Page 69 of What Cannot Be Said

“Bloody hell,” Sebastian said softly, and turned away to stare out over Alexi’s dripping-wet garden.

Gibson tilted his head, watching him out of his good eye. “You still don’t have any idea who’s doing this?”

“Oh, I have lots of ideas—and no proof of any of them.”

“That’s bad.”

“Yes.” Sebastian turned to look back at his friend’s bruised and battered face. “Yes, it is.”

?The rain was still falling when Sebastian met with Sir Henry Lovejoy in a coffeehouse overlooking the sodden stalls and subdued, wet crowds of Covent Garden Market. “There’s no doubt this throws an entirely different light on things,” said Lovejoy after Sebastian had given him an abbreviated version of what they had learned about Sir Ivo McInnis. The magistrate was silent for a moment, his gaze on the steam rising from the cup of hot chocolate on the table before him. “And yet...” He paused. “I can see a man with a reputation for violence killing his wife because he suspects her of having an affair—particularly if her death will enable him to marry the seductive young widow with whom he has become involved. But for him to kill an innocent sixteen-year-old girl simply because she might not be his daughter is considerably more difficult to believe. Could any man be that monstrous? If we were talking about a boy child—an heir—whom he suspected of not being his, then that might make sense as a motive. But why kill the girl? Out of sheer rage?”

Sebastian wrapped his hands around his hot coffee. “I suppose that could have played a part, but it appears there may have been a financial incentive, as well—at least according to Mrs.Edmondson, who says that under the terms of Laura’s marriage settlement, Emma was owed a portion of ten thousand pounds. Now, with the death of both mother and elder daughter, all of Laura’s dowry with the exception of Thisbe’s portion will remain part of the McInnis estate.”

Lovejoy frowned. “I was under the impression the old Viscount was too far under the hatches to provide his daughter with much of a dowry.”

“He was. The current Lord Salinger’s father-in-law, Septimus Bain, put up the capital to secure a ‘respectable’ alliance for his daughter’s sister-in-law.”

“Ah.” Lovejoy raised his hot chocolate to his lips and took a tentative sip. “Under the right circumstances, ten thousand pounds could certainly be construed as an ample incentive for murder.”

“What do we know about Sir Ivo’s movements that Sunday?”

“As it happens, he was attending a pugilistic match out at Copthall Common. There’s no doubt about that; he was seen by many.” Lovejoy paused. “Although obviously he could have hired a killer, and then made it a point to display himself very publicly at the crucial time.”

“And now he’s using the same man to try to kill his wife’s niece and nephew.”

Lovejoy nodded thoughtfully. “If Lady McInnis had been the only victim of what happened out at Richmond Park, then Sir Ivo might well have been seen as our most likely suspect from the very beginning. It was largely his daughter’s death—combined with the strange positioning of the bodies—that seemed to rule that out.” He settled the cup back in its saucer. “How very diabolical this all is. Do you think McInnis is indeed our man?”

Sebastian settled back in his chair. “I wouldn’t say I’m entirely convinced of it yet, no. I can see McInnis trying to silence Percy and Arabella out of fear they might have seen or heard something that could identify him. But I’m still stumped by the role played in all this by little Gilly Harper—unless of course she was killed by someone else entirely, and then whoever McInnis hired to attack his wife’s niece and nephew took advantage of the strange circumstances of the apprentice’s death to pose the abigail in a similar way and throw us off.”

“Perhaps. Or Gilly’s death and the attacks on Lord Salinger’s children could be totally unrelated.” Lovejoy frowned. “Although I’ll admit I still find that difficult to believe.”

“Unless the murders out at Richmond Park inspired a completely unrelated killer here in London to do something similar.”

The magistrate’s eyes widened. “Now, there’s a frightening thought.”

“Yes.”

Lovejoy cleared his throat. “As it happens, we do now have one other possible suspect. Young Master Percy tells us he thinks the man who attacked him in Hyde Park may have resembled a Jamaican fencing master named Damion Pitcairn. Are you familiar with the fellow?”

Sebastian felt a chill pass over him, but he was careful to keep his voice even, nonchalant. “I am, yes. And frankly, I can’t believe he has anything to do with what’s happened.”

“Interesting. Well, we’ve set some of the lads to looking into him, in any case. The Home Secretary in particular is quite keen on the possibility he may be our man.” Lovejoy took another slow sip of chocolate. “I’m afraid the Palace is increasing the pressure on Bow Street to have someone remanded into custody quickly. The Home Secretary tells us the Prince is outraged to discover we’ve been looking into Mr.Basil Rhodes, with the result that we’ve now been ordered to stay far, far away from the man.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. Jarvis was threatening me with mayhem and murder over it again last night.”

Lovejoy sighed. “My lads were trying to work quietly, but obviously they weren’t quiet enough.”

“Did they discover anything?”

“Well, it turns out there is a discrepancy in Mr.Rhodes’s account of his movements last Sunday. He’s been heard to claim he was attending a pugilistic match last Sunday at Moulsey Hurst. Except of course there was no match at Moulsey Hurst that day; it was out at Copthall Common.”

Sebastian gave a soft huff of laughter. “Sounds like the kind of mistake Rhodes would make.”

“He’s obviously hiding something. According to his servants, Rhodes went out late Sunday morning—walking—without saying where he was going, and remained gone for a considerable time, not returning until the evening.”

“Sounds rather ominous. Have you asked Rhodes for an explanation?”

“No. I fear it would be unwise to antagonize the Palace any further at this point.” He paused, then added, “Unwise for us, that is.” Then Lovejoy settled his cup in its saucer, and Sebastian saw the magistrate’s eyes narrow with a hint of one of his rare smiles.

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