Page 36 of Murder at the Seven Dials
Michael was standing before the hearth fire there, the small flames just enough to take the damp chill off the air. He greeted her with a grimace. Michael had thick, black hair and full brows that stood out in sharp contrast to the light hair, fair skin, and finer brows his older brother possessed. The two brothers didn’t look related in the least. Where Michael was of a shorter stature and broad shouldered, Philip was tall and lean—more agile looking than athletic. Michael exuded power, while Philip exuded understated intelligence.
She closed the door behind her. “I do hope you haven’t come to chastise me.”
“I’ve come to inform you on what is happening, in hopes that you will not feel the need to leave Violet House again—at least for today.”
It took every ounce of her composure to maintain a tranquil, unaffected expression. “Thank you for thinking of me and of how restless I must be.”
If she gave him even the slightest reason to believe she might misbehave again, he would find some way to pen her in. There was much to do, and if placating her brother-in-law with a show of meek acquiescence meant he would turn his attention elsewhere, so be it.
He let out a sigh and came away from the fire. “Philip is still at the Brown Bear, guarded by Bow Street,” he said as he sat on the edge of a chair that was far too small and dainty for him.
It made Michael look big and bumbling when she knew he was anything but. She also knew he was not the enemy; he was simply restricted himself by the rules that society had set for them. This was an extraordinary situation, and for a moment Audrey tried to imagine what Michael might be going through. His beloved older brother, the holder of the family title, which had been so respected and unblemished, stood accused of a heinous crime. He was attempting to minimize the damage the only way he knew how.
What Audrey she did not know, however, was whether Michael’s priority was proving his brother’s innocence or protecting the Fournier title for future generations. For his own unborn child, perhaps. Guilt instantly swarmed her for forming such doubt, yet it would not go away.
“He has broken his silence,” Michael went on, “though only to insist that you decamp to Fournier Downs as soon as possible.”
“Nothing regarding the charges?” she asked.
He shook his head, his mouth a grim, flat line. “The grand jury will discuss his indictment in two days. I want you gone from London before then.”
Audrey pinned the flesh inside her cheek between her teeth. The order was not unexpected.
“I’ve already informed Philip that I will be staying at Violet House.”
“Audrey, this is a serious matter—”
“Do not insult me further, Michael.”
His eyes sharpened on her as if suddenly aware he had been patronizing her and now felt guilty for it. Just as quickly, however, he hardened them again.
“What possible good can remaining here do for you or Philip?”
She surely wasn’t about to tell him her plans for that evening. They’d barely come together in her mind since reading the private agent’s letter in the breakfast room.
“Perhaps none. However, even if I am not able to see or speak to Philip, I will have him know that I refuse to run away.” A stinging prickle behind her eyes caught her by surprise. “I will stand with him even if I am only standing within these walls.”
Michael released another sigh, this one longer and more resigned. He settled back into the dainty chair, his arms overlapping the spindly wooden armrests. “You are entirely too intractable.”
She noted that he at least said it with modicum of respect.
Tea arrived then and it was another minute before they each held a cup, neither of them sipping.
“What have you and Mr. Potridge discovered?” She hoped he would part with something new and useful.
“The details are unseemly.” Before she could again tell him to quit patronizing her, he went on. “And Philip refuses to say anything other than he cannot remember the crime in question.”
“Not remember?” Audrey blinked. Philip had not said as much to her when she’d visited the day before. She’d begged him to form a story, any story that might get him freed. Perhaps he had done just that. “Intoxication?”
Michael shook his head. “He would not say.”
Opium, perhaps. She thought of the locket from the Seven Sins still in her reticule and tried to quell the curl of worry low in her stomach.
An idea flashed up in front of her like one of her visions. “Might you send someone to the place where he was found…that time?”
Michael knew about the last time Philip had gone missing for days, when Carrigan had pulled him from that horrid house of vice. “He may have been there before going to his leased rooms,” she added. “It’s possible someone would remember him.”
Michael set his cup of tea down with rattling force. “And if we discover he was there, succumbing to opium, what then? He was found with the body, Audrey. Covered in the woman’s blood. And to his fathomless detriment—and to yours, and mine, and Genie’s, and even the baby’s—he has not denied doing the murder!”
