Page 80 of Speculations in Sin

The door to Mr. Zachary’s office opened abruptly, and three people emerged. I halted in the middle of the corridor, unable to hide but unwilling to run.

One of those who strode toward me was the doorman, his bearing filled with annoyance that I hadn’t remained outside like the uninvited guest I was. The other two were the willowy Miss Swann and Mr. Kearny himself.

“Mrs. Holloway?” Mr. Kearny’s voice was welcoming, ingratiating. “How can I help you? Is Mrs. Millburn all right?”

His use of Joanna’s name wiped away any eloquent speeches I could have made. I waited for him to reach me in silent anger, my fists balled.

The doorman, his duty fulfilled, moved past me with a huff of disapproval and pattered down the stairs, probably to make certain the unkempt Daniel hadn’t followed me inside.

Mr. Kearny halted before me, his demeanor only that of aconcerned friend. Miss Swann, more puzzled than worried, peered at me as though trying to understand why I was standing in the upstairs corridor.

I recalled watching Miss Swann’s sister in drab gray leading their elderly relative down the equally gray street to take the air. I could feel sorry for Miss Swann, I supposed, who had to return home each day to the unsmiling women I’d seen. Her salary must pay for the house and the care of her relations.

At the moment, however, my attention was all for Mr. Kearny. No accusatory words leapt to my lips, though I longed to lecture him long and hard and then have the doorman’s assistant run for the police. I hoped Daniel was attending to that detail.

I could only gaze at the man, my wrath at the thought of Sam sitting so dejectedly in that room in Newgate consuming me. Sam’s desperate attempt to maintain his politeness when I visited, his flickering hopes when Mr. Thanos and he went through the papers, and his obvious dejection at being apart from Joanna broke my heart. As did the memory of Joanna clinging to me and weeping, believing she’d never see her beloved husband again.

I thought of my own terrible fears that Grace would have to be turned out of the house she’d grown up in, that I’d have to send her far away to keep her safe. That I wouldn’t be able to afford a decent place for her to live.

This man, with his selfish fecklessness, had nearly taken all that away from us.

“Mrs. Holloway?” Mr. Kearny prompted, likely thinking I’d taken leave of my senses.

“Mr. Kearny.” I fixed him with the gaze I reserved for a footman who dropped a crown rib roast with all the trimmings I’dlabored over for a day to shatter on the floor. “I am so very disappointed in you.”

Mr. Kearny continued to stare for a moment. Then a flush crept over his face, visible even in the hallway’s dim light, his lips parting.

“It’s—I—It isn’t—” He spluttered and floundered, while Miss Swann regarded him, her brows raised.

“It isn’t what it seems?” I asked in a hard voice. “Is that what you wish to say, Mr. Kearny? That I am mistaken that you have bled money from Daalman’s for years and years? That you stood by while Sam Millburn took the blame, watching while he was hauled away by the police. That you destroyed a man you called a friend, destroyed hisfamily. And then sat in Joanna’s parlor bleating about how concerned you were, how you wished to help her. What about that poor woman sitting in Wilton Crescent who believes you love her? Does she have any idea you’re nothing but a petty thief?”

Miss Swann at first gaped as my accusations poured out, then as my voice rose in volume, she closed her mouth and became brisk. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private,” she said to me.

“Why?” I demanded, seeing no reason to be quiet. “Are you afraid that everyone in this bank will realize what a deceitful swindler Mr. Kearny is?”

“Follow me, Mrs. Holloway,” Miss Swann ordered. “And you, Mr. Kearny.” She did not touch the quivering Mr. Kearny, but at her stern gaze, he turned around and hastened toward the office at the end, Miss Swann marching before him.

I had no choice but to follow. I did not want to risk Mr. Kearny rushing down a back staircase or leaping out a window to get away. I hurried after them, sweeping into Mr. Zachary’s office just behind Mr. Kearny.

Miss Swann shut the door and moved to stand behind Mr. Zachary’s desk. Mr. Zachary himself was absent, but I could only vaguely wonder where he was.

Miss Swann bent her severe gaze on me. “What evidence do you have that made you force your way inside and begin accusing one of our bankers at the top of your voice?” Her tone told me she thought me common trash.

“There is plenty of evidence,” I stated. “Beginning with the false contracts and moving on to the papers directing money into accounts that he withdraws from all over London. I’m certain that an inquiry in these banks will reveal people who recognize Mr. Kearny when he comes in for his funds. There is the evidence of a house in Belgravia, leased by Mr. Kearny to stuff his ladybird into. A ladybird of very expensive tastes, I must say.”

“I never meant to take anything,” Mr. Kearny broke in, sweat beading on his forehead. “It just happened, Mrs. Holloway. I swear to you. And then kept happening.” He began to rock back and forth, as though he couldn’t help himself. “Miss Swann…”

Miss Swann listened to his breathless confession, her expression becoming more and more frozen. When he appealed to her, she took a step back, anger glittering in her eyes. Not only, I thought, because Mr. Kearny had stolen from Daalman’s, but because he was breaking down and admitting it.

I knew even as I spoke that the evidence was not solid. Mr. Kearny might be paying for his lady with an extravagant allowance from his parents in Harrow. We had not yet proved that the handwriting on any of the papers was his. Nor that he was the owner of the many suspected accounts or had taken any money from them. However, Mr. Kearny’s shame was rendering the thinness of the evidence immaterial.

“I’m sorry.” Tears rasped in Mr. Kearny’s voice. He wasn’t apologizing to me, I realized as he pivoted and sent a beseeching look at Miss Swann. He was apologizing toher, to Daalman’s.

“I am sorry too, Mr. Kearny.” Miss Swann was tight-lipped. “You’d better go, hadn’t you?”

“But—”

“You have robbed them for years,” I snapped at Mr. Kearny. “And you shoved the blame onto a man you called yourfriend. If Sam hadn’t been here to be your scapegoat, you would have chosen someone else. You cannot expect any mercy.”

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