Secrets of the Heart (32 page)

So it was that several hours later Rachel settled down to spend an evening at home. Michael, thrusting a brace of pistols into the pockets of his jacket and looking grim, gave her a goodbye kiss and turned to go pick up Perry at his home.

“Michael, wait,” Rachel said, catching hold of his sleeve. “I don't think this is a good idea. I cannot imagine why I thought Perry would be any protection. Please, wait. I will write to Richard this very evening.”

Her stomach had been in knots ever since their conversation that afternoon, and now, with the moment actually upon them, she did not think she could bear for Michael to leave. What if he was taken from her now, when she had finally realized that she loved him?

“No. I cannot wait. Besides, until I catch our villain, I will still be in danger of his killing me.”

“This is just so awful. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

Michael kissed Rachel on the cheek, saying, “I am glad that you are concerned for me. You have no idea how much.” He smiled down into her eyes. “But there is no need for you to worry. I promise you. This will soon be over, and I will be back here.”

Rachel managed a smile for him and kept it in place until Michael was out the door. Then she dropped down into a chair and put her head in her hands. She did not know how she would get through the next few hours. There was nothing she could think of that would take her mind off Michael and what was about to happen. Reading was out of the question, and she was certain that if she started work on any of the delicate clothes for Miranda's coming baby, she would just have to rip out all the stitches the next day.

“My lady.” Rachel looked up in surprise to see one of the footmen standing at the door. “A Mrs. Neeley is here to see you.”

“Lilith?” Rachel stared at him. Her anxiety flared up into full-blown fear. It was not like Lilith to come calling on her; she was always concerned about not presuming in any way on her relationship with Michael. Rachel feared that only some sort of bad news would have brought her here.

“Show her in,” Rachel said, rising to her feet. She crossed the room, meeting Lilith as she entered the doorway. “Lilith! Is something wrong?”

Lilith looked somewhat taken aback. “No. I mean…should there be?”

Hastily Lilith handed her cloak to the footman, and both women waited until he had left the room.

“I—I was just surprised to see you,” Rachel said. She could not tell Lilith what Michael was doing this evening. If Michael was right in his suspicions, Lilith would find out about her lover soon enough. And if Michael was wrong, the fact that he had been suspicious might put a strain on the siblings' relationship.

“I knew I should not have come,” Lilith said. “I told Robert it was not appropriate, but he was so insistent.”

“Oh, no! Don't think that,” Rachel said hastily. “You are always welcome in this house. You are Michael's sister. I was merely surprised to see you. My, uh, nerves are a trifle unsettled this evening. Please, come in. Sit down.”

Rachel rang for a servant and requested tea, then turned back to Lilith. She smiled as she sat down beside the other woman on the couch and said, “Sir Robert wanted you to come here?”

“Yes. I cannot imagine why, really,” Lilith said, looking a little worried. “I asked him, and he would say only that he thought you were feeling rather lonely and would welcome a bit of company.”

“That was very kind of him,” Rachel replied, her heart sinking. She could not think of any good reason why Sir Robert would suddenly decide to send Lilith over here. It must be that he wanted Lilith out of the house this evening—perhaps so she would not see him leave and ask where he was going? Or it might be that for some reason he wanted to make sure Rachel was occupied. Whatever the reason, it seemed suspicious that Sir Robert would choose this very evening to push Lilith into paying a call on Rachel.

The tea was brought, and Rachel poured, trying to keep up a polite conversation when all the while inside she was racked with worry. It was difficult, and she could see Lilith frowning, wondering what was wrong.

“I am sorry,” Rachel said. “I am afraid that I am a trifle distracted.”

“Then I must ask you what you first said to me—what is wrong? Is there any way that I can help?”

“How kind of you to ask, but, no, I do not think that you—or anyone—can help.”

Lilith looked alarmed, and Rachel realized how dramatic her statement sounded. She began to flounder about, searching for an acceptable excuse for her distraction, when the same footman appeared at the door.

“Mr. Birkshaw to see you, my lady.”

“W
hat?” Rachel stared at the footman. Who else was going to pop in on her? Tonight, of all nights! “Umm. Well, show Mr. Birkshaw in, Debney.”

She turned toward Lilith, shrugging apologetically. “I am so sorry. I had no idea that he was coming.”

Anthony strode into the room, looking distraught. “Rachel! Where is Lord Westhampton? I must see him. I have had another missive from—” He glanced around and saw Lilith for the first time and gave a little start of surprise. “Oh—I beg pardon. I did not realize that you had guests. I am most sorry.”

“It's all right. Mr. Birkshaw, I do not know if you are acquainted with Mrs. Neeley.”

“No—yes, I mean, that is, I believe we have met on one or two occasions. How do you do, Mrs. Neeley?” Anthony looked thoroughly ill at ease. No doubt he was startled, Rachel thought with a burst of amusement, to find the owner of a gambling establishment in Rachel's drawing room.

“I am fine, thank you, Mr. Birkshaw.” The twinkle in Lilith's eyes told Rachel that she was well aware of the comic undertones of the scene.

“I—I must speak to Lord Westhampton,” Anthony said, starting over again.

“Yes, you said you received a message from—I assume from the man who has sent you the other messages?”

“Just so.” Anthony looked relieved that Rachel understood and sent a cautious glance Lilith's way.

“You may speak in front of Mrs. Neeley,” Rachel said. She sincerely hoped that whatever he had to say would not be about Sir Robert. “What sort of message did you receive?”

“An odd one. Well, they always are, aren't they?” He shrugged. “It said that I was to go to a certain address at nine o'clock. It—I believe it is somewhere near the docks.”

“What?” Rachel sat up straighter. The warehouse where Michael and Perry were going was near the docks. “What is the address exactly?”

“Water Street at Conover,” he said, frowning. “Something of a seedy area at this time of night, I'd say.”

Rachel was glad she was sitting down. That was the address of the warehouse where Michael had told Sir Robert that he was to meet Anthony, but the time was an hour later than what Michael had said. It seemed clear proof that Sir Robert was the man who had been sending the messages to Anthony, which would mean, by what Rachel and Michael had surmised, that he really was the mastermind behind the whole criminal scheme.

“I don't know what to do—whether I should go or not. What does he want of me? What does it mean?”

“I am not sure what it means, exactly,” Rachel replied. “But I think you probably should not go. It might interfere with a trap that Michael has laid for…someone.”

“A trap!” Anthony goggled at her. “You mean he has set a trap for…for this man?”

“Yes.” Rachel stopped. How could she explain the scheme without implicating Sir Robert? She glanced over at Lilith, who was frowning.

“I don't understand,” Lilith said. “I thought Robert said that Michael was meeting Mr. Birkshaw tonight. That that was why you would be here alone and might welcome company.”

“What?” Anthony looked even more confused. “But I had no plans to meet Lord Westhampton. Was I supposed to?”

“No. No. That was merely part of, um, this trap.” Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“But why would he say—” Lilith began, then stopped abruptly. Rachel looked over at her. Lilith was staring at her, shaking her head. “No,” Lilith said in a way that made the word almost more a prayer than a statement. “No. You can't be saying that Michael set a trap for Robert.”

Rachel cast about frantically for something to say, but her silence was answer enough for Lilith.

“That
is
it, isn't it?” she cried. “You are saying that Michael lied to Robert. That he is trying to trap him! Why?”

“I'm so sorry,” Rachel said. “Please, Lilith, believe me, Michael doesn't want to believe it.”

“Believe what?” Lilith said, her voice rising emotionally. “What is he trying to trap him into? What does he think Robert has done?”

“He doesn't know for sure,” Rachel said quickly. “He doesn't want to believe Sir Robert has done anything wrong, but there was the possibility…. He had to find out.”

“Find out what?”

“He thinks that Sir Robert might be—well, behind some crimes Michael has been investigating.”

“What he has been working on the past weeks?”

Rachel nodded. “And, if it is Sir Robert, then he may also want to get Michael out of the way.”

“Out of the—You mean kill him?” Lilith jumped to her feet, eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed. “That is absurd! Rob would never hurt Michael. He is like a brother to him. You might as well say that I would hurt him or the duke or your own brother!”

“Lilith, please.” Rachel went to her, taking Lilith's hands. “Michael is by no means certain. That is why he—”

“Set a trap for him?” Lilith burst out. “As if he were an animal. A common criminal. Robert should not have to pass a test for Michael! He has proven his loyalty and friendship time and time again.”

“I know. Michael does not want to believe it. Neither do I. I was sure that tonight would prove that Michael was wrong, and we would be happy about that. But now, this letter to Anthony…”

Lilith whirled to face Anthony. “This letter—do you have it?”

Anthony brightened. “Yes, I saved this one. I was sure Michael would want to see it.”

“Show it to me,” Lilith demanded, going toward him. “I can tell you whether the handwriting is Sir Robert's.”

Anthony glanced uncertainly at Rachel. She nodded.

“Yes. Go ahead, Anthony. Let her see.”

He reached inside his coat and drew out a folded sheet of paper, which he extended to Lilith. She snatched it from his fingers and began to read.

“It is not his handwriting!” Lilith looked up, triumph glowing on her face. “This was not written by Robert.”

“Are you sure? He could have tried to change his hand, make it unrecognizable.” Rachel crossed the room and took the letter from Lilith's fingers. She looked down at it, ready to point out an attempt to disguise his handwriting in block letters or a messy script.

She froze, staring at the page in front of her, all the blood draining out of her face. “My God!” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know this hand.”

 

The warehouse was dark and deserted, as Michael had known it would be. It was owned by an importer for whom Michael had found a thief who was raiding his goods. The man had been happy to lend Michael the use of the place for the evening and had given him a key to the smaller side door, which led into the warehouse through the offices.

Michael unlocked the door and led Perry past the office and into the vast cavern of the warehouse. It was dark inside, the only windows high up in the walls and admitting very little of the moonlight outside. The light of Michael's lantern, shielded on one side, lit up only a small semicircle of the room, enough to reveal vague humps of the merchandise stored there—crates, sacks and stacks of bales—an eerie sight in the dim light.

“I say, Michael, couldn't you have found a more propitious place for a meeting?” Perry whispered behind him.

“It's good for my purposes,” Michael replied. “Places to hide and only one obvious entrance.”

He turned first right, then left, and made his way around a mound of huge sacks, smelling redolently of coffee. He peered around the stack, and Perry could see that he had a direct view of the door through which any visitor would enter.

“Well,” Perry said, his voice still hushed and nervous, “I guess all we have to do now is wait for Blount to arrive.”

“Yes.” Michael's voice was tinged with sadness. “I can only hope that he will not come. It is a hard thing, to find that a long-trusted friend is really a thief and a murderer. It would be far better if this whole thing turned out to be a fruitless endeavor.”

“Oh, I don't think it will be,” Perry said, no longer whispering.

Michael turned around to look at his friend. Perry stood facing him, a pistol in his hand, pointed directly at Michael.

 

“We must go!” Rachel cried, turning to Anthony. “Michael is in grave danger. We have to go!”

“Go where? I don't understand.”

“To this address. This warehouse.”

She ran out of the room, leaving Anthony gawking after her. Lilith, quicker of mind, was right on her heels.

“Wait!” Anthony started after them. “Rachel! What is going on?”

“Michael is in terrible danger,” Rachel explained, though she did not pause in her headlong rush out the front door. “We need a hansom.”

“But—”

As he spluttered, Lilith was already waving her arm frantically at a hansom cab down the street. The three of them piled in, Anthony still asking questions.

“Whose handwriting is this? Why is Michael in danger?”

“It belongs to Perry Overhill.”

“Overhill! Are you sure? It can't be him. I know the chap. Well, I haven't seen much of him for years, but I—he—” He looked faintly embarrassed. “He was a friend to me when…during that rough time after you became engaged to Lord Westhampton.”

Rachel looked at him sharply. “Perry? Perry is a friend of yours?”

“He was. He was in love with you, too, you know. We commiserated with each other over our broken hearts. He knew he didn't stand a chance with you, of course. He was aware that you loved me.”

Lilith, sitting beside Rachel, stared at him, astonished. She turned to Rachel, her face full of questions.

“Yes,” Rachel said quickly, “I once fancied myself in love with Mr. Birkshaw. It was many years ago, before I married Michael.”

“It was Overhill who encouraged me to not give up on you,” Anthony went on.”

“What do you mean, not give up on me?” Rachel asked, suspicion tinging her voice. “Are you saying that Perry encouraged your coming up to Westhampton and asking me to run—”

Anthony nodded, looking a little shamefaced. “He told me that he was sure you still loved me, that you would want to escape your forced marriage…. I guess neither he nor I thought about the consequences.”

“I have a feeling Perry thought about them,” Rachel said dryly.

“Who is this Perry?” Lilith asked.

“He is a friend of ours—or so Michael and I thought. But that was his handwriting on that note. I have seen it many times on cards he sent with flowers or a gift. Oh, God, I've been such a fool! I never realized that it was true! I always thought he was exaggerating his feelings for me, putting on a show of being a romantic. I didn't take him seriously. No one did.”

“But where are we going?” Lilith asked. “Why is Michael in danger?”

“Because when he set up the trap for Sir Robert, he took Perry with him!”

 

Michael looked from the pistol leveled at his chest up to his friend's face. “So,” he said slowly, “it is you who was behind the crimes.”

A smile quirked up one corner of Overhill's mouth. “Yes,” he replied, his voice changed from its usual tone, harder and more sarcastic now, sure of himself. “It was I—poor foolish, bumbling Perry. Rather a good disguise, don't you think? No one would ever suspect such a fool to be the mastermind of such a scheme.”

“Actually, I had assumed you were too honest and good a man,” Michael replied. “Obviously I have been sadly mistaken about you all this time.”

“Rather.” Perry smirked. His demeanor had changed. He stood straighter, holding the gun easily, naturally, as if it were something he was accustomed to doing. “You were almost as easy to play as that idiot Birkshaw. Most people are, I find—a few threats, a bribe here and there. And the rest is pretense. My scheme has been amazingly easy to run.”

“But why? Why did you start this?”

“Money, of course. I did not inherit a vast estate as you did,” Perry sneered. “My father was not a wealthy man, and even with what my grandfather left me, I was fast running out of money. I have rather expensive tastes, you see. And women like Leona cost a pretty penny to keep happy.”

“Leona Vesey! You were one of her lovers?”

“You find that difficult to believe? I realize I hardly look the part of a ladies' man. God knows, Rachel never saw me as such. But women like Leona are easier to convince—I find that diamonds usually do the trick.” Perry's eyes were cold and remote. Michael realized looking at him, that he had never known the real man at all. Perry had worn a disguise, a mask of personality, the entire time.

“Of course. Leona. So you no doubt put her up to telling Rachel that Lilith was my mistress,” Michael ventured.