“Teeny is a superlative girl,” Flock said, and lowered his head mournfully. “She did not tell me about the letter.”

“It will work,” Lord Beecham said. “It must.”

“I agree. Bring champagne, Flock.”

“Why champagne now, Father?”

“One must always think positively, Nell. If we celebrate now, doubtless we will be celebrating the same thing again when you and Spenser are wedded.”

“Is my valet still breathing, sir?”

“It has been a close thing, my boy. Flock and Nettle usually just eye each other and sniff, like two stray dogs in the same territory. However, it is Teeny who has stayed their more violent tendencies.”

“What has she done?”

“She has informed them that she is going to marry Walter Jones. She told me, however, in private, that Walter is a ne’er-do-well and that she will have to teach him what’s what. She told me that she has memorized all of your excellent discipline strategies, observed many of them and has selected the ones she believes will be most efficacious with Walter if ever he strays. She is fully prepared to use them.”

Helen laughed so hard that Lord Beecham had to rub her back.

Later that afternoon, while Helen was at her inn in Court Hammering, seeing to her accounts and doubtless doling out punishments, Lord Beecham was working on the leather scroll in her small study. He was humming. The translation wasn’t going too badly now. Reverend Mathers had helped considerably. Poor Reverend Mathers. He paused, frowning. He would write to Lord Hobbs in hopes that he and his Bow Street Runner, Mr. Ezra Cave, had discovered something.

Lord Beecham looked up when Flock cleared his throat from the doorway.

“Yes?”

“My lord, there is a Lord Crowley here to see you.”

“The devil, you say. What does that damned man want, I wonder? Oh, the devil. I will come now, Flock.”

Jason Fleming, Baron Crowley, was in the drawing room, alone, standing by the fireplace. He was staring down into the empty grate. He turned slowly when Lord Beecham walked into the room.

“You wonder why I am here,” Lord Crowley said without preamble.

“Yes.”

Lord Crowley shrugged. “Everyone believes that I murdered Reverend Mathers. I did not.”

“Why did you come here?”

“I came to see if you knew more now. He was murdered because of the scroll, wasn’t he?”

“I have no idea.”

“Come, Heatherington, there is no need to be coy. Damnation, there are men following me everywhere I go. I imagine that one of them is dogging my tracks as we speak, probably standing right outside that window, staring in at me. Lord Hobbs won’t leave me alone; he continues to come by with his questions. He speaks to everyone I know. I know he believes that I killed Reverend Mathers. I did not kill the man.”

“You believe then that it was Reverend Titus Older who stuck the stiletto in his back?”

“No, more’s the pity. That silly old fool wouldn’t have the guts.”

“Then I cannot see that there is another available suspect, can you?”

“No, dammit, and that is what frightens me. I tell you, Lord Hobbs wants me hung and he wants to do it soon. He has spoken to everyone. I am not received. An opera girl recognized me the other night and refused to let me bed her, can you imagine?”

Lord Beecham could, but he didn’t say anything, just shrugged. He frankly did not know what to make of this. Crowley coming to him for help? More likely, this was a ruse and Crowley was here to steal the leather scroll. But hadn’t he already stolen the copy? He wouldn’t need the original scroll.

Lord Beecham lightly flicked a small piece of lint from his sleeve. “I think perhaps you did it. You have a reputation for having a black soul. You are ruthless. You deal with scum. You are a luckless gambler, always betting, always losing, always in need of money. You have probably killed before, why not again? I cannot see your conscience pricking you overly. Yes, I can see you doing just about anything to refill your pockets.”

“Damn you, I am a man who looks for opportunities. But I didn’t kill Mathers. Perhaps it was you who stuck that stiletto in his back.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net