Lady gambit, p.12
Lady Gambit, page 12
Mr Flynn would be on his knees, begging for an end to his misery.
“I’m not afraid of your brother. But I’ll not take a gift meant for your husband.” His voice was firm now, resolute. “Nor would I do the unthinkable and ask you to marry a man you don’t love just to ease a physical ache. A loveless marriage damages more than the two people involved.”
No, she suspected these cravings weren’t love.
Though she was hardly experienced enough to judge.
But what was this force of nature, the magnetic pull that made them act so recklessly? If it was lust, perhaps the feelings would fade. How were they to know? How might they find out?
“You’re a man who plans for the future.” His desire for financial independence was the driving force behind his success. “I live for the moment. I never expected to like you, Mr Flynn. I never—”
“Dorian. You should call me by my given name when we’re alone.”
She smiled. “Dorian.” Her insides melted as the word slipped from her lips. “I liked you the moment we met.” She’d felt an instant attraction. It hit her like a bolt from the heavens whenever their eyes met. “Still, it’s unfair to draw you into an affair when there is so much at stake.”
His long exhale carried the sound of regret. “I like you, Miss Chance, more than I’d care to admit, but—”
“Delphine. We’re friends, are we not?”
“Delphine.” Each syllable fell like a soft moan of pleasure. “If I were a different man, I would visit your bedchamber tonight and say to hell with the consequences. But that would make me as selfish as my father, and that’s one thing I could never endure.”
It occurred to her that Mr Flynn would always be alone.
He had not sought a companion in five years.
He would not marry for anything but love.
It was evident he had never suffered this dilemma.
Sensible adults would show restraint … but what if this was the beginning of something special? What if their happiness depended upon one reckless decision? If she had one wish, she would rather glimpse her future than know the secrets of the past.
“You make a habit of comparing yourself to your father when you’re nothing like him. I don’t know what happened between your parents, but you’re not—”
“My father lusted after his wife’s maid. He bought her a cottage and visited her until he grew bored.” His tone was like a Baltic wind, bitter and biting. The deep creases on his brow said this was a tragedy, a tale without hope. “He sired a son out of wedlock, a son he didn’t give a damn about until the boy came of age and proved useful.”
He spoke as if the boy were a stranger.
Perhaps that’s how one dealt with pain.
They were still holding hands, and so she gave his a gentle squeeze. “He wants you to marry Miss Montague, but you refuse. He tries to buy your loyalty, which is why you work so hard, why Mile End is your sanctuary.”
It would have been so easy to accept his father’s gifts. The fact Mr Flynn had chosen the hard path was a testament to his moral character. Indeed, it only made her admire him all the more.
“It won’t be my sanctuary for much longer. I limit my visits to Mile End because I refuse to have that man in my house. It takes skill to evade his spies. It won’t take long for him to learn I own a house south of the river.”
A pang of guilt hit her squarely in the chest. He’d not wanted this case, he’d not wanted houseguests either, but Mr Daventry had left him with little choice.
“Then we will leave Mile End and find somewhere else to hide.” He had already done more than anyone could ask of him. “I shall send a note to Aaron at once and have him make the arrangements.”
“No.”
“No? But you—”
“I made a promise I intend to keep.” He met her gaze. The same tenacity that had earned him his independence shone in his dark eyes. “A man is nothing without the strength of his word.”
And yet, there had to be another reason he wanted her to stay at Mile End. He could have suggested joining them at another location, tried to find a different solution.
“I’m not convinced that’s why you want me to stay.” Her bold statement was met with silence. “If we’re friends, Dorian, you must trust me with the truth.”
He shifted in the chair. There was a short pause before he found the courage to say, “I like having you there. I like knowing you’ve touched my things. I told myself I craved peace and solitude. The truth is there’s something beautiful about the chaos.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes. She had taken so much for granted. The days spent cramped in Mrs Maloney’s small bookshop were the happiest of her life. There was always someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, cry with. Someone to love.
She thought about their family meetings around the table at Fortune’s Den, the arguments, the skylarking, the laughter. The scene was so opposed to the solemn image of Mr Flynn dining alone.
“Strong bonds are formed during hard times.” She had found love and kinship amid her family’s suffering. Yes, there were rules. Yes, Aaron kept secrets, but she should have had the faith to challenge him. He would have listened if she’d fought harder. “What is the definition of family?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? I was only allowed home from school if my father agreed to visit. My mother blamed me for his inconstancy. I was the insufferable wretch who kept him away.”
She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a lingering kiss to his broad palm. “Family is not defined by blood. Family is about friendship and trust and loyalty.”
“One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives.”
She smiled. “You quote Euripides. The ancient philosophers were so wise. How is it, hundreds of years later, we’re still learning the same lessons?”
“Ignorance is the curse of humanity.”
Upon hearing the harried clip of footsteps in the corridor outside, she released his hand but had one more thing to say before they were interrupted.
“Whatever happens between us, know that I will always be someone you can count on. There will always be a place beside my hearth for you.” Their lives were bound together now. “Should you ever crave company and a little chaos in your life, you can always depend on me.”
Chapter Ten
Dr Casper Collins, an ageing man with bad breath and flabby jowls, stood beside the rickety bed in his office, a poultice pressed to the raised lump on his head. “Nora Adkins is the devil incarnate.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?” Dorian recalled the woman who had pranced about in her cell spouting gibberish. Had Nora lost all grasp of reality, or was she trying to convey a covert message?
“A mere mortal cannot move that fast.” The doctor would rather blame the supernatural than his lack of foresight. “I left her lying there, blood seeping from the wound, while I went to fetch a bandage. I didn’t know she was behind me until she thumped me with the bottle.”
“Was she not strapped to the bed?” Dorian stepped past the doctor to examine the unbuckled leather straps. As always, his gaze drifted to Miss Chance, who was attempting to read a note on the doctor’s desk. “Did a guard or porter not wait in the room? Is Nora Adkins not considered a dangerous patient?”
The doctor’s cheeks reddened. “It was late. The porters were dealing with a tussle between two patients in the women’s gallery. Nora was injured. She could barely walk, let alone attack a man in a wild frenzy.”
Miss Chance silently urged him to keep the doctor talking, and then she turned the note to face her and scanned the script.
“The Superintendent said she fell. Would that be your medical opinion?”
The doctor nodded. “She hit her forehead while locked in her cell. I can think of no other explanation.”
Dorian could. An aggressive guard sought to punish Nora, and that’s why she walloped the doctor and ran. “Might a member of staff have attacked her? Someone with a key to her room?” Someone keen to silence a witness.
The man’s cheeks ballooned at the ridiculous suggestion. “Any rumours of mistreatment are baseless. Yes, we restrain some patients for their own safety, but to my knowledge, we do so with the utmost care.”
“Did Nora say anything while you were tending to her wound?” Miss Chance said, stepping away from the desk so as not to arouse suspicion.
“Just the same gibberish she has been spouting for a week.”
“What exactly did she say?”
The doctor wiggled his forehead and winced. “Forgive me. It’s hard to think with this throbbing pain. Erm … she said something about Lucifer and a red eye on a stick making people dizzy.”
“Anything else?” Miss Chance was determined to press the doctor for information. “Think. It may be important. Nora may be a danger to herself and the public. We must locate her without delay.”
The doctor pursed his lips. “She said something about finding the girl before it was too late. Then she stole my keys and locked me in this room.”
Finding the girl?
Had Nora escaped to find Caterina?
How would she know where to look?
“I’ll need to see her room,” Dorian said firmly.
The doctor obliged and accompanied them to the dank cell at the end of the long gallery. All was quiet. They passed people shuffling along the capacious corridor, looking befuddled about where to place their feet. They met the blank stares of those behind locked doors, their solemn faces pressed to the bars.
“When someone absconds, it unsettles the other patients,” the doctor explained, opening the door to Nora’s cell. “It’s like the lull before the storm. It will be hell in here tonight.”
Miss Chance put her hand to her mouth as she crossed the threshold. The pungent stench of filth and bodily odours were often worse in the height of summer. “It’s hard to believe Miss Adkins spent sixteen years in this room.” Creases formed on her brow as she scanned the small space. “Most patients are released within months.”
The place was cold, dank and dreary.
There was nothing in the room but a bed.
“We consider Miss Adkins an incurable case,” the doctor said, unperturbed by the pitiful conditions. “I believe they held her for a month at the old site in Moorfields before transferring her here.”
“Has she received any visitors?” Dorian hoped there was a record in the files. One name would be enough. One name might be the only clue they needed.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then who pays to keep her here?”
The man gave a nonchalant shrug. “A family member. They pay a lump sum to the board per annum. That’s what my predecessor said.”
Something strange was afoot.
Nora Adkins had the air of a person raised in the rookeries. Someone of modest means could not afford to keep a relative at Bethlem. Not for sixteen years.
Aware the doctor had no more information to impart, and keen to rifle through the files, Dorian asked him to escort them back to the office.
The Superintendent was waiting for them outside the apothecary shop in the hall. He marched towards them and handed Dorian a pile of papers bound with tatty string. “That’s all I have on Nora Adkins. Approach the board if you have plans to return. I’ll not have your visits unnerving the patients. Nora would still be in her cell if you’d not come to harass her.”
Desperate for them to leave, Powell gestured to the burly porter tapping his foot by the open front door.
Dorian found this weak attempt at intimidation amusing. “Your sly manner tells me you’re hiding something, Powell. For your sake, I hope I’m wrong. If you’re to blame for what happened here, it will be your neck for the noose.”
They left Powell quaking in his boots and walked to St George’s Road, where Gibbs had parked the carriage. Daventry’s man was a blunt fellow who made it clear he was a colleague, not their servant.
“Mr Daventry arrived with a note.” Gibbs reached down from atop his box and handed Dorian the missive. “We’ve a detour to make before we visit the Old Swan. I’m to take you to Nelson Square. It’s half a mile as the crow flies. The details are in the letter.”
While Miss Chance watched him intently, Dorian broke the seal and scanned the missive. “It appears your brother blackened Meldrum’s eye when questioning him this morning. Daventry believes the lord is hiding at his sister’s house in Nelson Square while the lady is taking the waters in Bath.”
Miss Chance was not surprised to hear of her brother’s violent outburst. “Is there any mention of a confession?” Her sudden laugh said she knew the answer. “Strike that from the record. Had Lord Meldrum given my brother cause to believe he was responsible for the shooting, he’d be preparing for a dawn appointment.”
He glanced at the paper in his hand, a visceral loathing taking command as he read the last few lines. “Meldrum denied any involvement but has made you an offer of marriage. He will make you mistress of Farnworth Park if Aaron agrees to clear his debts.”
The lady’s cheeks ballooned. “As if I would be so shallow as to accept. Surely he knows Aaron would never place money or reputation before the wishes of his kin.”
“Lord Meldrum is a respected man.” And one Dorian would likely throttle if he laid a hand on Delphine Chance. “Respected enough that people would overlook your status. Your children would hold an important place in society.”
She looked at him like he had two heads. “Whether I’m heir to a fortune or from lowly beginnings, I will marry for love. Shame on you for suggesting otherwise.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “All the more reason we should keep a tight rein on our emotions. I would hate for you to regret giving me the gift meant for a man you adore.” His words lacked conviction. Having her had quickly become the only thing he coveted.
“You’re the man I admire most,” she said, offering every temptation. “Is that not a promising beginning?”
Gibbs coughed to gain their attention. “Can you have this discussion in the carriage? I’m paid to ferry you to Nelson Square, not listen to a lovers’ quarrel.”
“We’re colleagues, not lovers,” Dorian snapped.
“And I’m the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Move your arses.”
Dorian shot the man a stern look and opened the carriage door. He knew Gibbs was as coarse as they came but admired his honesty.
“When we question Lord Meldrum, we should focus on the facts,” Miss Chance said once they’d settled inside the conveyance. “We will use other methods to frighten the lord into confessing his sins.”
“What facts?” Dorian held the overhead strap as the vehicle picked up speed. “We know nothing about Meldrum except that he’s destined for the Marshalsea.” Although noblemen always found a way to save their rotten necks.
The aristocracy was a mischief of rats.
They gathered in cities, greed making them fat.
“We know he’s on Bethlem’s Board of Governors. I saw a letter on the physician’s desk.” She sounded proud of her efforts as she fixed her intelligent gaze upon him. “And we know he visited the hospital last night when Nora was reported missing.”
“We do?”
“We do.” She reached into her reticule and removed a small scrap of paper. “The physician was warned not to mention Lord Meldrum’s secret visit.” She touched his hand when giving him the note. Her coy grin said it was deliberate. “We might use it as leverage.”
He scanned the barely legible script. “I’m impressed. You saw the importance of biding time.” He wasn’t sure if it was admiration causing his heart to gallop or the thought of how he might reward her for her efforts. “A good investigator knows not to question a witness until they have gathered more facts.”
“As Aaron is dealing with Lord Meldrum, I planned to give him the note, but perhaps there’s a reason fate left it for me to find. Just like there’s a reason we’ve been forced to work together.”
“I don’t doubt there’s an invisible force at play.”
This ineffable bond they shared transcended the ordinary.
Her mouth curled into a smile that could light the night sky. “You see how much easier it is when we’re both open and honest. Let’s make a pact not to keep secrets.”
He laughed. “Very well, though don’t ask me what I’m thinking unless you’re prepared to hear the answer.”
The carriage rolled to a stop in Nelson Square. To avoid warning Meldrum of their arrival, Gibbs parked on the east side of the square, though he still had a clear view of the impressive townhouse.
“I’ll move the carriage once you’re inside,” Gibbs said as they alighted. “After I’ve made sure we’re not being followed.”
Miss Chance placed a calming hand on her chest. “If only we’d been this careful the day my brother was shot.”
“It takes one mistake to change the course of fate,” Gibbs said. He had been spending too much time with Lucius Daventry because there was something of a wise scholar in his tone. “It might be years before you understand why the gods moved the playing pieces.”
Dorian suspected the gods had a small part to play. Daventry had forced him to take the case, to have Miss Chance as a guest at his house and work alongside her. Daventry had left them alone to explore their growing desires. Was it a coincidence Destiny and Daventry began and ended with the same letter and had the same number of syllables?
He was still thinking about the dramatic turn of events when the young butler greeted them at Meldrum’s door. As agreed, Miss Chance introduced herself as she was more likely to gain entrance.
“I shall enquire if his lordship can receive you.”
“I’m quite certain Lord Meldrum will want to see me,” she said with a winsome smile. “Please explain that I am here with my chaperone to discuss his recent proposal.”
The butler looked down his nose at Dorian and demanded to know his name. Then he bowed and said, “Please wait here.”
Less than a minute later, they were ushered into the opulent drawing room, where Meldrum sat cradling a glass of brandy and nursing a bruised eye.
