The Scarlet Bride (20 page)

Eva held up her hands. “Darling, calm down.”

“I will not calm down.” Outraged, the duke came to his feet. “You must leave at once.”

Simon stepped between them, one hand up to block the duke from advancing toward Laura, and the other balled into a tight fist for her protection. “She isn’t a killer.”

“You are too close to this to see things rationally,” the duke replied with a growl. “Your mind is clouded by lust.”

Simon scowled. “My mind is clear. You know nothing about Laura. She is no murderess.”

“Nicholas, please,” the duchess begged.

The two men began arguing loudly. The duchess stood and pushed into the fray. Laura flinched at the melee, not sure how to calm the tension and worried that she was about to be thrown to the Bow Street Runners.

It took the duchess, small as she was, to settle the two men with a tone that was both firm and not much higher than a whisper. It was clearly meant to keep her husband and Simon from killing each other.

“Enough.” With one hand on each chest, she gave a great shove, and they both stepped back. She glared at Simon but turned most of her anger on her husband. “Laura did not murder anyone. She does not have the darkness of a killer.” She expelled a harsh breath. “Now if you both will sit down, we can calmly discuss the matter.”

Laura watched the anger slowly fade in both men, from a flame to a slow simmer, as they moved to reclaim their chairs. As the men glared at each other, Miss Eva sent her an apologetic glance. Laura was certain then that as long as she had the duchess on her side, she might get through this troubling encounter unscathed.

Her Grace moved to pour the men each a large glass of some spirit, then took her seat. After a swallow or two, they appeared less inclined toward bloodshed.

Clearly satisfied, the duchess spoke to Laura. “I think both children have turned back into rational men. Now,
please tell us your story and how this ended with the death of Lord Westwick and your complicity in the crime.”

For the next hour, Laura told the duke and duchess almost everything she’d told Simon, leaving out the more shameful information about her captivity. By the finish of her tale, the duke no longer seemed intent to have her arrested and appeared somewhat sympathetic of her plight. His relaxed posture confirmed her observation.

Still, this didn’t mean he fully trusted her.

“That is quite a story,” His Grace said thoughtfully.

The duchess nodded. “Many of my courtesans have come from difficult situations and sometimes tell exaggerated tales to encourage sympathy from the other women.” She sighed. “I believe I can flush out lies when I hear them, and I do not believe Laura is lying.”

Though Laura still wasn’t entirely convinced that His Grace accepted that she hadn’t killed Westwick, he appeared ready to give her the benefit of his wife’s wisdom.

“I will reserve judgment for now.” He glowered at Simon. “This may yet change. I expect that you will do whatever is needed to keep my household free of turmoil.”

Simon nodded. “I will do what I can, though I do need your help. The case is stalled. I have come up with a way to move it forward. But I need your agreement.”

Her Grace faced Simon. “Does this have anything to do with your request for a party?”

Simon sent Laura a reassuring glance. “Only Laura knows the men who were at the town house the night of the murder, and they have scattered like rats in daylight. Not one has come forward as a witness to the events of that evening. If we can get enough noblemen gathered in one place, like here at Collingwood House, she should be able to recognize one or two.”

“That means we will have to invite a murderer into our home,” the duke said sharply. “I’ll not put my wife in danger.”

“Danger will not necessarily follow us here,” Simon countered. “The killer might be a merchant, a slaver, or a ship captain. We know nothing of those men. And even
if he is someone we know, the bastard has already been moving in society without rousing suspicion.” He scrubbed his hands over his head. “If we find Westwick’s killer, Laura won’t hang and the Ton will be a safer place for everyone.”

The duke and duchess locked eyes. “We have to help,” Her Grace pleaded. “Laura cannot come to harm. And if I am proven wrong about her, I will call for the Runners myself.”

Laura saw the remaining tension leave His Grace. His wife had his complete trust.

“I will not do anything to cause danger to the duchess,” Laura assured His Grace. “We will find a way to fulfill Simon’s plan and be gone without anyone knowing I was here.”

The duke stood and went to the fireplace, where Miss Eva joined him. Simon came to sit next to Laura as the duke and duchess talked quietly together.

“His Grace will help us. He may be settled in marriage and his ducal duties, but there was a time when he took a bullet for his wife. There is a man of adventure under those well-cut clothes. He’ll help us for no other reason than to keep the killer, if he is indeed a nobleman, from living freely among us. He’ll not want anyone he cares about put in danger.”

Laura agreed. “His Grace is not weak willed.” One glance was all she needed to discover that truth. He cut a powerful figure. “He really took a bullet for her?”

“He did.”

She sighed. “What a romantic story. No wonder she loves him so much. He is her hero.”

L
aura’s wistful sigh took Simon aback. In spite of the hardships she’d endured, she had a romantic heart.

He found that hard to believe. Her recent past had been anything but the stuff of sonnets. Yet she’d spent only about an hour with the duke and Eva, and was sighing wistfully,
as if that one bullet were part of the greatest love story of the ages.

The beast, jealousy, rose inside him and pricked his emotions. Laura stared at the duke as if he’d flown down from the heavens on Pegasus to vanquish evil and save the world.

Simon pondered His Grace. He was handsome enough. Most women would think so. But it irked him that Laura’s gaze had taken on a dreamy cast.

“The man is not a god,” Simon snapped, far harsher than he’d intended. “He is just a man.”

Laura turned away from the duke and duchess. She scanned his face for a long moment before a knowing smile spread across her face. “His Grace is very handsome. He saved Miss Eva’s life. Why should I not admire him?”

“He is also arrogant and ill-tempered.”

The patient smile remained. “Then the two of you are well suited to be friends.”

Simon grumbled, “You have certainly changed from the woman I rescued from the footmen.” He noticed he’d put an emphasis on “rescued.” She seemed to forget that he was heroic, too. “I never suspected that beneath your reserve was a woman of such devilish humor.”

“There are many things you do not know about me,” Laura replied. “I used to smile quite easily. Now that the gray clouds have thinned and the sky has regained its blue in my eyes, I am rediscovering happiness.” She gave him a curious look. “Perhaps you will grow to like the real Laura Prescott.”

“And perhaps not.” Simon crossed his arms.

“Come, Simon, it isn’t as grave as all that,” Laura said, her eyes dancing. “His Grace is handsome, but I find you more so. And you saved me from certain death. If anyone is heroic, it was you, charging out of the darkness to scoop me up onto your large gray destrier. I nearly swoon every time I think of that moment.”

He said nothing. It still irked him that she’d cut him to the knees earlier, when the offer to find a room had been a
half jest. Though he suspected her reasons had little to do with him and more to do with her desire to start a new uncomplicated life, her attention to the duke had not eased his injured ego. However, the last comment had certainly helped soothe his tweaked feathers.

Laura reached for his hand and continued softly, “It has been a long time since anyone cared about me as you do. You are my friend, my only real friend. I will always cherish you for your kindness. No man, not even a duke, will ever rise to your level in my eyes.”

All the annoyance drained from him. He felt like an ass.

“I will forever be your friend,” he said firmly and meant it. “I was born an arrogant bastard, confident in my charms. Of late, my inflated sense of importance has taken a battering.” His mouth twitched. “First Lady Jeanette refused me and then you slobbered after the duke. I was certain I’d grown a horrid boil on the end of my nose.”

Laura smiled. “No slobbering and no boils. Thank goodness. It’s only that I have finally emerged from a dreadful situation and must plan my future with a clear mind. And you are very much a distraction. I hope you can understand?”

He did understand. It wouldn’t keep him from lusting after her, but he did see her point. He had his own worries. Maybe keeping to friendship would help them both complete their goals.

“Then we shall put our focus on catching the killer,” he agreed, trying not to notice her delightful scent. He suspected this self-imposed celibacy would be a difficult promise to keep. “Though if you become overwhelmed with desire for me, I’ll not push you away.”

Laughing lightly, Laura nodded. “I shall remember that should the occasion arise.”

The duke and duchess returned and the conversation ended. Eva was obviously displeased. “We are not comfortable knowing that the two of you could be stepping into danger. However, we cannot in good conscience let a killer run about free. So on Friday next, we will throw a grand ball here at Collingwood House.”

Laura looked at Simon. Apprehension marked her features. “I hope you understand how high the stakes are here. It would be easier for everyone if I simply left the country.”

The idea of never seeing her again left him at odds. Having her out of his life would make his hunt for a perfect wife easier. She already spent too much time in his head. But was he ready to let her go?

“You escaped sometime during the murder,” Simon countered. The killer may suspect that you fled because you witnessed something. If that is the case, he won’t rest until he finds and silences you.”

L
aura shuddered. According to the
Times
, the killing had been gruesome. The thought of the murderer slicing her up like a Christmas goose stuck in her mind. She knew she’d never be safe until he was locked up in Newgate Gaol.

The arrival of the butler drew all eyes to the door. “Mister Crawford, Your Grace.”

A tall and lanky man with a limp crossed the room on an uneven gate. He bowed to the duke, then turned to the duchess. Miss Eva’s mouth twitched when he made a grand bow.

“I see you are doing well, Your Grace,” he said and took her outstretched hand. “Marriage suits you.”

Miss Eva smiled and her eyes took on an evil glint. “I am trapped in marriage to this arrogant man and it is all your doing. I should have you banned from the property.”

He released her hand. “Alas, I have no regrets. Who’d have believed that my investigation of you would lead to such a happy union?” He glanced at His Grace. The duke was also smiling. “I suspect your husband would not have it otherwise.”

Laura watched the curious exchange. This Mister Crawford did not look like a member of the gentry in his common clothing, yet he seemed very comfortable in the presence of the duke and duchess.

The duke smiled at his wife. “Indeed, I would not.”

Mister Crawford cast a quick glance at Laura and Simon before turning back to the duke and lowering his voice. “I wish my call was under more pleasant circumstances, but I fear I have news of some concern. It is about the Earl of Westwick. May we speak privately?”

Laura’s breath caught.

She darted a glance up at Simon. His face hardened as he stepped close and rested a hand on her shoulder. The action did not go unnoticed by Miss Eva. She sent Laura a reassuring smile.

“You may speak freely, Crawford,” His Grace said evenly. “We were just discussing the matter ourselves.”

This man, Crawford, shifted from foot to foot. He clearly preferred if Simon and Laura were not present. He lowered his voice again. “It involves a certain place of which the duchess is intimately connected.”

“The courtesan school?” Simon interjected.

The stranger’s eyes widened. Laura knew then that he was privy to the secret.

Miss Eva stepped forward. “Mister Harrington and Miss Prescott are aware of my school. If you have information that concerns my courtesans, please tell me now.”

At her urging, Mister Crawford nodded. “I do not mean to upset you, Duchess, but this is a matter of great importance. A man came to me this morning, a servant by his clothing, and asked to hire my services to locate a missing courtesan. He believed she was involved in the murder of his master.”

Laura froze. Her stomach pitched.

“What did you tell him?” His Grace asked tightly. He took his wife’s hand and tucked it under his arm.

“As soon as he said ‘missing courtesan,’ I suspected the woman might have gone to you for shelter, so I put him off. I said I had too many cases to take on another.”

“Did he give you her name or the name of the dead man?” Simon pressed.