CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BARNABAS RUBBED HIS FOREHEAD. The last thing he wanted was for Henry to follow the earl or try to stop him. He should have held her back, told her it was too dangerous for her to go after the earl—except the earl was the only one in danger.
Barnabas would stake his life on the earl not being willing to harm a hair on Henry’s head or any woman’s head. No telling what Henry might do with her gun. He cast up a silent plea for Coleraine to get away.
His gut churning, Barnabas turned after the man wearing the earl’s suit and hat. He’d planned on letting himself be fooled. The earl was such a poor liar that when he came across the street and said he was sending Miss Hall to his estate in Ireland with the baby and summoning his brother to see if he would escort her there, Barnabas had known he planned on making his escape.
On the other hand, he also knew the earl had received a telegram from his sister in Ireland saying she needed him. Barnabas had been hoping to intercept a telegram from one of the women who’d lived in the house, but his efforts had at least netted him the almost frantic dispatch from Lady Moira. For the earl, that request had to be like throwing a lit match on lamp oil. No way to stop the reaction.
He rounded the corner to see the earl’s brother get in a hackney cab. Hell, the earl always walked to his Mayfair house. If Barnabas had a doubt about which brother he was following, it was erased. He summoned his own hackney.
His police whistle suddenly felt like it weighed ten stones. The correct course of action was to pull it and summon help from a constable or two, but he wanted more time. He wanted the earl to get away. He wanted to not witness another innocent man being hung for a crime he didn’t commit.
The grand jury had already been summoned and their conclusion was inevitable. Lord Coleraine would have a warrant issued for his arrest before the week was out. Barnabas couldn’t fault the earl wanting to go home and settle his affairs and say his last good-byes to his family, his son, his sisters.
He wished the earl would flee to the Americas, but he suspected he wouldn’t. Now he had to worry that Henry would somehow stop Coleraine. And she would no doubt leave Barnabas looking like an idiot in her next article.
None of that mattered. But his gut churned. He didn’t want to find the evidence too late this time.
*~*~*
Henry caught the same omnibus the earl had jumped on. Her heart pounded and her breath came in ragged gasps from running to catch the public conveyance. Her quarry had opened a newspaper and donned glasses, so she couldn’t quite see his face and be certain it was the earl. Not that she’d seen the earl all that often in broad daylight. He tended to arrive at his trysting house well after dark and left before first light. Mostly she knew him by his unnaturally pale eyes. But if his brother had eyes of the same hue...perhaps she was chasing after the earl’s half-brother.
She certainly hadn’t expected the earl to get on a public coach crowded with working folks of a middling sort. But why would Barnabas be right about this when he was so wrong about the earl’s guilt?
After the attendant said there weren’t any seats in the main cabin, she climbed the narrow spiral staircase to ride on the top. The omnibus jerked forward and she clung to the metal rail.
Barnabas’s admonition to not try to stop the earl rang in her ears. Admittedly she wouldn’t be able to stop the man if she confronted him, unless she used her gun. Perhaps not even then, because she certainly wouldn’t want to risk firing it with innocent people all around them. If she followed him, she could report his destination back to Barnabas. Confronting him would be foolish, but she intended to see where he went.
The clopping of the large draft horses stopped and the attendant moved to open the door. She swung out of her seat and took a couple of steps down, waiting to see if her quarry was going to disembark. Two other passengers stepped off.
“Are you getting off, Miss?” The attendant reached to hand her down.
“I don’t think so.”
“Very good, Miss. Perhaps you’d like to retake your seat. Or did you want an inside seat?” He put his hand on the door.
From the upper deck, she’d have a better view if the earl jumped down between stops. “I’ll stay up top.”
The attendant stepped on the stair to close the door.
A last figure darted out and dropped off the back. The man wore green. It had to be the earl. Why would his brother be trying to evade pursuit?
She was blocked by the attendant, so she climbed to the seats and kept her gaze on the earl.
He walked down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of other pedestrians. His head was tipped forward and the brim of his derby kept her from seeing his features. He turned into a darkened doorway. Her heart jumped into her throat. Her gaze glued to the doorway, she clung to the rail of the staircase, preparing to climb off.
She disembarked at the next stop. She tried to scurry back to where he had disappeared into the doorway. Being short was a detriment. Ordinary pedestrians blocked her. The diminishing twilight made it hard to see. She thought she saw movement and by the time she made it to the recessed doorway, he was gone and the door was locked. Pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t see any movement. Surely if a shopkeeper had let him inside, that person would still be there.
Her throat tightened and she looked every which way with growing despair. How could she have lost him so quickly? She climbed on the bottom rung of an iron fence searching for the green suit. A man in green ducked into a corner building. That had to be him.
Her heart thundering, she wove through the pedestrians. Only after she burst through the door did she realize it was a gin house.
Unlike the pub where she often found Barnabas, this drinking establishment was full of rough men, men in work shirts and boots—none in suits—which should make it easy to find the earl. The stench of unwashed men made her eyes water. The bartender caught sight of her and his eyes darted to the back of the room. He quickly lowered his gaze to swipe a dirty rag on the counter, stirring the grime.
She followed where he looked, but couldn’t see over the press of filthy, sweaty men. This wasn’t a nice place.
“Hey, love, come sit on my knee,” said one rough man.
Another wasn’t so polite as he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She tucked her hand in her skirt pocket and wrapped her fingers around her gun.
“Let me go or I’ll shoot your balls off,” she whispered in a low voice.
He laughed.
She pressed the gun between her legs at what she hoped was a vital region on him, and cocked it.
If she had to shoot, she’d ruin her dress, but since it was a rather plain brown stuff gown, she didn’t much care. Her petticoats could be mended.
He pushed her off his lap and put up his hands.
Her heart was going so fast she thought it might jump out of her chest. But she wouldn’t betray her fear. Narrowing her eyes and said, “Man in a green suit and brown derby?”
He nodded toward the back of the pub. A narrow hallway led to a back door.
She ducked her chin in a fast acknowledgment and made her way to the rear of the building.
When she opened the door, a courtyard greeted her. Two shadowed alleyways provided egress. She didn’t see the earl, but the shadows were deep. He could be hiding in them. Or he’d fled through one of the alleys. She started to step out, but then... Barnabas’s admonition rang in her ears. Her feet refused to move forward. What are you thinking, Henry? The man murders women.
Why would he think twice about murdering her? The back of her neck tingled. Her fingers went cold—or perhaps that was because they were still wrapped around the handle of her Colt. She lifted it in front of her and cautiously stepped out.
Her senses were acute. The acrid smell of urine burned her nose. The boisterous crowd in the gin house rumbled behind her while the muted rattle and creak of carts, the clop of horses, and the trill of birds overlaid the noises of the drinking crowd. The gun was cold and heavy tugging on her extended arm. Barnabas’s warning that it could be knocked from her hand had her pulling it closer to her body.
A noise to her side had her swiveling to her right, but she couldn’t see anything but the brick walls of the buildings. A narrow crevice was between the two walls, but surely a man wouldn’t fit there. She turned the other direction, then her heart in her throat she crossed to the first alley way and squinted to see if the earl was in there.
Not seeing him, she ran through to see if she could catch a glimpse of him on the other side.
The fading light turned colors to shades of gray. His green suit didn’t stand out in the passing people. Huffing impatiently, she ran back and followed the other alley to the same result. She was shaking and she shoved the gun back in her pocket before someone had her arrested for brandishing a weapon.
How could he have lost her so easily? But if he didn’t want her following him, he must intend to leave London. She waved at a hansom cab. The train station was her best bet.
*~*~*
“If he attempts to leave the house, detain him,” Barnabas told Murdock. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Murdock looked up at the limestone facade of the earl’s Mayfair townhouse. “I didn’t think you believed the earl guilty.”
“I don’t.” It wasn’t the earl in the house. Barnabas was fairly certain it was the half-brother, but he didn’t want anyone else to know.
He needed to do a more extensive interview with the earl’s brother. The last interview hadn’t been conducted under ideal situations and it had made it hard to read him, although the brother was adamant that the earl would not have hurt a woman if you held a gun to his head and demanded he do so. He’d said, if provoked, the earl might kill another man but never a woman.
“I have to go find Henry.” Before she cocked it up more than she already had. If she managed to stop the earl from leaving London, Barnabas didn’t know what he’d do.
Murdock swiveled around until his gaze locked on a bench in the square at the center of the block. “Henry is it?”
“Miss Brown,” Barnabas corrected. Calling her by her first name implied a relationship he didn’t have—nor did he really want. He couldn’t have a relationship with a woman he couldn’t talk to without fear of finding his words splashed all over the newspapers. His stomach clenched tight as if in protest to his thoughts. “She’s following the...uh...brother.”
Murdock tilted his head and regarded him. “By everything you’ve told me about deciphering a person’s demeanor, that was not the truth.”
Barnabas rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t have told Murdock how to spot lies. Nor should he have been so focused on avoiding a misrepresentation of his entanglement with Henry that he wasn’t paying attention to what he was conveying non-verbally.
“She’s the reporter who named all the missing women and broke the story about Miss Hall,” Murdock said. “Are you feeding her information?”
“I’m not giving her anything.” Barnabas’s nose itched. He barely kept himself from scratching it. Except telling her about Miss Hall. Wasn’t as if he’d handed over Miss Hall’s name, although he’d apparently given Henry more than enough information to figure it out. “At least not since I learned she was a reporter.”
Murdock rocked onto his toes and back, but didn’t call him on his half-truth. “I thought you might have wanted the real killer to feel he is safe by allowing everyone to believe the earl is the murderer.”
If only his interactions with Henry were that well thought out. Instead he didn’t really think around her. Barnabas folded his arms. “What do you think?”
Murdock’s expression turned thoughtful. “Never known a killer to make a real effort to investigate others, yet unwilling to give us the names of people he suspects or people who could help him.” He pushed his bottom teeth forward over his upper lip, giving him a bulldog countenance. “Your instincts have always been bang on the mark. But he does appear guilty.”
Barnabas’s shoulders dropped. If his own investigative assistant thought Coleraine guilty...he didn’t know how he’d ever prove him innocent—at least not without the real culprit, who was as elusive as a ghost.
Murdock continued, “It is possible, he’s supposed to. The killer could want him to look guilty. His lordship might have been on to something when he had Wilcher look into people who might bear a grudge against him.”
“Any ideas?”
“His heir hoping to ensure his succession? Have you interviewed him?”
“He’s in Ireland.” He was on the list Barnabas carried around. “I suppose I’ll be going there soon.”
“Thought you were supposed to arrest the earl if he attempted to leave the city.”
“I’d rather you believed the earl is in his house.” The last thing he wanted was Murdock being dragged down with him if he was called to task for letting the earl get out of London just before his indictment came from the grand jury. “It could very well be the earl.”
“Or his half-brother.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know who was in the house if I told you it was the earl,” said Barnabas.
“Only you didn’t. You danced all around telling me you followed the earl home. I think you are distracted,” Murdock observed.
“Of course I am distracted. I have barely slept in days.” Besides he wasn’t usually trying to guard his thoughts around Murdock. When he had a moment to sleep, thoughts of Henry kept him tossing and turning. “And since when has a grand jury been convened before I’ve made a recommendation for it?”
Murdock’s watery eyes landed on him and stayed there until Barnabas felt like he’d been caught cheating on schoolwork.
God, had he bungled this investigation because of his interest in Henry? His stomach soured and tension tightened his shoulders. He couldn’t be a part of watching another innocent man being hanged. He couldn’t.
“For what it is worth, Wilcher agrees with you,” Murdock said. “He gave Lord Coleraine the option of destroying the evidence of Mr. Redding’s alibi for the day Jane Redding was murdered, and his lordship was appalled. Genuinely, according to Wilcher. Could have accepted the offer. After all, he has no idea Wilcher is reporting to us, too.”
So one former detective, who was known as a drunkard, agreed with him. Wasn’t much in the way of allies. Which reminded him, he had to go get Henry before she caught up to Coleraine. “I have to go find Miss Brown.”
Murdock’s mouth screwed up. “Better to wait until after the mail train leaves for the coast. After all, if you catch up to her before the train leaves and she has spotted his lordship, she’ll expect you to stop him. And so will the commissioner. She writes in the newspaper that you didn’t...”
He had a point. Although, Barnabas wouldn’t put it past Henry to enlist someone else to help her stop the earl. Barnabas pulled out his watch and looked at the dial. “Should be leaving in less than ten minutes.”
Murdock nodded. “You know, the cousin, Lord Coleraine’s heir, would make sense if Lady Coleraine was murdered too. Keep the earl from producing a son.”
Barnabas nodded. “True. But according to the local constable, Aidan Gilvaroy hasn’t taken any trips lately.”
“So he hired someone.” Murdock shrugged. “Or if the grudge is against his lordship’s father, the list of suspects could be endless. Appears he had the pox and was rather mad in later years. Destroyed a few lives.”
“When were you planning on telling me this?”
The corner of Murdock’s mouth turned up. “Now. I got the letter from his doctor today detailing his condition. I asked when I was there. Dr. McCabe was kind of skittish when I talked to him in person, but he did send the letter as he promised.”
Two new suspects should make Barnabas happy, but given that both of them were hundreds of miles away across the Irish Sea didn’t make them likely suspects. The net was cast far too wide. Although it was the best he had right now. “Any chance Dr. McCabe was in London at the time of the murder?”
“Didn’t ask. But it’s likely his absence would have been noted. Could be he just was nervous about being delayed in seeing his patients.” Murdock turned toward the square. “You better get on.”
*~*~*
Henry stood on the landing of the massive staircase in the Grand Hall and scanned the crowd for the green plaid suit and brown derby. She’d seen Miss Hall boarding the mail train with the squalling baby, but she’d yet to spy the earl. No doubt, he planned on joining his lover for a trip to Ireland.
A brown hat bobbed in the crowd behind a full porter’s cart. Her heart pounded. He couldn’t use such a silly trick to hide from her. She ran down the steps and skirted around the people moving through the Great Hall. But when she cleared the porter’s cart, she couldn’t see him.
She spun around, looking for the telltale green plaid and didn’t see anything. The train on the platform shrilled, giving the five minute warning. Where was he?
She ran out to the platform, searching the people milling about. A few last minute hugs were taking place and passengers who hadn’t boarded were taking their seats. The passengers inside were lit by the lamps. She stared in each of the first class compartments and didn’t see him. Her throat was tight and her palms grew damp, not to mention her hair clung to her forehead because she’d been running so much she was perspiring.
Miss Hall sat demurely with the baby in her lap in what looked like an otherwise empty compartment. Or maybe the earl was hiding on the floor. Henry yanked open the door and scanned the compartment.
Nothing.
Miss Hall’s face pinched.
“Where is he?” Henry demanded.
“W-who are—”
She damn well knew who. “The bloody Evil Earl,” Henry said through gritted teeth.
“He’s not here,” Miss Hall stated the obvious. She shifted the baby on her lap as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Who are you?”
A tap on her shoulder had her whirling around.
“May I see your ticket, ma’am?” asked a man in a railroad uniform.
“I haven’t one. I’m looking for the bloody Earl of Coleraine.”
The attendant didn’t bat an eye. “If you don’t have a first class ticket, I’ll thank you to step away.” He caught her elbow to steer her away from the carriage. “The train is leaving in two minutes.”
Miss Hall watched her with a furrowed brow, but then she turned toward the arches leading into the station.
“He’s trying to escape justice. You have to stop him.” Henry searched the shadows beyond the platform leading into the station, but she couldn’t see anyone. She scanned the platform for the earl. He must be waiting for the last minute to board.
“The only people I have to stop are people trying to ride without tickets.”
“I’m not trying to take the train.” She waved her arms. “I’m trying to keep a murderer from fleeing.”
The attendant scowled at her. “You don’t look like a bobby to me.”
“I’m not. But Inspector Harlow asked me to follow this man. He had to follow another man.” Her explanations sounded weak to her own ears. “I’m certain Coleraine’s planning on leaving on this train.” She caught the attendant’s sleeve and leaned toward him. “Have you seen a man in green with a brown bowler? Dark hair, ghostly pale eyes?”
The train whistle blew. A warning that she was running out of time.
“Ma’am, I have work to do.” He shook his arm free and looked at her like she was a lunatic.
“Please. He can’t get away.”
But her plea fell on deaf ears. He moved away and shut the open doors of the first class carriages. Henry ran along the train. Had the earl boarded one of the second class carriages? If he’d seen her, he might have done that to avoid her. Or perhaps he had hired a horse and would meet the train at the next stop.
The engine hissed and chugged. She ran for a carriage and jumped on. She didn’t have a ticket and she didn’t have enough money on her to pay for a trip to the coast, not even in second class, but she wasn’t going to let the earl get away.
*~*~*
His steps echoing, Barnabas walked through the Great Hall of Euston Station. Few people were about, but none of them appeared to be Henry or the earl. When he hadn’t found her here over an hour ago, he’d checked with her landlady, with the newspaper office, and as a last desperate effort, he’d checked the earl’s half-brother’s apartments. She must have followed Coleraine to the train station. Perhaps she’d boarded the train. His fingers curled in. He wanted to shake her. At the same time, a growing unease dried the back of his throat.
He flagged down a porter and asked him if he’d seen her. The man shook his head. Barnabas headed for the platform and asked some other station employees. No one had seen Henry. They’d seen Miss Hall and the baby board a first class carriage, but they hadn’t seen the earl’s “brother” or any gentleman with her. Did Henry have Coleraine cornered somewhere?
Worse yet, were his instincts off and Coleraine was a killer? Would he have disposed of Henry? Turned her gun on her? He swallowed hard, trying to choke down his unease. No matter whom he questioned he wasn’t coming up with the answer to where Henry was. He left the station and headed back to Scotland Yard to see if any of the police officers he’d stationed in various places had reported her return. In a city of nearly three million people, locating one lone woman who’d gone missing was near impossible.
One lone woman and the man everyone else suspected of being a coldblooded killer. He never should have let Henry follow Coleraine alone. If something happened to her, it would be his fault.