Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals) (28 page)

A
FTER VISITING SEDLEY
and arranging for passage to Guernsey the following day, Ethan and Sevrin strolled back through Portscatho toward Beckwith. It was a fine autumn day, the sea breeze was cool, but the sun overhead provided enough warmth, as did their exercise. But then Ethan thought this might just be the most splendid day of his life.

He looked at Sevrin’s profile as they walked, still uncertain if they were friends or not. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a true friend. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me. The truth is, I can’t quite believe it, either.”

Sevrin glanced at him. “Neither can I. No, that’s not precisely true. I’m trying to practice forgiveness—for myself as much as for you. I have my own bad decisions and regrettable actions to overcome.”

This wasn’t the first time Sevrin had inferred his past was less than exemplary, but then Ethan had heard he’d ruined his brother’s fiancée or some such. And then today, with Sedley, there’d been some underlying current. “Something to do with Sedley?”

They turned onto the main street of Portscatho. “You could say that,” Sevrin said. “Mrs. Sedley was once engaged to marry my brother.”

Shit.
That was definitely
something
. “I’d heard the rumor that you’d dallied with your brother’s fiancée. That’s her?”

Sevrin shot him a pained look and gave a subtle nod. “I’ll never fully recover from what I did to him. He died, indirectly, because of my callous indiscretion.”

His message came through very clearly: Ethan might not recover from his past deeds either. “I’m aware I have to live with the things I’ve done. How do you manage it?”

Sevrin inhaled. “Fighting. At first.”

Ethan began to understand why Sevrin had fought. He’d wanted Sevrin as his prizefighter because he’d been damned good—good enough to win the title—but he’d suddenly stopped. Ethan had hoped to coax him out of retirement, but he’d refused, which was why Ethan had used Philippa to persuade him to agree. “If the fighting soothed your pain, why did you stop?”

“Because it also brought me glory. I didn’t deserve that.”

Ethan’s neck prickled. He suspected he didn’t deserve this amazing day, the feelings of joy inside of him, or the love of Audrey. But could he even consider doing what Sevrin had done—deny himself that which made him happy because he didn’t deserve it? What purpose did it serve? “Do you fight anymore? Obviously, I’m aware you turned Ackley’s training over to one of your fighting club men.” Sevrin had found Ethan a prizefighter—Ackley—and had trained him until marrying Philippa.

He shook his head. “Not since Philippa and I wed. I occasionally spar with Ned, but it’s purely educational.”

“Pity, you were awfully good.” Ethan enjoyed a good fight. He’d wanted a prizefighter because it was a legitimate way to make money and it had been his father’s favorite sport. He used to take Ethan and Jason to bouts when they were lads. Those were some of the best memories of Ethan’s life.

They came upon the one of the town’s inns just as a man stepped out into the street. Ethan recognized him immediately. “Hell.”

Teague had just covered his balding pate with his hat when his gaze connected with Ethan’s. He strode toward him purposefully. “You can’t mean to run again.” He shouted toward the inn, “Lewis!”

The second Runner came from the inn. He wasn’t as large as Teague, but he was tall and fit. Ethan didn’t think he could take both of them on. He glanced at Sevrin. He wouldn’t help Ethan fight, but would he join the Runners?

Teague drew his pistol and Lewis did the same. Teague inclined his head at his cohort, who circled around to Ethan’s side.

Deep furrows carved into Sevrin’s brow. “What do you mean to do with Locke?”

“I’m arresting him for the murder of the Marquess of Wolverton and transporting him back to Bow Street.”

At Sevrin’s intake of breath, Ethan shot him a dark look. “I didn’t kill Wolverton.”

“The evidence against you is enough. My testimony alone will commit you to trial.” Teague flicked a glance at Sevrin. “I saw him standing over the body, holding a bloody knife, on the terrace at Lockwood House.”

Ethan could see the doubt in Sevrin’s gaze. “Teague, use the logic you’re so fond of. Jimmy was wearing the livery of the dead footman you seem to have conveniently forgotten. Jimmy had to have killed him, donned the costume, and committed the murder against Wolverton. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Teague appeared unconvinced. “Nothing with you is as simple as you’d have it seem. You’re Jimmy’s most trusted man. I’m certain you worked together. In fact, I suspect it was you who anonymously informed us Jimmy would be at Wolverton House—that way we’d be busy while you and he killed Wolverton at Lockwood House. Don’t worry, we’ll be taking him down, too.”

If they could bloody find him, which they wouldn’t be likely to do. Jimmy knew and was welcome in just about every rookery in London. The denizens of those places wouldn’t help Bow Street.

“You should go,” Sevrin said quietly. “We’ll follow you tomorrow.”

The world careened sideways as Ethan saw his options disappearing. Hadn’t he planned to return to London anyway? Before he’d glimpsed a dream life with Audrey.
Audrey
. His knees nearly buckled. “I don’t want to leave without seeing Audrey.”

Sevrin clasped his shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of her. And I’ll send a note to your brother.”

It was more than Ethan could hope for. Far more than he likely deserved. He turned to Teague, hating that the man would see this as a victory. “I’ll go, but I promise to disappoint you. I’ll prove my innocence.”

Teague nodded at Lewis, who went to one of their horses and came back with a pair of shackles. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “How could this possibly disappoint me?”

“Is that really necessary?” Sevrin asked. “He said he’ll go with you.”

Teague’s glower didn’t move from Ethan. “I don’t trust him.”

Sevrin moved toward Lewis. “You can’t mean to keep him locked up for several days. That’s brutal. Ja—Locke,” he corrected, “tell them you won’t run.”

“I won’t run.” He looked at Sevrin. “Thank you. You’ll bring Audrey?”

Sevrin nodded. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t run.”

Teague scoffed. “You don’t trust him either.”

Sevrin turned to him. “No, I’m trying to make him understand that he can trust
me,
that he can rely on someone. I don’t think he knows how to do that.”

It seemed Ethan had a friend at last. He only hoped he’d be around long enough to appreciate it. No, he wouldn’t think like that. He would prove his innocence. He simply couldn’t contemplate the alternative.

Sevrin looked at the pair of horses they had tied outside the inn. “How are you transporting him?”

“We’ll get a cart and I’ll drive. I’ll arrange to have my mount returned to London,” Teague said.

“Why don’t you come back to Beckwith with us?” Sevrin said. “I’ll provide your transportation and you can leave in the morning.”

Ethan wanted to hug Sevrin, or at least thank him profusely.

Teague shook his head. “I want to get back to London as quickly as possible.”

“Then let me ride a horse,” Ethan said, hating the idea of being confined to a cart for the next five or six days. “I won’t bolt. And we’ll get back much faster.”

Teague shook his head. “No. We’ll find something here in town.”

Sevrin inclined his head toward Ethan. “I can procure something comfortable.”

In a short while, Sevrin had obtained a curricle with a single horse and gave Teague instructions to change the horse once a day. Teague wasn’t a particularly good driver, but though he hadn’t shackled Ethan’s hands, he also refused to let him take the reins. They rode out together, with Lewis traveling on horseback beside them. Sevrin had agreed to bring Teague’s mount back to London.

Ethan looked back at Sevrin and tried to find a thread of hope. But it was far easier to believe that his dreams for a happy future had just gone up in flames.

I
T WAS LATE
afternoon before Audrey and Philippa returned to Beckwith. They’d spent a productive day gathering supplies for her and Ethan’s trip to Guernsey. She’d purchased some clothing, but it would require alteration once they arrived at their destination. She wondered what they would do there and looked forward to discussing it with Ethan. Hopefully, he would’ve worked out their transportation as well as how to obtain his money from London so they would have a means to live.

Philippa had quizzed her about why she’d changed her mind and Audrey had explained that Ethan was indeed trying to change and that all he really needed was for someone to have faith in him—and she did.

“How long will you stay in Guernsey?” Philippa asked as the coach came to a stop in Beckwith’s drive.

“I have no idea.” Nor did she particularly care. She was just happy to have the chance to start a life with the man she loved. “You and Sevrin must visit us.” The voyage wasn’t that long.

Ned, who had accompanied them on their errands, helped them from the coach.

The front door of the house opened and Sevrin stalked toward them, his face a dark mask. Audrey’s stomach fell straight through her toes. “What is it?” she breathed. But the absence of Ethan told her all that really mattered: He was gone.

“Come inside.”

“No,” Philippa said. “Tell her now. Did he leave?”

“Yes, but not of his own accord. Bow Street found him.” Sevrin looked to Audrey. “He didn’t want to leave without seeing you, but he wasn’t given a choice.”

Part of her was glad he would have the opportunity to prove his innocence, but the rest of her was devastated their plans had been ruined. There was always a chance he would be found guilty . . . She straightened and blinked against sudden tears.

She walked toward the house. “When can we leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Sevrin said, trailing behind her.

She paused at the door, wanting to protest, but knew it was pointless to depart today. They would barely have enough light to make it back to Truro, let alone anywhere on the way to London. She nodded as defeat seeped into her bones.
No.
She’d find a way to save him from hanging. He said he hadn’t done it, and she believed him.

Sevrin and Philippa followed her inside. She removed her gloves and bonnet with shaking hands. “I know you don’t have much faith in Ethan, if any, but he’s innocent of this crime.”

“What do you know of it?” Sevrin asked.

Audrey fought the embarrassment that rose to her cheeks. She hated that she didn’t know much of anything. “He said he was innocent and I believe him.”

Philippa gave her a sad look. “I hope you’re not wrong to place your trust in him.”

“He told me the same thing,” Sevrin said, leading them into the hall where he rang for refreshment. “He said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lockwood House, to be exact.” Sevrin glanced at Philippa. Lockwood House held special meaning for them.

And maybe it did for Audrey too . . . Her mind turned. This murder had to have happened the night they’d left London. It was why he’d fled.
She’d
been at Lockwood House that night.

It had been an odd evening, unlike any of the others she’d spent there. She’d been in the card room watching the hazard table when a footman had come in from the terrace. A few moments later, Lord Lockwood had gone out onto the terrace and shortly thereafter another man had followed him. There had been an urgency and tension to all of their movements. She’d grown nervous. Well, more nervous than sneaking into Lockwood House typically made her, and she’d departed quickly. But the important thing was that she’d been there.

She knew what she had to do and she didn’t hesitate. “I was at Lockwood House that night. I know what happened.”

Sevrin snapped his gaze to her. “You were?”

Philippa was also staring at her. “Audrey, what were you doing there?”

Audrey fought the blush that rose up her neck. “After you made it seem so easy to get in, I decided to try it for myself. I went once in a face-covering mask.” But she’d garnered too much attention from the attendees. People inviting her to do things she could scarcely imagine. “After that, I went dressed as a gentleman.”

Philippa blinked. Then she smiled and shook her head. “Shocking.”

“Did you see the murder?” Sevrin asked, his voice heavy with concern. “Can you identify the man who killed Wolverton?”

The Marquess of Wolverton had been the one killed? No wonder Bow Street had followed Ethan to the end of England. One didn’t kill a peer and get away with it. Not that he’d done it, but Bow Street thought he had. “I can. It wasn’t Ethan.”

“I don’t understand.” Philippa crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t you have gone back to London together if you could prove his innocence?”

Audrey exhaled. She’d have to tell them the truth—or at least part of it. “We didn’t discuss the specifics of what he’d done. I didn’t realize who he was accused of murdering until now.”

But how she wished they had. If he’d been honest with her, she could’ve told him she’d been there, that she would give the testimony that would save him from hanging. Her neck chilled. If she’d been honest with him about why she’d been dressed as a gentleman, he would’ve realized she was there that night and maybe he would’ve told her his truth. They’d both been foolish, and now they were paying the price.