Page 94 of What Cannot Be Said

Her head fell back as she looked up at Sebastian, her wet face now blank with shock. “He’s dead. Percy’s dead. Papa killed him.”

Chapter 57

Wednesday, 2 August

The night was dying before Sebastian made it back to Brook Street; a faint bloom of light already showing in the east promised a new day. For a long time he stood beside his open bedroom window, his head bowed so that his forehead pressed against the cool glass. He sucked in a deep breath and smelled the lingering acrid tinge of last night’s fireworks. He kept his eyes wide open because he knew if he closed them, his mind would conjure up visions of a moment he suspected he would never forget. The well of tormented grief and horror in a father’s eyes. The fierce determination that hardened Salinger’s expression as he turned his blade to thrust it deep into his own chest.

“You tried,” Hero said quietly as she came to stand beside him, her hand soft and warm as it rested on Sebastian’s bare hip. “At least you saved Arabella.”

“I’d rather have saved Salinger—before he killed Percy. Although one wonders what sort of life the man could have lived, knowing what his children had done.”

“You don’t believe Arabella was as innocent as she would have us think?”

He found himself remembering that pair of small, bloodstained gloves he’d found shoved into the hollow of a tree. “Do you?”

“I’d like to, but...” Hero paused, then shook her head. “No. No, I don’t.”

?Later that morning, Sir Henry Lovejoy once again sat in the drawing room of the house in Brook Street, a cup of tea in his hands. The day had dawned warm and clear, with a golden sun that shone cheerfully out of an idyllic blue sky. But deep within himself, Lovejoy felt cold, so cold he wondered if he’d ever be right again. He tried taking a sip of his tea but couldn’t, and he found his hands shaking so badly that the cup rattled as he lowered it back to its saucer. “Percy’s body was recovered shortly after sunrise,” he told Lord and Lady Devlin. “Near Rotherhithe. But last I heard, Salinger had not yet been found.”

As before, Devlin stood near the room’s front windows, his arms now crossed at his chest. “Had the boy been stabbed?”

Lovejoy cast an apologetic glance at Lady Devlin, who, also as before, sat nearby. “Actually, his throat was slit.”

“My God,” whispered Devlin.

Lovejoy cleared his throat. “Two river thieves with a known propensity for violence who were picked up this morning have agreed to confess to the murders of Percy and Salinger in exchange for a promise that their death sentences for theft will be commuted to transportation.”

Lovejoy suspected from the expression on the Viscount’s face that he knew the thieves would never live to see Botany Bay, but all Devlin said was, “That was quick.”

“Yes, the Palace is most anxious to allay the public’s fears. People were already nervous as a result of the other recent murders. There was concern that if a suspect were not already in custody when it became known that a peer of the realm and his young son had been attacked and brutally murdered in the midst of the Regent’s grand fireworks display, there would be widespread panic.”

“And will the same two thieves be blamed for the murders of Lady McInnis and her daughter out at Richmond Park?”

“Ah, no. Those killings are to be attributed to the thatcher, Cato Coldfield.”

“Convenient.”

“Is it not? But the river thieves have also confessed to the murders of the two young women, Gilly Harper and Cassy Jones.”

“Did Arabella ever explain why they killed Gilly?”

“She claims they did not. She says Percy posed her abigail’s body in the same manner as the newspapers described Gilly to confuse things.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. The problem is, if they didn’t kill Gilly, then who did?”

“I’ve had a note from Gibson saying he doesn’t believe Gilly was stabbed by the same person who killed Cato and Cassy.”

“Indeed? Well, I won’t call off the search for the cheesemonger, then. If we find her, I’ve no doubt Sidmouth would be delighted to hang her, too.”

“So who is supposed to have killed Cato?”

“I don’t believe that has been decided yet, but I’ve no doubt Sidmouth is working on it.”

“I’m confident the Home Secretary will find someone to hang for it.”

“No doubt.”

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