Lady gambit, p.24
Lady Gambit, page 24
Chapter Twenty-One
The Belle Sauvage Inn
Ludgate Hill
Dorian sat in the parked carriage in the outer courtyard of the Belle Sauvage Inn. Part of him wished he was still the man who ambled through the lonely corridors of his manor house, not a man so in love he was about to suffer a seizure.
“Gerald Bertram should be here by now.” Three hours had passed since Meldrum and Delphine entered the Belle Sauvage’s busy inner courtyard. They’d shared supper and retired to their respective rooms, where they remained like sitting ducks. “Why the hell did you suggest this place? It will be impossible to identify Bertram in the crowd.”
With stabling for a hundred horses and an inner courtyard large enough to accommodate ten carriages, the inn was a hive of activity, even at this late hour.
“We must be patient.” Daventry watched as more carriages trundled past and couples on foot came to drink in the taproom and rent a bed for the night. “We need Bertram to believe he can kill a woman here and escape unnoticed.”
Bile stung Dorian’s throat. “You could kill five people and no one would hear the screams. Besides, the son of a devil has done it before.”
Why the hell wasn’t Daventry panicking?
“We’ve men stationed on the street. The Chance brothers are positioned in a room on the upper gallery. Gibbs is in the yard assessing all new arrivals. He’ll give the signal once there’s a confirmed sighting.”
“Gibbs has never seen the villain and has no means of identifying him other than from the brief description I gave him.” No one had spent long enough with Bertram to point him out with any accuracy.
“Gibbs is as shrewd as they come. I trust he will alert us the moment he sees something suspicious. But if it will settle your fears, I’ll enter the taproom and assess the situation there.”
Daventry’s sangfroid used to be a quality Dorian admired—not anymore. “I’m certain you wouldn’t be so composed if your wife was upstairs, waiting for someone to shoot her in the back.”
“Probably not,” Daventry said, his remark feeding Dorian’s growing apprehension. “But Miss Chance is armed, and we’ve eyes and ears everywhere.”
“What makes you so sure Bertram will come? He’ll know it’s a trap.”
Daventry’s grin said he’d dealt with enough fiends to understand their motives. “Why do you think I chose the inn where Miss Chance’s mother was shot? Revisiting the scene to finish the job will be too tempting for Bertram to resist.”
Dorian cursed.
He was one breath away from ruining the plan, from leaping out of the carriage and charging to Delphine’s room, but the comment she made as he kissed her goodbye kept echoing in his mind.
There’s no proof Mr Bertram has committed a crime.
Meldrum would be blamed.
Nora was mad.
Mrs Haggert was the blackmailer.
All evidence against Bertram was circumstantial.
My only hope of gaining justice for my parents is to force him out of the shadows. And I can’t live a happy life if I’m always looking over my shoulder.
Dorian scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed. “The wait is killing me. It’s the worst form of torture.”
“That is the nature of love. To love someone so completely is not without risk or hardship. But I know how this ends. And it’s nothing like the bleak image you paint in your mind.”
He tried to banish his fears and imagine them strolling through the gardens at Mile End, slipping into the orangery to make love. He couldn’t be without her. She brought meaning to his empty existence. She brought hope where there had been despair.
“There is something I’ve not told her,” Daventry said as he peered into the dim courtyard and observed those entering the inn on foot. “I feared it would distract her from her course.”
Dorian’s stomach churned. Another sad story would be one too many. “Does it relate to her parents? I’m not sure she can cope with hearing more depressing tales.”
“It relates to her life before she became Delphine Chance. This is good news. Oscar Chadwick’s father is alive and living in Chichester.”
Dorian sat forward, shock and anger waging war. “Good Lord! Her grandfather is alive, and you’ve not told her? Does Aaron know?”
“No. I had to be certain of the facts. I’d not raise her hopes only to dash them again.” Daventry narrowed his gaze as a carriage rattled by. “Tonight, I need her to focus on catching Bertram.”
Dorian studied the vehicle. The groom’s familiar green livery raised his pulse another notch.
The sudden bang on the window added to the mounting tension, too.
“Something about this don’t feel right,” Gibbs said as soon as Dorian lowered the window. He scanned the cobbled lane leading to the inner courtyard. “We’re like trout nibbling the bait. This cove is cunning. And he’s playing us for fools.”
Daventry fell silent for a moment—lost in thought.
That’s when a figure marched towards them, jabbing a finger at Gibbs. “You! You there! I recognise you from the Old Swan.”
Saints and sinners!
What was the Earl of Retford doing at the Belle Sauvage?
Dorian’s father strode up to Gibbs. “I assume my son is here. Fetch him before I raze this damn place to the ground.”
“Fetch him yourself. I ain’t your lackey.” Gibbs shooed the earl away. “I don’t care who you are. I answer to no one but my maker.”
Affronted, the earl looked like he might thump Gibbs, but he caught sight of Dorian sitting in the carriage, and a row erupted.
“Of all the rotten schemes your mother invented to hold me to ransom, this one takes the biscuit.” The earl stamped his foot on the cobblestones. “I thought you were cut from a different cloth. Evidently, I was mistaken.”
The devil’s own fury burned in Dorian’s chest, but he kept his tone even. “Go home, Father. I’m tired of watching you act like a fool.”
The earl yanked the carriage door open. “There’s only one fool here. I offer you the world, and you throw it back in my face. What son does that? A thankless one, I say. Now, get out of this vehicle.”
Dorian noted a few bystanders watching from the entrance to the inner courtyard. Bertram could be amongst them. A diversion would give him the perfect moment to strike.
Indeed, he needed to get rid of his father and quickly.
With his temper rearing like an untamed stallion, Dorian vaulted to the ground and faced his father. “You reap what you sow. You had no interest in me when I was a boy. I’m not interested in you now.”
The earl’s face ballooned, his glower conveying the depth of his displeasure. “I’m warning you. Marry that strumpet, and you’ll not get another penny from me.”
Strumpet? Was he referring to Delphine?
How had the earl known where to find him? And how had he learned of Dorian’s intention to marry her? No one but her family knew—and Lord Meldrum. But he’d been hiding in a rented room for two hours.
“I don’t need your money. I’ve never drawn my allowance.”
“No, because you’re happy to live in a hovel.”
“Flynn owns a large manor house south of the Thames,” Daventry said as he rounded the carriage. “He uses the room above the Swan while working in town. Presently, he’s investigating a matter on behalf of the Home Secretary. Some men are made for idleness. Some lead the country to greatness.”
Dorian glanced at Daventry with untold respect. They were kindred spirits—the illegitimate sons of heartless men and devious women.
The earl blinked and stuttered in shock, but he picked his arrogance off the floor and dusted it down quickly. “You’re nothing without me.”
Dorian squared his shoulders. “I’ll never be your puppet. Had you taken the time to nurture a relationship, I may have followed you to the ends of the earth. As it is, I wouldn’t piss in your chamber pot.”
Before the earl could respond, Daventry said, “We’re acting on behalf of the Crown, and you’re hindering an investigation. How did you know Flynn was here?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the earl said, stony-faced.
Daventry’s eyes darkened, and he looked like a panther on the prowl. “If our client dies because you failed to reveal a crucial piece of evidence, I shall take the matter to the highest authority.”
“I’ll answer to no one but the King.”
“I’m sure the King will be keen to hear of your failings.”
Dorian stepped forward, his face mere inches from his father’s. “If you care for me at all, you will help me save my betrothed from a devious villain. This is your only chance to prove I mean something to you. How did you know to come here?”
The earl failed to answer.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Daventry said in disgust.
Dorian was wrong to say he felt nothing. His father’s silence brought the same crushing inadequacy he had felt as a child. It was hard to rise above it, hard to accept he was the better man, and move on.
“My father had me followed.” Dorian turned his back on his kin and focused on his future. “How else could he know I was here? The important question is, how does he know I plan to marry Delphine?”
A frown marred Daventry’s brow. “I don’t know, but Bertram is devious. He’s skilled at hiding in the darkness. He’s always one step ahead.”
Above the racket of those drinking in the taproom, the earl coughed to get their attention. “A penny boy brought a letter to my club. I was told my son planned to marry some nameless chit, and they were staying here before eloping in the morning.”
Dorian’s pulse pounded in his throat. “The bastard knows we’re here and still means to kill Delphine. It’s not about keeping his secret. It’s about punishing her for ruining his plans. He’s determined to settle a personal score. Wait here. Let no one pass.”
He took to his heels and darted along the cobblestones, through the inner courtyard and up the stairs to the upper gallery. He hammered on Delphine’s door, relieved to see her face at the window.
“Dorian?” She frowned as she peered around the jamb. “What are you doing here? Have you found Mr Bertram? Has he confessed to killing my parents?”
“No, but I needed to know you were safe before I tore this place apart.” He reached for her, gripping her hand to quell his raging fear. “Lock the door. Don’t answer it again until I return.”
She nodded, her mouth drawn into a tense line. “Hurry back.”
He waited to hear the lock click, then raced to Meldrum’s room and thumped the door with his clenched fist.
Aaron Chance appeared on the landing. “Have you lost your mind? What the hell are you doing up here? You’ll ruin the plan.”
Though breathless, Dorian quickly explained his fears. “Meldrum must have sent a secret message when his coachman delivered the letter to Bertram.” They had read the letter before Meldrum sealed it. Everything seemed above board. “Or Bertram knew to expect a trap.”
Aaron’s head shot in the direction of Delphine’s room.
“She’s safe.” Dorian kicked Meldrum’s door this time. “But I’ll not stand helplessly and wait for the bastard to strike. I intend to hunt him down. Deal with him in a manner I see fit.”
“Agreed.” Aaron flexed his fingers as he scoured the darkness. “I’ll fetch my brothers. We’ll get justice for Delphine our way.”
Tired of getting no response from Meldrum and wondering if the lord might be dead, Dorian barged the rickety door with his shoulder.
Meldrum was asleep on the bed, holding an empty silver flask.
Dorian dragged the lord by the waistcoat, forcing him to stand. “Bertram knows we’re here. You told him of our plan. How, I cannot fathom. So if you want to live to see sunrise, start talking.”
Meldrum blinked sleep from his eyes. “Y-you saw the letter. I wrote exactly what you told me, not a word more.”
“What the devil did you say to your coachman? You gave him a message to relay to Bertie.”
Meldrum’s breathing quickened. “I told him to deliver the note, that’s all. I need Aaron Chance to clear my debts to Fortune’s Den. Why would I risk his wrath?”
“Because you’re in love with your beloved Bertie.”
Meldrum blanched. “I assure you, I am not.”
“I’ve been watching the entrance for three bloody hours, and there’s been no sign of him.” Had Bertram donned a disguise and sauntered past them unnoticed? If so, where was he, and how did he mean to murder Delphine? “He knows I’m here because he sent a note to Boodle’s, alerting my father.”
“Bertie is an intelligent man. He will have anticipated your move. He’ll not risk his neck. Besides, I don’t believe he’s responsible for the things you claim. In barking up the wrong tree, you’ve let the real villain escape.”
Dorian took less than a second to consider the suggestion.
“Bertram killed Delphine’s parents.” He felt the truth of it to the marrow of his bones. “He cannot afford for her to regain her memory.” She had to know something about the man, something that would make him risk everything to silence her.
Meldrum refused to believe his friend was culpable. “Perhaps Bertie came here to wish me well. Perhaps he saw you and thought it odd.”
“I’d have seen him pass through the entrance.”
“Perhaps he was supping in the taproom and saw us arrive.”
Releasing the fop, Dorian exhaled in exasperation. If the lord had an ounce of sense, he would be dangerous. “It would have been impossible for Bertram to travel from Nelson Square and arrive before we did.”
“Nelson Square?” Meldrum looked confused.
“You said he was staying with you in Southwark.”
“Yes, but his mistress has a house in Warwick Square. He called there last night. I told my coachman to try that address before venturing to Southwark.”
Dorian’s blood froze in his veins. “Warwick Square is less than a five-minute walk from here.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. If Bertie was guilty, he would have been here by now.” Meldrum sat on the bed. “The fellow never stays in the same place for long. He certainly wouldn’t wait in the darkness for hours.”
No, not unless it was part of the plan.
Dorian scoured his mind for answers.
The best solution to Bertie’s problem was to blame Meldrum for Delphine’s murder. Perhaps he meant to wait until the morning before launching an attack. He might hold them up on the road, make murder look like a highway robbery gone awry.
No.
Wicked men often revisited the scenes of their crimes.
Arrogant men liked to outwit their opponents.
Bertram would do the deed tonight under cover of darkness, which meant Delphine would need a reason to visit Meldrum’s room or vice versa.
“Have you spoken to anyone since you entered this room?”
Meldrum shook his head and gestured to the crumpled bedclothes. “I’ve not moved from the bed. Well, except to read the note from Aaron Chance. It’s on top of the chest of drawers.”
Dorian’s hands shook as he peeled back the folds and read the brief missive. Aaron advised Meldrum to check on his sister hourly.
“I’d have gone but fell asleep,” Meldrum said.
“This letter isn’t from Aaron Chance.” They’d agreed not to veer from the plan. He was suddenly glad Meldrum had slept. Had he gone to Delphine’s room, they would both be dead.
Still, they were missing something crucial.
Dorian was considering the possibility that Bertram had abandoned his plan when Daventry burst into Meldrum’s room. “You’re not going to like this. I’m unsure how to proceed, but I know where Bertram is hiding.”
“Where?” Dorian said, fear lancing through him as he realised there was only one place Bertram could hide without them spotting him. A place he could achieve his goal without worrying about witnesses.
“The woman manning the counter in the taproom said a man arrived twenty minutes before us. He paid for Miss Chance to have her favourite room, said he was her brother and it was a surprise. The point is, it’s the only one with a hidden cupboard.”
Dorian didn’t need to ask Daventry what that meant.
Bertram had been lurking inside Delphine’s room for hours.
The devil was merely waiting for the right moment to attack.
Delphine peered through the dusty windowpane into the dim courtyard below. Her heart thundered so fast she could hardly breathe. A murderer lingered in the darkness, waiting for her to make a mistake.
Was this how her mother had spent her last night?
Had she known a monster lay in wait?
Sofia must have known something was wrong. She was found face down on the cobbled walkway. Bertram had waited until the toll of the bells to shoot, hitting her in the back as one did a fox fleeing a hen house.
For the third time in as many minutes, she checked the door was locked and moved to sit on the bed.
Her leg hadn’t stopped shaking since Dorian left.
But she was safe in the room. Her brothers had taken one close by and would watch the door like a hawk did prey.
Nerves forced her to the window again. Dorian had gone tearing after the villain, risking his neck to ensure she could live the rest of her life in peace. Love wasn’t about gifts or nice outings. Love wasn’t about reaching a climax while locked in a warm embrace. Love was a selfless act. A sacrifice made for the good of another.
There was no question her mother had loved her.
There was no doubt Dorian loved her, too.
Perhaps that’s why she felt so afraid.
Unable to settle, she retrieved the pistol from under her pillow and placed it on the nightstand. Lewd sounds emanated from the room next door. The earlier argument was now a catalogue of deep groans, incessant banging and the occasional high-pitched squeal.
