Chapter Thirty

T he Right Honorable Bernice Natham

“Good mornin’ Mrs. Worth.” A young lad stood on the street, a satchel full of newspapers over his thin shoulder. With a wide grin, he waved one in my direction. “Would you be wantin’ a paper today? Some gentry mort were killed in a boating accident.”

“Was he indeed?” I paid him for the paper, eager to read the news. Skimming the headline, I read the news that the Duke of Moreland and his only son were killed when their yacht exploded. I had met the man once at a party. He’d been pleasant enough, if a bit arrogant. Of course, that was to be expected of a duke. One couldn’t reach a higher title unless they came from royalty.

I tucked the paper under my arm and continued on my journey. Moran often read the paper and had tasked me with buying it for him. Just the thought of him curled my toes. I waved to Mrs. Paul through the window, eager yet dreading seeing Moran again. My discussion with Ash had been heated. Mostly, his parting salvo had chilled me to my bones. After a sleepless night, I knew I must tell Moran the truth, yet I couldn’t tell him everything.

The tinkling of the door over her shop rang, and Mrs. Paul waved me over, her face set in panic. “Oh, Mrs. Worth. I am so glad you are here. Mr. Moran was arrested last night.”

“Beg pardon?” I asked, my heart in my throat. Surely she misspoke. Knees weak, I had a hundred questions inside my head. Not a single one would come out.

With a shaky hand, she nearly dropped a letter as she handed it over. The lines around her mouth were deep, her eyes shimmering with tears. “He asked me to give this to you. Well, a bobby gave it to me on his behalf.”

I took the folded note with his familiar handwriting, my panic rising. Queasiness. “Do you know what happened?”

“There was a terrible ruckus upstairs with banging and clanging.” Her flushed cheeks and fidgeting hands spoke of her upset. “I went to see what was happening and the Met inspectors were searching the office. They wouldn’t tell me why.”

My legs quivered, and I wanted to sink to the ground. I remained upright by sheer force of will. “Do you know where they took him? Does Inspector Ashton know?”

She shook her head, wetness streaming down her cheeks. “No, I am sorry.”

“Beg pardon Mrs. Paul, I must go.” I turned on my heel and lifted the heavy material of my skirt. In a very unladylike move, I all but ran up the stairs. My heart in my throat, I dreaded what I would find behind the door. The click of the key in the lock was loud to my ears. Shoulders back, I pushed the door open to reveal pure chaos. Papers were strewn everywhere, ruining all my hard work.

I opened the note that was addressed to me in Moran’s bold print. Tears began to fall, and I wiped them away. He wanted me to inform his solicitor, which I would do posthaste. The second part of the note had a list of tasks for me to complete in his absence. The last line caught my attention.

It said I would find another manuscript in his office that he wished me to copy edit titled The Golden Knight . There was no manuscript called The Golden Knight . There was one with the Dark Knight and Lord Golden. My heart thumped a mad beat. If the police had found the manuscript, that would explain Moran’s arrest. I strode into his office to see if it was still hidden away.

Moran’s office fared worse than the reception area, with papers littering the floor. My throat tight, I knelt next to the hidden place in the floor and pulled back the mechanism that Moran had shown me. Lillian’s manuscript, along with several others, was still there.

My nerves stretched raw, I had to find Ash and discover if he knew anything. I entered the reception area and moved to my desk, where Moran had stashed some coins for small expenses. It wouldn’t be much, but I prayed it was enough to get him bond.

The door opened with a low swoosh of the hinges. I looked up, hoping it was Ash or even Moran. A thin man carrying a leather satchel entered the office. He leaned on a silver cane as he glanced around the room, his rather bulging eyes wide at the sight of the destruction. “Oh my. Is this Mr. Moran’s office?”

“It is, and I am afraid he is not in.” I had no idea as to his identity, and even if I had been familiar with him, I didn’t have time for pleasantries. “I am sorry, sir. This isn’t a good time, as you can see. Someone broke into the office and caused mayhem.” What really happened was none of his business.

“I see. I see. Do you know where he is? I have something vital to speak with him about.” Switching the cane to his left hand, he tucked the satchel closer to his thin chest. While he appeared rather unassuming in his manners, the quality of his clothing spoke of wealth.

“If you leave your card, I will tell him you called.” I wanted to get rid of him to search Moran’s office for his solicitor’s address.

With a frown, the man pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “My name is Mr. Humphrey, and I am his solicitor. It is imperative that I speak with him. The matter is most urgent.”

I took the card and looked at the embossed writing. A rush of relief shot through me, and I nodded with eagerness. “Your timing is impeccable. Moran just asked that I fetch you. Come along then. We mustn’t waste any more time. Moran might be held in the worse conditions. I have heard horror stories about Newgate, and I couldn’t bear it if he had to spend a moment longer than necessary behind bars.”

His eyes opened wide, and he blanched. “Mr. Moran is in jail?”

“Yes, and we need to leave posthaste to see him. But first, we must stop to see if Inspector Ashton is home.” I moved to the door, determined to rescue Moran. With Ash’s help, I would get Moran the help he needed. To think of him spending the night in jail sent chills of dread along my spine. Since I’d begun to work for him, he had come to mean more to me than I wanted to acknowledge.

Mr. Humphrey stood rooted to the spot, clearly stunned by the turn of events.

I lifted a questioning brow, wishing to be patient with the elderly man, but we had to hurry. Who was to say what horrible situation Moran was in at this very moment. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Mr. Humphrey followed me out of the building, the steady thump of his cane a somewhat comforting cadence. Cool air touched my heated cheeks. Dirty and forlorn-looking snow littered the streets in random piles. When it had first fallen, it had been pristine and untouched by the messiness of life. Being snowed in with Moran and Ash was initially daunting, but what transpired once the blizzard hit was magical. Until Ash uncovered my secret.

“Inspector Ashton lives around the corner.” I strode quickly, my argument with Ash secondary to my new purpose, gaining Moran’s freedom. It was a bit of a relief that Ash knew my true identity because the lie weighed on me. He was one less person I needed to hide things from. As for Moran learning about my truth, I wasn’t sure how wise it was to tell him.

The solicitor wheezed behind me, doing his best to keep up. “I don’t think I caught your name, Miss.”

“It is Mrs.” Fear rode my shoulders, and I was torn between slowing down for him or lengthening my strides. I needed to speak to Ash but I was cognizant of Humphrey’s limitations. Pity for the elderly man won out and I reduced my pace for his benefit.

“Beg pardon, Your Grace. I wasn’t aware you were his wife.” He gripped the satchel tighter to his chest, his breath coming in pants. Cheeks a ruddied red, sweat poured down his brow.

Guilt and confusion warred with each other at his odd statement. Whatever was he prattling on about? “It is my turn to beg pardon. You just addressed me as Your Grace.”

“Birdie,” Ash called from the other side of the street. The blue greatcoat he favored blew against his legs, his smile of greeting speaking to his ignorance of Moran’s circumstances. I changed course, sidestepping a pile of manure in my haste to reach his side.

“Ash, thank God.” The words came out in a rush, relief overcoming me at the sight of him. In the short time I had known him, I had come to depend on him more than I should. We were friends and lovers thus my trust in him was understandable.

His smile fell, panic replacing the teasing light. “When?”

“Last night. Mrs. Paul told me that the police had been looking for evidence.” I worried my hands and realized I had forgotten to don my gloves. It was a testament to my upset that I had neglected to dress properly.

“What kind of evidence exactly?” Mr. Humphrey said. He’s lost the look of confusion, and shrewdness lit his rather pale blue eyes.

Ash looked from him to me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Who is this man?”

“He is Moran’s solicitor, Mr. Humphrey. He came to call on Moran while I was inspecting the damage to the office.” I was never so grateful for anything in my life. Mr. Humphrey might be elderly, but I suspected he had a healthy grasp of the law.

“Moran never mentioned a solicitor named Humphrey.” Ash stared hard at the man, eyes narrowed.

Mr. Humphrey’s breathing remained heavy as he lowered the satchel to his side. “He doesn’t exactly know me yet. I need to give him some tragic news.”

“I think he has enough tragedy on his plate right now. I need to get to the station.” Ash glanced around the busy street, hands on his hips. “Where is a hack when you need one?”

“I have a carriage,” Mr. Humphrey volunteered, pointing back in the direction we’d come.

“Ash, please carry Mr. Humphrey’s satchel, it looks rather heavy.” I turned on my heel, anxious to seek out Moran. Ash retrieved the satchel from the man and fell into step beside me. The solicitor spryly pulled up the rear, moving at a faster clip than earlier. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I said.

“Neither can I. Stark had to be investigating him the entire time.” Ash clenched his hands into fists, echoing my anger and frustration.

A puddle of slush reflected the grey sky, the color matching my mood. I had been looking forward to seeing Moran this morning, despite my promise to tell him who I was. That all changed with Moran’s arrest. “I wonder what the charge is.”

“At best, it is probably a common misdemeanor.” Ash shrugged, swinging the satchel in his right hand. While Mr. Humphrey had struggled with the weight, Ash carried it with ease. “If Moran keeps his temper in check, the judge might be lenient and give him time served.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I hated to think of the alternative. Every second away from Moran felt like a lifetime.

Lips pressed in a grim line, Ash shook his head. “We will address that if it happens. The sooner we arrive at the station, the better.” Ash tugged at his beard, his face drawn with worry.

A polished carriage that hinted at wealth was parked in front of the publishing house. I’d neglected to notice it in my hurry to seek out Ash.

“This is my carriage,” Mr. Humphrey said.

I hadn’t ridden in one this handsome in three years. Mr. Humphrey was very well-to-do. Ash assisted me inside before putting the satchel on the opposite seat. He sat next to me, the tension in his frame palpable. The solicitor gave directions to his driver before joining us in the well-appointed equipage.

My temples throbbed as the coachman put the vehicle in motion. “We will see him home soon enough.” Ash placed his hand on mine and squeezed, offering what comfort he could give.

“Mr. Humphrey, you are a godsend.” I leaned against Ash, unable to touch him the way I wished. To have his arms around me would help; however, we couldn’t be that friendly. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you dropped from the heavens at the most opportune moment.”

“You are too kind, Your Grace. I will do my best to clear this mess up in a trice.” Mr. Humphrey tapped his thumb on his expensive wool trousers, looking at home in the carriage’s expensive interior.

Ash flashed the solicitor a concerned glance, his gaze meeting mine with a question.

Either I could ignore the odd address, or resolve it. Moran’s freedom was in the balance. “Mr. Humphrey, that is the second time you have addressed me as such.” Perhaps he wasn’t in his right mind, and I was making a horrible mistake in trusting him.

A flush pinkened his cheeks, and he gripped the head of his cane. “I had wanted to wait until I spoke with the both of you together, but alas, I let it slip before I should.”

I gentled my voice, sure I had made a grave error. The elderly man appeared in control of his faculties, but looks were often deceiving. “It would appear so.”

“I am not sure if you heard that His Grace, the Duke of Moreland, and his son were killed in a boating accident.” He fiddled with the cane handle, his middle finger crooked with arthritis. “I am sure the news came as a bit of shock.”

“Yes, very shocking.” What this had to do with me was perplexing. Ash remained silent, allowing me to lead the conversation.

Mr. Humphrey tilted his head and studied me with a perplexed smile. “Well, your husband is next in line for the title. You, Mrs. Moran, are now the Duchess of Moreland.”

“I am not h—” A hysterical laugh bubbled into my throat, the pieces falling together all at once. Mr. Humphrey had called me Miss and I corrected him with Mrs ., thus he assumed I was married to Moran.

“Are you telling me Moran is the new Duke of Moreland? Tobias James Moran?” Ash shook his head, his disbelief mirroring my own.

“Yes, the very same.”

Silence hung in the air as I absorbed the information. Never had Moran even hinted at his pedigree. Instead, he carried bitter contempt for the aristocracy. Yet he was one of them.

One of us.

Moran and I were both gentry. While my father’s title had been illustrious, Moran’s status as a duke was the highest rank one could have, save royalty.

The carriage turned into the Met, and I stared outside, trying to come to grips with everything that had transpired. Once Moran took his title, the publishing house would no doubt close, and he would move on with his life.

There was still the matter of his arrest. I could hardly wait to assure myself he was safe. What the future would hold after that was up in the air. I only knew I needed to look after my own, no matter how much it tore me up inside to say goodbye.