The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

Taylor paused. “Out of context, the names and addresses mean nothing.” His rapid blinking suggested otherwise.

“My brother read your note this morning. He knows where I am and will be here any minute.” Well, she prayed he would. The roads were a hazard day and night. Stray sheep and cattle, carriages with broken wheels, and spooked horses were just a few problems one might encounter.

Mrs Wilmslow flashed the knife. “Then we’d best get on with it before he gets here. Lucky for us, the gate is locked.”

Rose sucked in a breath. “And what of the brass buttons found on the victims? Lord Farleigh has them as evidence.” She said it to stall them, but the look of shock on the doctor’s face convinced her the buttons held some importance.

“Brass buttons?” Deep furrows appeared on Taylor’s brow. He remained silent for a moment. “Describe them.”

“Don’t listen to her. We should put an end to it now,” Mrs Wilmslow glared at the doctor, “before the earl comes.”

“Wait.” Taylor shot forward, gripped Rose’s elbow and dragged her to her feet. “What buttons?”

Rose struggled to catch her breath. “The ones engraved with the sun and a unique leaf pattern. Lady Farleigh had one in her hand. The other lay amid the leaves next to Miss Stoneway’s body.”

Mrs Wilmslow tugged the doctor’s arm. “We must leave now. I think I hear something. If the earl finds us here, we’ll both hang.”

Taylor pushed her away with his arm. He pulled his watch from the fob pocket of his waistcoat and showed Rose the gold case. “Are they like this?”

The intricate scrollwork matched the buttons perfectly. “Yes, they are exactly like that.”

With a loud exhalation, Taylor released Rose’s elbow, and she stumbled back into the chair. He turned on Mrs Wilmslow like a rabid dog in the fighting pits. “You bloody bitch.”

With wide eyes, she shuffled back until she hit the edge of the wooden table. “Why would you speak to me like that? Are we not in this together?”

“Tell me! Tell me why. What did you hope to gain?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mrs Wilmslow clutched the knife to her chest. “She’s poisoning your mind. How can Lord Farleigh have the buttons when you lost them here in London?”

“Did I though? Is that not what you wanted me to think? When I packed my valise, my waistcoat had six buttons. When I unpacked, two were missing. You were in my bedchamber that afternoon. You had ample opportunity to steal them while I slept.”

“But why would I do that?” Panic infused her tone, and she struggled to hold his gaze.

“To frame me for the murders you committed.” He stepped back and dragged his hand down his face, but then his eyes grew wide. “Good God, you killed Miss Stoneway.”

Rose glanced at the half-open door and debated whether to run. It was only a matter of time before Christian arrived, but with the volatile mood in the air, she decided not to take the chance.

“You killed Miss Stoneway?” Taylor repeated.

Mrs Wilmslow’s hands shook. “I did it for you. What if Mr Watson gathered enough evidence to go to the magistrate? What if she made it to Everleigh and convinced Lord Farleigh that she wasn’t mad at all?”

“Damnation, do you know what you’ve done?” Taylor gestured to the blade in the woman’s hand. “Give me the knife, Abigail.”

Abigail? It didn’t sound like the name of a murderess. But it was fair to say, Mrs Wilmslow’s logic had abandoned her long ago.

“No, I don’t trust you. I’m the only one alive who knows the truth of what you’ve done. Why do you think I planted the evidence?” She spoke so quickly it was difficult to follow her ramblings. “For security. Because all men are liars and cheats. You’re going to use me and discard me and—”

“Just give me the damn knife and let us think of a way out of this mess.”

“Step back.” Mrs Wilmslow jabbed the knife at the doctor. “I’m leaving. You can deal with this on your own.”

“Like hell you are!” Dr Taylor lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. A scuffle broke out. They pushed and shoved, knocked a glass beaker onto the floor and it shattered into a hundred pieces. “Stop fighting me and listen to sense.”

Rose shuffled to the right, eager to escape the small confines of the room. She’d take her chances. But mayhem ensued as the pair wrestled for control.

Then a guttural growl put paid to their wild tussle. Mrs Wilmslow charged at the doctor and drove the blade deep into his chest.

Chapter Twenty-Two