Page 51 of What Cannot Be Said

The implications were blatantly obvious. Hero said, “Are you suggesting Finch might be mad? That he’s the one who killed Laura?”

“I wouldn’t want to think so, no,” said Veronica, still all wide-eyed, earnest innocence. “But one can’t help but wonder....”

“Yes, I can see that,” said Hero, and caught the gleam of triumph that flashed in the other woman’s eyes before being quickly hidden by strategically lowered lashes.

?“Beastly woman,” said Hero, untying the ribbons of her hat as she walked into the library on Brook Street some time later. “I can’t believe I once felt sorry for her, for being forced to marry the rich Mr.Nathan Goodlakes.” She tore off the hat and cast it aside. “Now I’m wondering if she didn’t smother the poor old fool in his sleep.”

Sebastian looked up from where he sat behind his desk, cleaning his small double-barreled flintlock pistol. “Did she deny that she quarreled with Laura over Rhodes?”

“Not precisely. She admits Laura disliked him for owning sugar plantations but denies the stories of rape. Oh, and she thinks it magnanimous of him to have found someone to care for the footman’s brat his scheming little hussy of a housemaid tried to foist onto him.”

“She said that?”

“She did. She then contrived—ever so innocently, of course—to suggest that Major Zacchary Finch should be considered a suspect because he must surely have been driven mad by his years as a prisoner of war.”

“So she knows we have good reason to suspect Basil Rhodes of murder and is trying to direct our attention elsewhere.”

“Oh, she knows, all right.”

“Do you think she suspects him herself?”

Hero met his gaze, her eyes narrowing as she thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t put it beyond her to protect him even if she did think him guilty of murder.”

Chapter 30

Basil Rhodes was coming down the front steps of his Cork Street house when he saw Sebastian walking toward him and drew up abruptly.

“Good heavens,” said the Regent’s natural son with one of his wide, impish grins. “Whatever happened to your face?”

“It seems someone doesn’t like me asking questions.”

The grin widened. “Don’t tell me you’re here to harangue me about these dreadful murders again. And at such a godforsaken hour of the morning! I’m only up because I have an appointment with someone I must see before he leaves town.”

“Fortuitous,” said Sebastian, coming up to him. “As it happens, I’ve discovered what your fight with Laura McInnis in the middle of Bond Street last Saturday was about.”

Rhodes gave an exaggerated jerk, his hair falling into his eyes as he looked sideways. “Have you now?”

“Mmm. Seems she had the effrontery to tell your betrothed about both the infant you abandoned and your habit of raping whatever women might catch your fancy if they’re in no position to either fight back or retaliate. That’s why you went after Lady McInnis—because you were mad as hell at her.”

Rhodes stared at him a moment, then huffed a deep breath. “You think I should have allowed that bloody woman to run around making wild accusations about me without confronting her or making any attempt to defend myself, do you? Let her convince Veronica I’m some ghastly cross between Bluebeard and Henry VIII?”

“The middle of Bond Street does seem a rather strange choice for a conversation of that nature.”

“Strange? It was damned awkward, that’s what it was. The truth is, I encountered her unexpectedly, quite by chance, lost my temper, and lit into her. I’m not saying I’m proud of it—it was a damned stupid thing to have done.”

“Yes,” said Sebastian.

Rather than be offended, Rhodes rocked back on his heels and laughed. “Well, at least we can agree on that. I’ll admit I’m no saint, but it’s not like I ever claimed to be. And it’s outside of enough, her carrying her ridiculous tales to Veronica.”

“You’re saying you didn’t dump your child on a woman with a reputation for quietly eliminating her customers’ inconvenient offspring?”

Rhodes raised one finger in the manner of a debater making a point. “Two things. First of all, I only had that blasted silly housemaid’s word for it that the brat was mine—and I hope you know better than to believe that rubbish Lady McInnis was spewing about me forcing myself on the chit. I know a virgin when I have one, and believe me, Lizzy was no virgin.” He put up another finger. “Secondly, I had no idea Prue Blackadder has a habit of eliminating the babes entrusted to her care. Her name was given to me by several friends who’ve found themselves in a similar situation. I paid through the nose to have her take the brat, and you can’t deny that Pleasant Farm is a lovely place. How was I to know most of her charges don’t live long enough to appreciate it?”

“How, indeed?” said Sebastian, his gaze on an ice cart rattling past them. “You’re fortunate Mrs.Goodlakes appears to believe your protestations of innocence.”

Rhodes’s nearly lashless pale blue eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I understand she’s quite wealthy.”

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