Page 70 of Temptress in Disguise
She arched a brow. “Me?”
“I can protect myself against the likes of Edwin Budworth. But the man need only put a blade to your throat, and I’m as helpless as a lame beggar.”
She would always be his weakness. A pawn the dissolute lords of thetonmight use against him. Debt-ridden men were desperate. Desperate enough to take a woman hostage to save their necks. It was why Aaron urged them to avoid romantic entanglements.
“I can defend myself. We’re close to uncovering the truth.” She spoke like a barrister, confident in her conviction. “There’s too much at stake to sit idly. We need to discover if Edwin Budworth is guilty. If we don’t, and the evidence we’ve hidden comes to light, I’ll hang.”
The last word hit him hard, cleaving his heart in two. Horrid visions burst into his mind. The hooded hangman. The rope pulled tight, burning her porcelain skin. The gruesome nightmares would plague his waking hours like malevolent spirits. He’d be fit for nothing but Bedlam.
“I’ll take you to France before I let Maitland get his hands on you.” The vehemence in his tone made her gasp. Or perhaps she was shocked he would go to great lengths to save her.
“But you can’t leave your family.”
“You’re my family, too.”
A tense silence descended.
The innkeeper returned, knocking persistently.
“What is it, Talbot?” He was ready to tell the man what he could do with his basket. “I hired the private parlour for a reason.”
The fellow placed a note next to the coffee pot on the table before returning to stand by the door. “This came for you an hour ago. A man rode into the stables and asked Samuel to check you were here. He said not to bring the letter inside until another hour passed.”
Aramis snatched the grubby note. He tried to keep calm for Naomi’s sake, but as he scanned the message, he had every reason to be alarmed. “Thank you, Talbot. That will be all.”
“Can I get you anything while I’m here, sir?”
Naomi smiled. “I’ll have a fresh pot of tea.”
Talbot withdrew, leaving them alone to discuss the message that chilled his blood. He scrubbed his face with his hand, but it did nothing to quell his fears.
“It’s from Lucius Daventry.” He gazed into her blue eyes, aware she was about to slump in the chair and sob till there were no more tears left to shed. “Gibbs cannot return for fear he will lead the men from Bow Street here. We’re on our own. No one can risk coming to our aid. Daventry cautions us against returning to London.”
Her smile died. “Bow Street? Did something happen to Mr Maddock? What of his sister Sarah?”
Aramis swallowed past the lump in his throat. “They’re safe. Daventry took them to his country estate. Maddock gave a detailed statement naming Edwin Budworth the prime suspect.”
She clasped her chest. “Then all is well.”
“Not quite.” He steeled himself against a pang of despair. “Mrs Wendon gave a statement. She claims she saw blood on your cloak and beneath your fingernails.” He’d always known that woman was trouble.
Naomi stared in disbelief. “But I wore gloves that night.”
“She said you were in a hurry to flee the Belldrake and placed you at the theatre at midnight.” He released a weary sigh. He should have followed his instincts. He should have left Mrs Wendon on the pavement. “According to Mrs Wendon, I was there under duress. She said she saw a pistol in your carpet bag and believes you forced me to marry you.”
As predicted, she sagged in the chair. “There’s little point wondering why she would lie. If I hang, you’re free to remarry. But I kept my bag closed. She couldn’t have known about the pistol, and only a handful of people know we’re married.”
Aramis cursed beneath his breath. “According to Daventry, Mrs Wendon turned detective and overheard Miss Gray gossiping in the Dog and Duck.”
Naomi’s face turned ashen. “Mrs Wendon will force Hester to make the same statement. The evidence of three people will be enough to convince a jury I’m guilty of the crime.”
“Unless we can prove Edwin Budworth is the killer.” Despite his misgivings, there was only one way forward, though he would give her the option to run. “We can tackle this my way, like dangerous bastards out for blood. Or we leave for Portsmouth or Dover and I hide you somewhere abroad.” Aaron could cope without him, and his brothers would hold the fort.
She blinked back tears and raised her chin in defiance. “This is a fight for the truth and for my liberty. I ran from Hartford Hall. Fled my family home like a thief in the night. I won’t run from this. I suggest we dispense with tea and gather weapons.”
Amid his despair, heat warmed his chest, a deep respect for her tenacity. “You sound like a Viking shield maiden preparing for battle.”
“People often confuse kindness with weakness. I can be strong when it matters.”
