As a man who’d found a love to last a lifetime, how could he not believe in dreams? Now, standing at the window of his study and witnessing the deluge of rain turning mounds of snow into slushy puddles, Hugo believed in the power of wishes, too.
But while he could think of nothing other than capturing his betrothed in her bedchamber and ravishing her senseless, there were still matters of treason to contend with.
Hugo turned to face Lord Northcott, seated in a chair on the opposite side of the mahogany desk. The viscount hadn’t slept a wink, and a sad look of helplessness marred his features.
“Did Sir Ellis come to any conclusions as to what to do with your sister?” While the thought of a woman hanging from the scaffold turned Hugo’s stomach, he had to remember that Miss Harper had taken the life of his friend. “I intend to ride to London at the earliest opportunity and inform Lord Bellham of the tragic news.” Montague had agreed to accompany him. “Perhaps you should meet with the family, offer your condolences and beg for clemency.”
Northcott dragged his hand through his mop of dark hair. “Sir Ellis suggested keeping Frances under guard at his house until she’s committed for trial.” Mr Marshall had returned with the viscount and two jurors during the early hours and had taken the crazed women to Pewsey. “But Frances attacked the magistrate like a wild banshee, and we’ve had no choice but to send her to Marlborough Town Gaol.”
Hugo pitied the viscount. Guilt must eat away at his insides, knowing he was partly responsible for his sister’s demise. “While I’ve always found Miss Harper unstable and rather temperamental, none of us expected her to lose control of her mind.”
“What with disease rife and the state of her mental condition, Sir Ellis doubts she’ll last twelve months in an asylum. Hanging her will only bring disgrace on our family, and to some extent, negative attention to the Bellhams.” Northcott hung his head in his hands.
Silence descended.
Hugo gave the viscount a moment to gather his thoughts before saying, “I gave Miss Venables fifty pounds and Flanders escorted her to Upavon. She’s staying with the vicar until she’s able to journey to London.”
Northcott looked up. “While I knew she was a gentleman’s daughter, I did not know her father was Mr Hendry. The man was a reckless spendthrift. I could afford to gamble on my future. Evidently, he could not.”
There was no easy way to accuse a peer of treason, of supporting the French and acting against the Crown, and so Hugo came straight to the point. “From what I hear, you’ve had to resort to smuggling to keep your creditors from your door.”
“Smuggling?” Northcott narrowed his gaze. “Smuggling!”
“Bellham worked for the Crown. He received information that you’re smuggling French spies into England.”
“French spies? But that’s ludicrous.”
“Miss Venables gave Bellham a note the night your sister murdered him, detailing specific journeys the Strawbridge was to make from Bordeaux to Southampton. I wrongly assumed that someone looking to retrieve the information killed Bellham. In truth, your sister knew nothing of your criminal activities and perceived of some other scandal. Bellham knew nothing of your sister’s fragile mind.”
“Christ!” Northcott rubbed his bristled jaw.
“Should I send for Sir Ellis and have you committed to Marlborough Gaol on the charge of treason?”
Northcott’s chin dropped, and his eyes widened. “What the devil? Tell me you don’t believe that nonsense. When you mentioned the Strawbridge last night, I thought you were referring to the vessel being unfit for sea. The crossing from Bordeaux to Southampton can be treacherous this time of year. Some investors aired their concerns about carrying heavy cargo. Your friend Lord Kittredge was one of them. I presumed he mentioned it to you.”
Hugo dropped into the chair and pondered the information. “Bellham must have heard about you smuggling spies from someone.”
Northcott shrugged. “Perhaps an investor told a tale hoping the authorities would ground the ship. Then again, I’ve had dealings with a French merchant who roused my suspicions when he insisted a guard travel with his cargo. The cargo was so precious not even the captain could inspect the crates. Sensing something nefarious afoot, I told him to find another ship.”
Hugo rubbed his temples to alleviate the dull ache. “Then why did Miss Venables record specific times and dates and give it to Bellham?” Hugo snatched the tatty note from the desk drawer and pushed it across the polished surface.
With a brow wrinkled in curiosity, Northcott took the note, peeled back the folds and attempted to read the tiny script.
“This might help.” Hugo retrieved the magnifying glass from the same drawer and handed it to the viscount. “Bellham must have asked her to make the note small enough to hide it in his boot.”
Northcott peered through the glass and then snorted. “I hate to tell you this, but the only accurate pieces of information are the names of the ports and the ship. Did no one think to check the tide times?”
Hugo relaxed back in the chair. Something Miss Venables said about lying to Miss Harper regarding the viscount’s whereabouts entered his mind. Had Miss Venables been so keen to make the viscount suffer that she fabricated information to pass to Bellham?
Northcott sat forward. “Look, I shall visit the Home Office myself and explain all that’s occurred. Surely that will convince you I speak in earnest.”
Miss Bennett was right—about most things, as it happened—Northcott was a rake, a gambler, but not a murderer and not disloyal to his country. Indeed, Hugo suspected Miss Venables may have fleeced him for fifty pounds. He’d lay odds she’d already fled the vicar’s house and was making her way back to London.
“Very well. I shall expect a written statement from you denying Bellham’s allegations, detailing your version of events and who you’ve spoken to at the Home Office. A man is dead. I’ll not give anyone reason to question my loyalty.”
The matter was agreed, and after the viscount conveyed a message from the coroner informing Hugo that Mr Palmer at Oakfield Farm had found Bellham’s horse, he left Wollaston Hall to visit Sir Ellis before continuing his journey to London.
Having received Lord Forsyth’s permission to marry Miss Bennett—they would have eloped had he refused, and what lord didn’t want his granddaughter to marry an earl?—Hugo was surprised when a knock on the study door brought Forsyth and the soon-to-be Dowager Countess of Denham.