Chapter Eleven
“Please, Alex, do have some tea.”
Jennie extended a cup filled to the brim with steaming Earl Grey. Perched on a delicate china saucer, the vessel wobbled a bit as Alex accepted it with a little sigh, only to set it quickly to the side on a doily-covered marble table. The small luxury might provide some comfort, but it would not ease the tumultuous state of her nerves. Not that anything could accomplish that feat after her encounter with Rooney.
Standing face-to-face with the man who’d attacked her—a foul-smelling brute who would have murdered her without so much as a flinch—had been hard enough to endure. But the scoundrel’s implication that somehow, in some way, Benedict was involved in this situation had made the experience nearly unbearable. It had been all she could do not to scream a rebuttal at the awful beast. But she’d maintained her dignity. Through some miracle, she’d kept her voice steady and contained the emotions his accusation had provoked. But the words had roiled her composure. There was no denying that.
Murder is not the only sin.
Rooney was lying. He had to be. Nothing out of the man’s mouth held any credence. For some reason she could not fathom, he’d wanted to destroy any faith in Benedict she still possessed.
But why? What reason might the man have to impugn Benedict’s character, and in the process, sow the seeds of doubt?
He’d continued to speak of a danger that stalked her, a menace he would neither name nor explain. Once again, he’d alluded to a document she had never seen.
The map lays out the path to your grave. You won’t survive this. No one can protect you.
At that point, Colton had intervened. Steadying her as she leaned against the arm he’d offered for support, he’d led her away from the cell.
“You will be protected. Have no fear. He’s only trying to frighten you,” he’d said with great conviction. But could anyone protect her against a threat they could not name?
Now, seated across from her behind his desk, he studied notes from Rooney’s interrogation. Colton had brought in experts skilled at drawing information from suspects, esteemed former colleagues from Scotland Yard, but they’d gotten little from the brute. Just as he’d done with Alex, he’d taunted them while providing scant intelligence, nothing that would assist them in identifying the culprit who’d ordered her death.
He looked up from his notes. His attention landed on Benedict. “What was that bastard getting at, Marlsbrook?”
His question startled her. Colton had been the one to propose she encourage Benedict to remain in London and learn whatever secrets he held. Such open hostility would drive a wedge between Benedict and the investigators. Had Rooney’s dire message eroded confidence in his plan? Did Colton fear he’d put her in real jeopardy?
For his part, Benedict’s eyes flashed with cold anger. He had been pacing the floor, as he always tended to do while puzzling out a problem, but he stopped in his tracks and turned to Matthew. “You are referring to the ramblings of a desperate man. Rooney’s mental state borders on the brink of insanity.”
“I would not have described him as deranged,” Matthew replied. “What reason would he have to bring you into this?”
“I assume the man was not pleased that I took him down with a hunk of wood. What makes you think that jackal requires a reason to cast suspicion on another?”
“A man like Rooney does little without an incentive. If he avoids the gallows, he will go to prison for a very long time. Money will do him little good. It makes sense to pay attention when he implies you were involved in this situation.”
“Come now, Matthew,” Alex spoke up. “You cannot believe Benedict is in some way involved with this despicable man.”
Matthew stood at his desk, pressing his hands to the gleaming mahogany, as if to vent the tension simmering just below his calm surface. “We have no solid reason to believe he is not involved, at least in some regard. As Rooney said, murder is not the only sin.”
“Go to hell, Colton.” Benedict stalked up to the man. “I would never willingly endanger Alexandra. Good God, man, I tracked the cur all the way from Egypt in an effort to protect her.”
Matthew did not so much as flinch. “I have been meaning to ask you about that. I am curious—why didn’t you telegraph a warning before setting off to pursue a killer?”
“A logical question,” Benedict said without hesitation. “Before I left Egypt, I knew the professor was deeply concerned for Alexandra’s well-being. But I must confess, I did not take the old gentleman’s fears as seriously as I should have. When I set off on my journey, my focus was on the pursuit of an artifact, an antiquity he’d entrusted to her.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “It was not until I learned Stockwell had been killed that I realized the man’s fears were valid.”
His words bore the ring of truth, but Colton regarded him with a highly developed skepticism. Jennie touched her husband’s forearm. “We must give Lord Marlsbrook the benefit of the doubt. He came after that brute. He saved Alex’s life. We’ve no reason to distrust him.”
“That remains to be seen.” Colton’s expression remained grim. “The truth will come out in the end. But in the meantime, I will provide Alex with an escort at all times.”
Good heavens, he could not mean to saddle her with a chaperone. No matter how well-intentioned the act, she would not allow herself to be treated like a caged bird.
“That is out of the question,” Alex spoke up. “I will not stand for it.”
“I will not risk your safety. We would all rest easier if you took up temporary residence in our home.”
“Thank you, Matthew. But I am confident in our present arrangement. I do not object to a guard stationed outside my residence, but I will not be subjected to being followed whenever I venture out of my house.”
“That will not be necessary.” Benedict was quietly forceful. “As it is evident that Professor Stockwell and I have led this danger to Alexandra’s door, I feel a personal responsibility to see to her safety. It is my intention to remain in London for the next few days. I will arrange for a trusted driver, and I will personally provide an escort whenever you deem it appropriate, Alexandra.”
“Not acceptable,” Matthew said with a rough shake of his head.
“Gentlemen, I have a suggestion,” Jennie began. “We can rely upon Bertram and that new agent he’s training to serve as Alex’s personal drivers for the next week or so. Doing so will assure the integrity and skill of the person holding the reins to her carriage.”
“That is a fine idea,” Alex said quickly. She was not about to become enmeshed in a struggle of wills between Matthew and Benedict.
“Good enough,” Jennie said, sweeping to the door. “Alex, would you join me on an excursion? I’d love a bit of air, and it’s high time you met our new agent. I’m certain you will be most impressed.”
Clad in a distinguished suit of dark wool, Bertram met the ladies with a craggy-faced smile and a tip of his dapper bowler hat. Upon Jennie’s request, he readied a brougham for their outing. Of course, Bertram was far from the typical driver. His command of a team of horses was top-notch, as was his ability to evade a pursuer. Many a younger driver had tangled with the man over the years. None had emerged the victor.
At his side, a slender, fresh-faced figure held the reins. Tabitha Cooke was a recent Colton agency recruit. Jennie spoke highly of the young operative’s skill. With a hat sitting atop the long, dark hair she’d swept up and pinned at the nape, few would guess the trouser-clad driver was a young woman who’d left behind a life in the Yorkshire Dales for a position serving the Crown. Alex suspected the story of how the driver had found her way into the employ of the Colton Agency was interesting, indeed.
Greeting Alex enthusiastically, Miss Cooke flashed a good-natured smile that reached her intelligent eyes. Once they were settled inside the coach, the driver commanded the team with impressive skill. Peeling back the curtain, Jennie peered out the window. Her expression was pensive, and she turned back to Alex with a look of care etched on her features.
“I feared this might be a mistake. Encouraging further involvement with Benedict was a risky proposition from the start, and I made my feelings clear to Matthew,” she said.
“I cannot believe he is involved with that horrid man,” Alex protested.
Jennie pulled in a low breath and let it escape. “Having observed his reaction while you were at Rooney’s cell, I am positive the man holds you in high regard. I saw the tension in his face as Rooney provoked you. At one point, I thought he’d disregard Matthew’s instructions and confront the man himself. He appeared ready to pummel the cur.”
In her mind’s eye, Alex pictured Benedict’s response, imagining the way a tiny muscle in his jaw would have clenched and unclenched, as it usually did when he was angry. Jennie had portrayed him as a man moved by protectiveness, a man who wanted to shelter her from the unpleasantness she’d faced while confronting her assailant.
“I was quite shaken by the experience,” she said truthfully. “But it is some comfort to believe that Benedict is not a villain in this piece.”
“I cannot bring myself to believe he is involved in the crimes,” Jennie said softly. “I suspect he still harbors tender feelings for you.”
Alex shook her head, dismissing the thought. She could not allow herself to indulge such notions. It would only end badly. For her.
“His feelings are driven by guilt. The professor’s death was a brutal blow. Professor Stockwell had pledged him to see to my safety. Benedict feels a sense of duty. There’s nothing more to it.”
“I do not believe the man sees it as a duty,” Jennie countered.
Alex shrugged. “Be that as it may, it’s of little consequence. I will see this through. There’s no harm in following along with Matthew’s plan.”
“If Benedict is indeed an innocent man, he is in clear danger. It is to his advantage that we sort the villains from the innocents.”
“Quite so.” Alex stared down at her hands, gathering her thoughts. “I can still hear that vicious man’s words playing in my head. Over and over again. He alleged that Benedict is guilty of some great sin. Why?”
Jennie’s mouth thinned. “I can think of several reasons Rooney wanted to sow doubt in your mind. Marlsbrook returned from Egypt on a quest. He did not come here for you alone. You would not cooperate with him if you doubted his motives and intentions.”
“Indeed.”
“If Rooney creates fear in you, you would be reluctant to put yourself within Marlsbrook’s proximity, undermining our ability to learn what he knows. And…” Fidgeting with the pearl buttons on the cuffs of her blouse, she seemed to collect her thoughts. “There is another factor we must consider, unpleasant as it may be.”
“And what might that be?”
“There is a chance—albeit a slim one—that Rooney’s implication has merit. Do you think Benedict is involved in activities that might be described as illicit or illegal?”
Alex hesitated, debating how much to tell her sister. She had it on good authority that Benedict’s trade of antiquities had been scandalous and unethical, but not quite in violation of the law.
“I believe that Benedict has acted in his own self-interest,” she said simply. “He has enriched his coffers at the expense of his integrity. He had a falling out with Professor Stockwell over one of his more lucrative but unscrupulous ventures.”
Jennie crooked a brow. “Interesting. I suspected as much, but I had not been able to research the question at this short notice. When did this occur?”
“Oh, it’s been several years now…right around the time when Benedict began renovations on his family’s manor home.”
“That’s right,” Jennie said with a nod of understanding. “As I recall, his exploits were the talk of the Exploration Society for a time.”
“Papa was particularly displeased, as was Professor Stanwyck.”
“I’m told that Stanwyck and Marlsbrook nearly came to blows.”
“Nearly is not the correct word. They did engage in fisticuffs. Or so I understand.”
Jennie’s eyes went wide. “I presume you are aware that Stanwyck and Sophie have returned from Cairo.”
Fondness filled Jennie’s eyes at the mention of her former assistant at the Herald. Sophie and Jennie had long been as close as sisters. Their similar natures and passion for inquiries had forged a strong bond, but Alex felt no rivalry. She adored the vibrant young woman who’d proven her mettle at the newspaper and now served as an operative for the Colton Agency.
“Benedict is also aware of that development. He did not appear enthused,” Alex said lightly.
“The men have been rivals for a very long time.”
“At this time, I do not believe Benedict is concerned about such matters,” Alex said.
“Indeed. He may be in grave danger. Marlsbrook must maintain his focus and remain on guard.”
Grave danger. The words cut through Alex like a hot knife. If anything happened to Benedict, she would be devastated.
“Jennie, is it possible that someone may commit a crime…in such a way that it would appear that Benedict is guilty?”
Tiny lines furrowed between Jennie’s brows. “By leaving false evidence that would implicate him…in the commission of a hanging offense.”
“Precisely,” Alex said. “In effect, the killer would ultimately be responsible for Benedict’s death. But the method would involve a prolonged misery. What greater mental torture than to be an innocent man facing execution for a crime he did not commit?”
Jennie’s complexion paled. “Rooney did emphasize that Marlsbrook would meet the executioner. God above, Alex. Could the devil behind these crimes intend to use the law itself as a murder weapon?”