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“Well, I hear today did not go as expected,” Fairchild said as Jack strode into his office. “You look like hell by the way.”
Of course, he looked like hell. Today had been the worst day of his life. Watching Downing take Tessa away this morning and seeing the look of betrayal in her eyes had almost killed him. “Today was bloody awful. The duke showed up at the arraignment but thought being a character witness would be enough to keep her out of prison.”
“Now what?”
“We’ll have to get Miss Harte back here to testify that the duke gave her the poison to kill Lady Stanhope’s husbands. That will at least get her out of prison.”
“Assuming the judge believes a maid,” Fairchild commented. “Which in my experience is not likely.”
Jack closed his eyes in frustration. “Where is that bloody whisky?”
“Of course.” Fairchild rose and poured them both a glass and then handed it to Jack along with the bottle. “Have you spoken with the duke since he saw her?”
“That is where I am going next. I had to speak with her mother. She fainted dead away when I told her the news.” Jack gulped down his glass of whisky and poured himself another. The look on Tessa’s sisters’ faces almost did him in. For a moment, he’d thought they might faint too.
“Perhaps, if the duke hears how dreadful Newgate is for a woman, it will prompt him into action.”
“Unless he has already heard that I have her in a private cell with a personal guard and special meals,” Jack commented.
“Still, it’s not a pretty place for a lady.” Fairchild sipped his whisky. “Go pay the duke a visit and see how he is dealing with all this.”
“As you wish.” Jack finished his second whisky and then rose from his seat. He glanced down at his pocket watch. Tessa should be eating her meal now. She’d never know he provided that for her.
When he arrived at the duke’s home, the butler let him in without question and led him to the duke’s study. “Mr. Raynerson, Your Grace.”
Jack walked in the room and stopped. He’d thought he looked like hell. The duke’s face was drawn and pale. It appeared the man had been raking his fingers though his hair until it all but stood up on end. “Your Grace, what have you heard?”
“They brought her to Newgate, Raynerson. I told the justice that I could vouch for her character but he would have none of that. He told me to wait until the trial. That poor girl can’t stay in prison until a trial. That could take weeks.”
Jack moved to a chair across from him. A bottle of port sat to the duke’s left, almost empty. “What about the Regent? Isn’t there something he could do?” Jack asked, remembering Downing’s recount of what happened at the arraignment.
“The Regent is in out of London for a fortnight. A fortnight! She can’t stay there that long, it will kill her.”
Hearing the angst in the duke’s voice, Jack knew he had to be close to breaking down. “So there is nothing we can do until the Regent returns then. She will have to sit in her dank prison cell...alone.”
The duke stared up him with a slightly mad look in his eyes. “We have to get her out, Raynerson. Where is her maid? She is the one who killed those men.”
Jack had him now. “Why would you think the maid was responsible, Your Grace?”
“There’s no one else it could be,” the duke replied. “The maid has been with her since her first marriage.”
“Yes,” Jack drawled. “And before that she was your daughter’s maid.”
“What are you implying, Raynerson?”
“Not a thing, Your Grace.” Jack couldn’t help but notice the desperation in the duke’s eyes. “The maid left town.”
“Then I shall hire someone to find her. A Bow Street runner.”
“Then what?”
“Then I shall insist on a meeting with that justice. He will listen to me this time.” The duke sipped on his port without offering any to Jack.
“And it could take a fortnight or more to find her.” Jack watched the duke’s hands shake as he brought the glass to his lips. The man needed only a little more prodding. “Any which way, she is stuck there for two weeks or more.”
“No!” He exclaimed, scraping back his seat and then standing. “I will not let her rot in a prison cell.”
“I am afraid we have no choice, Your Grace. Unless someone confesses, there is nothing we can do.”
The duke’s face turned red with rage. “The maid has to be found. She is the key!”
“No one knows where she went. I already checked with Mr. Roberts. She just disappeared after she left to run some errands this morning. Roberts sent a footman on horse to her mother’s home in Reading but it’s doubtful she went there as they were not on good terms.” Jack hoped his lie about Anne and her mother would keep the duke from sending someone to look for her there.
The duke clenched his fists. “I need to think...alone.”
Jack rose and gave him a quick bow. “Of course, I shall take my leave now.”
“Do you love her, Raynerson?”
How should he answer that? If he said yes, it might make the duke believe he had no chance. “We never discussed love, Your Grace. We were just friends.”
“Friends. Hah,” the duke scoffed in a bitter tone.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Jack said and left the room. As he left the house, he had no idea where to go. The thought of returning to his brother’s home left an empty feeling in him. He wasn’t ready to be alone with his thoughts. Instead, he found himself heading toward Tessa’s mother’s home. For some reason, he needed to be around people who loved her.
Upon entering the Drakes’ home, he was led to the salon where Louisa greeted him kindly.
“I am sorry to bother you, Miss Drake. I just...I just...” His voice trailed off as he was unable to express his true feelings.
“I understand, Mr. Raynerson. Unfortunately, my mother is indisposed tonight. But please sit and have a drink with me.” Miss Drake poured a glass of brandy for them both before returning to her seat. “God knows I need this tonight.”
“Thank you, Miss Drake,” he said as he sat across from her. “How are you?”
“I have been better,” she admitted slowly. “Knowing my sister is sitting in prison alone, cold, where anything could happen to her is breaking my heart.”
“She is in a private cell with a personal guard.”
She tilted her head and leveled him an odd look before nodding. “Thank you for that, sir.”
Jack glanced down at his drink. Louisa Drake realized he’d arranged those benefits. Maybe Tessa would one day, too. Not that he would gain her forgiveness or love. Not that he deserved either.
“How is Miss Emma handling all this?”
“As well as can be expected, sir. I believe she is in her room most likely crying for all that is now lost to her.” Miss Drake shrugged. “I suppose at eighteen, I might have felt the same but now...”
“She is young and this was her first Season out.” Jack sighed knowing he caused the angst in this family. Once they discovered his involvement in this plan, he would never be invited in this house again.
“Have you spoken to Lord Langport? I feel dreadful about his wife.”
“No, Miss Drake. I paid a call on the duke before arriving here but Langport was not with him.”
“If you do speak with him, please send him my condolences. I attempted to pay a call on him but he was not at home. While I sent a note, it is not the same as speaking in person.”
Jack nodded. “If I see him, I shall convey your thoughts. I should take my leave now.”
“Thank you for checking on us, Mr. Raynerson.” Miss Drake rose and gave him a quick curtsy.
Unable to decide where else to go, he finally arrived home. The door opened before he put a foot on the first step. The butler greeted him with a frown and a heavy sigh. Jack continued up the steps until he reached the door.
“Your grandmother is waiting for you in the family salon,” the butler said quietly. “If you wish to leave, I shall tell her it was just a caller at the door.”
“You will do no such thing!” a shrill voice called from the first floor steps. “Get up here, young man.”
Jack shook his head as he handed his coat and hat to a footman. “How long has she been here?”
“Since four. She ate dinner here and has been pacing the room ever since.”
“Thank you.” Jack walked up the steps slowly, knowing he was about to be brought to task for what he’d done.
“What part did you have in this?” she asked before he’d entered the room.
“What do you think?” he retorted as he sat down on the green velvet chair. “It was all me.”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my dear boy, what have you done? She shall hate you forever now.”
“I know that,” he replied in a bitter tone. The idea of Tessa sleeping in a cold prison cell tonight was eating him from the inside. He wanted to go to Newgate and watch over her.
“Why?” she whispered.
“To draw a confession out of the duke,” Jack said in a low voice so the servants would not hear them.
“Worthington?” She rose slowly and waved him back into his seat as he sought to stand. “I cannot believe he would do such a thing.” Pacing the room, she tapped her finger against her lip. “Why would he do such a thing? It makes no good sense.”
“I can only assume jealousy.” He explained what Miss Harte had said to him yesterday.
“Worthington wanted to kill you!” She stopped her pacing and stared at him. “That would never do. I would have to kill him if he attempted such a thing.”
He smiled at her conviction. “But what I don’t understand is why didn’t he just court her after Langley died?”
His grandmother returned to her seat with a frown and then shrugged. “She was a banker’s daughter before marrying a baron. Even as a widow, she was only a baroness. It’s a high climb to duchess.”
Jack recounted the numerous conversations he’d had with Tessa about her husbands and how the duke had recommended them to her. She had told him that the duke had dissuaded her from Lord Comstock after Dereham. But everything he had ever heard in regards to Comstock was that he was a kind and very wealthy viscount. “A viscount.”
“Excuse me?”
He told her about the conversation in the garden during Emma’s come out ball. “Comstock was only a viscount. The duke needed her to marry an earl.”
His grandmother’s white brows rose. “That would make sense. And Comstock is only in his early thirties. His death would be extremely suspicious compared to a man in his fifties” She shook her head slowly. “I still cannot believe Worthington would do it. The worst that might have happened if he married her after Durham was a little talk. Nothing the duke could not handle.”
“In theory, he didn’t do the actual killings. Perhaps by giving the powder to Miss Harte, he felt it assuaged his conscience. And if that is the case, he will most likely never confess.” Bloody hell, why hadn’t he thought of that last night before implementing this disastrous plan.
“What now, then?”
“I will speak with Fairchild in the morning. He said he would speak with the justice and explain the situation personally. We can get Anne to speak with the magistrate if needed. Then Tessa will be freed.”
“And then what?” she asked softly.
“I will depart for Devon and await the birth of my nephew,” he replied, knowing there would be no point in staying here. Tessa would never want to see him again. “Would you like to drive with me?”
She waved a hand at him in dismissal. “You go ahead. I believe I will leave in a couple of days. I have some business to attend to in town first.”
“As you wish.”
~*~
Try as he might, sleep would not come. As the pink rays of dawn streaked across the sky, he rose and dressed for the day. Before he reached the top step, a footman raced up the stairs. “Good morning, Finn. Is something amiss?”
“Yes, sir. A Mr. Downing is here to see you, said it was extremely important.”
Dread filled him. His mind swirled with images of Tessa dead in her prison cell. He pushed the footman out of the way and ran down the stairs until he reached the salon. “Downing, what is it? Is she all right?”
Downing stood and nodded. “Yes, sir. Lady Stanhope is well. I checked with her guard and she slept all night undisturbed.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Langport hasn’t stopped by, then?”
“Langport? Why would he stop by at this hour?”
Downing cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should sit down, sir.”
“What the bloody hell is going on?” The sense of dread he awoke with continued to grow until frustration took its place. He clenched his fists tight to keep from throwing something.
“Worthington is dead.”
“What?” Oh God, Tessa would never get out of prison now. What the bloody hell had he done?
Downing nodded. “At his own hand from all appearances.”
“Suicide? But I was there last night,” Jack muttered as he eased into a chair. “He seemed a little mad but considering all that had transpired I thought it was a normal reaction. I never would have left if I thought he was going to commit suicide.”
“There’s more.” Downing smiled. “He left a confession stating that it was his idea and that he had never told Miss Harte what was really in the vial. He also admitted to killing Lady Langport.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and then frowned. “How is Langport?”
A commotion at the front door stopped Downing’s reply. Voices grew louder as they approached the room. “I will see him,” the man’s voice rang out.
“My lord, at least let me see if he is at home.”
“Who is it?” Downing asked quietly.
“I’m not certain but if I’m not mistaken, we are about to find out,” Jack replied.
“He will be home for me.” Langport’s tall frame filled the door to the salon. “You bloody bastard, what did you do to him?”
“Langport, come in and sit down,” Jack said as Downing rose and reached for the pistol in this waistcoat pocket.
“I know you saw him last night, what did you say that made him kill himself?” Langport shouted.
“I only asked him what he had heard since he attended the arraignment while I was informing Lady Stanhope’s family about her arrest.” Jack paused and then continued to speak softly. “When I arrived, he was already deep in his cups. After he answered my questions, I departed to speak with Miss Drake again. I had no idea what had happened until Mr. Downing arrived a few minutes ago.”
Langport reached for the back of a chair to support himself. “First Sabita and now Father,” he mumbled.
“Langport, please sit down and have some tea,” Jack said as a footman brought the tea in on a tray. Without waiting for an answer, Jack poured some tea and handed it to the marquess...now the new duke, although Jack doubted he wanted to be reminded of that this morning.
Langport came around the seat and sat before sipping his tea. “This is truly dreadful tea, Raynerson.”
Jack sipped his tea and thought it tasted quite delicious. Looking over at Downing, he said, “So she will be released this morning, then?”
“I don’t see why not. I will need to show the magistrate the confession and hopefully his lordship will come with me to attest to his father’s writing.”
Langport nodded slowly. “Of course, Tessa had nothing to do with this mess.” He paused before adding in a scornful tone, “Other than being the object of my father’s affections.”
Jack bit his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret. Every man grieved differently. He doubted Langport needed to be told his father must have been slightly mad to go to this length over a woman. But he couldn’t help but wonder what would cause a man to kill off the husbands of a woman he loved only to help her marry another. “Why?”
Both Downing and Langport asked at the same time, “Why what?”
“Why did he kill Langley only to convince her that Dereham would make her a good husband? It makes no sense to me. Why didn’t he just offer for her after Langley? Or before Langley for that matter? My grandmother thought it was to up Tessa’s position in Society but the man was a duke. He could have done whatever he wanted.”
Downing shrugged. “He must have been mad.”
“He wasn’t mad,” Langport said unemotionally. “He wrote two letters.” He looked over at Downing. “I only gave you the confession. He wrote a letter to me explaining that he felt she needed to be a countess before he could offer for her. He thought the daughter of a banker suddenly becoming a duchess might cause too much talk. My father despised being the object of the gossipmongers.” He laughed scornfully. “I supposed he had no issue with letting his son’s reputation be ruined with his suicide.”
Jack’s fingers clutched the arm of his chair. “But killing off three husband in less than five years wouldn’t cause talk?” He still thought the man must have been mad.
“He wrote that after Dereham, he was certain she would embrace his suit, but she accepted Stanhope’s offer before he could court her.”
“Was that why Stanhope was killed so quickly after the marriage? Was he angry?” Downing asked.
“I suppose that would explain it,” Langport commented as he shook his head.
“But why your wife?” Jack wondered aloud. Seeing Langport’s face crumble, Jack wished he had kept silent.
“He hated the fact that I married Sabita. He was more concerned about what the gossipmongers would say about an Indian becoming duchess.”
Jack understood Langport’s grief. He had ruined any chance of seeing Tessa again. At least he could see that she didn’t spend another minute in prison. “We need to see the magistrate.”