Dark Angel (Gentlemen of the Order 4)

“Goodbye, Lady Deighton,” Dante said as he escorted Beatrice from the room. There was an air of finality about his parting words, which had the dowager calling him vile names as he marched along the hall.

Once outside, it took a moment to shake the oppression of that room, to grow accustomed to the daylight, to breathe freely again.

“I need to visit Coulter,” Dante said tightly. “We should have questioned him about the attack in the alley. There’s every chance my mother spoke to him about it considering it occurred within the vicinity of Wilson Street.”

“Will you visit Bow Street first?”

Conversation felt strained, awkward.

He released a weary sigh. “I wish to dispose of the letters as soon as possible. We don’t know if my grandmother had a hand in Babington’s murder, and so it pays to be cautious.”

“Indeed.” A shiver ran the length of her spine. She glanced around the square, thought she saw someone watching them, but blinked and he was gone. “I shall accompany you. I wish to speak to Sir Malcolm about something, and—”

“Your father had nothing to do with the murders,” he stated. “And I doubt he would risk his reputation for a brooch and cheroot case.”

She managed a weak smile, but proving her father’s innocence was of paramount importance. “We’re due in Hart Street this afternoon.” She hoped one of the men had something new to impart. “We’ll visit Bow Street together, but I’ll leave you to speak to Mr Coulter.”

She hoped to follow another line of enquiry.

One Dante would object to most vehemently.

Chapter 18

“Visit Manning? Have you lost your mind?” Alice Crouch shuffled uncomfortably on the long oak settle in the crowded taproom of the Bull in the Barn tavern. She shouted for the drunken lout at the bar to shut his loud mouth before turning back to Beatrice. “It’s said he can crush a man with the weight of his stare. You don’t want to know what he’d do to a woman.”

Beatrice rubbed her temple to ease the tension. “I’ve been granted permission to question him in the chapel yard at Newgate. Sir Malcolm has arranged for me to meet the prison chaplain but insists I’m not to go alone. I hoped you might accompany me.”

Sir Malcolm had advised she take Mr Daventry, a constable or an agent of the Order. When she explained her dilemma, her fear the moneylender wouldn’t speak to anyone if he thought they were acting on behalf of the law, he’d demanded she find someone else.

“Me?” Alice brushed a hand through her curly red hair. “Luvvie, I can’t go, and you shouldn’t go neither. Best stay away. The man’s a wolf in human form. He’ll see it as a challenge, seek to punish us in some twisted way. Yes. Best stay away.”

“Then I shall have to go alone.”

Alice reached across the table, her large bosom spilling onto the crude surface, and grabbed Beatrice’s hand. “Don’t be a fool. Manning will take one look at you and imagine all the ways he might inflict pain.”

“I’ve no choice, Alice. If I’m to keep my position as an enquiry agent, keep my room in Howland Street, I need to discover if my father had anything to do with the murder of Dante’s parents.”

Suspicion flashed in Alice’s emerald eyes. “So, it’s Dante now?”

“I love him.” There was little point denying the fact, and it felt good to tell someone. Besides, time was of the essence. “It cannot be helped. But for both our sakes, I need to find out if my father owed Mr Manning money.”

Alice sighed. “Did I teach you nothing? Did I not warn you to protect your heart?”

“Not knowing if my father is a hero or a villain is breaking my heart, too.” She squeezed Alice’s hand. “Sir Malcolm assures me Mr Manning will hang. While awaiting trial, he’s lodging with the turnkeys to prevent him from running his operation from behind bars.”

“Luvvie, I’d bet there’s a turnkey or two on Manning’s payroll. And I heard they were struggling to find anyone to testify against him.”

Criminals like Mr Manning used fear as a weapon. Even Alice, the most formidable woman Beatrice had ever known, was scared to the marrow of her bones.

“You’re right.” Beatrice pushed to her feet. “I shall return to Hart Street and speak to Mr Daventry.” First, she would call on the only other person in the world who might assist her. “You’ve been so kind to me, Alice. The last thing I want is to cause you problems.”

Alice nodded. “You don’t survive around here without knowing which battles to avoid. Where Manning’s concerned, you close the shutters and turn a blind eye.” She glanced through the dirty window to the carriage parked outside. “Tell Mr Bower if he fancies a drink and a little company of an evenin’, my door’s always open.”

Beatrice smiled but could hear an internal clock ticking. She said goodbye to Alice, asked Mr Bower to take her to Howland Street, where she pleaded with Miss Trimble.

“Mr Daventry should be informed,” Miss Trimble said in her matronly tone.

“Yes, he should, but these are exceptional circumstances. Sir Malcolm has arranged for the Reverend Jenkin to chaperone us.” She grabbed Miss Trimble’s hand. “Please. Mr Manning might speak to me. It’s the only chance I have of discovering the truth, of bringing an end to this nightmare.”