Page 77 of Murder at the Seven Dials
Within a minute of walking away from the workhouse, she flagged down a hansom.
“To 19 Bedford Street,” she told the driver.
ChapterTwenty-One
The magistrate slammed his fist onto the desk and the boom echoed around the office.
“For Christ’s sake, Marsden, you’ve already brought in a duke—now you want to take a marquess’s son into custody?” Sir Gabriel Poston, chief magistrate at Bow Street, kept his fingers clenched into the fist.
“Not custody. I want to bring him in and ask a few questions about Belladora Lovejoy. He was her lover, after all.” Hugh had spent a good hour after his discussion with the Duke of Fournier trying to figure how to untangle the connection with St. John in a clear way for Sir Gabriel, without exposing the duke’s secret.
There was no doubt that should Fournier’s affair be discovered, he would be tried and convicted for buggery and sent to an asylum or sanatorium—even if he was cleared of murder. Same sex affairs were illegal, and many considered those who carried them out to be not in their right mind. Just last year, Bow Street had raided a rumored molly house and arrested half a dozen men; under accordance of the law, they’d been sent to prison, a few of them clapped into the stocks and left to endure pain and humiliation as the crowds jeered and lobbed at them everything from rotten vegetables to dead cats.
Sir Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his stomach straining over the waist of his trousers. The magistrate was a lover of fine food, good wine, and comfortable chairs, and it showed. He’d taken over operations at Bow Street from his predecessor some dozen years before and could spot a lie like a hawk spots a mouse.
“There are no more questions needing to be asked, Marsden. Fournier’s case is closed.”
Hugh frowned from where he sat across the desk from the magistrate. “You mean it is moving ahead to trial.”
Sir Gabriel exhaled. “I mean closed. He’s a bloody duke. Lord Westborough has agreed to shunt him off north, to some asylum in the Highlands or some such. It’s over. He’s being escorted there tomorrow.”
Hugh gripped the arms of the chair. “When was this decided?”
Sir Gabriel incised him with one of his legendary cold glares. He didn’t need to respond for Hugh to know what he was thinking. That it didn’t matter when it was decided or how, just that it had been and to let it go. Sir Gabriel never enjoyed dwelling on one case for too long; there were too many criminals and arrests to be made to spend much time on any one of them. Usually, Hugh was of the same mind. The more arrests he made, the better his living.
This was different though.
There was little he disliked more than admitting he was wrong, except, perhaps, having to voice it to his supervisor, his mentor. Sir Gabriel had trained him, shaped him into the officer he was. He could turn and leave the office right now. He could save himself the trouble and humiliation.
His conscience, however, stood firm.
“I believe the duke is innocent.” The words rolled from his tongue and took with them a weight from his shoulders.
Sir Gabriel held still, his stare changing from exacting to stunned. “You what?”
“I brought him in for the murder, and at the time, it felt right. But I cannot deny the details of the case I’ve learned since then—”
“Details you’ve learned alongside the Duchess of Fournier.”
The magistrate had his finger on the pulse of Bow Street; he knew what, who, when, and where, always.
“She has a vested interest in her husband’s case,” Hugh allowed.
The chief magistrate stood, his impressive height and bulk dwarfing Hugh and making him once again feel like a young, fresh-faced street patrolman full of doubt. “She is running in circles, Marsden. I’ve had a man on her for these last many days, and she has caught you up in her aimless foolishness.”
Hugh snapped his eyes to Sir Gabriel’s. “You’ve had someone following her?”
Unexpected ire bubbled in his chest. Audrey had seen a man outside Violet House and on her tail on more than one occasion. Perhaps not the murderer after all. Momentary relief snubbed out when he remembered he’d been shut out of an official part of the case.Hiscase. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to be sure the duke’s wife wasn’t somehow involved in his lover’s murder, and your distaste for the upper echelons of society is well known,” Sir Gabriel replied, guttering a laugh as if Hugh should’ve known the answer. “I didn’t think you could be unbiased. Apparently, I was right, only it’s gone in a much different direction than I anticipated.”
Just as everyone in the duchess’s set knew of Hugh’s past, so did the men at Bow Street. It wasn’t often they had reason to visit the homes of London’s elite, but whenever they did, Hugh was not the man to go.
Sir Gabriel came out from behind his desk. Hugh met him at the corner. “What do you mean by a different direction?”
“You must cease this dalliance with the duchess before it ruins you.”
“Dalliance,” he scoffed. “It’s nothing of the sort.”
