Page 77 of When a Lady Kisses a Scot
He should have suspected the truth. All along, he’d known there was more to Sophie than a charlatan’s accomplice. The way she’d regarded Trask, contempt she couldn’t entirely hide gleaming in those chocolate brown eyes of hers, had betrayed her. Damn shame he’d let her sway him off course every time she batted her thick, dark lashes.
If she’d landed an uppercut on his chin, she might not have stunned him so. He’d been a bloody fool.
Mrs. Edson bustled into the room. “Is something wrong? I could not help but observe Miss Sophie heading out the door. She informed me she would hire a hack to transport her home.”
Gavin cocked a brow. “Miss Sophie, is it?”
“She insisted I use her given name. Unpretentious as they come, she is.” Mrs. Edson gave an indignant sniff. “Unlike some of those gilded lilies you’ve brought under this roof.”
“Miss Devereaux wished to leave. She is a woman, not a girl. It is not my place to stop her.”
The housekeeper planted her hands on her hips and shot Henry a glance that might well have set milk to curdling. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, barging in here like the town crier. The lass saved the professor’s life last night…risked herself to bring him to safety. Stayed up near till the cock’s crow, she did, until she felt sure he’d recover. And what thanks does the lass get?”
Henry’s face drained of color. “By God, I did not know. I thought…I thought she’d brought trouble to his doorstep.”
“He’s bound and determined to do that on his own.” Mrs. Edson heaved a weary sigh, just as she’d done when Gavin was a lad who’d wandered into a patch of poison oak while exploring a thicket of woods. Like a second mother, the housekeeper had shown her devotion over the years. How many times had she whipped up a batch of shortbread or offered a sympathetic shoulder during those times when his mother and father had been at odds? He’d been pushed to the side as a consequence of his parents’ own misery. But Mrs. Edson had always been there, constant as the flow of the tides.
Still, it wasn’t like Mrs. Edson to meddle so boldly in his affairs. For years, she’d stood by as he squired women about who’d caught his eye but could make no claim on his heart. Her interference then had been confined to a pinched-lipped shake of her head and the occasional under-her-breath commentary regarding the paint on his companion’s face or the scandalous cut of a particularly generous bodice.
Peculiar, really, how she’d taken to Sophie. What had she seen in her eyes during those dark hours when the chemical had dragged him between unconsciousness and a distorted, nightmarish reality?
“You’re right.” Gavin met Mrs. Edson’s careworn countenance. “I shouldn’t have let her go.” He dragged in a breath. “Without an escort, that is.”
“You were right the first time.” A wan smile pulled at the matron’s mouth. “Go after her.”
Gavin stood alone on the front steps, surveying the surroundings. Sophie was gone.Damn it.
A covered carriage pulled by a single horse clopped along the street. Had she hired that conveyance to take her away?
Hell and damnation, he’d been a fool. He’d allowed his pain-driven anger to get the better of him. He had no guarantee the brazen bastards would not come after her in the light of day. And yet, he’d watched Sophie head off on her own. He should have forbidden her to leave. At the very least, if she could no longer tolerate his presence after he’d treated her so callously, he should have arranged a trusted driver to see her safely home.
Henry rushed to his side. “I should have escorted her to her residence.”
Gavin shook his head. “This was not your doing. If anyone bears responsibility, it’s me.”
“I’ll go after her.” Henry motioned to his sleek carriage. “If she’s in that coach, my phaeton will have no trouble closing the distance.”
“That won’t be necessary. I think I know where she’s gone. I’ll find her.”
“Where do you think she’s headed?”
“Trask’s studio. She likely intends to search for additional evidence against the blighter and his ugly business.”
Henry’s expression went grim. “I do not believe Trask still poses a threat.”
“What in blazes are you talking about?”
“I’d intended to pass along this bit of intelligence earlier. Like a blazing fool, I became sidetracked when I spotted Miss Devereaux,” Henry said. “I took breakfast in a café this morning, not far from the Strand. Word on the street is that Trask has gone missing.”
“Missing?” The word reverberated in Gavin’s thoughts.
“Trask was scheduled to conduct a midnight gathering. Several patrons arrived at his salon to find the preparations had been made for the séance. Candles had been lit, and the place reeked of incense. But Trask did not join the group. He is nowhere to be found.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Huddled around a table at theHerald’s London office, Sophie and the Colton Agency directors studied Trask’s meticulous notes. What had occurred during the sittings? What was the common thread that bound the victims in life—and in death?
“These séances occurred days before Eversleigh’s death. Months passed before Fenshaw and Peter Garner were killed,” Mac Campbell pointed out. “Could the timing indicate some sort of ritual?”
