Swept Away (31 page)

Geoffrey stared at her, goggling at all the new information she had thrust upon him. “You are saying that—that someone
murdered
Selby?”

“He must have. I don't see how it could have happened any other way.”

“But who could it have been?”

“I don't even like to speculate on it,” Julia said sadly. “It was much easier when I thought Stonehaven was the villain. I didn't like him. It has to have been someone close to Selby—someone who knew about the trust and Jack Fletcher. How could anyone close to him have killed him?”

Geoffrey shook his head, bewildered.

“The worst of it is, I don't know how to find out who started the rumor. I'm not received in Society, and—”

“That will be different now that you are married to Stonehaven. All the old biddies will be agog to meet you. I shouldn't be surprised if you receive a flurry of invitations to parties now. 'Course, it would be a bit awkward asking everyone about whether your brother had a mistress.”

“I don't care for that. I'll ask anyway.”

“I daresay.” He paused, thinking. “You know, I'll ask my man Bouldin. One's valet is always the best source of gossip. Oh! That puts me in mind—why don't you ask Selby's old valet about the mistress? If anyone would know whether she existed, it would be his valet.”

“Osgood! Of course! Why didn't I think of him earlier? I would love to see him again. You're right, he would be the one to know, oh, everything about Selby.” The man had left their employ right after the funeral, his services no longer needed. Julia had been too distraught at the time to talk to him, but she could see now that he might have invaluable information.

“Owns a haberdashery now, you know. Quite a good one, too. I've bought several things there myself. Got a fine-looking shirt there not long ago.”

“Where is it?”

“The shirt? At home, of course, where else—”

“No, no, his shop! I must go see him.”

“You can't—not by yourself!” Geoffrey exclaimed, looking shocked. “That wouldn't be the thing at all. Women don't go along Bond Street unaccompanied, you know. All men's stores and such.”

“Then you must take me,” Julia replied decisively. “That will make it all right with Deverel, too, I expect. He wouldn't want me going out without an escort.” She blithely ignored the fact that Deverel had in fact not wanted her to go out at all.

“I might have known you would wind up finding someplace for me to take you,” Geoffrey said with some bitterness. “All right. Let us go.” His expression brightened a little. “I've been needing some new gloves anyway.”

 

Osgood recognized Julia the moment she entered the store on Geoffrey's arm, and he hurried forward to greet her, his thin, almost funereal face lighting up. “Miss Armiger! I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you. I have thought about you so many times these past years and wondered how you and Lady Armiger were.”

“We are fine, Osgood, and Gilbert, too.”

“But you must not stand out here in the shop,” Osgood said, always as expert in the proprieties of a situation as he was in the cut of a suit. “Please, come back to my office.”

Julia left Geoffrey happily discussing the merits of a pair of gloves with a clerk and followed her brother's former valet to the rear of the store. Osgood fussed about, making sure that the chair in front of his desk was just right for her, then offering biscuits and tea. Julia smilingly declined.

“You have a beautiful shop, Osgood.”

“Thank you, miss—that is to say, Lady Stonehaven.”

“Ah, so you know my news. I should have expected that.”

“When I first saw you out there, it slipped my mind, but, yes, I had heard of your wedding to Lord Stonehaven. I wish you very happy, my lady.”

“Thank you.”

“The shop is Sir Selby's doing, of course. As you know, he left me a legacy in his will, enough to set this up.” He sighed. “I'd happily give it back, though, if we could have the master with us again.”

“I know. I am sure you miss him very much.”

“Yes. I was with him from the moment he came to London, just a green lad.” He smiled reminiscently. “It must have been ten years that I served him.”

“Osgood, I came here to ask you something. Will you answer me honestly?”

“Of course, my lady!”

“Even if you think it's improper or…not something Selby's sister should hear? This is very important. It's about Selby's innocence, you see.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded his head. “Yes, my lady, I will answer you, no matter what you ask—anything if it will help to prove that Sir Selby did not take that money.”

“Did my brother keep a mistress in London?”

The man's jaw dropped open. “My lady!”

“I told you it might be improper.”

“Your brother was always the most faithful of husbands,” Osgood replied firmly. “He was most in love with Lady Armiger, and she with him. Theirs was a very happy marriage.”

“Yes, I know. But there have been rumors that Selby kept a mistress in London, that—that he stole the money so he could support her in secret.”

“I have heard those rumors,” Osgood admitted with an expression of distaste. “But I give no credence to them. It is merely the work of petty minds.”

“I think it might be more than that.”

“I am sure that Sir Selby kept no mistress, my lady—although I did wonder about it when he said he was going to London right before his death.”

Julia frowned, confused. “London? Selby didn't go to London right before he died.”

“Yes, miss, he did,” Osgood assured her. “That is where he was going when he left the house, three days before he died.”

“He went to his hunting lodge. Don't you remember?”

“That is what he told everyone. But he told me that he was actually going to London. I had wanted to go with him as I always did, but he told me that I could not. He said that he was not going to his hunting lodge, at least, not at first. He was going to London beforehand. He said he would stay at an inn, since the house would be closed up, and that one of the servants at the inn would valet for him.” Osgood gave an expressive shudder at the thought of a mere inn servant being able to do for Selby what Osgood did.

Julia stared at him. “I don't understand. Why would he have told us he was going to the hunting lodge if he was really going to London?”

“I don't know, miss, but he was quite definite about it. I did wonder, then, if perhaps he might be slipping off to see a woman of a certain sort. I remember he said, ‘The ladies don't know about it, Osgood, so you must keep your mouth clamped shut.' As if I would have told anyone! And he gave me a wink. With any other man, I would have been certain he was going to see another woman, but I could scarcely believe that of the master. Of course, when I heard that he had gone to the hunting lodge, after all, I realized that he had told me that story about London just to keep me from accompanying him. He must already have been planning to do away with himself, and he knew that I would have stopped him.”

“I am certain that he was not planning to kill himself,” Julia told the man firmly. “Osgood, Selby did not commit suicide. I am sure of it.” She explained to him about the note that had been left, confessing Selby's guilt and an affair, and about the way the handwriting matched the embezzlement letters but not Selby's old letters. By the time she had finished, Osgood looked at her as though his head was reeling.

“But why…Do you suppose he really went to London? Did he go there first and then on to the lodge?” the valet asked, confused.

“I don't know. He traveled by post chaise, you remember, so he didn't take Nunnelly, either. Looking back on it, I see that he was being very secretive. That would have fit, perhaps, with his committing suicide, but I am certain that he did not. He did not write that note!”

“I never dreamed that day or any other that he might kill himself,” Osgood told her sadly. “He would not have left Lady Armiger like that. And I would have sworn that Sir Selby's mood the day he left was not that of a man facing death. He was so cheerful, smiling and—oh, he was in a better mood than I had seen him in in months, since the scandal first began.”

“But why would Selby have gone to London? And why keep it a secret from everyone?”

“I'm not sure. He said something like he ‘didn't want to get Lady Armiger's hopes up.”'

Julia stared. “Get her hopes up! About what?”

“He didn't say, my lady. He just looked at me so—oh, full of mischief. It reminded me most forcibly of the old days, when he was a young man and about to get into some scrape or another. You could have blown me away with a feather when I heard that the master had killed himself. But then I decided he must have been putting on a grand performance, to lull me into thinking that everything was all right. I wish he had let me go along! It wouldn't have happened if only he had had me with him.”

“You must not blame yourself, Osgood.” Julia leaned forward and patted the older man's hand. “You know what Selby was like when he got the bit between his teeth. He would not have let you go if he didn't want you to. And even if you had been there, you wouldn't have been with him twenty-four hours a day. Whoever killed him could have slipped in and done it without your knowing.”

“It would have been much harder.” He sighed. “However, you're right. I could not have talked him into doing anything else, once he had his mind set on it.”

“I wonder…” Julia nibbled thoughtfully at her lower lip. “Look, I am convinced that Selby was murdered by the same man who embezzled the money. Therefore, it follows that the story he told you was not to throw you off the scent, but the actual truth. He really
was
going to London, and the reason for his trip was something that excited him, but which he wanted to keep secret from Phoebe for fear it might get her hopes up. What else could it be except that he expected to find out something in London that would clear his name?”

“My lady! Do you really think so?”

“Yes. I do. Why else would Selby have been excited? Why else would he talk about not getting Phoebe's hopes up? Oh!” Julia jumped to her feet. “I must go home. I have to tell Stonehaven about this. Thank you, Osgood, thank you. You have helped me so much. I think this is exactly the information we needed.”

“I am happy to help, my lady, in any way I can.” Osgood looked at her with a slightly bewildered but hopeful expression.

“You have. I promise you, you have.”

Julia hurried back into the outer room of the store, Osgood following her. There she found Cousin Geoffrey involved in a deep study of two silk handkerchiefs. “Ah, Julia, there you are,” he said somewhat distractedly. “I say, which of these do you prefer? Do you think the peacock blue is a trifle…I don't know, loud?”

“It's fine,” Julia said, scarcely glancing at the two elegant pieces of cloth. “Geoffrey, we need to leave.”

“Yes, yes, we will, shortly. Just let me get my purchases wrapped up. I found just the right pair of gloves. I shall have to come back here more often. Kid leather, and as supple as a second skin.” He turned his attention back to the squares of silk. “But I can't decide which of these would look best for the pocket of my new dove-gray jacket.”

“It doesn't matter, Geoffrey, just choose. I have to leave.” She glanced outside impatiently. “You know, I believe that I shall just walk back by myself. It isn't far, and I must—”

On those words, she was gone, heading for the door determinedly. It took an instant for her cousin to realize what she had said, and when he did, he whirled in horror. “Julia! No! You can't walk down Bond Street by yourself. It isn't the thing at all!”

But Julia, of course, was ignoring him, already opening the door and stepping out. Hurriedly, Geoffrey thrust both handkerchiefs at the clerk and grabbed up his cane and hat. “Here. I'll take them both. Wrap them up, and I'll send a servant for them later.”

He hustled toward the door after Julia.

Julia started down the sidewalk, not about to let a little thing like her cousin's notions of propriety stop her. The only thought on her mind was to get home and tell Deverel about her discovery and the new theories that were tumbling about in her head. She paid scant attention to the carriage that sat in the street outside the door, slightly ahead of her. Nor did she glance that way when the door of it swung open and a man stepped out. It was only when he reached out and clamped a hand around her arm that she turned, with an outraged gasp at his temerity, and saw, to her amazement, that his face was a blank, black mask. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped his other hand over her mouth and, with a steely grip, began to drag her toward the waiting carriage.

J
ulia jerked her elbow back as hard as she could, slamming it into her attacker's ribs. He let out a surprised grunt of pain. Julia stomped down hard on his foot.

“You hellcat!” The man wrapped both his arms tightly around her, lifting her from her feet, and carried her to the carriage.

This action freed Julia's mouth, and she screamed with all her might, flailing her arms and legs. At that moment Geoffrey came hurrying out the door, intent on saving Julia from the solecism of walking down the street unattended. What he saw made his eyes bug out.

“I say!” He crossed to the carriage, where the man in the mask was now trying to shove Julia through the door. “Let go of her! What the devil do you think you're doing?”

Geoffrey raised his elegant cane and brought it down hard across the attacker's back. The man cried out in pain, reflexively letting go of Julia. She fell to the pavement, knocking the breath from her.

The man in the mask staggered and spun around to face Geoffrey, who lifted the cane again and started forward when, much to his amazement, the masked man reached inside his coat, pulled out a pocket pistol and fired.

Geoffrey reeled back, clutching his shoulder. The attacker jumped into the carriage, and it took off, the door open and swinging wildly.

Julia pushed herself up to her knees and looked around dazedly. She saw Geoffrey lying on the ground a few feet away from her, a spot of red on his coat near his shoulder. It took a moment for what had happened to register with her.

“Geoffrey!” She crawled across the sidewalk to her cousin.

By this time a crowd of people had gathered around them, and an excited babble rose in the air. Osgood came hurrying out of his shop. “My lady! What happened? Oh, my Lord! Mr. Armiger!”

“He shot him!” Julia cried. “Geoffrey!” She bent over him, tears spilling from her eyes.

“I say,” Geoffrey said faintly, “don't get tears all over my cravat.”

“Oh, Geoffrey! I'm so sorry.” She looked up at Osgood. “We must get him a doctor at once.”

“Right away.” He turned and gestured to one of his clerks, standing gape-mouthed in the doorway of the store. “Here, Tim!”

“Send him to Phoebe's house,” Julia instructed. “I'll take Geoffrey there.”

“Phoebe's?” Geoffrey asked. “Oh, no. Mustn't put Phoebe out. My man Bouldin can take care of me.”

“That may be, and we shall send for him, of course, to help Phoebe. But there is nothing Phoebe loves as much as taking care of someone. I couldn't deprive her of the pleasure.”

Swiftly Osgood arranged the proceedings. He sent one clerk for the doctor and another one to inform Lord Stonehaven of what had happened and where Julia was going. In the meantime, someone had hailed a hackney, and several of the men picked up Geoffrey and put him into the vehicle. Julia climbed in after him, and they set off at a slow pace for the Armiger house. Julia sat beside Geoffrey, pressing her handkerchief to the wound on his shoulder, dismayed by the rapidity with which the fabric was turning red. Geoffrey, on the other hand, was just as quickly losing color. By the time they reached Phoebe's house, Julia had had to rip off a large piece of her petticoat to staunch the wound, and Geoffrey had slipped into unconsciousness.

Julia ran to the door and pounded on it. Within moments she had the footmen and butler out to carry Geoffrey inside. Phoebe came running down the stairs from the upper floor.

“Julia! What happened?” Her face turned pale. “Geoffrey! Oh, my God!”

“It's all right, Phoebe,” Julia said, hurrying to her side and taking her arm. “He's alive. He was shot. He was protecting me.”

“You dear, brave man!” Phoebe said, her eyes filling with tears.

These words were apparently enough to rouse Geoffrey, for he opened his eyes and said, “Hallo, Phoebe. Sorry to barge in on you.”

Phoebe had to chuckle through her tears. She gestured to the servants. “Take him upstairs and put him in the green room. Don't just stand there!”

The servants carried him up the stairs, Phoebe following them with exhortations to take care. The doctor arrived within minutes, and Julia led him up to the green room. The bedchamber was by this time crowded with servants, agog at what was happening, and Julia herded them out the door, closing it firmly behind them, leaving the butler, Phoebe and the doctor to deal with the situation.

At that moment the front door crashed open, and Stonehaven's voice shouted, “Julia!”

“Deverel!” Julia let out a choked cry, joy and relief swelling her chest. She ran down the hall and started down the stairs. Deverel looked up and saw her, and he ran to her, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Julia!” They met on the stairs, and Deverel swept Julia up into his arms. He squeezed her tightly to him, saying, “My love. Thank God! My sweet, sweet love.”

He continued to crush her to his chest, murmuring endearments and raining kisses over her hair. Julia cuddled close, floating in the bliss his words and actions raised in her.
He had called her his love!
She wanted to ask him if he had meant it, if he truly did love her, but she didn't have the nerve. The moment was too special to spoil.

At last he paused and pulled back slightly from her. His eyes swept her from head to toe. “Are you all right? They said that there'd been a shooting. I thought—” He stopped abruptly, staring at a stain on her dress. “Julia! That's blood! Were you injured?”

“No. It's not mine. It's Geoffrey's blood.”

“Geoffrey! He's not—”

“No. The attacker caught him in the shoulder, and the doctor is up there working on him right now.”

“What happened?” Deverel put his arm around Julia and took her down the stairs, moving as if she were a piece of glass that might break. Normally Julia would have scoffed at such behavior, but at the moment it felt very nice indeed.

“A man tried to pull me into a carriage. He wore a black mask, so I couldn't see his face. Geoffrey came out of the shop and attacked him with his cane.”

“Did he?” Deverel smiled. “I should have liked to have seen that.”

“I am sure it was a sight. I didn't really see any of it, as the man was holding me from behind. When Geoffrey hit him, he let me go, and I fell so hard it took me a moment to recover. He shot Geoffrey, and by the time I got up, the carriage was gone, and Geoffrey was lying there bleeding.”

Tears sprang into Julia's eyes. “It is all my fault! I should have stayed home, as you said. I just got so excited when Geoffrey suggested I talk to Osgood that I couldn't wait. Since Geoffrey was going to be with me, I told myself I would be amply protected. And I was, of course. But at what an expense! What if something happens to Geoffrey? What if he doesn't pull through?”

Deverel gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I am sure he will be fine. You mustn't worry about it.”

“I can't help it. It was all my fault. It's a wonder you haven't rung a peal over my head.”

“I may yet,” he promised, looking amused. He took her into the drawing room. “Here. Sit down. First, I want to find out what you're talking about. Why were you out? Why was Geoffrey with you? Who is this Osgood fellow?”

“Selby's valet. You see, Geoffrey came to call, and as we were talking, he said that the person I should see was Selby's former valet. I realized, of course, that he was right. Who knows more about their masters than a personal servant? Or hears more gossip, either? I hadn't even thought about Osgood. Right after Selby died, Osgood left our employ. Selby had given him a small legacy in his will, and Osgood used it to set up a haberdashery in London. I haven't seen him the past three years. When Geoffrey mentioned him, I had to go talk to him. I was sure that he would have the answers.”

“And did he?”

Julia shook her head ruefully. “I am afraid he only added to the questions. Osgood said that Selby went to London, not the hunting lodge.”

“What? You've lost me. Are you talking about the days before his death? He was in London?”

Julia nodded. “Selby told us that he was going to the hunting lodge, but Osgood said he told
him
that he was actually traveling to London.” She repeated the gist of the conversation with Osgood.

Deverel gazed at her blankly. “This grows more mad by the moment. Why would Selby have gone to London? And why would he have lied about it to you and Phoebe? It makes no sense. Besides, he obviously did go to the lodge. That is where we discovered him.”

“Yes, but I think he must have spent most of the time he was gone in London. It would be quite easy. I mean, one passes through London, anyway, going from Greenwood to Buckinghamshire. He could easily have stopped here for a time, then driven on to the hunting lodge. The whole thing makes more sense that way. I had wondered how the killer knew that Selby would be at his hunting lodge then. He couldn't have been skulking around Greenwood for days or weeks, waiting to follow him. Selby's leaving was a spur of the moment thing. We were all quite surprised when he announced that he had decided to visit his hunting box. But if he was in London for a while, the fellow could easily have followed him from there.”

“That's true.” Deverel frowned. “But what was Selby doing in London? And why did he tell you he was going somewhere else?”

“I don't know. But I wanted to rush home and tell you about it. Geoffrey was being maddeningly slow, trying on gloves and looking at handkerchiefs and such. So I decided to walk home by myself.”

“Naturally,” Deverel said dryly.

“I didn't know the man was lurking out there!”

Deverel sighed. “I think we can hardly fool ourselves anymore that these attempts are mere accidents.”

“No. Someone is trying to stop our investigation. That is why we need to press ahead quickly.”

Deverel gave her a look, but he had to smile. “Some might say that the intelligent thing would be to quit.”

“Nonsense. He won't stop unless we find out who he is.”

“I am afraid that you are right.”

They both turned at the sound of footsteps in the hall. It was the doctor. His face was serious, and Julia's stomach turned to ice. But then he spoke, relieving her fears. “I removed a ball from Mr. Pemberton's shoulder, and he is doing fine.”

“Thank God.”

Deverel shook his hand. “Thank you for coming, Doctor.”

The man nodded. “I am happy to say that Mr. Pemberton did not lose a great deal of blood. I expect he will do quite well under Lady Armiger's care. His valet is with him, too, and he seems most competent.”

Julia had to go upstairs to look in on Geoffrey in order to satisfy herself that he was alive and doing all right. Geoffrey was sound asleep, his face almost as pale as the white sheets on which he lay. His valet, Bouldin, was bustling about, cleaning up the mess left by the doctor's visit, and Phoebe was sitting in a chair beside the bed. She got up when she saw Julia, and they went out into the hall.

“I think he will be fine,” Phoebe assured Julia, closing the door to Geoffrey's room behind them.

“Really?”

“Yes. I don't think Geoffrey would dare die with that valet there.”

Julia smiled. “Geoffrey says the man's a tyrant. I can spell you, watching him. I am sure that Deverel would not mind.”

“I'm not so sure about that, but, really, dear, it's not necessary. I think I will be lucky if Bouldin allows me to tend to Geoffrey at all.”

Julia was reluctant to leave, feeling guiltily that she ought to do something, but finally Phoebe convinced her to return home, assuring her that she would send a message to Julia if she needed help.

During the walk home with Deverel, Julia was quiet, sunk in thought.

When they entered the house, she turned to her husband, saying, “Do you still have the note you got from Selby? Not the suicide note, but the message asking you to meet him at the lodge?”

Deverel looked surprised, but said only, “Yes. It's in the box with the suicide note.”

“You mean it's here? In this house?”

Deverel nodded. “Do you want to see it?”

“Yes,” Julia said eagerly. “I have an idea.”

They went into Deverel's study, and he pulled out a slim box from a cabinet. Inside were several pieces of paper, including the suicide note and the two of Julia's old letters from Selby that they had used to compare to the letters at the agent's office. Deverel removed them from the box, setting them on the desk, and pulled out a small, folded sheet of paper beneath.

He handed the note to Julia, and she opened it and read it. The letter was obviously written in a hurry, the writing larger and more scrawled than usual. Tears sprang into Julia's eyes, and she had to sit down in the chair behind the desk, her knees suddenly weak.

“Selby wrote this.”

“What?” Deverel looked at her, puzzled.