Ghost of the Thames (32 page)

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Authors: May McGoldrick

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“I don’t care what I have to do to get
her out of there, but Sophy will not remain in that house with
Warren.”

“I told you I went there
yesterday, Edward. He wouldn’t even allow
me
to see her. You have no
chance.”

“I shan’t be asking to
see—”

A knock on the door was followed by
the entry of Reeves.

“Excuse me, Captain. But you have a
rather agitated guest in the foyer. He refuses to wait in the
library and demands to see you at once.”

“Who is it?”

“John Warren, sir.”

“Sophy’s uncle?”

“Is he, Captain?” The butler’s raised
brows indicated his confusion. “A rather angry, older gentleman. He
offered only his name.”

Edward ordered Angela to stay behind
and went out the door. He was angry enough to break the man in two,
but he had spent his life training himself to be cool in the face
of battle. Still, he was taken aback when Warren fired a broadside
even as Edward was entering the foyer.

“This is most uncivil of you,
Captain,” Warren shouted, shaking his cane at him. “You have no
right to be interfering with family business that has nothing to do
with you. I demand that you return my niece to me this instant, or
I shall call in the police.”

“Lower your cane or I’ll have you
thrown into the street, sir.”

“I want her back.”

Stone-faced, Edward stared the man
down, trying to hide the revelation that Sophy was not in Warren’s
clutches. He silently wondered where she could be. She might be on
her way here, right now.

“You speak of your niece as if she is
a possession,” Edward responded in a harsh tone. “Or that you have
the right to hold her prisoner. Why can she not go where she
wishes?”

“So she
is
here.” Warren banged
his cane angrily on the floor. “I demand to see her.”

“No one in this house gives a damn
about your demands, Warren.”

Edward would have liked nothing better
than to throw the man out on the street himself. But for the sake
of gaining more information about when Sophy had gone missing, he
needed to pursue a more diplomatic course.

“Why don’t you step into the library,
and we can discuss this in a more civil fashion.”

“I have nothing to discuss with you.
My business has to do with Miss Warren. I am telling you it is to
her benefit to come out of wherever she is hiding and see
me.”

A footman slipped through the door and
approached Edward, holding out an envelope.

“This arrived for Mr. Warren from his
house, Captain,” he said in hushed voice. “The servant bringing it
says it’s urgent, sir.”

Edward motioned toward Warren, and the
footman handed it to the older man, who took the envelope and tore
it open. Edward could not see the contents from where he stood, but
there was an immediate and noticeable change in the man.

“We are not finished discussing this,
sir,” Warren said sharply, punctuating his words with his cane on
the floor. “And tell Catherine I will be back.”

Edward stood and watched the man limp
out the front door. He turned and found Reeves a couple of steps
behind him.

“Miss Sophy didn’t arrive through the
back door, did she?”

“No, Captain.”

Angela stepped out of the library. It
appeared she’d overheard much of the conversation, too. “I am going
to go back to Holly Lodge, just in case Sophia has made her way out
there.”

Edward nodded, but he doubted Sophy
would go anywhere but here if she had indeed escaped her uncle’s
house. Something about Warren’s sudden departure bothered him. The
old man must have come here the moment he’d found his niece
missing. He called for the doorman.

“A single runner arrived from the
gentleman’s house, Captain. Said it was urgent that the message be
delivered to Mr. Warren, so passed it along. Hope I did right,
sir.”

“From his house,” Edward repeated
angrily, turning to Angela. “Warren’s servants must have discovered
Sophy back at his house.”

 

 

CHAPTER 39

 

 

No mystery remained. She remembered it
all.

Standing by a window in Lord
Beauchamp’s drawing room in Seaton House, watching the traffic on
Chapel Street, Sophy knew this was exactly what she had intended to
do the night she’d jumped from the deck of the ship into the River
Thames.

She had no recollection of ever
meeting Lord Beauchamp. But she recalled how her father always
talked about him. He was a major investor in their company. But on
the personal side, he was her godfather. He was the one person she
knew she could count on to help her.

Related to the queen by marriage, the
aristocrat would certainly know nothing of the sordid nature of the
business John Warren conducted. Slavery of any type was against the
law in England, and here she had proof that her uncle was a major
operator in the illicit trade. With Lord Beauchamp’s help, that
would all come to an end.

Climbing down from the window in the
pre-dawn light, scaling the garden wall, hiding in shrubbery,
sneaking along alleys and lanes, Sophy had managed to make her way
to her godfather’s mansion in Belgrave Square, still carrying with
her the ledger book.

It had been midmorning when Sophy
arrived at Seaton House. Having already drafted a short letter of
introduction and stating the urgency in this meeting, she’d given
it to a liveried doorman to be taken in. The house appeared to be
in an uproar because of the ball that was scheduled for that
evening.

Within minutes, she’d been ushered
into a drawing room, and a servant had brought in some breakfast
for her and later come back and taken away the tray. Still another
servant came in to inform her that his lordship was still busy,
conducting the morning business with his secretary, but that he
would be joining her soon.

It felt like hours that she’d been
waiting.

An army of servants seemed to be
working in the mansion, preparing for the event. Sophy glanced at
the ledger she’d left on a side table and took a walk around the
room.

She’d known Lord Beauchamp’s address
from the invitation she’d received, but she had no idea of the
splendor in which he lived. Seaton House was palatial, its interior
obviously inspired by Italian Renaissance architecture. The huge
columns and grand marble staircases were decorated with massive
amounts of gold leaf, and the chandeliers of crystal were dazzling.
Tables she’d passed on the way here groaned with the mountains of
flowers. The smell of food wafted throughout the halls.

Sophy felt guilty about leaving Priya
behind at her uncle’s. But she had no chance of bringing her out
safely. She’d go back and free her friend. She was certain of
that.

She practiced what she was going to
say once Lord Beauchamp received her. An explanation. He would
listen to her. She didn’t desire her uncle’s prosecution, but they
must stop the wrongs that were being done in her name. The
enslavement and transportation of humans had to stop. Also, she
wished to make her own decision regarding the future and marriage.
Sophy knew this was the way her father intended it. What John
Warren was trying to force on her was a lie.

Thoughts of Edward rushed into her
mind. He had to be back in London by now, and she guessed he
already knew of her dilemma. Sophy’s stomach knotted with worry
about how he’d reacted to the news and what he might be doing
because of it. Her first impulse after escaping from John Warren’s
house had been to go to Berkeley Square. But the thought that her
troubles had multiplied since the last time they’d been together
had pushed her to come here. Sophy’s predicament was too
scandalous. She couldn’t allow herself to daydream of a future with
him now. Not the way her life was turning out.

Hearing voices outside the door, she
ceased her pacing.

The door opened and Lord Beauchamp
entered, eyeing her with curiosity.

Right behind him was John
Warren.

 

 

CHAPTER 40

 

 

The house was under siege and there
was nowhere for Peter Hodgson to hide.

The butler told him there
were a dozen constables already arrived on the street, waiting for
John Warren’s return. Hodgson knew the old man had gone too far.
The niece had become a public figure over the past couple of
months. The announcement today in the
Times
was the final straw. Too many
eyes were watching them.

Warren should have tried to make a
friend of her and run her affairs the same way that he’d run her
father’s business. There was no reason for all this scheming, for
the threats on her life, or for forcing her to marry against her
will. The man didn’t know when to stop. And now this.

This was more trouble than Hodgson
bargained for.

Retreating to the library, he
instructed the butler not to mention to the police that he was
here. Let Warren do all the answering. He was just a lowly clerk.
In fact, he would prefer not to be anywhere near here when his
employer returned.

Hodgson decided against calling for
his cloak or hat. Unlocking the window, he looked back into the
library. For the next couple of weeks, there were friends he could
visit in Scotland. And from there, depending on how serious the
charges might be against Warren, Hodgson might just take a trip to
America.

Distance was what was called for right
now.

Hodgson had one foot out the window
and was struggling to get the next one out when his coat was hiked
up to his ears and he was physically lifted up and thrown back into
the room.

He landed on all fours on the library
floor.


Are you
leaving?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Hodgson
saw a tall figure climbing in the window after him. He’d never met
the man in person, but had no trouble guessing who he was. Captain
Seymour. He struggled to his feet in an effort to preserve some
shred of dignity.

“No. Just getting some fresh air in
the courtyard.”

“Excellent. For I wouldn’t want to let
the policemen at the door think that you were trying to
escape.”

Hodgson batted at an invisible speck
of dust on his sleeve as he backed away a step or two. Best to keep
a safe distance.

“Escape? I have no reason to escape. I
understand the police are looking for Mr. Warren.”

“They want Warren for
questioning. But they have already sent several men to your
lodgings to arrest
you
, Mr. Hodgson.”

“Me?” Hodgson asked, looking up
nervously. “For what?”

“They want you on a number of charges,
I believe. Including murder.”

He took a step back.

“More than a dozen arrests have
already been made. You, sir, are the one that everyone points to.
The person who made the deals, who handled the payments, and who
ordered the killing,” Seymour said. “Very convenient of your
employer to have a puppet like you, against whom everyone will
testify.”

Hodgson shrank back, banging into the
wall of books. “I am just a clerk, Captain. I have no position or
power.”

“That’s not so, according to the men
you ordered to follow and kill Miss Warren. In addition, Miss
Burdett-Coutts was told yesterday by your employer that you will be
taking over the Calcutta operations of the company after your
marriage to his niece. So it is obvious you have a great deal to
gain.”

This was exactly what he’d been afraid
of moments ago. John Warren was as slippery as a snake, and on too
many instances in recent months Hodgson's face had been the only
one the criminals of London’s underworld knew.

“I assure you, Captain, this is all a
mistake. My pitiful income, my modest style of living, will all
support my assertion regarding the lowly position I hold. I only
pass on orders dictated to me.”

Seymour gestured toward the door.
“Excellent. Why don’t you tell all of this to the police? I am
certain Warren will also support what you say.”

Hodgson let out a nervous breath. This
was the end of him. No one would believe him. And John Warren had
already stated his position before he’d left this
morning.

His goose was cooked. He would go to
prison. He could hang.

Seymour stepped toward him, his
intention of physically pushing him to the door
apparent.

“Please,” Hodgson begged. “Please help
me. Whatever it is you need. Whatever information you are after.
Allow me to help you now, before an arrest is made. I have access
to my employer’s books. I can give you information that the police
will never unearth. They don’t know where to look for
it.”

Seymour stopped, glaring down at him.
“Do you know the whereabouts of Miss Warren?”

Hodgson recalled the urgent
correspondence that had arrived this morning. It was sealed and
addressed to John Warren. He’d sent a runner immediately to Captain
Seymour’s house with the letter.

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