Page 42 of Silence of Deceit
“Our father put him in that place,” his widowed sister had explained. “When he finally passed, I sent for George straightaway. He’s good with the animals, and I needed him to help take care of things around here.”
But it was evident Mrs. Kemp’s true interest was in taking care of her brother. With George’s limitations, he could not have been the mastermind behind the blackmailing scheme, and his sister had denied that they themselves were being blackmailed in any way.
Hugh had departed for the post road again within the hour, his mind turning toward Mrs. Estelle Starborough and the duchess’s innocent expression when he had said that he would visit her in London. He knew Audrey well enough by now to know she was not going to sit complacently at Violet House, awaiting his report. After leaving the hospital, Hugh would return to Bedford Street for a change of clothes before setting out again for the Starborough residence.
“Did you uncover anything of import?” Basil asked after a drop of quiet.
“Possibly.” He sighed and reluctantly added, “The duchess was there.”
Basil whipped his head around. “The Duchess of Fournier?”
“The very one.”
He and Audrey had avoided each other for the most part on the way back to London. She’d been quiet at the two posting inns where they’d stayed before parting ways, distracted no doubt by the visit to her old prison. Seeing her frightened had made him burn, both with fury and with the wild desire to ride to Haverfield and blacken both of Lord Edgerton’s eyes. And while he could do nothing to Audrey’s wretched mother, she was as much to blame and just as repulsive.
The need to protect the duchess, to avenge her, had lodged in the center of his chest. It still lingered. He shouldn’t have mentioned the duchess to Basil; like Thornton, he already thought associating with Audrey was a foolish risk. If his valet had any idea how close Hugh had come to dragging her to his room at that first posting inn, he would have had a conniption.
“Mrs. Peets is keeping you fed, I see,” Hugh said, spying the empty basket on the floor along with a leather traveling satchel.
“She agreed to stay on at Bedford Street in my absence. I can only imagine the dust accumulating upon everything.” Basil sniffed. “The last four days have been a torture. This chair. That little cot there.” He gestured to the cot set up next to Sir’s bed. “Theodors,” he added, a green cast flooding his coloring.
Hugh clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you for staying. I know it can’t have been easy. I’ll relieve you from watch duty soon. I just have one stop to make.”
Basil grimaced, re-opened his book, and with a dramatic sigh, sat back down. Hugh left before Basil could remind him that this went far beyond the general duties of a personal valet.
Most likely, Sir was safe from any outside danger. Whoever had stabbed him probably wasn’t going to come into the hospital to finish the job more than four days later, but it wasn’t a risk Hugh was willing to take.
Evening had fallen and with it came a thick brume. It chilled the air, and by the time Hugh delivered the hired phaeton back to the livery stables and walked the few blocks home to Bedford Street, the tips of his fingers were numb with cold, his clothing damp from the fog.
The moment he stepped inside the warm foyer of his home, Hugh remembered what day it was. Friday.Damn.
He had barely removed his hat when Gloria appeared within the entrance to his study.
“You forgot,” she said, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing her arms. In her hand was a short tumbler filled with the single malt whisky he kept in a crystal decanter on his desk.
“I am sorry,” he said, shrugging out of his own overcoat since Basil was not at home to do it for him. His valet preferred to whisk his outer trappings away to a place where they would receive nary a wrinkle. Hugh tossed his coat over the newel post.
Gloria met him at the study entrance, her dark-eyed glare playful rather than irritated.
“You’ve never forgotten me before.”
“Things are a bit…out of order at the moment.”
“A case?” she guessed.
He poured himself a drink and tossed it back. Grimacing, he nodded. Catching a glance of the clock, he realized he was over an hour late for his usual appointment with Gloria. With a spike of guilt, he also realized he was feeling anything but amorous. The day had spent him, and it wasn’t over yet. He had to pay a call on Esther Starborough, though it was past a fashionable hour for calls, and he anticipated it would go nowhere, just like his visit to George Harding.
Gloria rose from the chair and came to his desk. She rubbed his shoulder before leaning forward and taking the lobe of his ear between her teeth.
A stone settled into his throat and chest, sinking fast to his gut.Fuck.
“Gloria.” He gently peeled her from his side. “I am sorry, but I’m only here for a change of clothing. I have an investigation—”
“I will help you change,” she said, plucking the drink from his hand and setting it aside. “Let’s go upstairs.”
His mind wheeled and floundered as she took his hand and led him toward the stairwell, as she had done countless times. It was a well-worn path to his room, Gloria having been the only woman to cross the threshold in nearly two years. However, as they entered his room now, and Gloria drew closer, Hugh’s mind retreated to the posting inn alcove outside room three. He could not believe what he was about to say, but it came off his tongue just the same.
“I can’t tonight.”
