Chapter 15

15

S amantha thanked her friend and left Heathbrooke House, choosing to walk the short distance to St. George's Hospital. Isak was awake when she arrived and propped up against a pile of pillows. A fragile smile pulled at his lips the moment he saw her, his eyes like shimmering pools of water.

She lowered herself to the edge of his bed and gave him a careful hug while being mindful of his wounds. "Did you get my message?"

He nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Croft. For everything."

"Thank you for making sure I learned of the trouble you were in. I'm so incredibly glad we found you."

"Me too." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the movement. "I don't know how to repay your kindness."

"There's no need for you to think about that. And you mustn't worry about your future either. When you're well enough, Mr. Croft and I will discuss your options with you."

"What about Wycliff?" Isak's voice trembled as he spoke the name. "He said he'd kill me the next time I disobeyed him."

"He's not in any position to hurt you again. I swear it. He's been taken care of. For good."

Isak expelled a deep breath and relaxed against the pillows. "Thank God."

She hesitated a moment before daring to say, "If you ever need to talk about what happened, please know tha—"

"Nothing happened." Tears welled at the edges of his eyes and spilled onto his pale cheeks. "My wounds were too unappealing. The woman who ran the place said she'd be ashamed to recommend me to a client. Never thought I'd be grateful for Wycliff's beating, but it kept me safe long enough to avoid a fate worse than death."

Samantha felt as though a mountain had been lifted from her shoulders. Although she knew some of the other children they'd rescued had probably not been so lucky, she was glad Isak had escaped the abuse Wycliff had in mind for him.

She left the hospital with a deeper sense of calm and headed in the direction of Grosvenor Square where Orendel House was located. Upon crossing the street, she noticed a familiar tall figure walking toward her, his brownish-blonde hair peeking out from beneath the brim of his elegant hat .

Her smile was instant, widening when he spotted her and smiled in return. "Marsdale," she said, greeting Adrian's close friend. "It's been far too long."

He drew to a halt before her. "I've been away at my Devonshire estate this past month. Just got back last night. Thought I'd check in at my club – see what's been going on during my absence."

"You should have come by the house."

"Already tried that. Apparently you and your husband are both out." A subtle bit of friendly teasing. They both laughed.

"Well, I can tell you there's been another murder."

A shadow fell across Marsdale's brow. "So I've heard. Terrible business. Let's hope Bow Street finds the culprit quickly."

"Adrian is working on doing so too. At Orendel's request."

"I see." A troubled look filled Marsdale's eyes. He glanced away briefly, as though gazing toward the horizon. When he turned to her next, the emotion was gone, as though it had never existed. "Thank you for the update, Mrs. Croft. I won't keep you any longer."

"Please, you mustn't be so formal." She gave him a mischievous smirk and whispered, "After all, we did kiss."

"Only as a means to an end," he reminded her gently. "I recommend we never speak of it again."

"Nevertheless, I must insist you call me Samantha. Especially since Adrian considers you family."

"Very well then, but only if he will allow it." The statement echoed the one he'd made when she'd told him of the plan to catch Clive Newton and what it entailed.

"If you're free for dinner tomorrow evening we can ask him." She was sure Adrian would love a chance to catch up with his friend.

He bowed his head. "I'd enjoy that tremendously. What time should I be there?"

"Does seven o'clock suit?"

"It's perfect." They parted ways and she continued her progress.

A maid admitted her when she reached Orendel House and apologized for the butler not arriving to do so. From what Samantha gathered, he was presently being interviewed by Adrian in the earl's study.

"Can you please tell my husband I'm here?" Samantha asked while she removed her bonnet.

"I've been asked not to interrupt until the interview is over. If you don't mind, I'd rather wait to inform him until then." When Samantha told her this was fine, the maid gestured toward the parlor. "My mistress is waiting in there with her children. Perhaps you'd care to join them?"

Samantha inclined her head and walked to the parlor door, gave it a quick courtesy knock, and entered. Lady Orendel, a robust woman with reddish hair who appeared to be near her fiftieth year, reclined on a divan. Her children, two daughters between the ages of twelve and sixteen, sat on the sofa while her son, a boy who looked to be no more than five, sat cross-legged on the floor, his gaze fixed on the carpet.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion," Samantha said. Everyone's attention gradually shifted toward her, a question on all their faces. "We've not been formally introduced. I'm Samantha Croft. My husband is…um… Forgive me. Please accept my sincerest condolences."

Lady Orendel dabbed at her eyes with what looked like a very damp handkerchief. "Thank you."

Her daughters, the younger with a vacant look about her, the older still wearing the shocked expression that must have imprinted itself upon her face when she'd first been informed of her sister's death, said nothing. Neither did their brother, who just went back to staring at the carpet.

Samantha's heart hurt from the weight of loss pushing down on the room. It was stifling, yet so completely understandable it surprised her they weren't all screaming in pain. None looked remotely willing to speak of what had occurred, for which she could not blame them.

Deciding a different approach might be better, she took a step forward, keenly observing every detail that might prove relevant. A curious painting of a man standing next to a peacock drew her attention. "They're remarkable birds, you know."

"What?"

Samantha sent a glance over her shoulder and saw that it was the daughter with the vacant gaze who'd spoken. Something flickered there now – a sliver of interest – a hint at more than an empty shell.

"Their tail feathers can reach up to six feet in length. I've always wanted to see one in person."

"Grandpapa loved them. That's him in the painting."

"Have you ever had your portrait painted?" Samantha asked, a bit easier since she'd gained a response. The young lady shook her head. "Me neither. I can't imagine having to sit still for hours on end while an artist captured my likeness. I daresay I'd hate every second."

The young lady gave a faint smile but added nothing further. Samantha sent the painting a final look. "The man who raised me has an aviary full of lovebirds, parakeets, and budgies. No peacocks though."

"Hmm…"

The door opened and a man who looked very butlerish in appearance directed his attention toward his mistress. "If you're ready, my lady, Mr. Croft would like to speak with you next." To Samantha he said, "You're welcome to join them."

"Thank you, but I think I'll stay here a while longer." Samantha waited until the butler and Lady Orendel were gone, then said, "May I ask what your names are?"

The young lady who'd spoken earlier responded once more, her voice a little livelier now. "I'm Violet, this is my sister, Theodora, and that's Robert."

"And what do you enjoy doing for sport?"

"I like to read," Violet said. "We all do. Especially Eleanor. She…" Violet squeezed her eyes shut and sh ook her head while Theodora and Robert both stared at her in frozen silence.

"Have you been outside lately?" Samantha asked, attempting to force their attention elsewhere. "It's a lovely day and I'm feeling a little restless myself. Do you have a garden I can visit?"

"Just continue through the hallway and you'll arrive at a pair of French doors leading onto the terrace."

"Perhaps you'd be kind enough to show me."

"I…" Violet hesitated. She fiddled with her fingers for a brief moment but finally seemed to realize it would be rude to deny her guest's request. So she nodded. "Of course."

"We'd love for the two of you to join us," Samantha told Theodora and Robert once Violet had risen.

Theodora shook her head but Robert stood and preceded them through the door, his spirits seeming to lift a little as soon as they stepped outside. Although the weather was cool, sunshine leaking between a smattering of fluffy white clouds added a cheerful brightness that was otherwise lost indoors. The young boy hopped down the steps leading onto a paving stone path, and dropped to a crouch.

"He's probably spotted some sort of insect," Violet said. "Beetles especially fascinate him."

"You should take him to the Hunterian Museum," Samantha suggested. "They've quite the collection."

"I'd forgotten that. It's been years since I was last there. Before Robert was born." Violet took a deep breath and expelled it as though enjoying the smell of fresh air. She glanced at Samantha, a thin smile adding a very slight curve to her lips. "Thank you for the reminder."

"You're welcome." They fell into a companionable silence while watching Robert move about as he sought new points of interest. The subject Samantha wanted to broach was not an easy one, but eventually she dared to say, "I realize how painful this is for you, but I was wondering if you might know whether Eleanor was excited to marry Benjamin Lawrence or if she might have met someone else and perhaps changed her mind."

A long moment passed before Violet spoke. When she finally did, it was with assertiveness. "My sister was never smitten by Mr. Lawrence, but he made Papa an excellent offer in exchange for her hand. Though he's only Lord Avernail's second eldest son, he's extremely well off. Since none of us have large dowries, I think Papa was of the opinion that this was the best achievable match for my sister. Being related to a marquess through marriage would also have been a step up for the family as a whole."

"And what would Mr. Lawrence have gained from this arrangement?" He was a marquess's son, so if there was no impressive dowry to speak of, Samantha saw no benefit to him wedding an earl's eldest daughter. Unless he'd fallen in love with her of course.

"I'm honestly not sure, but he seemed extremely determined in his courtship." Pensiveness creased her brow. "Mama and Papa will probably know the answer, though it's possible he simply viewed her as one of the most eligible women on the marriage mart. Which she was."

"And did she ever say if her heart was engaged elsewhere?"

Violet's expression hardened. "My sister was not the sort of woman to make a commitment to one man while pining for another. She was good and kind, selfless in every conceivable way, always putting others ahead of herself."

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."

"Didn't you?" Violet lifted her chin, her eyes glistening in the early afternoon light. She sniffed. "When Lawrence fell from that horse and word arrived of his injuries, she went to him without hesitation. There was no questioning the pain she felt on his behalf when she returned from that visit. She recognized that while this would make her life more challenging, it didn't compare to how hard it was for Lawrence to lose the use of his legs. And she determined to focus all her energy on making the situation more bearable for him. That is the sort of person she was, Mrs. Croft."

Samantha said nothing further. It was clear to her that Violet had viewed her older sister as a living saint. But Eleanor must have done something to earn someone's wrath or she wouldn't have been so brutally murdered.

Filing away the information she'd gained from Violet, she returned indoors and went to join Adrian in the study. He had just finished questioning Lady Orendel when she entered .

"Are you certain there's nothing else to add?" Adrian asked the countess.

"Perfectly so. I'd like to rest now."

Adrian sighed. "Very well. Thank you for your time."

The countess dipped her head but said nothing more as she stood. She turned toward the door and her red-rimmed eyes found Samantha.

"I'm not sure if this was already addressed, Lady Orendel," Samantha said, "but I wonder if you're able to tell us why Mr. Benjamin Lawrence was keen on marrying your daughter."

Shock seized the countess's features. "He must have known he'd be lucky to have her. Any man would have."

"Would you go so far as to say that he loved her?"

"Yes." The countess gave a vigorous nod. "There's no doubt in my mind that he did."

A different perception to Violet's. "And did she love him?"

"Without question. Mr. Lawrence meant the world to her. She was excited to wed him. Impatient to do so. But Mr. Lawrence's grandfather died in January, and then he himself took that terrible fall in April, so the wedding was postponed two times."

It was hard to know where the truth lay between Violet's statement and Lady Orendel's. Perhaps somewhere in the middle?

Samantha waited until she and Adrian were alone before she told him, "Eleanor's sister gave the impression that Eleanor would have married Mr. Lawrence for convenience only. "

"And?" He gave her a questioning look.

"As we've discussed before, this might have left her open to somebody else's attentions – someone who might have insisted she end her engagement, an individual incensed by her choice to stand by a man she did not love. A cripple, no less. Of course, if she did love Mr. Lawrence, then that theory falls apart." She dropped into the nearest chair and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Have you learned anything useful?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth and slowly nodded. "According to Oliver Wren, the hall boy, Rodney Jones – the footman who was murdered – was in this room the night Eleanor was killed. With Lady Orendel."

"Oh…"

"Apparently they've been carrying on with each other for quite some time." He jutted his chin toward the tall glass windows overlooking the side of the house. "He'd have had an excellent view from here as the murderer made his escape."

"So would Lady Orendel."

"I reckon she might have been facing away from the windows." A pensive look entered Adrian's eyes. "Her grief is too sincere for her not to name the man who killed her daughter and lover, even if it means risking her husband's wrath."

"And yet, Rodney Jones cared only for himself and the fortune he hoped to acquire through blackmail, or he would surely have told Lady Orendel who he saw." Fresh anger bloomed in Samantha's heart .

"If there's one thing that tends to hold true," Adrian muttered, "it's that most people are selfish."

Samantha allowed this thought to sink in before saying, "According to Eleanor's sister, Violet, Eleanor was an exception."

"And yet, her eyes were carved out. That doesn't happen without a reason."

He was right. It was the same conclusion she'd drawn. "How many interviews do you have left?"

"Just the children." Holding her gaze, he added, "After that, I suggest we visit Mr. Benjamin Lawrence."

Luncheon was a lively affair. The man who sat at the head of the table smiled in response to the lively chatter that filled the dining room. It was good to be surrounded by family. They helped him forget the anger still ripping its way through his chest.

It was hard to dismiss when he thought of Eleanor. Of what she had made him do. Not just to her, but to that idiot servant of hers as well. At least killing him had been quick and easy. One precise shot as he'd ridden past, just to be sure the fool wouldn't reveal whom he'd seen leaving Orendel House.

A stroke of luck, actually, that the greedy idiot had decided to try and get rich instead of doing the honorable thing. Stupid, but certainly a decision that worked in his own favor.

He nodded in response to his sister's comment, agreeing with her that the news of Mr. Croft getting involved in the investigation was welcome. Rumor did after all suggest it was he who'd seen to Clive Newton's end a couple of months before.

But this didn't worry him in the least. Unlike Newton, who'd clearly made mistakes, he had plotted and planned to be sure he would never get caught. No matter how hard Bow Street or Mr. Croft might try.