will make certain that your husband comes back to you unscathed.”

Worried herself, Laura put on a brave face and struggled not to pull her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew Simon enough to suspect that he could handle himself well in every situation. However, Whitechapel-bred men did not live by any set of rules. Until she saw his handsome face again, she’d worry.

“I know Mister Crawford,” Miss Eva agreed. “He is a good investigator. Still, it displeases me to have His Grace running pell-mell around Whitechapel. The three of them could fall into all sorts of mischief.”

Laura realized that the duchess wasn’t worried about an attack on the duke, but that the men would seek out trouble purposefully. “Surely they will not seek a fight?”