Page 50 of Taken to the Grave
“He told thepoliceabout Madame Lee’s strangled employee? How would that benefit him?”
“It wouldn’t,” Hugh answered. “I don’t think he told the police anything…not untilafterhis employer and Lord Stromburg mysteriously disappeared.”
Hugh suspected Givens had figured out some benefit to being an informant for Bow Street. He’d fed the investigating officers what he’d overheard about the strangled girl and the Sanctuary, aiming for a monetary reward should any of it pan out.
“But then, how did the Sanctuary learn that they’d been betrayed by Madame Lee and Lord Stromburg in the first place? How did they know to silence them?”
That was the question Hugh had kept coming back to. The answer he’d come to accept curdled in his gut and made him feel turned inside-out.
“The men from your vision,” he said, “knew Givens had been talking out of turn. If that was the case, and he was an informant for someone at Bow Street…”
“Someone at Bow Street told someone at the Sanctuary,” Audrey finished.
Lead ballast slid into his stomach. “Most likely, yes.”
“A Bow Street officer is part of the Sanctuary? But only wealthy men are invited as members.” She went still, the most plausible answer paling her complexion. “You don’t think Sir Gabriel…?”
He had thought it. But instantly dismissed the ridiculous notion. “No. Never. He’s not corrupt. And Bethany was his niece.”
“He didn’t want you to investigate. And he agreed with Mr. Gye to keep the murders from the press,” she pointed out, playing devil’s advocate. But he wouldn’t be swayed.
“No, it’s someone else. My guess is Tyne.”
“But he’s working class,” she said.
“Who better to bring into the fold, offering luxuries and pleasures he could never access normally, in exchange for protection?”
The more Hugh thought on it, the more convinced he became.
Audrey uncrossed her arms. “If that is the case, Officer Tyne may tell the Sanctuary we are investigating.”
He had thought of that as well. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Me? I’m not the one with a split lip and bloody head.”
Hugh remembered his swollen lip and gingerly touched it. He winced. Audrey sighed and came around the desk, to stand behind his chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, flinching when she reached for his head.
“Sit still,” she admonished. Her fingers delved tenderly into his hair, but even then, his scalp stung. “This looks serious, Hugh.”
“Thornton declared me hale and hearty, though possibly concussed.”
Her fingers continued to probe around the wound. “Gracious, what did they strike you with? You could have been killed.”
Hugh reached up and back and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Gently, he dislodged her hand from his hair and swiveledin his chair, still grasping her wrist. He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I am fine.”
Some of the rigidity went out of her shoulders and arms. Hugh didn’t want to release her, so he adjusted his hold on her wrist, taking her hand instead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For earlier. Our discussion?—”
“It was an argument,” she corrected.
“Which I would rather not do again any time soon.”
She gave a soft nod, and at the tamping of her ire, he gave a tug on her arm. She easily came down into his lap. His bruises protested, and he grunted.
“You’re too hurt,” she said, starting to rise again. He flexed his arms and brought her down harder. He swallowed the grunt this time.
