Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (22 page)

*

Grace cursed her need to see Gabriel Crowden. Her need to know his nearness, even for the briefest of moments. As she strode toward the parallel streets, she counted her steps. Counted the distance she required to restore the societal chasm between her and Lord Godown. Then she heard him. Knew before turning to look that he was there.

Although she attempted to leave him behind, his long strides gobbled up the landscape. “Grace! Miss Nelson, please wait!” he called, and for a second–maybe two–she considered actually stopping. Then from her eye’s corner, she observed a stranger. Hiding behind the nearby hedgerow. A stranger with a gun. A gun pointed at the quickly approaching Lord Godown. She thought to turn and wave him away, but Grace knew that action would only spur him forward. Determined to reach her, Lord Godown strode into danger, and she must save him.

Without considering her choice, Grace rushed forward. Pushing her way into the hedgerow, she made it her mission to prevent the stranger from killing the man she loved. It was a terrible time to realize the full impact of her feelings for Lord Godown, but just the same, she knew full well she loved the man. She jumped into the line of fire, and gun smoke exploded. A puff of gray hung in the air.

*

Instinctively, he dived for the ground. The sound of gunfire had sent the park patrons scurrying for cover, but Gabriel simply rolled to his side and came up on all fours.

“Your Lordship?” Jasper called in concern as the footman reached Gabriel’s side. “My Lord, are you wounded?”

“I am well,” Gabriel growled, as he stood tall. “Follow the woman,” he ordered as he reached for the small pistol he had purchased to replace the one Miss Nelson had taken from his room in Scotland. “I will trail the man. If you catch her, escort the lady to Fugol Hall and keep her there until I return.”

*

The skin along her upper arm burned from the gunshot wound, but Grace did not stop. At first, she had chased after the man who had dared to fire upon Lord Godown, and then she had run as far away from the scene as she could achieve. If the assailant had killed His Lordship, she might be next. Had Lord Spectre somehow followed her to London? And if Lord Godown had escaped harm, he would offer her his protection, and her presence could bring more strife to his doorstep. It would be better if she became “lost” in London until it was time for her to report to her new position. It would be better for His Lordship, but being far away from him would never be good for Grace.

*

As Gabriel trailed the man along the side streets and deeper into the seedier side of London, his mind attempted to make sense of what had happened at the park. Miss Nelson had left a drawing for him. A warning or a trap? If a warning, why not simply ask to speak to him? It was not as if they had parted on bad terms. If a trap, it was expertly executed. She would realize such a drawing would set him in motion. Would have him seeking her on the street. Would allow his assailant the opportunity to fire on Gabriel.

“God, I hate her!” he groaned as he ducked into a storefront to keep from being seen. In this part of London, the fine cut of his coat marked him as an outsider, and he watched his own back, as well as the one of the man he had followed.

He had decided not to overtake his attacker in hopes that the man would lead him to whoever had arranged the attack. Hiding in the building’s shadows, Gabriel paused to watch the man check the way he had come, before the unbelievable happened. Another stranger. A man stepped from behind a broken wagon tongue. One swimming in garbage and filth. At close range, the second stranger had fired a single bullet into the back of the neck of Gabriel’s assailant. His attacker was dead before he pitched face forward into the debris. “No!” Gabriel screamed, but he was too late.

*

He had spent more than an hour explaining to the authorities his role in the stranger’s death. The sound of the gunshot had brought the locals onto the street, and the murderer had escaped into the madness that followed. Gabriel had returned to Fugol Hall with the hope Jasper had been successful. However, his footman had greeted him with “The young lady flagged down a hack before I could overtake her, Sir.”

Angrier than he could ever remember being, Gabriel forestalled his aunts many questions, before he had reluctantly sent for Shepherd and the Realm. It was time to ask for assistance.

“Everyone is present,” Kerrington announced as Lord Shannon’s carriage stopped before Fugol Hall. “Shannon will be with us in a moment.” Worthing slid into a chair as Mr. Zachary escorted John Swenton into the room.

As soon as the door closed behind the baron, Shepherd opened the informal gathering. “We shan’t spend time with the usual niceties. As you are aware, someone attacked Lord Godown upon his return from Scotland. What you may not know is two additional attacks have occurred in the past week. The most recent one earlier today.”

Gabriel could feel all their gazes fall upon him. Their additional scrutiny did nothing to ease the turmoil he had felt from the moment he had unfolded Miss Nelson’s message.

As the unofficial leader of the group, Kerrington responded first, “What role do we play in this scenario?” Somehow, it eased the panic encompassing Gabriel’s chest to know his friends did not question the “why” of his situation. Instead, they would focus on finding his enemy.

With Gabriel’s permission, Shepherd continued to moderate the conversation. “First, we must determine who exactly is involved. Who wants Godown dead?”

Wellston spoke the obvious, “Jamot?”

Shepherd shook his head in denial. “None of this business holds Jamot’s mark. I believe this is something more personal.”

Swenton added, “I would say death was as personal as it comes.”

Fowler asked, “What do we know for certain?”

The concern expressed by his friends gave Gabriel the first glimmer of hope he had experienced since waking to find Aunt Bel hovering over him. His friends would assist him in proving Miss Nelson’s guilt or innocence. Over the next few minutes, Gabriel explained how he had trailed his assailant to the Scottish inn and how he had come into possession of the first sketch, how recently the stranger had struck him outside of Minerva’s Parlor Room, and how, today, he had chased the messenger who delivered a second drawing. He avoided Grace’s identity in his retelling until Lowery asked, “Do you personally know the artist?” He handed off both sketches to Marcus Wellston, who studied them carefully.

Gabriel swallowed hard. It was time to admit his connection to Grace. “As Shepherd’s assistant, I am certain you hold prior knowledge of the answer to that question,” he said tersely. “Actually, we are all familiar with the lady who drew the sketches. It is Viscount Averette’s former governess, Miss Nelson.”

The silence spoke volumes. Gabriel could almost hear how quickly each of his friends placed the facts to the obvious. “As I said previously, when I arrived at Mr. Bradshaw’s establishment, I could barely stand. Luckily, I met a benevolent angel, who agreed to share my room and tend my injury. That angel came in the form of Miss Nelson. She was returning to England after Lord Averette’s abandonment of his family.”

“Miss Nelson was the one who removed the bullet? The one who tended your fever?” Kerrington clarified.

Gabriel said evenly, “Without the lady’s tender mercies, I would have died. I actually planned to die. Miss Nelson did not leave my bedside for a week.”

He realized what he had admitted. Not only did he owe Miss Nelson his gratitude, but Gabriel also owed the woman his name. Even if he had not touched her intimately, they had spent a week together at an inn–sleeping in the same room. Posing as husband and wife.

“When I awoke after my fever had dissipated,” he explained. “The lady had departed the inn and Scotland. The Roses had arrived with Doctor Thatcher and Mr. Sanders in tow. Worried for my recovery, Miss Nelson had sent word to my estate to inform them of my condition.”

“Is the lady not a baron’s daughter?” Fowler asked.

Gabriel said tersely, “I know my duty, Your Grace. From the moment I asked the lady to break all of Society’s rules, I planned to do right by the woman. I thought to ask her to marry me.” He leveled a steady gaze on each man–daring any to say one negative word against Grace, but censure did not come. Only a sense of understanding. Of realizing how much turmoil this situation had created for Gabriel. “As the lady had departed before I could offer her my hand, I thought it best to keep Miss Nelson’s reputation intact by omitting her presence from my tale.”

All the men nodded their agreements. “How did you come into possession of the drawings?” Lexford inquired.

“The one in which my attacker wears a sling was found on my bed when Aunt Bel came looking for me. The other, a lady delivered to my door this morning.”

“Then Miss Nelson sends you some sort of warning,” Baron Swenton summarized.

Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “Does she? Or did the lady lure me to the park to permit her accomplice to have a clear shot? I assure you the woman has nerves of granite. She barely flinched as she cut into my flesh to tend my injury.”

“Yet, that is the point. If Miss Nelson wished you dead, she had multiple opportunities to do away with you,” the baron argued.

Gabriel frowned. Swenton’s argument was one he had had with himself on numerous occasions. “I thought so myself, until I was persuaded to be otherwise by the lady,” he proclaimed. “First, when Miss Nelson thought I slept, she met secretly with a man in the room we shared. I could not make out the words–my fever and all.” His friends listened intently and nodded their understandings.

“It could have been anyone,” Lexford argued.

“I have reasoned thusly,” Gabriel countered. “I told myself the Miss Nelson I had come to know could never betray me any more than I could betray her.” It hurt Gabriel to admit his weakness. He noted how each of his friends acknowledged what he did not say: That for a second time he had trusted a woman and had been made a fool.

“And so I sent Mr. Sanders to locate the lady. I still intended to do the honorable thing, but my man returned with the news Miss Nelson had arrived safely at her family home in Lancashire, and she was to marry a widower, Sir Lesley Trent.” Gabriel kept the news of his deflowering the woman to himself. It was no one else’s concern but his and Grace Nelson’s.

“Did you travel to Lancashire also?” Shepherd asked. Gabriel was aware of how their governmental contact had made the connection to the man who had attempted to split Gabriel’s skull.

“Before I came to London, I thought to discover for myself whether the lady had set her sights on the baronet. I considered I might reward Miss Nelson monetarily for her trouble, but I could not simply call upon her at home and offer payment for her efforts. As a governess, the lady likely has no fortune of which to speak.” He permitted his friends time to see the reason behind his actions before he admitted to spying on Miss Nelson. “Therefore, I watched the house from a distance in hopes of catching Miss Nelson alone.” It was not the best of stories, but it was the only one he would ever repeat.

“While I waited for my opportunity, I spied Miss Nelson in the company of the man in her drawings. He kissed her hand, and they walked in close proximity about the garden.”

Lexford questioned, “Is your assailant Sir Lesley?”

Gabriel shook his head in the negative. “I think not. Another gentleman also called during the time I watched Miss Nelson’s actions and waited for the opportunity to speak to her privately. The second gentleman’s attentions rested on a young lady of fairer features than Miss Nelson. After I considered Sanders’ initial report, I noted the fallacy in his tale. The locals spoke of Miss Nelson marrying Sir Lesley, but as Miss Nelson of our acquaintance has spent the last four or five years in Lord Averette’s household, it would be logical for Miss Nelson’s neighbors to call her younger sister or cousin by the title of ‘Miss Nelson.’ Sir Lesley did not court the lady we know. However, now, the woman has turned up in London on my doorstep and has led me on a merry chase that nearly cost me my life.”

“Obviously, Jonah Wright and Lord Spectre are one and the same,” Swenton observed aloud.

“Obviously,” Gabriel added sardonically.

Shepherd said in a business-like tone, “We must determine the extent of Miss Nelson’s involvement in these attacks. What is her ultimate goal? Is it Lord Godown or someone he knows?”

“Such as the Prince Regent,” Thornhill said in astonishment. “My God, I introduced the woman to Prinny! What if she is some sort of female assassin?”

“Do not become so dramatic,” Shepherd chastised. “I am still not certain Miss Nelson is part of this plot. It makes no sense to nurse an enemy to health.”

Lowery said, “It would make sense if the woman first wished Godown well, but then discovered something, which turned her against him.”

Gabriel’s brow lines deepened. “Such as? Do you mean Miss Nelson has taken some sort of bribe? Observably, as Averette’s governess and now with no position, she requires funds. Or perhaps, she wishes to care for her relative. To save the girl from marrying Sir Lesley.” He hated himself for drumming up excuses for Grace’s actions.

“Not exactly,” Lowery said mysteriously.

Shepherd snapped, “Then what do you mean?”

Lowery sat forward as if to share a secret. “Recently, you sent Lord Shannon and Godown out on an opium trail. One you thought would lead us to Jamot,” he explained to Shepherd.

Shepherd said dangerously. “I would bet a year’s income Murhad Jamot’s fingerprints are all over the opium shipments, but we could never prove the connection. Then the information went dry. I even sent Lowery and Yardley to Paris in hopes of picking up a new lead,” he explained for the group’s benefit.

“It was a futile effort,” the earl grumbled. “That was shortly after Sir Louis Levering’s death and my trek to Scotland to warn Miss Aldridge of the threats on her life.”

Lowery added, “Our search did provide us with some new information.” He paused for the group’s full attention. “We managed to uncover a slim lead, upon which I have worked on and off since our return from France.”