Page 37 of Nature of the Crime
“A number of Burton’s possessions were disappearing from his London home, so he hired Vaillancourt,” Thornton said, though from his somewhat offended expression, he hadn’t forgiven Hugh for holding out on him about Folkestone.
“It turned out his wife, the baroness, had been selling off the pieces to pay her husband’s many debts,” Audrey explained, and Hugh lowered the letter. No need to read it. These two had it memorized.
“He must have been up River Tick for his wife to have gone to such measures,” Hugh murmured. “He may have forgoneadmitting his connection to the inquiry agent to conceal the scandal Vaillancourt had disclosed.”
“Perhaps,” Thornton said. “But Audrey had a theory earlier, about the manifest.” He gestured for her to say what it was, and when her eyes sparked with enthusiasm, the barest hint of envy twinged low in Hugh’s stomach. The pair of them had been discussing theories? That was what they usually did together.
Thankfully unaware of his puerile reaction, she said, “The baron could have seen a name on the manifest that he did not wish anyone else to see. So, he made sure the manifest wasn’t available.”
Hugh nodded. “And when he went to fetch it, he was killed. No manifest found on his person.”
“Do you thinkthe baroncould have hired Vaillancourt again? To follow Audrey and Cassie on the Continent?” Thornton asked.
Two things struck Hugh—first, he’d called her Cassie, rather than Lady Cassandra. Second, the young woman herself seemed to be missing.
“Where is she? Cassandra?”
Audrey frowned. “She went with Michael. He refused to leave without her.”
“He gave up trying to convince Audrey to leave with him too,” Thornton tacked on.
The two of them shared a grin, no doubt at the memory of Fournier’s huffing and puffing, and again, Hugh frowned. He needed to have his head checked if he thought for one instant Thornton would apply himself to the woman Hugh loved. They were as good as brothers. No, what needled him was not that. It was the threat of Philip’s deceit being made public. Of someone willing to commit murder to see it done. But it was all very cat and mouse. Why not simply come forward with what theyknew? Why the game of trying to make Audrey fodder for the newspapers and gossipmongers?
“It may be possible the baron hired Vaillancourt, and when he had trouble paying up, he killed Vaillancourt to take care of the problem,” Hugh said, though it didn’t feel quite right. “But that would mean he’d need to have been on theBritannia.”
He peered at Audrey, who bit her lower lip, no doubt recalling the vision of the man on the packet ship she’d seen when holding Vaillancourt’s pocket watch. She’d only seen the back of the man’s head. She gave a slight shake of her own head now, enough to indicate that she didn’t believe it was the baron.
“What could Lord Burton have wanted to know so desperately about Audrey and Cassie that he would send Vaillancourt after them onto the Continent?” Thornton asked.
Hugh again met Audrey’s furtive glance, then held his palms up to the flames. “We should all get some sleep. Maybe things will be clearer in the morning,” he said to stave off more questions. He also needed to speak to Audrey alone and tell her about Grayson’s letter to his parents.
Thornton tossed back the last of his drink. “I bloody well hope so.” He looked from Hugh to Audrey, and with a twitch of his cheek, saluted them. “I’m off then. Good evening.”
He was no fool; he knew the two of them would want a few moments alone together. Though, Thornton likely thought it would just be for a stolen kiss or a fleeting touch of hands.
During the case involving Miss Lovejoy’s murder, the physician had learned of Philip’s preference for men, but he’d never breathed a word about it to anyone. He would likely be willing to take this secret about Philip to the grave too, but Hugh couldn’t place a burden like that on his friend’s shoulders.
Mrs. Plimpton brought in a tray bearing a bowl of something steaming hot, a trencher of ale, and some bread, and left it on atable for him. Then, a moment later, he and Audrey were at last alone.
“You’re not hungry,” she guessed accurately when he looked at the tray and felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. “Is it the news we feared?”
That Grayson had let slip to someone else that Philip was alive.
“It’s worse,” he said. She would not want him to wrap the truth in cotton linen for her. “Grayson is dead.”
Shock slackened her mouth, and she placed her open palm on her stomach, as if she’d just felt it drop.
“Late last May, his father received a letter saying that the duke had drowned, and that Grayson would be coming home. He wrote of a chance meeting with one of the duke’s past acquaintances in Paris, but he would not name him in the letter as it ‘carries a taint of scandal’.”
Interest and intrigue erased the shock on her face.
“Grayson wrote that this past acquaintance was saddened to hear of the duke’s death,” Hugh continued, “and offered the valet transport to Calais, as he was planning to return to England as well.”
Audrey took a seat on the edge of a chair before the fire. “How did Grayson die?”
Taking the chair next to hers, Hugh leaned forward and lowered his voice. “His packet sailed here, to Dover. According to the letter to his parents, he planned to stay a few days before making his way back to Folkestone. Mr. Grayson was told his son became inebriated and had a fatal fall.”
She sharpened her eyes on him. “When was this?”
