A Reckless Promise (24 page)

“Even birdshot can be effective from the correct range, aimed at a vulnerable target. Trembley went down first, as my mother screamed and begged, but nothing was going to save her. The sound of that second blast of gunfire was the loudest sound I ever heard, until I heard cannon fire in the war. Several hours later, when the butler found me lying on the stone floor in the chapel, I was still trying to explain to the gargoyles that Papa was very sorry, so could everything be all right again, please.”

“Oh, Darby...”

“The butler informed me that, as the new viscount, I was to get my sorry self up from the floor and come with him. I apparently fell ill in the cold chapel, and a week or more later, when I woke, I was told my parents had both perished from the same fever that had nearly claimed me. I didn't contradict anyone, although even to a child it was obvious that my father had killed himself rather than face what he'd done. Shortly after that, I was sent off to the cottage. I know now, or at least I think I do, that my younger self believed if he had only kept his mouth shut, his parents would still be alive. So that younger me stopped talking, and stopped remembering, as well.”

“Until the headaches began.”

“Until the headaches began, yes. The younger me was right, you know. If I'd only behaved, stayed in the nursery that day, hadn't attacked the tutor, on and on, my life could have been totally different. It was Gabe and the others who saved me, really. I was assigned sleeping quarters with Gabe at school, and he always included me in anything he and Coop and Rigby were up to, and they were always up to something. Add to that Vivien and Basil, with their lighthearted silliness. Life was to be enjoyed, and I set out to enjoy it. Why bring everyone else down with the truth, once I'd fully remembered it? In truth, Sadie Grace, you see before you a by and large happy man. A happy man, and a lucky man, as I am prone to say.”

“Except when the headaches come on,” she said quietly. “My heart breaks for the little boy you were, but I'm so proud of the man you've become. Your friends love you, the duke and duchess do, as well, and Camy and her husband clearly adore you. If you were forced to build Darby Travers up from the ashes, you did a very good job. And...and while I'm speaking of people who love you, I'd like to add my name to that list. I love you, Darby, and probably have even when I longed to box your ears, and I love you even more now.”

He looked at her for long moments, saying nothing, before realizing his vision was blurry because he wasn't wearing his patch and covered his eye with his hand.

She reached up and once more took his hand from his wound. “I love that part of you, too. Well? Aren't you going to say anything?”

He would always be Darby Travers; he couldn't help himself. “Oh? Was there something in particular you wanted me to say?”

She threw back her head and laughed out loud. How brilliant she was, his Sadie Grace. She could make the sun come out and light up every last corner of his world.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I
LOVE
YOU
. How many times does that make?”

Sadie looked across the dim interior of the hackney cab while pretending to count on her fingertips. “Thirty-two, I believe,” she said as Darby leaned in to kiss her cheek. Honestly, the man couldn't seem to keep his hands off her. Not that she was about to lodge a complaint.

“I'll try to make it an even three dozen by the time we've returned to the hotel. Have you been considering what you'll say to Sam Dobson?”

“Congratulations, Darby. You've successfully kept my mind free of worrying about just that for most of the day. What do you think I should tell him? There's a part of me that still worries he'll immediately declare himself Marley's legal guardian.”

“Ah, but you've forgotten this tall, strong viscount beside you. I look forward to impressing you with my persuasive powers.”

“Your powers in themselves, or your uncanny ability to persuade people to think the way you do? And before you ask for an example, allow me to remind you that dearest Basil believes himself rescued from his nonexistent curse, not to mention the fact that Vivien is already shopping for a few new pieces to add to her wardrobe, items that might
go well
with camels. She's entirely forgotten that Madame Royale wasn't a true fortune-teller. I actually stand amazed at that, I admit.”

“People believe what they want or need to believe. Right now,
I
want to believe that Sam Dobson is a tired old man whose heart we are going to break, but not without also telling him that his Susan lives on in Marley. Are you prepared for what is not going to be a particularly pleasant conversation, especially when we tell him we believe his life may be in danger?”

“I'm still attempting to tell myself we're not on our way to a funeral. Even after all these years, telling Mr. Dobson Susan is dead will be new information for him, the poor man.”

“Perhaps we should have brought Marley with us. To help soften the blow. In any case, it appears we're here.”

Sadie looked out of the hackney to see a row of fine-looking houses, all attached to one another. “How beautiful. Which one is his?”

He told her the number. “The houses, taken in total, go by the name of Royal Crescent. My father's house here, or should I say
my
house here, is located in the North Parade. He and Prinney weren't the closest of chums, I've learned, but friendly enough that he felt it necessary to purchase lodgings for himself. I've never seen it, by the way, what with going off to war for five years and then one thing or another, and it has been rented out on and off for years. Would you like me to put an end to the lease next year, and we can bring Marley to the sea?”

Sadie shook her head in amazement. “If some other man said what you just said, I'd think him a pompous braggart. Darby, it's all right for you to be the viscount. The title, and all that came with it, are yours as your birthright. It's not your fault if your forebears were...were bloody wealthy. It's what you make of what you have that matters.”

“I'll take that as your consent to bringing Marley here next year, to be dunked in one of those cursed bathing machines. And thank you. I've an excellent man of business—three of them, in fact—and he's installed good stewards at each of my estates, but you're right. I've yet to stop avoiding who I am. I was happy as a student, fit well into the soldiering life, but for the last year and more I've been busily doing nothing. We'll begin with a trip to Nailbourne, as good a place as any to start, I suppose. I do love you, Sadie Grace. Three more to go before sundown. Now let's go knock on Mr. Dobson's door and get this over with as best we can.”

He hopped down to the cobbles, informing the driver to wait for them, tossing him a coin and promising more to come.

She let him help her down from the cracked leather hackney seat and slipped her arm through his as they made their way up three marble steps to a large round-topped white door.

“Sadie, look.”

She did, and noticed the inch-wide strip of black grosgrain ribbon wrapped around the brass knocker. “Oh, no. Do you think he's—”

“Only one way to find out.” He banged on the knocker and they were rewarded less than a minute later with the appearance of a rosy-checked woman still wiping flour-dusted hands on her large white apron.

“The viscount Nailbourne and his lady wife, to see Mr. Dobson.”

“Mr. Dobson ain't receivin',” she said, her accent taking Sadie back to Liverpool. “Him's in mournin'.”

“A thousand apologies, my good woman,” Darby said, already stepping past her and into the narrow foyer, Sadie close on his heels. “May I inquire as to the identity of the deceased?”

The maid, or cook, or whoever she was, squinted for a moment, as if attempting to decipher some foreign language. “Oh! Who died? Could have jist said that. Miss Susan, that's who, and it tain't yesterday that it happened. But he only jist found out, poor man, ya see. Hasn't quit his bed for a fortnight now. Think he's comin' on ta die, that's what I think. Broken heart, ya know? Everyone's bin sent away exceptin' me and one of the maids, so's to keep the house quiet. Now will you go away? M'lord, m'lady.”

“Agatha? Did I hear the knocker? Who are you talking to?”

Both Sadie and Darby looked up the long, steep flight of stairs, to a curved landing and the man who stood there, his hands on the railing, peering down at them.

“Why, hullo there,” Darby cheerily called up the stairs. “Dearie me, perhaps we're a few minutes early? Lord and Lady Nailbourne at your service, with an appointment to see Mr. Dobson. You can't be he. Fetch him, would you?”

“Uncle Samuel makes no
appointments
.”

“
Au contraire
, my good man.” Darby reached inside his jacket. “I've his invitation right here if you're so silly as to doubt my word. Viscount, you understand. Not used to having my word doubted—I'm probably spoiled that way, being a child of privilege and all that. Mr. Dobson was most anxious to meet with my lady wife and I after I wrote to him about his granddaughter.”

Sadie sucked in her breath at his audacity, and his easy ability to make a fool of a man he clearly already did not like. She hadn't expected him to admit to Marley's existence quite this quickly, and to a person who could be anybody, although she was fairly certain she was looking at Ellesmere Odling. A tall man, thin as the proverbial rail, his clothes badly tailored. She noticed the black mourning band on his upper right arm. He looked more like an undertaker than he did a man who managed a coal mining empire.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, trying not to move her lips.

“I don't like him,” Darby responded just as quietly.

“Yes, I've deduced that much on my own. But what are you
doing
?”

“Other than getting a crick in my neck? I'm getting us upstairs. Follow me.”

“Aren't I supposed to go first, so you can catch me if I fall?”

“True, Miss Prunes and Prisms, but since I doubt you're going to grab him by that atrocious excuse for a neck cloth and walk him backward into Dobson's drawing room, you'd be best following me.”

“I suppose that's reasonable, for you,” she murmured, picking up her skirts, smiling at a bemused Agatha and following after Darby.

True to his word, he reached the landing and immediately shot out a hand to fist it in the layers of Odling's neck cloth.

“Your sister also in residence, Ellesmere? It is Ellesmere, isn't it? Horrid name—have you ever forgiven your parents?”

“Unhand me!”

“I don't think so, no. Call her. I can see that the staircases are open all the way to the attics, so she'll hear you. Go on, call to her. ‘Oh, Edythe, please join me in the drawing room, sister dear.'
Do it
.”

“Are...are you going to kill us?”

“Why, I don't know.” Darby turned to look at Sadie. “Are we going to kill them? It's up to you, you understand.”

“I...I think we should simply adjourn to the drawing room after he summons Miss Odling.” Oh, how
lame
that sounded, when Darby was doing so splendidly. “Then we'll decide if we'll kill them.”

“That's my Sadie.”

“Edythe!” Odling cleared his throat, as the name had come out as more of a squeak, and tried again. “Edythe! We've visitors! Come down at once. Um, please?”

Please?

“Please?” Sadie repeated as they all made their way into the small drawing room, Ellesmere being seated first, thanks to Darby having given him a good push into a chair. “Are you beginning to wonder just who is in charge?”

“Picked up on that, did you? I doubt Ellesmere here could safely be put in charge of minding blind mice at a crossroads. Sadie, the moment the sister arrives, take yourself off and locate Sam Dobson. The cook thinks he's dying, remember?”

“I do. Perhaps he is?”

“Perhaps. And perhaps he's being helped along on the path to the pearly gates. Ellesmere here is too nervous.”

“A big bad pirate of a man wearing an eye patch and hints of a beard since you refused to take the time to shave again just burst into this house and nearly choked him. Of course he's nervous! Look at him—he hasn't dared to move, even while we stand over here, possibly plotting his demise.”

“So we agree he's awaiting reinforcements. I'll block his view of you and keep him busy while we wait with him. Get yourself to the doorway and stand to one side of it. The moment she enters, take yourself up the stairs. Dobson's probably on the next floor. You can do this, Sadie.”

“I know that,” she said somewhat testily. How did he know her heart was racing, her palms had gone all sweaty and she had begun wishing she not only knew how to use a pistol, but that either Darby or herself had thought to bring one?

“Now,” he said as a clicking of heels could be heard on the stairs, and Sadie quickly positioned herself aside the door, her back against the wall. She watched as a round-bodied woman whose height nearly matched her own rather
rolled
into the room. Her hair was the gray of ashes and tied in a topknot, her gown was black, but her mood was jubilant.

She was waving a thin sheaf of papers over her head.

“We did it, Ellesmere. He finally signed them.” Then she noticed Darby. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” she all but bellowed.

“
Your
house? I was under the impression that one Mr. Samuel Dobson owns this house,” Darby answered, walking over to the fireplace to rather
drape
himself against the mantelpiece. “I'm here to see him, at his invitation.”

“That's impossible. Ellesmere, don't just sit there. Get this man out of here.”

“Ah-ah, Miss Odling, don't look to your brother,” Darby said silkily. “Look at me. I'm about to explain everything to you.”

Sadie was already out of the room and on her way up the stairs, followed close behind by Agatha.

“I'm not going to hurt him, Agatha,” she said. “I only want to speak to him.”

“'Bout his grandbaby. That's what himself said. Is it true?”

“It's true, Agatha. Where is he?”

“Top o' the stairs and to the left. I thought there 'twas somethin' fishy when they showed up and sent everyone else away save me and that layabout maid. Cain't eat without a proper cook, can ya? I've been doin' for Mr. Sam for forty-odd years, came here with him an' all. They but broke his heart, tellin' him 'bout his Susan.”

Sadie was out of breath by the time they got to the head of the stairs. “When...when did they arrrive?”

“Two weeks or more, jist the way I said. Mr. Sam says he don't believe 'em, but I thinks he does. But he won't sign the papers.”

Sadie stilled with her hand on the latch. Edythe had been waving papers, sounding triumphant. “Papers? What sort of papers?”

“Don't be askin' me, m'lady. I jist know Mr. Sam won't sign 'em. Told me. Said, ‘Aggie, I tain't signin' no papers.' Then he said somethin' about vultures hangin' over a not-yet-dead body, think it was, but I didn't understand that none, neither.”

“And now he's ill. How was Mr. Sam's health before he was told about his daughter's death?”

The cook smoothed down the apron covering her ample bosom. “Good enough to give me a fair chase until I let him catch me. I told ya, been with him forty years now. We came here after that besom of a wife of his cocked up her toes, and nobody needs know our business, that's what Mr. Sam says.”

“Mr. Sam is correct. Perhaps you should go in ahead of me?”

Sadie followed the cook into a fairly large but stale-smelling room. Somewhere there was an overflowing chamber pot, and from the odor of sweat hanging over everything it was doubtful Mr. Dobson had been bathed in days. The drapes were all drawn and only a small fire burned in the fireplace, a single candle next to the bed the only other light.

“Oh, goodness, Agatha,” Sadie exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her face. “Push back those drapes. Open all the windows. Mr. Dobson?” she asked, approaching the bed. “Mr. Samuel Dobson? I'm Sadie Hamilton. John Hamilton's sister. Mr. Dobson? Do you hear me?”

As she spoke, she made her way around to the side of the bed and the small table holding the candle, along with a tooth glass, a spoon and a small brown bottle. Even before she uncorked it and lifted it to her nose, she was certain of the bottle's contents.
Laudanum
. She was painfully familiar with the smell, and its effects.

Not again
, she told herself.
Definitely not again!

“Mr. Dobson?” Sadie put a hand on his shoulder and shook it, gently at first, and then with more vigor. He moaned softly, which was the only way she knew he was still alive. But for how long?