“May I offer another suggestion?” Estelle said, coming behind the lady and pressing the blade to her throat. “Scars can look so ugly on a woman. Do you not think?”
Lady Cornell gulped and stuttered.
Ross’ gaze moved to a point beyond Estelle’s shoulder, and fear flashed in his eyes.
“Drop the knife, miss.” The man’s voice was firm, eloquent.
Estelle heard the clip of numerous booted footsteps. A man with spectacles and a pointed ginger beard stepped into her field of vision, accompanied by Mr Joseph.
Estelle lowered her arm and let the knife fall to the floor.
Lady Cornell stumbled forward, panting and clutching her throat. “Thank heavens you arrived when you did.” She swung around and pointed at Estelle. “That woman attacked me and shot my husband out of some misguided sense of spite and jealousy. She wants locking up in Bedlam.”
Wickett approached along with two other men. He inclined his head to Ross, and somehow the silent communication wiped the look of fear off Ross’ face.
“I’m Sir Malcolm Forston, chief magistrate” — the gentleman drew his fingers down the length of his beard — “and I must inform you that we heard everything from our position on the stairwell.” He waved his hand to one of the men hovering behind and pointed at Lord Cornell. “Attend to the victim, Withers.”
Lady Cornell’s countenance turned deathly pale. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but I can tell you—”
“I saw you shoot the gentleman,” Mr Joseph said. “I read the letter you sent to Lord Trevane asking him to meet you here.”
Ross had left the letter in the carriage. Wickett must have shown it to him.
“I drew the knife because I thought Lord Trevane’s life was in danger,” Estelle said, feeling the need to explain her aggressive actions. “I was waiting outside with Mr Joseph when I grew fearful for his lordship’s welfare.”
Sir Malcolm’s gaze drifted to the decorative necklace on the table. He ventured over and ran his fingers over the gems.
“Take Lady Cornell into custody, Johnson.”
“No! Wait!” Lady Cornell cried. “Do you know who I am? You can’t do this.”
Johnson came forward. “Yes, Sir Malcolm.”
But Lady Cornell punched and kicked out until he had no choice but to restrain her.
“If the devil won’t keep still put her in chains,” Sir Malcolm said with an air of frustration.
Wickett offered his assistance, and after another violent scuffle, Johnson finally led Lady Cornell away amid a cacophony of blasphemous curses.
“Well, Withers?” Sir Malcolm said, staring at the body on the floor. “Will he live? Can we question him?”
Ross coughed into his fist. “While I have no regard for Lord Cornell, the man has been shot. Must you take his statement now?”
Sir Malcolm raised a brow. “I’m afraid the law is intolerant when it comes to showing compassion to criminals, my lord. The man is a jewel thief. Evidence of his crime is there on the table. Forgive me, but I would like to know details of any accomplices if he’s not long for this world.”
Ross’ mouth fell open. “A jewel thief? Lord Cornell?”
“That is what the facts suggest. Your man, Mr Joseph, is the one who made the discovery and so the Crown is indebted to you.” Sir Malcolm inclined his head. “Now, I will require a statement regarding the events of the evening. But for now, you’re both free to leave.”
A look of suspicion marred Ross’ features. “Do you not need me to fetch a doctor?”
Sir Malcolm shook his head. “Withers here was trained by the Surgeon General during the Peninsular War when the medical teams were severely understaffed. It was enough to deter him from the profession, but he can be called upon on occasion to remove a lead ball if need be.”
Clearly, Sir Malcolm wanted them out of the way. The thefts appeared to be more important to him than attempted murder.
Ross inclined his head. “Then we shall leave you to your work.”
Ross offered Estelle his arm, and they walked out of the museum with Wickett in tow.