The Marquess of Hutton has been arrested.” It was Vincent Cullen, Baron Burleigh, who delivered the news, standing in the middle of Angelique’s hall, his hat in his hands, his owlish eyes even rounder than usual in his narrow face.
Behind him stood his mother, Lady Burleigh, dressed suitably for social calls, and the sight of her was almost as much of a shock as Burleigh’s declaration. Angelique hadn’t seen her even once since her mother’s death, though the women had been close. She’d aged dramatically in the intervening years. Her features were sharper, her eyes harder. Her grey hair was pulled back from her face, and she was staring intently at Angelique as if waiting to evaluate her reaction to Vincent’s news.
Angelique ignored the immediate dread that twisted through her. She should know better. She couldn’t imagine what would have possessed Burleigh to bring his mother along, but this was obviously some sort of prank. Not that long ago, her brother was pretending to be a highwayman. Today it seemed he was pretending to be something worse. And she didn’t find it funny.
“Of course he has,” Angelique said flatly. “Caught spying for the French, was he?”
Burleigh blinked at her. “N-no.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s been arrested for murder.”
Angelique scowled at the thin, weedy man but tempered her response in deference to his mother. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for this, Lord Burleigh,” she said shortly. “When you see my brother, tell him he needs to come home. There are matters that I need to discuss with him.”
“But he’s in the Tower,” Burleigh blurted. He pulled at the turquoise pin at his throat as though his cravat had been knotted too tight.
“The Tower?” Angelique looked hard at the man’s face and noted it was paler than normal. Icy points of sweat suddenly pricked at her scalp.
Lady Burleigh chose this moment to step forward. She placed a cold, papery hand on Angelique’s sleeve. “It’s true, dear. They took him there after they found him. After they arrested him.”
Angelique pulled away. She was trying to understand why this woman would lie to her. “I don’t understand. If this is supposed to be a joke—”
“It isn’t. I swear.” Burleigh was shifting anxiously, looking between his mother and Angelique. “It’s the truth.”
A wave of nausea threatened. “Tell me,” she croaked.
“Hutton was found in the Earl of Trevane’s house in the small hours of the morning. It seems that…” Burleigh trailed off.
“It seems that what? Speak up.” It was rude, but her patience was losing a rapid battle with fear.
“They’re saying that he was trying to rob the house. And it seems a maid caught him in the act.”
Angelique felt her mouth go dry. “And?” she croaked.
“And he killed her. Slit her throat.” Lady Burleigh said it without emotion.
Angelique felt as if she were suddenly in the middle of a dream, drowning in a sea of disorientation. Her surroundings seemed to waver before righting themselves. “That’s impossible,” she heard herself say. “My brother would never…”
I’ll fix it, Ang, I promise. I’ll get the money.
The edges of her vision blurred as she struggled for breath. “Oh God.”
Burleigh’s hand was suddenly on her arm, and for once, Angelique was glad for the touch. It brought her back to the present. “My lady—”
“It’s impossible,” Angelique repeated. Impossible, impossible, impossible.
Burleigh patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’m so very sorry—”
“Tell me what happened,” she gasped, a bead of clammy sweat sliding down her spine. “Don’t leave anything out.”
“I don’t know, exactly. We were supposed to meet up with him—”
“We?”
“Seaton and myself. We were on our way to, ah…” His eyes slid to his mother before returning to Angelique. “To one of Seaton’s clubs, but your brother said he had something he, um, needed to see to before.”
“In Trevane’s house?” Angelique choked.
Burleigh ran a nervous hand through his thinning hair. “Your brother was very secretive, my lady, but it seemed like a harmless adventure, you understand. He made it sound like he was sweet on one of the maids and she on him and that they…” he trailed off again. “That they had an assignation.”
Angelique put a hand out and found the edge of the small hall table as if that spindly piece of furniture might anchor her. “And then what happened?”
Burleigh pulled a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his pale forehead. “I-I don’t know. Your brother…um…well, he wasn’t going to be long. But it was raining and I wasn’t keen on waiting in the bushes outside the earl’s house. So I went ahead to a nearby coffeehouse to wait. But Seaton stayed.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Burleigh shake her head, her lips pressed into a disapproving line. “Seaton never did have much sense,” she murmured.
“Yes, well, the next thing I know, Seaton shows up at the coffeehouse and drags me out, telling me Hutton’s been arrested. This has shocked me as much as it has you, my lady.”
“How— Why…” She tried to gather her thoughts.
The baron leaned closer. “The earl himself found him with the body, my lady. Covered in blood.” He cleared his throat nervously. “I imagine the authorities will be coming soon to notify you. Question you.”
Angelique concentrated on taking deep breaths. The last thing she needed right now was questions. “Who else knows?” she asked.
“By the end of the day, everyone will,” Burleigh whispered, his dark eyes darting about the room as though he were searching for a different answer. “He’s a marquess.”
“I need to see him,” Angelique said bleakly. She had to speak to Gerald. He couldn’t have done this. Gerald was not a killer. Yet…given enough alcohol, given enough narcotics, given enough desperation, and suddenly the impossible seemed terrifyingly possible. She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting to keep her composure.
Lady Burleigh was shaking her head. “They’re not letting anyone see him. No visitors of any sort.”
“They?”
“The warders.”
“How do you know that?”
“We already tried. Before we came here.” She reached for Angelique’s other hand, squeezing it.
Burleigh sighed. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I’m only a baron, and to be honest, not even a very important one. I don’t have the kind of power your brother needs right now.”
Angelique swallowed with difficulty.
“I’m sorry that I am the one to bring you such terrible news. But I thought it would be better you hear it from me. Gerald has been my closest friend since we were children. I would do anything to help him. You must know that.”
Angelique nodded numbly. “What do I do?” She didn’t really expect an answer.
“Seaton is asking the same thing of his father right now, my lady. If anyone has the power to help, it will be the Duke of Rossburn. He has many influential connections. You should go and see him straightaway.”
“Yes,” Angelique said mechanically, pulling her hand from his. “I should do that. Straightaway.”
Burleigh worried the brim of his hat with his fingers. “Do you want us to go with you?”
“No.” The last thing she wanted was to spend another minute in the presence of a man who was complicit in this, however indirectly. Or his mother, for that matter.
“We can stay—”
“No.” She wanted to be left alone. She needed to be left alone to think.
“Right. Of course,” Burleigh said, the anxious expression back on his face. “Then I’ll go.”
“Do that.”
He hesitated. “Again, my lady, I’m so sorry to be the bearer of such distressing news.”
Angelique nodded numbly and turned to find Lady Burleigh standing directly in front of her.
“You have his eyes,” the woman said, once again staring at Angelique.
“What?” It was enough to jar her from her distress.
“You have his eyes,” Lady Burleigh repeated slowly. “I never saw it before, but I can see it clearly now.”
“My father’s?” God, what the hell did this have to do with anything?
“Mother,” Vincent warned.
“Yes. You’ll have his strength too,” she said abruptly, as if shaking herself out of a trance.
Angelique supposed that the woman was trying to offer her comfort, but she didn’t feel strong. The sudden urge to scream or hit something was overwhelming. She just wanted Burleigh and his mother gone.
Vincent was jamming his hat on his head, ushering his mother to the door. “Please know that your well-being is very important to us. If there is anything I can do, please, just—”
“I think you’ve done enough,” Angelique replied. “Thank you,” she forced herself to add.
He swallowed hard and nodded once, holding the door open for Lady Burleigh. They left silently, and Angelique closed the door behind them.
Angelique rested her forehead on the smooth wood, closing her eyes, listening to the empty silence around her, broken only by the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She willed herself to wake up now. To open her eyes and realize that this had been a nightmare. A bad dream that had left her shaking and gasping and weak.
She opened her eyes to find herself staring at the grainy pattern of a polished oak door.
She turned, leaning heavily against the door, and found herself sliding down its length until she came to sit on the cold marble floor. But she didn’t scream or hit something. The shock was starting to fade, leaving her mind racing. And one thing was clear.
Burleigh was right. She needed help. She needed someone who knew her family, knew Gerald. Someone in the peerage who would have the power to demand real answers and speak on her brother’s behalf. Someone who would keep this matter private for as long as possible, if not out of regard for her family then certainly out of regard for his own son’s proximity to the entire mess.
The Duke of Rossburn. George’s father.
As much as she might wish otherwise, there was no other option.
You could go to Alex.
It slipped unbidden into her mind. And just as quickly, she shied away from the idea. Telling Lavoie now about this debacle wouldn’t fix a thing. For there was absolutely nothing a gaming hell owner could do for a marquess incarcerated in the Tower of London. Except, of course, dismiss the sister of an accused murderer from his employ. As much as Alexander Lavoie had been kind to her, even he would have limits.
She didn’t doubt that Alex would hear of it eventually, but if there was even the smallest chance of keeping Alex ignorant of her brother’s predicament, at least until she was seated behind that vingt-et-un table for one more night, she’d take it. She was going to need money, more than ever now. And Lavoie’s was the only source she had.
She pushed herself away from the door and staggered to her feet, dry-eyed, though her stomach was in knots. She could do this. She had done a lot of things she’d never imagined that she could do and this would be only one more.
* * *
An hour later, Angelique found herself in the drawing room of the Duke of Rossburn’s opulent town house, deposited there by a glacial butler and instructed to wait while he went to see if His Grace was available.
Angelique clasped her hands in front of her, her fingers icy even in her gloves. Of course it was the drawing room she’d been shown into. Had she known, she might have insisted that she’d wait outside. She avoided looking at the wide settee that dominated the center of the room and instead stood in front of the window, staring sightlessly out at the watery sunlight that cast a strange light on the green space in the center of the square. Somewhere a dog barked and the sounds of shod hooves on stone drifted through the window. Everyday life continued on as normal. Even when hers was falling apart.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Lady Angelique?” Seaton’s smooth voice came from the door, and Angelique closed her eyes, feeling her stomach drop and another layer of nausea rise.
She turned from the window to face him, reminding herself that she was the one here seeking assistance and trying to choose her words with care lest she say anything that she might regret. Seaton stood just inside the room, dressed impeccably, as he always was. His dark brown hair was cut stylishly, his boots were polished to a brilliant luster, and his posture spoke of a man supremely confident in his place in the world. He was watching her expectantly, and if she didn’t know better, she would have thought that he wasn’t yet aware of Gerald’s arrest.
She met his eyes squarely. “I’m here to see your father.”
His expectant smile disappeared. “Burleigh came to see you.” He sounded displeased.
“Yes, he did. Along with his mother.”
Seaton’s handsome face twisted into a condescending sneer. “His mother? Of course he would have told her too. Still in leading strings. Should have kept his mouth shut.”
Anger ignited low in her belly, and Angelique welcomed it. It was better than the despair and terror that rose in alternating waves and threatened to suffocate her. “You would rather I had remained in ignorance that my brother is currently locked in the Tower? Been oblivious until I read it in the newssheets this afternoon? Or until they decided to hang him?”
Seaton winced at her words and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “I did not see the point in upsetting you unnecessarily.”
“Upsetting me?”
“I’m sure this unfortunate misunderstanding can be rectified quickly and quietly. Hutton is, after all, a marquess.”
“Who stands accused of murder,” Angelique snapped. “Burleigh said you were there. Were you with him? Inside that house?”
“Keep your voice down, my lady,” Seaton said sharply. He crossed the room, skirting the settee. He reached her side. “Please, sit.”
“I’ll stand.” Bad news was bad news whether or not one was planted on one’s backside. A soft pillow did nothing to lessen the impact. She should know. She had been weathering a constant storm of bad news for a long time now.
Seaton slid his hand around her arm and tugged her in the direction of the settee. Angelique pulled away and took two steps back.
A faint shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “Contrary, as always.”
“You never answered my question.”
He glanced back in the direction of the door. “Of course I wasn’t with him. Hutton told me to wait outside the house. Said he wouldn’t be long. And I did. At least until the officers showed up.”
“And then you just left him?”
“He left me hiding in the bloody bushes,” Seaton snapped. “It’s a wonder I wasn’t found and accused of being an accomplice. If I had known what he was going to do—”
Angelique recoiled. “You think he did it?”
“He was led out of that house covered in blood, my lady.”
“Did he say anything? To any of the officers?”
“Not that I heard.”
Angelique’s anger suddenly drained as fast as it had risen, leaving her feeling gutted. She turned back toward the window, fighting to keep her composure.
Seaton was suddenly behind her. “Have you been to see him?” he asked, and his voice was softer.
“No,” she whispered. “The warders are denying anyone access.”
“Just as well. It is not a place for a lady.”
“It is not a place for my brother,” Angelique hissed. “Gerald is not a murderer.”
“When the time comes, a jury of his peers will determine that,” Seaton soothed. “He will not be mistreated.”
“I need your father to speak on his behalf,” she said, forcing herself to hold her ground. “He’s known Gerald since you were in school together.”
“He will do what he can, I’m sure.” His hands were on her shoulders now. “As will I.”
She shrugged, trying to dislodge his hands, but they remained where they were, his fingers squeezing into the muscles of her shoulders. “Don’t.”
“You’re different.”
“I’m not different. I’m upset.”
“No. You’ve changed. You’re different. Beautiful.” His hands slid along her upper arms. “Let me make you feel better.”
She jerked from his grasp. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Why?” he asked. “You liked my touch just fine before. Right here in this room, you were more than willing. Do you not recall just how good I made you feel?”
Angelique looked away, revulsion and self-disgust rising even through her misery.
“I can make you feel like that again,” he murmured, sidling closer. “Make you forget your troubles. I’m going to be a duke. I can take care of you—”
The drawing room door suddenly swung open, and the Duke of Rossburn entered, leaning heavily on a walking stick. He stopped abruptly when he saw Angelique and his son, and his expression hardened unpleasantly.
“Leave us,” he ordered Seaton.
Out of the corner of her eye, Angelique saw Seaton stiffen. “I think it is important that I stay, Father. There is—”
“I said, leave us.”
His son turned, his face set into angry, resentful lines, and without another word or glance at Angelique, stalked from the room.
“You are here on behalf of your brother, I assume?” The white-haired duke gazed at Angelique through small, grey eyes. “My son has told me what has happened.”
“Yes. I was hoping you might be able to help secure his release.”
“Unfortunately, there is little I can do for your brother at this juncture,” he said. “Young Hutton has gotten himself into a mess that even I cannot fix.”
“But surely there is someone you can talk to? Because he can’t possibly have done what he is accused of doing.” She heard the naked desperation in her voice but didn’t care.
“I’m sorry. It is an unfortunate situation, one that the uneducated public will undoubtedly try to use as an excuse to further their own political agendas or fire up a new riot. They are so temperamental these days.” He peered down his nose at Angelique. “I feel obliged to suggest that you leave the city, my lady. For your own safety, at least until justice has been served.”
“Leave? But Gerald would never—”
“Sometimes young men go astray,” the duke said, his voice dropping an octave into a patronizing tone. “An evil fever grips them that cannot be explained. No amount of good breeding can overcome such. And as much as I would like these circumstances to be rooted in falsehood, I cannot rationally argue with facts. Nor, unfortunately, can any valued member of our society.”
“So you won’t help?” She said it dully, the prospect of defeat a terrifying reality.
The duke sighed heavily. “I have a responsibility to this family. Your brother’s unfortunate choices have destroyed one life, and I will not allow them to destroy that of my son’s. His future—this family’s future—must be protected. We cannot and will not be viewed as guilty simply by association. As far as I am concerned, neither my son nor I know anything about this unfortunate occurrence. I cannot help you.” He looked back in the direction of the drawing room door, where the butler now stood, holding Angelique’s cloak. “I trust you understand, my lady.”
“But Lord Seaton said—”
“My son agrees with me,” Rossburn said grimly. “He will fall into line in this matter, as he has done in the past with all matters that affect the interests and security of this family.” He flexed his fingers around the head of his walking stick. “I trust you will not feel the need to seek either myself or my son out in the future.”
Angelique stared at the duke, a man whom she believed her father had once counted as a friend, and saw the way the winds were blowing. The message was clear. The ton would scramble to distance themselves from a marquess labeled as a murderer. There would be no help coming from any quarter. Most certainly not from this one.
“My butler will see you out.” The duke turned away.
Within minutes, she found herself outside on the street, the struggling sun doing its best to penetrate a hazy blanket of clouds and coal smoke. She stood shivering in the meager warmth, feeling battered and bruised. She was on her own now, more alone than she had ever been in her life. But she was not a quitter. She would not give up.
Pulling her cloak more tightly around her, Angelique thought about the money she’d brought home from Lavoie’s. She’d thought to use it for living expenses, and if she was smart and thrifty, it would have sustained the household for months. Except now her brother languished in the Tower of London for a crime Angelique couldn’t believe he’d committed. At the very least, she had to know what really happened. The money might just be enough to get her the answers she needed. Because she couldn’t do nothing and live with herself.
Her eyes drifted east to where she knew St Paul’s Church sat, hunkered at the corner of Covent Square, and the business she knew sat in its shadow. She wasn’t defeated just yet.
There was still one more option.