Chapter Forty
The next afternoon, Thea found herself safe and snug in her sister’s drawing room. Gabriel sat to the right of her on the settee, Freddy to the left, and the entire Kent clan was present. Surrounded by the ones she loved, she felt as if a Bach hymn was soaring through her. Her heart was so full it was nigh bursting at the seams.
“All three of you were so brave,” Emma was saying. In her arms, she cradled Olivia, who cooed and tried to grasp her mama’s hair with tiny fists. “A family of derring-doers.”
“Freddy especially,” Thea responded with pride. “Not only did he manage to get into town for help, but he had the forethought to use the invisible ink. He was brilliant.”
Freddy’s face flushed as the others added their nods and words of agreement.
“Like father, like son.” This came from Strathaven, who was busy trying to pry one of Emma’s dark curls from their daughter. “Now, my little angel, don’t grab at your mama,” he admonished.
“Like father, like daughter,” Gabriel said.
They all laughed. Gabriel’s grey eyes were smiling.
“There are a few details we ought to wrap up,” Ambrose said, his mien serious. He turned to his son. “Edward, why don’t you and Freddy go play a game for a bit?”
“But Papa,” Edward protested, “we’re just getting to the interesting part.”
“That’s exactly why you’re leaving,” his father said dryly.
“How am I to become an investigator like you if I can’t learn from your cases?”
“You want to be an investigator like me?” Ambrose’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting to Marianne. She just smiled and shrugged.
“Yes, I do,” Edward affirmed, “and what is more, Freddy and I have decided to open an agency together. When we’re a bit older, of course.”
“Of course,” his father said solemnly. “Until Fredward and Associates comes to fruition, however, I’m afraid you’ll have to occupy yourself with something more suited to your age. Spillikins or quoits, for instance.”
“But Papa—”
“Boys,” Harry interrupted, “I’ve a new invention I want to test out in the garden. Care to lend me a hand?”
The boys looked at Harry and then at each other.
“Yes, please,” Fredward said as one.
“C’mon then.” Harry waved them to the door, and they scampered out.
Then he crooked a finger at Violet, Polly, and Primrose.
The girls groaned in unison.
“We’re not children, Harry,” Violet said, crossing her arms. “You can’t distract us by simply dangling a carrot.”
“No? What about this then?” Withdrawing a leather pouch from his pocket, Harry let it swing enticingly by the strings. “I guarantee it’s something none of you have ever seen before. It’ll be a spectacle for the ages. Men would sell their soul to see it.”
The three girls consulted amongst themselves. Then they, too, got to their feet and headed for the door.
“Gadzooks, you’ve better showmanship than the ringmaster at Astley’s,” Violet grumbled as she passed him. “This had better live up to your claims.”
Thea smiled at her younger brother. “Thank you, Harry. Out of curiosity, what is in the bag?”
“A new substance I’m tinkering with. Chemically, it’s similar to gunpowder,” Harry said, “but with a bit more oomph.”
The door closed behind him.
Strathaven looked at his duchess. “Should we worry about the neighbors?”
“If we hear an explosion, yes,” Emma said.
“Before Harry blows us all to smithereens, I suggest we return to the case at hand.” Ambrose tented his fingers in front of him. “There are a few new facts I’d like to share. As it turns out, you were right, Thea.”
“About what?” Emma said.
“The state of Davenport’s finances,” Ambrose replied. “At Tremont’s request, I spoke with Davenport’s father-in-law, Mr. George Clemens, this morning. I gave him the barest details, keeping identities anonymous. A sharp man, Clemens, worthy of his reputation as London’s brightest solicitor. He was shocked at the nature of Davenport’s activities, but not with the character of his former son-in-law. He said he never trusted Davenport’s suit of his daughter, but when Lady Davenport threatened to elope, he relented and gave in. Not, however, without protecting her interests first.”
“He created a trust for her?” Thea said.
Ambrose nodded.
“How did you know that, Thea?” her sister wanted to know.
“At Lady Davenport’s luncheon, Gabby told me that Mr. Clemens had helped her father to set up a trust to protect her inheritance from fortune hunters,” Thea explained. “When Davenport said he didn’t have access to his wife’s fortune, I put two and two together.”
“Through brilliant legal maneuvering, Clemens managed to fool Davenport into signing the trust. Under its terms, Davenport has no access to the bulk of his wife’s fortune. She could withdraw from her accounts, but Clemens put limits on that too. If anything should happen to her, the money went to the designee of the trust, a distant cousin. Killing her would accomplish nothing for Davenport; in fact, he’d lose the use of her generous quarterly spending account.”
“Mr. Clemens thought of everything,” Thea said.
“He loves his daughter very much. Indeed, he wished to express his gratitude to the anonymous benefactor,”—Ambrose’s eyes crinkled at the corners—“who rid her of her dastardly husband.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Marianne murmured.
“As to that, any news on Heath?” Kent asked Gabriel.
Gabriel nodded. “Malcolm and I spoke to the magistrates. They’re releasing him.”
“Not that Heath seemed too overjoyed about it. Poor chap’s not in his right mind.” John Malcolm—formerly known as Marius—spoke for the first time.
Thea liked Gabriel’s old friend. Especially since Gabriel had admitted to her privately that he understood why Malcolm had faked his own death all those years ago. Malcolm had only wanted to escape the nightmare of espionage and hadn’t realized that Gabriel would be wracked with guilt over his death.
Malcolm had apologized; Gabriel had accepted.
The two had come to terms with the past.
“The opium’s not helping,” Gabriel said soberly. “I hope Heath will take our advice to heart. Try for a fresh start with a clear head.”
“I’ll be here to keep him in line if he doesn’t.” Malcolm’s countenance was set into determined lines. “It’ll be just like the old days, only without the spying, killing, and betrayal.”
“I’ll be here, too,” Gabriel said.
Thea smiled, and when Gabriel looked over at her, she saw that the shadows had lifted from his eyes. One by one, his ghosts were being vanquished.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Jarvis entered to inform them that Lady Blackwood had arrived. She swept into the room a minute later, wearing a dashing aubergine-and-cream striped carriage dress. Thea noted, however, the slight redness of Pandora’s eyes and the puffiness underneath.
Going over to her, Thea said worriedly, “Has something happened?”
Instead of answering, Pandora absently kissed the air near Thea’s cheeks. “I’m here because I received Tremont’s note this morning. I had to come see for myself.” Her gaze landed on Malcolm, who’d stepped forward. “So Tremont wasn’t hallucinating after all.”
“Hello, Pandora.” Malcolm bent over her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“It is a shock to see you.” Despite her tart words, there was a catch in Pandora’s voice that she couldn’t quite hide. “To think, I may have shed a tear or two over your demise. Where have you been hiding all these years?”
“In places you wouldn’t care to know about, my lady.” There was humor in Malcolm’s faded blue eyes. “Now that you’re a marchioness, I’m sure you don’t want to be rubbing elbows with us common riffraff.”
Pandora’s violet eyes shimmered. Her lips trembled.
“I meant no offense,” Malcolm said hastily. “’Twas a jest—”
“No, it’s nothing you said.” Pandora allowed Thea to lead her to an empty chair. Her face crumpling, she said, “It’s my marriage. I think… it is over.”
“What happened?” Thea said with concern.
“Blackwood knows everything. About my past.” Between halting breaths, Pandora said, “Cicero, the bastard, couldn’t resist a final act of destruction. He sent my husband an anonymous letter, and it arrived this morning.”
“How dastardly of him.” Crouching, Thea took the other woman’s hands. “But perhaps honesty is not the worst thing that could happen. Surely if you clear the air now—”
“It’s too late.” Tears tracked down Pandora’s cheeks. “He’s left me. He had his valet pack his things, and he left Town. I don’t even know where.”
“Perhaps he needs time to cool his heels. And his head.” This came from Gabriel, who brought Thea to her feet, his arm around her waist. “We men sometimes let our tempers get the better of us.”
“Not my husband. He’s a proud, loyal, good man.” Pandora took the handkerchief Thea offered and dabbed at her eyes. “And I’ve deceived him from the start.”
Heart wrenching, Thea turned to Gabriel. “Can’t you speak to Blackwood, darling?”
“Me?” He looked as appalled as a stoic man could look.
“You and Mr. Malcolm together. You were her colleagues, after all,” Thea said encouragingly. “Surely if the two of you pled Pandora’s case, told her husband what a true heroine she was during the war, he’d listen.”
“If he doesn’t shoot us dead first,” Malcolm muttered. “Trust me, no man wants to hear about his wife’s past from other men.”
“But we’ll do it.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “If you wish us to, Pandora.”
“Thank you, but no. I made this mess, and it’s up to me to fix it.” The marchioness sat up straight, her face tear-stained but determined. “I shall find a way to win my husband back.”
“You always were a fighter,” Malcolm said, “and a damned fine one at that.”
“Enough of my woes. Let us talk of happier news.” With determined cheer, she said, “When is the wedding to take place?”
Gabriel’s arm tightened around Thea’s waist. “Next Saturday.”
“You’re invited,” Thea hastened to say. “Everyone here is. We haven’t gotten around to invitations given… well…”
“You’ve been a bit busy.” Pandora’s tone was dry.
“You’ll come, won’t you?” Thea said anxiously. “Pandora? Malcolm?”
“To see our old boy embark upon the most important mission of his life?” Malcolm winked. “We wouldn’t miss it for all the secrets in the world, my dear.”