Page 10 of Taken to the Grave
“What was it?” Anything at all, even something obscure, may assist them.
Audrey waited to speak until they’d passed a man and woman, strolling toward them on the walk. The man canted his head in a polite greeting, and the lady fawned with a bright, “Your Grace. My lord.”
“Lord and Lady Stanwick,” Audrey whispered once they’d passed. “She is good friends with Lady Dutton.”
“Ah.” Hugh recognized the name. He had, on several occasions, been invited to the dowager viscountess’s gatherings over the Season, but as with all the others, he’d found excuses not to attend. He vastly preferred not mingling with members of the ton, and he suspected Audrey felt the same. He dreamed of whisking her away to his estate in Surrey and becoming contented recluses together.
“A street corner,” Audrey said. Then, at his puzzled glance, explained, “My vision. I saw a street corner. A lamppost shed some light on two men, a fine carriage behind them. It had a cross, painted white, stamped on the door. But it was inverted.”
“The cross was upside down?” She nodded. “Were the men with Givens?”
“Yes, but they were not friends. They were angry, accusing him of telling someone something that he shouldn’t have.” Before, Audrey had described how voices and sounds in her visions came to her in muffled form, like she’d dunked her head under the surface of bathwater.
“Anything else?”
She shook her head. “It went dark after that. But they did mention a boss, or ‘guv’ as they said. That Mr. Givens had crossed him.”
And he’d wound up here, at Vauxhall, dead.
“The two men you saw,” Hugh said. “They are most likely the men who killed Givens. How well did you see them?”
Audrey slowed her gait, and as he had several times before, Hugh wished that he could clear from her mind the wretched things she had seen. Her determination to put her ability to good use, to provide information that would otherwise be unattainable, never failed to impress him. But it was a burden for her, whether she admitted it or not.
“I saw one of them more clearly than the other. Dark hair, unfashionably long. Common clothes. Big, broad shouldered. Larger than Mr. Givens. The other man was slimmer, with a beard.”
She’d come to a stop near the supper boxes, the gas jets lighting the area into a kaleidoscope of color. The orchestra was playing, though the tempo of the music had become less sedate and melodic. Vauxhall came to life after the sun set, and yet Audrey’s pinched brow and distant eyes set her apart from all of it. Hugh touched her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. He did not drop his hand very quickly, and he noted two ladies in a supper box leaning in to whisper to each other.
“Did you know they were watching?” Audrey asked, having seen them too. Caressing her cheek while standing in the middle of the Grand Walk had certainly been an intimate gesture.
“I don’t care who is watching. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you,” he replied, winning a bashful grin and blush.
Their evening had not gone according to plan, but at least there would be talk the next day about something other than just a body being found at the pleasure gardens. They continued walking toward the gate.
“The men from my vision could also be involved in the other two murders Mr. Gye spoke of,” she said.
“Possibly, but first we should know who the other two victims were and if they have any connection to Givens,” Hugh said. “I’ll call on Sir Gabriel tomorrow.”
“After you visit Portman Square?”
For a moment, Hugh didn’t take her meaning. But then with a burst of clarity, recalled the missing Miss Bethany Silas. Finding her was unquestionably important, though his interest in that inquiry paled in comparison to the murder of Sir’s father and the other two recent murders at the pleasure gardens. Had he still been at Bow Street, he would have taken lead on the latter, and given the former to Tyne and Stevens.
Ahead, near the gate, the bright lights illuminated Thornton, Cassie, and Ruth, none of them conversing. Thornton was sipping a glass of what appeared to be Vauxhall’s famous and heady arrack punch, while Cassie stood stiffly. When she saw Audrey, she rushed toward her.
“No success finding Sir,” she said, her distress high. “We walked everywhere too. All the way to the Hermit’s Walk, even.”
“You should not have gone there alone,” Thornton grumbled, the glass to his lips.
The secluded part of the gardens was in the farthest corner of the property and was known for its many scandalous rendezvous.
“Yes, because all the rogues in London have conspired to linger in the bushes there for the chance to jump out and ravish unsuspecting ladies.”
Audrey gaped. “Cassie!”
Hugh held up his hand to stop his friend from saying anything more—Thornton had lowered his glass of arrack punch and parted his lips to do just that.
“We need to find Sir. Have you checked our rig in the coach field?” The boy might have been waiting for them there.
Thornton dropped his irritation with Cassie and focused on the larger problem. That was something about him Hugh always appreciated; his ability to change tack swiftly and give the new matter his entire concentration.
