en glow. Tristan blinked to focus. His heart flew up to his throat, thumped wildly in his neck until he struggled to breathe. What had looked like one huge distorted figure now proved to be that of two people.
Isabella.
Fellows came to a stop a few feet away from Mr. Blackwood. With his left hand, he held Isabella close to his body, aimed the pistol in his right hand at her stomach.
“Ah, Mr. Blackwood. Forgive me if I kept you waiting. I am usually so punctual, but my hackney was forced to make a call in Brook Street to collect the necessary provisions.”
The blood roared in Tristan’s ears. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus. Isabella appeared unharmed. Her lips were drawn thin, though it was not fear that flashed in her eyes; he saw anger.
“Do … do you have my money?” Blackwood stammered.
Fellows grinned. “Do you have my notebook?”
Blackwood held up the brown book. “Let Lady Fernall go and we can make our trade.”
Fellows chuckled. “I am afraid that will not be possible. If I am to leave on the next ship to Calcutta, then I must have some assurance you will not intervene. No, Lady Fernall will be coming with me.”
Despite Lord Fernall tugging violently on the sleeve of his coat, Tristan could not contain his volatile emotions. “The hell she will.” Tristan marched around the overgrown bush to stand at Mr. Blackwood’s side.
Fellows tutted. “I did wonder which bush you had chosen to hide behind. Do you take me for a fool, Lord Morford?”
“Only a fool would think he could get away with murder,” Tristan countered. It was hard to take the man seriously when his side-whiskers filled his face. “How did you know I was there?”
Fellows shrugged. “I followed Mr. Blackwood to Lady Fernall’s carriage. Even through the fog, I recognised her coachman sitting atop his box. As a gentleman, I assumed you would take the lady home before coming to our assignation. You really are rather predictable.”
Tristan’s mind raced ahead. Fellows did not know Lord Fernall was hiding behind the bush. He said a silent prayer, hoping the lord’s reluctance to participate, coupled with his cowardly nature, would cause him to remain hidden.
“I lack your expertise when it comes to criminal activity.” Tristan stared at Isabella. She read his silent plea, nodded inconspicuously as a means of reassurance. “As you appear to have the upper hand, perhaps you might enlighten us as to your intentions.”
“I want the notebook. I intend to leave here with Lady Fernall. She will remain my companion until I am safely aboard ship. You will not attempt to follow me, but will accept my word that she will be released unharmed.”
Tristan snorted. “Why would I trust you when you have lied and deceived me these last few days? You have entered my home under false pretences, merely to pry.” Indeed, the man had been left alone for an hour in Tristan’s study giving him ample time to rummage through the desk drawers.
“Desperate men do desperate things.”
“So you had no real interest in Miss Smythe?” Tristan was determined to keep Mr. Fellows talking. Hearing his confession would ease Tristan’s conscience. Whilst all the evidence indicated Fellows was guilty, he could not rely solely on the word of Mr. Blackwood. Nor could he completely trust Andrew’s attempt at uncovering a motive.
“Miss Smythe is a delight, but needs must. I am sure Mr. Chandler will be thrilled to have her on his arm.”
“What did my mother pay you to attack Miss Smythe in the Holbrooks’ garden?”
“She did not pay me.” Fellows’ eyes flashed with amusement. “When she told me of her plan, I was grateful for the opportunity to distract you. Your mother is a woman riddled with resentment. She would do anything to prevent you from marrying this delightful creature at my side. Who do you think told me Lady Fernall lived in Brook Street?”
Isabella gasped.
Damn it all.
His mother had left him no choice. She could stay in Ripon indefinitely. When he married Isabella, he would not have his mother interfering.
“Does my mother know that you killed Lord Fernall?”
“She sees me as a friend and ally, one who cares about Miss Smythe’s happiness. She has no interest in anything beyond that.” He gestured to the notebook in Mr. Blackwood’s hand. “Now, sunrise is fast approaching. You will give me the notebook and we shall be on our way.”
Tristan suppressed his agitation; he had to find a way to stall him.
“Do you know what is written in the notebook?”
Fellows narrowed his gaze. “I’m sure you have read it, so I have nothing to hide. Your brother intimated it contained numerous witness statements proving my illegitimacy.”