Sebastian stood before the fireplace in his library, a glass of brandy cradled in one palm, his other hand braced against the mantelpiece as he stared down at the empty hearth. He kept trying to put everything that had happened, everything he knew about this killer and his victims, into some kind of logical pattern. But it wasn’t working.
He looked up when Hero came in from taking Simon and Patrick for a walk. “Is it true?” she said, tossing aside her hat and gloves as Claire shepherded the boys upstairs. “What I’m hearing about Arabella and her abigail?”
“Has the news spread across town already?”
“I heard it from two different people. You’re saying it is true—the abigail is dead?”
He nodded. “Someone tried to grab Arabella, and the abigail was killed when she tried to stop him.”
“Dear God,” whispered Hero. “The poor young woman. And Arabella must be beyond traumatized.”
Sebastian pushed away from the mantel. “Surely the killer must realize by now that if those two children knew anything that could possibly help identify him, the information would already be in the hands of Bow Street. So why does he keep targeting them? Out of revenge, because of something he imagines Laura and all three children did to him and must be made to pay for? Because for some unknown reason he has a vendetta against the entire extended family? Or is it something else? Something I can’t even begin to fathom?”
“Could Arabella describe him?”
“As much as possible, given his mask. He sounds like the same man who attacked Percy on Wednesday. Tall, slim, young, very dark.”
Her lips parted as she drew a deep breath. “With that kind of a description, I’m surprised Bow Street hasn’t already moved to arrest Damion Pitcairn.”
“They probably would have—if they knew he was in any way involved with Emma. Although personally I can’t believe it of him. Apart from anything else, it’s all too clumsy by half for a man of his talents and intelligence.”
“So the man in the park is a hireling?”
“Presumably. Although, if true, it’s odd that the fellow is so well-dressed.”
“Well, anyone who looked like a footpad wouldn’t be allowed in the park, would he?”
“There is that,” he acknowledged. “And one of the men who attacked me the other night was dressed respectably.”
“What about Major Finch?” said Hero. “He’s dark haired, of above-average height, and well-dressed. And his skin has been darkened by his years on campaign. I know he’s not as young as Pitcairn, but I don’t think even Percy and Arabella would describe him as ‘old.’ ”
“As it happens, I was with Finch at the time of the attack.”
“Ah. Well, that’s lucky for the Major.”
“And perhaps a miscalculation on the killer’s part.”
Hero was silent for a moment. “You think someone is deliberately trying to set up either Pitcairn or Finch to take the blame for the deaths out at Richmond Park?”
“I certainly see it as a possibility.” He took a slow, deep swallow of his brandy. “But I’ll be damned if I can understand how that poor little chocolatier’s apprentice fits into any of this.”
“Until today, I half suspected her killing had nothing to do with what happened to Laura and Emma at all. But now—” She broke off as a knock sounded at the front door.
They heard voices, and a moment later Morey appeared at the entrance to the library. “I beg your pardon, but young Master Percy Priestly is here to see you, my lord. The lad is quite alone,” he added with emphasis.
Sebastian met his majordomo’s eye and gave a slow, meaningful nod. “Show him in. You know what to do after that.”
Percy came scooting into the room, his slightly crumpled hat clutched before him in both hands, one knee of his nankeens torn and dirty as if he’d taken a tumble, the expression on his face one of excitement at war with niggling apprehension. “I say, thank you awfully for agreeing to see me, my lord.” His head jerked around as he became aware of Hero, who had quietly gone to stand by the open windows overlooking the street. “Oh! And your ladyship, too,” he added apologetically, giving her a schoolboy’s bow. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding on you like this.”
“Not at all, Percy,” she said with a smile. “What brings you to see us today?”
The boy shifted his gaze back to Sebastian, dug the toe of one shoe into the carpet, and swallowed. “I guess I should tell you, right off, in case you’re wondering, sir, that Father doesn’t know I’m here.”
“I did rather suspect that.”
Percy’s irrepressible grin peeked. “I know he’s only trying to protect me, but the thing is, you see, I don’t want to be protected. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, and it’s such an amazing opportunity. I’ve always been interested in murders, you know. There was a time I thought I’d like to grow up to be a Bow Street Runner. Except then my brother, Duncan—he’s such a stuffed shirt!—he said viscounts’ sons can’t be runners. And while I’m not convinced that’s true, I’m now thinking it would be much more grand to grow up to be like you. Jacob—he’s my groom, you know—he’s got a brother named Eddie who’s a Bow Street Runner, and he’s told me about all of your investigations, everything from the lady who was found floating out at Camlet Moat to those new Ratcliff Highway murders last year. Seems to me you get all the excitement of investigating murders but you don’t have to wear scruffy clothes—unless you’re going somewhere in disguise, of course—and you get to drive your curricle and that bang-up pair of chestnuts, and you don’t have to do what some magistrate or Home Secretary tells you to do, or anything.”
Sebastian exchanged a quick look with Hero, then was careful not to glance her way again. “Well, that certainly is one possibility for your future. But tell me this: What brings you here today?”
Percy’s brows drew together in a dark frown. “After what happened to Arabella in the park today, Papa says we’re not allowed to go anywhere anymore. And as soon as Aunt Laura and Emma are buried, he wants to leave for Priestly Priory and stay there until whoever’s doing this is caught.”
“I should think you’d enjoy the Priory at this time of year.”
“Oh, the Priory is grand, sure enough. But it’s nothing near as exciting as this.”
“What happened to Arabella’s abigail doesn’t worry you?”
The boy bit his lower lip. “I mean, I know it’s awful. But I can’t help wishing I’d been there. I wouldn’t have run away like Bella did.”
Thank God you weren’t there, Sebastian thought. Aloud, he said, “Did the man who tried to grab you on Wednesday have a knife?”
Percy thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “If he did, I didn’t see it, sir. It must’ve been after he wasn’t able to keep ahold of me that he decided to bring a knife the next time.” Something flashed in the boy’s eyes. “I say, do you think he’s been watching the house? He must be, don’t you think, to have been able to follow us like that when we went out?”
“It seems likely. Which is why you really shouldn’t have come here alone, Percy.”
The boy looked mulish. “But I have something I need to tell you, sir. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, when you were talking to Bella and me, but after you left it occurred to me that I should have told you about the sweep.”
“You mean a chimney sweep?” said Sebastian, his voice coming out sharper than he’d intended.
Percy nodded vigorously. “I don’t know what his name is, but he must’ve been somebody Aunt Laura had dealt with recently, because she knew him. He came right up to us when we were getting in the carriage to leave for Richmond Park and started yelling at her—telling her she was ungodly, and ranting on like a preacher about how ‘aged women’ should be as ‘becometh holiness’ in their behavior and not false accusers who blaspheme the word of God. Or something like that.”
“What did your aunt do?”
“She ignored him and told Arabella and Emma to get into the carriage. So then the sweep—you should have seen him! His clothes and face were as black as a coal scuttle from all the soot—he says something about how a wise woman builds up her house while other women in their folly tear down theirs. But Aunt Laura, she keeps on ignoring him and tells me to get in the carriage, too. Then she says something to him I can’t hear—something that makes him take a step back. And after that, she climbs in with us and tells her coachman to drive on.”
“What was this sweep doing when you drove away?” asked Hero.
Percy glanced over at her as the jingle of harness and clatter of horses driven fast sounded in the street outside. “Just standing there on the pavement, ma’am. Staring after us.”
Percy’s eyes widened as they heard the carriage rattle to a halt before the house. Then quick footsteps pounded on the pavement and steps outside, and Morey moved to open the front door.
“Where is he?” they heard Salinger demand.
“In the library, my lord.”
“Oh, blast,” whispered Percy as his father burst into the room.
Salinger drew up abruptly inside the doorway, his chest heaving and his breath coming as hard and fast as if he’d been running. “Thank God,” he said, his face ashen as he stared at his younger son. “Percy. Why?”
Percy hung his head. “I . . . I am sorry, Father. But I needed to talk to Lord Devlin, and I was afraid you’d stop me again, like you did before.”
Salinger crossed the space between them in two swift strides and hugged the boy to him, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “I thought someone must have taken you,” he said gruffly. Then he looked up, his gaze meeting Sebastian’s. “Thank you.”
Sebastian nodded. “Percy tells me you plan to leave for Priestly Priory. I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“Yes, as soon as the funerals are over. And I swear, if I have to lock these two up until then, I will.” To Percy, he said, “Apologize to Lord and Lady Devlin for inconveniencing them like this, and then come along.”
The boy hung his head and looked sheepish. “I do beg your pardon, sir—and you, too, Lady Devlin.” Then his head came up. “But you will think about what I said, won’t you, my lord?”
“I will, yes. Now go home and stay there.”
Percy flashed him a grin and allowed himself to be led away by his father.
Sebastian went to stand beside Hero as Salinger loaded his son into the barouche, then paused to speak to his coachman before bounding up the carriage steps himself. “Thank heavens whoever has been watching those children didn’t see Percy leave the house to come here,” said Hero quietly.
Sebastian reached out to take her hand in his as the carriage pulled away from the kerb. “Percy and Arabella were both extraordinarily lucky today. Hopefully, Salinger can keep the two of them safe from now on.”
Hero laced her fingers with his. “Did you learn anything—anything at all—from Major Finch when you talked to him?”
“I did, actually. He claims his argument with Laura was over Sir Ivo’s habit of leaving bruises on her body. He also says she knew her husband was involved with his wealthy young widow, and she had promised to leave England with Finch as soon as Emma and Thisbe were wed.”
Hero looked over at him. “Suggestive—if true.”
“Yes, I thought so.” His gaze drifted back to the empty street. “As long as one ignores these blasted attacks on Arabella and Percy.”