Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Freddie felt a fool.

He had wished to rescue Miss Mifford, to ride in on his white horse and vanquish all her troubles, but he appeared to have made things worse.

In Northcott"s library, all dark panelled wood and leather chairs, he quickly explained his reasoning for thinking Sir Cadogan guilty.

It all sounded very plausible, until the squire interrupted and explained just why it could not possibly be he who had killed Lady Hardthistle.

"Ethel and I went our separate ways," Sir Cadogan cleared his throat awkwardly, his ears pink, "And on my way back to watch the fireworks, I stumbled into a pair of lovers."

"Miss Gardner and I," Mr Fitzgibbons explained, with a faint note of pride, "Gave us quite the fright. It would have been jolly awkward, had we not been interrupted by Miss Willard"s screams."

"You told me that you and Mr Bunting were together?" Freddie replied, narrowing his eyes in dislike at the young buck.

"He offered to vouch for my whereabouts, so Miss Gardner would not be caught up in a scandal," Mr Fitzgibbons shrugged, "It was an attempt at gallantry on his part."

"And I did not tell you that I was with Ethel, for I did not wish to embarrass her," Sir Cadogan added, glaring fiercely in Freddie"s direction, "But that appears to have been a waste, for you have done it for us."

Freddie felt his cheeks flame; he was a fool of the highest order. Why had he believed himself capable of solving a murder? He should have left well enough alone.

"Now, Sir Cadogan," Northcott interrupted, his voice soothing, "I understand your upset, but Lord Chambers is a man in love, and he believed that he was rescuing the object of his affections from scandal. We cannot berate him too harshly; smitten men do the strangest things."

Like marrying beneath their title for money.

Northcott did not say it, but the implication was there. He was offering Sir Cadogan a pass should he marry Ethel; social acceptance for a former maid, from one of the highest ranking men in the country. It was not an offer to be sniffed at.

"I would like a public apology," Sir Cadogan said, after a moment"s deliberation. He did not look pleased to have been strong armed into forgiving Freddie, but as he wasn"t in the best of shape, this was a better result than a duel to defend his honour.

"Naturally," Northcott bowed his head, to hide the smile which tugged at his lips. Sir Cadogan had been easy enough to manipulate.

"I should like one too," Mr Fitzgibbons interrupted, "I was also falsely accused."

"With good reason," Freddie could not help but retort, "You threatened to kill the woman, then you provided a representative of the law with a false alibi. All this might not have happened, had you been honest from the off."

"I was protecting my beloved"s reputation," Mr Fitzgibbons replied, with a pout, but he did not force the matter further.

With everything wrapped up neatly, Northcott gave the three gentlemen a smile.

"Shall we return to the ball? I know my wife will be eager to see matters resolved."

Guilt pierced Freddie at this statement; he had ruined not only Miss Mifford"s night, but her sister"s too.

Freddie followed the other men from the room, back to the ballroom. As they entered, there was a slight lull in conversation, and all eyes turned to them.

"My apologies, sir," Freddie said loudly, offering his hand to Sir Cadogan, "I was mistaken, and you are most magnanimous to forgive me."

Sir Cadogan took Freddie"s hand and gave it a rather limp shake--though he did preen at being called munificent by one of his betters. Once he had decided that Freddie had debased himself enough, he let go of his hand and disappeared into the crowd.

"Don"t look too glum," Northcott whispered in Freddie"s ear, "Your heart was in the right place."

"It"s just my brain that wasn"t," Freddie snorted, but offered the duke a smile of thanks nonetheless.

"I had best go in search of my beloved, there"s no telling what she might have decided to do to distract from the drama," Northcott muttered, looking somewhat worried. The duchess, Freddie deduced, could be something of a loose cannon.

Northcott hurried off and Freddie waved down a passing footman. His tray held glasses of sparkling wine, but Freddie"s nerves required something stronger.

"Is there any chance you could find me something with a bit more bite?" he queried, palming the young lad a coin.

"Of course, my lord," he replied, and quickly disappeared.

He returned in jig-time, bearing a double brandy, which Freddie received with thanks. Not wanting to cause further scandal, by being seen drinking such hard liquor after his disastrous performance earlier, Freddie made for the French doors on the far side of the room.

Outside, he found the terrace empty and the night air cool. Freddie strolled quietly towards the steps which led down to the formal gardens, and at the bottom of them he found a secluded bench where he might drink in peace.

He took a deep sip of his brandy, then another, and once the tension of the last few minutes had left his body, he allowed his mind to wander.

His list of possible suspects for the murder contained no names now that Sir Cadogan and Mr Fitzgibbons had been eliminated from it. He might never discover who it was that had murdered the baroness, which meant that poor Emily would always bear the brunt of people"s suspicion.

Unless...

Something niggled at the back of Freddie"s mind, and he took another deep sip of his brandy to see if that might summon it to the fore.

Both Sir Cadogan and Mr Fitzgibbons had been heard professing a wish to murder Lady Hardthistle, but what was it Mr Mifford had said?

Quite often the culprit is the man who had said nothing at all.

Mr Bunting.

Freddie"s mind raced, as he recalled the night of the murder. Just like Mr Fitzgibbons, Mr Bunting had lost money by taking a large punt on the wrong horse. Also, according to Mr Fitzgibbons, Mr Bunting was as beholden as he to find a bride with deep coffers...but Lady Hardthistle had suggested that an engagement between he and Lady Francesca was imminent, despite the lady"s lack of a family fortune.

Was it possible that Mr Bunting was the true villain of the piece? His offer to vouch for his friend"s whereabouts might have appeared as gallantry to Mr Fitzgibbons, but was it really so he could hide his own secrets?

Feeling suddenly energised, Freddie jumped to his feet and retraced his steps back to the ballroom. Inside, he searched in vain for any sight of Emily. If anyone could tell him that his hunch was more than just that, it was she.

Freddie paced the length of the ballroom, his eyes peeled, but he could not spot her. He did, however, find Eudora.

"Have you seen your sister?" he pressed.

"Which one?"

"Emily," Freddie replied, struggling to keep the note of impatience from his voice.

"The last I saw of her, she was headed for the gardens. I presume for a little weep, after all the embarrassment of earlier," Eudora answered, plainly.

Freddie, who was not accustomed to discussing emotions so openly, blinked in surprise.

"Oh," Eudora caught his shock, "One of us is always crying; I wouldn"t fret. Papa always says that God should have provided him with an endless supply of umbrellas when he gifted him four daughters."

"So, you think she is outside?" Freddie clarified, afraid that Eudora would take off on another tangent.

"Almost certain," she agreed, and Freddie gave her a nod of thanks, before turning to make for the gardens once again.

He pushed his way through the heave of people that filled the room, until he reached the French doors. He cast one glance back at the room, to be certain that Emily was not amongst the crowd, when a pale, frightened face caught his eye.

Lady Francesca.

Their gazes met and Freddie suddenly knew that his hunch was correct. He began to pivot direction, to move towards her, but found that she was already on her way to him.

"Do you think it was Mr Bunting who killed Lady Hardthistle?" Freddie asked, wasting no time on niceties.

"I have suspected for quite some time," the young lady agreed, her voice hoarse, "When I raised it with him, he threatened to ruin me..."

Freddie bit back a biting retort, to ask did she not care if Emily"s reputation was ruined instead. He needed Lady Francesca on side, for the time being.

"Have you seen him?" Freddie pressed, his anxiety filling him with agitation. He needed to be in action, not making small talk in a ballroom.

"He went out for a cheroot, but did not return," Lady Francesca answered, gesturing towards the garden.

Fear filled Freddie at her words, as he realised that Emily might have found herself alone with a murderer.

"Fetch Northcott," Freddie instructed her, harshly, "Tell him to follow me, and bring Lord Crabb too."

Freddie did not wait for her to confirm that she would follow his instructions, instead, he took off into the gardens at breakneck pace.

"Emily," he called, once he was out in the fresh night"s air, "Emily, are you out here?"

Freddie raced to the steps, down into the ornamental gardens, still shouting Emily"s name. He did not care for propriety, he just needed to be certain she was safe.

Ornate topiary bushes cast dark shadows as he crunched along the path, which wound itself past flower beds, towards a trickling fountain. Beyond the fountain, Freddie saw that the path led towards a tall, ivy-covered fence, which no doubt screened the kitchen garden from view.

Picking up his pace, Freddie rushed forward, still calling Emily"s name. He found the handle for the gate to the gardens, concealed by masses of ivy, and pushed it open.

They lay empty, but beyond the neat rows of vegetables, by the far wall, a gate which led beyond the property swung open.

"Emily," Freddie called again, and this time he heard a reply.

"Freddie, help!"

His blood thundered in his ears, as he raced towards the sound of Emily"s voice. Outside in the alleyway, the surrounding mews buildings lay in darkness, the servants otherwise occupied in the main house.

"Freddie!" Emily"s voice called again, and Freddie turned his head in the direction of her voice.

There she was, at the end of the alleyway, being dragged along by a deranged looking Mr Bunting.

"Give it up, Bunting," Freddie roared, "I am carrying a pistol and I"m a crack shot."

Only one of his claims was true, but the confidence of his tone caused Bunting to hesitate. Sensing his distraction, Emily wriggled free from Mr Bunting"s grasp, and sprinted towards Freddie.

Her captor gave a roar of annoyance and made to follow her, but quickly rethought his decision, and instead fled into the dark shadows of the night.

Freddie made to follow him, but his progress was impeded as Emily flung herself into his arms.

"You saved me," she sobbed, pressing her body against his, "Oh, Freddie. I knew you would come for me."

As Mr Bunting had already gained a considerable head-start, Freddie decided it would be rather pointless to chase him. That task was best delegated to the Runners, who would apprehend the culprit in no time.

Feeling almost weak with relief, Freddie pulled Emily against him, inhaling her scent deep into his lungs.

"Are you hurt?" he whispered, stroking her hair away from her face so that he could see her properly.

"Just shaken," she assured him, her eyes meeting his.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Freddie could not help but feel a surge of desire for the woman in his arms. He pulled her against him again and brought his lips crashing down on hers.

Their kiss was raw, filled with a frenetic energy that Freddie was uncertain he would be able to control. He gave a growl of desire, as he claimed Emily"s lips with his, lost to the pleasure of his senses.

"Ahem."

Freddie and Emily immediately sprung apart, at the sound of the new arrival. They turned and found Northcott and Lord Crabb, both with their gazes turned to the night sky.

"Gentlemen," to hide his embarrassment at having been caught so unaware, Freddie greeted both men in a deep baritone, which sounded most unlike his natural voice.

"We have discovered the true killer," Freddie continued, "Mr Victor Bunting, son of Baron Mannix. He attempted to kidnap Emily, but I interrupted him mid-act. He fled on foot, in the direction of the river."

"Why would he have attempted to kidnap you?" Lord Crabb queried of Emily, and Freddie was glad he did, for he had been wondering the same himself.

"I stumbled across Mr Bunting engaged in a scandalous act with a young lady at Lady Collins" musicale," Emily explained, "Where they were also sighted by Lady Hardthistle. The baroness wished to force Mr Bunting into proposing to the young woman, but as she had no fortune, he was rather disinclined."

"Rather disinclined?" the duke echoed, his eyes dancing, "That"s something of an understatement."

"I was in the gardens, recovering from the earlier drama," Emily continued, a blush staining her cheeks at the memory, "When I bumped into Mr Bunting. He must have recognised me, for he went rather queer. Before I knew it, he was dragging me down the garden path and threatening to throw me in the Thames."

Freddie felt his blood run cold, as he realised the grave danger that Emily had faced. He rather regretted his decision not to pursue Bunting, for there was nothing Freddie now wanted more than to pound the living daylights out of the slimy pilchard.

"Luckily," she finished, turning to Freddie with bright eyes, "Lord Chambers was here to come to my rescue."

She reached out and placed her hand in Freddie"s, and it was in that moment that he understood that they would be joined together for their lifetime, and for whatever lay beyond.

"Capital job, Chambers," Northcott saluted him.

"I got there in the end," Freddie agreed, with a self-aware chuckle, "Though, not before taking a few wrong turns."

"What say we return inside?" Northcott decided, "I shall summon the Runners, and send them out in search of Mr Bunting."

They were all in agreement, though as they traipsed through the garden, back to the house, Northcott suddenly halted.

"Er, is there any way we could do this quietly, do you think?" he asked, with a nervous glance through the windows. The duchess was clearly visible, laughing and smiling with some of her guests, and Freddie immediately understood that he did not wish to upset her party for a second time.

"Leave matters to me," Lord Crabb offered, "I"ll dash across the square and have my servants set things in motion."

"I"ll follow you over," Freddie told the viscount, before addressing the duke, "Return inside to your wife, your Grace, we have stolen you from her for long enough. Lord Crabb and I can handle matters for now."

Looking rather relieved, Northcott acknowledged his statement with a nod.

"Very good," he said, "I shall come over when the last of the guests have gone."

Northcott turned for the house, while Lord Crabb indicated with his thumb that he would leave by the gate at the end of the garden.

Once both men had gone, Freddie took Emily"s hand in his once again.

"I wish to explain my absence," he began, but she cut him off.

"I don"t care that you live in Norfolk half the year," she said, turning her green eyes towards him, "I wish to be by your side, always. Even if it means spending my winters bound in by snow and ice."

"Norfolk"s not that far north," Freddie could not help but laugh, "I shall buy you a map, my dear, to hang on the wall of my--I mean, our--new house in Plumpton."

"W-what?" Emily stuttered, clearly confused.

"Norfolk"s not that far north," Freddie repeated, deliberately misunderstanding her for his own amusement, "It"s easterly, more than northerly, in fact."

"No, you beast," she said, as Freddie earned himself a slight thwack on the chest, "What did you mean when you said that you own a house in Plumpton?"

"Just that," Freddie smiled, proud of himself, "I realised that you might be reluctant to accept my proposal, if it meant that you might be separated from your family. So I remedied matters."

"You bought the house before I said yes?" Emily raised a brow, "That"s rather presumptuous of you."

"If you had not gathered by now, my dear," Freddie grinned, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her close, "I"m a confident sort of chap."

"Arrogant, even," Emily corrected him, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"What say you then?" Freddie cleared his throat, "I won"t presume you"re agreeable to the idea of shackling yourself to me, unless you say you are. I"m not that arrogant."

Emily paused before answering--it was her turn to tease him now. Freddie tried to hide the brief feeling of panic, as he momentarily wondered if, perhaps, he had completely misread every interaction they had shared.

Mercifully, Emily noted his unease, and gave a delighted laugh.

"Of course I will," she said, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, "There"s nothing I want more."

As they were not completely alone, the kiss that Freddie bestowed upon his wife-to-be was rather chaste, but thrilling none the less. So thrilling, that Freddie realised he could not wait three weeks to have the banns read--he wished to marry her at once.

"What say I nip over to Canterbury Palace, and see if the archbishop is home?" he whispered, as he gently stroked her hair, "If I procure a special license, we could be married by noon."

"That does sound like a dream," Emily agreed, "But aren"t you supposed to be in Crabb House, assisting in the capture of a murderer?"

So he was. Dash it, but she was awfully distracting.

"Er, yes," Freddie conceded, with a rueful smile, "Perhaps we should hold that thought until tomorrow."

"I"ll still be here tomorrow," she assured him, "And you"ll find my mama less hysterical if she"s given notice of the wedding. She would be most put out if she did not get a day or two to gloat over our engagement to anyone who"ll listen."

"Ah-ha," Freddie laughed, but he faltered somewhat, when he realised Emily was being factual.

"You might yet regret offering to move so close to my family," Emily smiled, giving his hand a squeeze, "Though I will shield you from the worst of it, I promise."

"We will protect each other," Freddie agreed.

And then, even though he really should have been on his way, Freddie kissed her again.