Page 78 of The Last Chance
Aaron dragged the fool to the study and stood over him while he committed his confession to paper.
“You’re a disgrace,” Aaron said through gritted teeth as he was leaving. “You may not have abused a guest at The Burnished Jade, but you’ve abused your staff and your brother’s generosity. I shall make sure Sir Geoffrey knows of your antics.”
He left Parker on his knees, begging for mercy.
“I’ll meet you at the pawnbroker’s in Regent Street,” Aaron said, handing Daventry the statement. He craved time alone. Daventry would bombard him with questions. Aaron couldn’t speak about Joanna and keep the mindset needed to catch a killer.
The pawnbroker was just as clueless. He rubbed his hands over his paunch and stared at Lucia. “She may have been a bit taller. I mean, she looks similar. I want to say it’s her, but I can’t be sure. I mainly spoke to the gent.” He studied Lucia and shook his head. “No, she had a special kind of confidence, if you take my meaning. There was nothing feeble about her.”
Daventry thanked the man and left his card on the counter.
“How hard is it to identify one woman?” Aaron grumbled asthey left the pawnbroker’s and lingered on Regent Street. He turned to Lucia. “You’d better be telling the truth. An innocent woman’s life is at stake.”
The maid started crying.
Aaron felt like an ogre, the beast he professed to be, but made no apology. Tears dried. The maid would recover. The noose awaited Joanna.
What happened next proved an odd twist of fate.
The pawnbroker appeared at the shop door and beckoned them closer. “I’ve remembered something. It’s a silly thing but might be important.”
Blinded by a desire for the truth, Aaron turned his back on Lucia.
“The woman had a mole,” the pawnbroker began as a group of political zealots came darting past, carrying placards and complaining about a corrupt Whig government. “I remember because my wife had one the same on her left wrist.”
The clacking of rattles brought ten constables charging along Regent Street in pursuit of the zealots. Panic ensued. Bystanders took to their heels and ran in the opposite direction. Somehow, Lucia got swept up in the chaos and disappeared amidst the crowd.
Aaron ran the length of the street, pushing people aside and grabbing strangers, but couldn’t find the devious vixen.
Daventry searched shops, darting from the barbers to the perfumers, but Lucia knew to blend into the background.
Both breathless, they returned to stand outside the pawnbroker’s.
“It’s fair to assume Lucia is Venus.” Aaron braced his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “For people to believe she is Madame Rossellini, she must be versatile and skilled in deception.”
“Either way, Lucia absconding hinders the investigation.” Daventry craned his neck and scanned the crowd. “She had thedagger and was present at the murder scene. It suggests Miss Lovelace conspired to kill the man who took her virtue.”
Aaron’s heart sank like a brick in a well. “Tell me this isn’t happening. I don’t know how to help her. There’s no time to fix this.”
Daventry gripped Aaron’s shoulder. “We’ll take a statement from Miss Stowe. She will write something in support of Miss Lovelace. I’ll speak to the Home Secretary. Ensure they postpone the trial for a week or two.”
“It’s too late.” Aaron wore his failure like a heavy cloak, the damn thing swamping him. “I can’t prove Joanna is innocent before the magistrate calls tonight.”
Silence ensued.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Daventry said, his tone gentle, reassuring. “I would send Sybil away, too, if I thought her life was in jeopardy. If the authorities can’t find her, it gives us time to catch the culprit. I can manipulate the truth a little if necessary.”
“What the hell am I missing?”
“Nothing. The villain is cunning enough to cover his tracks. We know Lucia is Venus, but we don’t know why she framed Miss Lovelace for murder or who else is involved. That must be our focus.”
“Berridge is involved.” The name brought bile to Aaron’s throat. How could he adopt the title and keep his self-respect?
“Then we must find proof. We’ll visit Fitzpatrick first. If he paid someone to ruin his sister, that man may have been Lord Howard. It gives Miss Fitzpatrick a possible motive for murder. It won’t explain how she obtained the murder weapon, but the magistrate will have a second suspect.”
“Very well,” Aaron said, glad someone could think logically. “Casting doubt on Joanna’s guilt may appease the magistrate and convince him to give us more time.”
“I’ll ride with you.” Daventry removed a small book and pencil from his pocket, scribbled a few notes and handed the slipof paper to his coachman. “I’ve instructed my agents to look for Lucia,” he said as the carriage pulled away. “They’ll make it a priority. I’ve told Sloane we need to know who complained about your sister-in-law stealing from the museum.”
