The Mystery of Mr Daventry (Scandalous Sons 4)

“Ma’am?” Tomas said, his grave tone conveying her worst fears.

“Something has happened to Mr Daventry,” she said, her voice determined, assertive, for she would not have them think her a flighty female. “Something is wrong. We must go to the Black Swan at once. You’ll not persuade me otherwise.”

“You see. What did I say?” Jonah towered over Tomas. “Mr Daventry wouldn’t make us swear to protect Miss Atwood and then stay away this long.”

“No, he would not,” Sybil agreed.

Lucius had been reluctant to leave. For heaven’s sake, he was so worried about her safety, he had loaded the pistol. Such a lengthy absence was out of character. And he had been suspicious of his mother’s motives.

“Happen his mother had some explaining to do,” Tomas countered. “It doesn’t mean there’s any havey-cavey business. I can’t see Mr Daventry leaving with half a story, with anything less than the truth.”

“In Mr Daventry’s absence, I am mistress of this house,” she said, “and I am telling you I want a horse saddled for I intend to ride to the Black Swan.”

Tomas shifted uncomfortably. “Mr Daventry will string me up from Bloody Bridge if I let you leave, ma’am.”

Sybil straightened her shoulders. She knew the poor fellow was only following orders, knew Lucius could be rather insistent, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something dreadful had happened.

“Tomas, I am the most reckless woman ever to make Mr Daventry’s acquaintance. He told me so himself. I am stubborn, obstinate to the point of being unreasonable. I’m going to the Black Swan and woe betide anyone who attempts to stop me.”

Tomas threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Then we must go, too. But who will protect the vault?”

“I don’t care about the vault.” It came as no surprise to find she valued the master of the Order over the volumes hidden in old chests. “I care about Mr Daventry.”

Tomas heaved a sigh.

“This could be a trap,” Jonah said cautiously. “A ploy to lure us away from here so the intruder might break into the vault.”

Sybil was about to speak when Samuel came bursting through the servants’ door at the end of the corridor. “There’s a letter for Miss Atwood.” The boy waved the paper in the air and skidded to a halt.

“For me?” Sybil shuddered.

No one knew she was staying at Bronygarth. She snatched the note from the boy’s grasp and broke the seal. With trembling fingers, she gripped the paper and read the precise list of instructions.

“Is it from Mr Daventry, ma’am?” Tomas said, wringing his hands.

“It’s about Mr Daventry, though not written by his hand.” Her legs buckled as a wave of despair stole her strength.

Both men rushed to her aid.

“Take your time,” Tomas said. “Samuel can read it if it helps. Mr Daventry taught him his letters and numbers.”

“No, it’s fine.” Heavens, Lucius needed her. She couldn’t fall apart now. “Samuel, who delivered the note?”

“A girl named Fanny. Said she works at the Black Swan and a Scottish cove paid her two shillings to bring it before dawn.”

“Scottish?” Sybil’s mind raced to the solemn-looking man who had stolen the fake journal from the auction. So, Julia was not working alone.

“What news of Mr Daventry?” Tomas asked again.

“The letter is from his mother, Mrs Dunwoody.” Merciful Lord. The puzzle seemed so much clearer now. “She has taken Mr Daventry hostage. In exchange for his safe return, she demands all evidence relating to the riot at Smithfield Market.”

Tomas frowned. “Mr Daventry, taken hostage? By a woman?”

“The Scot is her accomplice. They must have used some devious method to capture him.” Tears threatened to fall, but Sybil kept them at bay. “I’m to gather the evidence and meet her in Lambeth tonight, at midnight. I’m to take the Lambeth Church steps and follow the path to the boat builder, Godfrey and Searle.”

Mrs Dunwoody wanted to meet a short distance from Bishop’s Walk, where Mr Proctor was killed. That did not bode well. Julia Fontaine—or Julia Dunwoody, as she was now called—had no loyalty to her son. What was to stop her taking the evidence and killing them both? Was she so desperate to reclaim her vowels from Sir Melrose?

Tomas and Jonah exchanged nervous glances.