Rule's Bride (26 page)

“Go on, Danny, please.”

“'Is name is Michael Dunnigan. Quick Mike, they call 'im. 'E runs the li'l goes—the lotteries for Benny Bates.”

“Bates? That's the man you used to work for?”

“That's 'im.”

“The man with the scar—Michael Dunnigan—I'm afraid he is dead. They found him in an alley just a few blocks away.”

“I heard.”

“What…what do you think happened to him?”

“Bates paid Quick Mike to get the key to one of the rooms at the Albert. Mike sent me to deliver the note to your 'usband. I think whoever 'ired Benny to 'elp 'im set up the murder kilt Mike to keep 'im quiet. Mike were always spoutin' off, ya see, the boastin' sort, 'e was. I think the man kilt 'im and hauled 'is body down 'ere to make it look like your 'usband done it.”

Violet moistened her trembling lips, fighting to stay calm. “You don't think Bates did it?”

“Nah. Mike was Benny's friend. Ain't likely 'e woulda kilt 'im. But I think 'e knows who did.”

“Thank you, Danny. So very much.” Violet hurried out of the office, stopping only long enough to have Terry retrieve her carriage. She had to talk to Chase Morgan, tell him what she had discovered. If anyone could get Bates to talk, it was the hard-edged investigator.

She knew his office was in Threadneedle Street. She had gone there once with Rule. Fortunately, when she arrived unannounced, Morgan was still there, though it appeared he was about to leave.

He opened the door, hat in hand, then paused when he saw her. “My lady, please come in.” Stepping back to let her pass, he hung his hat back on the rack, led her out of the waiting area into his private office and quietly closed the door.

“I wish I had something new to report,” he said, “but I'm afraid I don't. The duke stopped by yesterday to tell me the police had found the body of the man with the scar and that they had arrested your husband. They haven't been able to discover the man's identity. I've been doing my best to find out, but so far—”

“His name is Michael Dunnigan. He worked for Benny Bates.”

Morgan lifted a dark brown eyebrow. “How did you find that out?”

“The boy Danny Tuttle. Rule gave him a job and apparently he felt grateful. He came to see me. He gave me Dunnigan's name but said he didn't think Bates killed him. He thinks Bates was hired by someone to set up the murder and that person killed Dunnigan to ensure his silence.”

“Then hauled the body down to Tooley Street to convince the authorities your husband killed him to keep him quiet.”

“Yes.”

Morgan took her arm and started guiding her toward the door, grabbing his hat off the rack as he passed. “It's getting dark. Will you be able to get home all right?”

“Of course.”

He escorted her out to the carriage and helped her inside, obviously eager to be on his way. “Assuming I can find him, I'll talk to Bates tonight. I'll let you know what I find out.”

“Thank you.” She watched as he walked away, his strides long and filled with purpose.

“Home, my lady?” Bellows asked through the small trapdoor that opened to the interior of the coach.

“Newgate Prison, Mr. Bellows. I need to speak to my husband.”

Bellows grumbled something she couldn't quite hear. “Aye, milady,” he said on a sigh.

It was dangerous to go there this time of night. She wasn't even certain she could get inside. Still, knowing he couldn't dissuade her, Bellows slapped the reins against the horses' rumps and the carriage rolled off down the street.

T
he wind gusted, rocking the carriage. Through the window, the frightening silhouette of Newgate Prison came slowly into view, a giant stone monolith that dominated the rapidly darkening sky.

Mr. Bellows walked Violet to the front gate and for a few extra coins, she persuaded one of the guards to let her into the prison.

“Just the lady,” the guard warned when the burly coachman attempted to follow.

“I'll be fine,” Violet assured him, praying she truly would be.

Another few coins ensured she was taken to the cell she wished to visit. Newgate was a maze of low-beamed corridors and steep stone staircases, and at night the glow of a few scattered lanterns barely lit the way. As she walked beside the fat, bearded guard, the echo of their footsteps on the uneven stone floor sent an eerie shiver down her spine.

She'd heard stories of what went on in the prison, of malnutrition and disease, cruelty and ravishment of the female prisoners. It occurred to her that if the guard wished
to force himself on her, he could drag her into one of the cells and she would be unable to stop him.

The thought made a knot form in her stomach.

Fortunately, the man merely led her along the damp, dim passage to Rule's cell, stuck his heavy metal key in the lock and opened the door.

“I'll be back in 'alf an hour,” he said.

“Thank you.” She turned at the sound of Rule's voice as he strode toward her.

“Violet! For God's sake, what the bloody hell are you doing here?” His face was lined with fear and disapproval but his arms came hard around her, pressing her fiercely against him.

“I've brought news. I've discovered the identity of the man with the scar. His name was Michael Dunnigan. He worked for Benny Bates.”

Rule caught her shoulders. “So Bates
is
involved in this. How did you find out?”

“Danny told me. He said he lied to you before. He said you were good to him and he wanted to help you.”

“What else?”

“Danny says someone hired Bates and his ring of thugs to set up the murder. Dunnigan's job was to get hold of the key to Whitney's room. But he wasn't good with secrets. Danny thinks whoever killed Whitney killed Dunnigan to keep him quiet, then made it look like you did it.”

Rule turned away, began to pace. “I've got to speak to Morgan, get him to talk to Bates.”

“I've already been to see him. He was on his way to find Bates when I left to come here.”

Rule returned to her and hauled her back into his arms. “God, Violet.” She could feel the tremors racing through his solid, powerful body, the rapid pounding of his heart.

“I know you shouldn't have come,” he said. “I know it's dangerous for you to be here, but I'm so glad you came.” And then he kissed her, the tenderest, sweetest kiss she could imagine.

“We'll find our way out of this.” Tears burned her eyes. “Morgan will help us.”

He nodded, held her tightly again. She wanted to say that she loved him, but he wouldn't say it back and it would only make her sad.

Instead, she told him about the offer Burton Stanfield had tendered and how angry she had become.

“The man hasn't the morals of a snake,” Rule said.

“Clearly, he still wants the company. You don't think he might be the murderer?”

Rule sighed. “I don't know.”

“Perhaps Stanfield believed that with Whitney out of the way and you convicted of the crime, he might be able to convince me to sell.”

“It's possible, I suppose. Where a great deal of profit is involved, anything is possible.”

That was certainly true and another possibility to discuss with Chase Morgan.

She couldn't believe half an hour had passed when she heard the guard's heavy footfalls coming down the passage.

“It's time for me to go.” Swirling her cloak around her shoulders, she kissed him softly one last time. “I'll be back, and don't you dare tell me not to come.”

His beautiful mouth curved slightly. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed to the door.

“Violet?”

There was something in his voice, a faint sound of entreaty. She stopped and turned.

Rule stood just a few feet away, his hands at his sides,
his expression solemn. “Before you leave, there is something I need to tell you.”

Fear tightened her chest. Dear God, she was afraid to hear it, terrified of what he might say.

“The night I told you I went to the club, I didn't go there. I went to see Lady Fremont.”

Her throat tightened. A dull roaring filled her ears.

“I needed to know about Charles and Martin.”

She couldn't form a single word, but her eyes were beginning to burn.

“I didn't stay long,” he said. “What she told me wasn't of any real consequence. I left her house and came straight home.”

Relief hit her so hard she could barely stay on her feet. “Why…why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want you to think there was something going on between us when there wasn't. But I haven't felt right since I came home that night. I'm not good at lying, Violet. I won't do it again.”

She ran to him, slid her arms around his neck and just held on to him.

Rule held her tightly.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “You can't begin to know how much it means.”

“I don't ever want to hurt you.”

She looked up at him, fighting to hold back tears. “Sometimes the truth is painful. But in the end, it is always better than a lie.”

He reached up and ran a finger gently down her cheek. The clank of the key in the lock ended the moment. As the guard opened the door, Rule bent his head and kissed her softly one last time. “Good night, love.”

“Good night, Rule.” Whirling away from him, tears
blurring her vision, she hurried through the heavy wooden door into the dimly lit passage.

 

It had taken bouts of terror and fits of panic, but Caroline had finally decided to do it. Tonight, she was going to tell Luke the truth.

As the weeks had passed, more and more she had sensed his need for her love, that perhaps he even loved her in return. She had to tell him the way she felt and pray that his conquest of her heart would not ultimately drive him away.

Luke was late getting home. By the time he arrived, Caroline was a bundle of nerves, pacing up and down the drawing room, the skirt of the pale blue gown she hoped would please him flaring out at every turn. Her heart seemed to throb in a similar nervous rhythm. In the dining room, the table was set with the finest silver and a special dinner prepared—medallions of lamb with mint jelly, one of Luke's favorites.

Her pulse kicked up when she heard him in the entry. She waited until she caught sight of his tall, broad-shouldered frame striding down the hall toward his study.

“Luke?”

“Good evening, Caroline.” Not Carrie. She thought that he made an effort not to call her that anymore. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I was wondering…hoping I might have a word with you.”

He cast her a glance but his gaze didn't linger, and her heart squeezed. Maybe she had waited too long to tell him. Maybe she was wrong and he didn't really care. Maybe she had already lost him.

He joined her in the drawing room and at the anxious look on her face, turned and slid the doors closed.

“What is it? Has something happened?”

Caroline moistened her lips. “Maybe we should sit down.”

His guard came up. She could tell by the tension that settled between his shoulders. “All right.”

She headed for the sofa, but Luke moved toward a chair. She caught his hand before he got there. “I was hoping you might sit beside me.”

His uneasiness heightened. He followed her to the sofa but sat down on the opposite end. “What is it, Caroline? I have work to do in my study.”

Her eyes stung. He was locking her out, doing everything in his power to keep her at a distance.

“There is… There is something I need to tell you. I don't know what you will say when I do. I don't know if it matters to you. I am hoping very much that it does.”

Wariness crept into his eyes. “Go on.”

“I've been lying to you, Luke. I started lying sometime back and I have…I have continued.”

His jaw hardened. “What the hell have you done, Carrie? If you are seeing another man, I swear I'll kill him.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “It isn't anything like that. In fact, it is just the opposite. I don't want any other man, Luke. I only want you. I always have.”

“We are married. I don't understand.”

She rose from the sofa and closed the distance between them, knelt at his feet and took hold of his hand. “I'm in love with you, Luke. I have been since before we were married. That is the reason I wanted to go back to Boston. I didn't want to love you. I was afraid of what would happen if I did.” The tears in her eyes spilled over onto her cheeks. “But it was already too late.”

For several long moments, Luke just sat there staring. “You love me.”

She nodded, tried to smile. “Madly. Desperately. I love
you more than anything in the world.” She knuckled away a tear. “And I have missed you so much.”

Luke didn't wait, just hauled her to her feet and straight into his arms.

“God, Carrie, I love you so damned much.” And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back and her fears fell away. Luke loved her. And she loved him. Whatever the future held in store, she would deal with it when the time came.

Luke kissed her again, tenderly this time. She could feel his love, his joy, and she melted in his embrace. She was breathless by the time he eased away and a little unsure what to say.

“You…you must be hungry. I had Cook make your favorite supper.”

Luke just smiled. “We'll have supper later. Right now I want to show my wife how much I adore her.”

She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Luke, I love you so much.”

Luke kissed her fiercely. “Promise me you will tell me that at least once a week.”

“Every day,” Caroline promised. “I'll tell you every day for as long as you wish to hear it.”

Sweeping her up in his arms, he started for the stairs. “Then prepare yourself to say it for the rest of your life.”

As he strode down the hall to his bedroom, the last of her doubts slipped away.

For the first time since that fateful night in the library, Caroline believed that, in marrying Lucas Barclay, she had done exactly the right thing.

 

Another agonizing day slipped past. Violet stood on the terrace. The wind had cleared the sooty air and stars were visible in the black velvet sky.

Earlier, she had stopped by the prison to see Rule, who had mentioned a visit from Morgan. Rule had told Morgan about the offer from Burton Stanfield and the possibility Stanfield might be the man behind the murders.

So far the investigator hadn't been able to locate Benny Bates. Morgan believed Bates was staying out of sight until the police finished their inquiry into Quick Mike Dunnigan's murder.

They had to find him. Bates was now the key.

The breeze lifted several loose strands of her copper hair and she pulled her light shawl closer around her.

“Excuse me, my lady.”

She turned to see Hatfield standing just outside the French doors. “What is it, Hat?”

“I am sorry to disturb you, my lady, but you have a visitor. He says he is a friend.” Posture perfectly correct, Hatfield walked over and handed her a card. In raised gold letters was the name
Mr. Jeffrey Burnett.

Jeffrey.
She wondered what could possibly have brought him into the intimacy of her home. “Show him into the drawing room, Hat, if you would.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Violet took a deep breath. She didn't want to see Jeffrey. She had far too much on her mind. And where Jeffrey was concerned, there was always a nagging feeling of guilt. She had made him promises, or at least there had been expectations between them. She had hurt him and it was something she regretted a very great deal.

With a sigh of resignation, she lifted her skirts, crossed to the French doors and walked back into the house. In the main drawing room, Jeffrey stood up the moment he saw her. His hair gleamed like gold in the lamplight, his fine
features were as attractive as ever, and yet she felt not a single stirring inside her.

Jeffrey started toward her. “Violet, darling. I couldn't stay away a moment longer.” He reached out and caught both of her hands. “I've been reading the newspapers. I can't imagine what you must be going through.”

She eased her hands away. “The police have made a terrible mistake. Rule is innocent. Once that is proven, he'll be released.”

“I only know what I've read. I know your husband is in prison. I know you are facing all of this alone. I came here for you, Violet. We were friends before. With all that has happened, I thought you might need a friend now.”

His gaze held hers until she glanced away. There was a time she believed she could love him. Now, it surprised her to realize how little she felt for him. “I appreciate your concern, Jeffrey. Truly I do.”

“Is there anything you need, dearest? Anything I can do for you?”

“No, Jeffrey, there isn't a thing.” She met his gaze more squarely than she had been able to do since his arrival in London. “But maybe there is something I can do for you. You see, as I stand here in front of you, I realize that I did you a grave injustice. You look at me and see the woman you believe you loved, but that isn't the woman I truly am. And I am sorry to say she is someone I never really was.”

“What are you talking about? I don't understand.”

“I am saying that when you think of me, you think of a naive young woman, sweet and innocent, someone you believed you could mold into the person you wanted her to be. But I am not that person, Jeffrey. I am a strong woman, used to fighting for her beliefs and speaking her own mind.”