Page 108 of One Wicked Secret
“Then you know I must go.”
Signora Conti grumbled in Italian. “You have shown your heart,cara. Now, I will show mine.” She rushed to the hallway cupboard, giving Elsa a cloak and grabbing a shawl for herself. “Let us go before fate plays its hand. In my country, we do not wait for destiny; we make it ourselves.”
If Miss Denby minded the housekeeper’s company, she didn’t show it. She beckoned them to hurry. “In this weather, Mr Dalton could kill my brother and dispose of his body, and we would be none the wiser.”
“My husband won’t shoot Lord Denby, not without just cause,” Elsa said as she climbed into the elegant equipage. The fact Miss Denby had permission to use the vehicle proved reassuring. “The same cannot be said for your brother. He has tried to ruin my family on multiple occasions.”
“That cannot be true.” Miss Denby waited for Signora Conti to close the door, then tapped on the roof, a signal for the coachman to depart. “I have never known a kinder soul.”
Elsa wondered if they were discussing the same man.
Was Miss Denby blind to her family’s failings, or was her gentle persona merely an act?
“Perhaps wickedness is in the blood,” Elsa said, determined to inform Miss Denby of the facts. She grasped the overhead strap as the carriage lurched forward and gathered speed. “In the time it takes to reach Greenwich Park, perhaps we might discuss your family’s history.”
“What is there to tell?” Miss Denby said, rocking in the seat as if willing the conveyance to go faster. “Life is rather dull. I’m afraid you won’t find a marauding pirate in the Denby line.”
“Don’t you know what happened to your great-uncle Clarence?”
Miss Denby’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. He drowned in the lake while living in Geneva. The barony later passed to my grandfather. There’s a memorial garden for Clarence at Wendlow Follies.”
“Your brother’s estate in Hertfordshire?”
“Yes, though my brother doesn’t own Wendlow, I do.”Miss Denby suddenly rapped on the roof and cried, “Do hurry, Graves, or we won’t arrive in time.”
They sat in silence, the rattle of the wheels and passing lights a blur as they raced towards Greenwich. Signora Conti gave Elsa a discreet nudge and nodded subtly toward Miss Denby. The lady appeared distraught, her lashes damp and hands knotted, yet there was an unsettling twitch of a smile on her lips. She seemed more satisfied than terrified.
But what did Miss Denby have to gain by causing mayhem?
What was the depth of her involvement?
“Had the men already left Denby House when your mother instructed you to fetch me?” Elsa asked as they passed St Clement’s and journeyed along The Strand. At some point, they needed to cross the river to where the city lights dimmed and the shadows thickened.
“Mr Dalton and his friends were leaving for Greenwich while my brother waited for his coachman to ready the carriage.”
“He keeps two vehicles in town?”
Miss Denby laughed like the question was absurd. “Of course.”
“Perhaps Lord Denby decided not to leave,” Signora Conti said.
“Why wouldn’t he leave?” Miss Denby sounded more irritated than afraid for her sibling’s safety. “My brother is no coward.”
“Did they mention summoning a doctor?” Elsa asked.
“Not that I heard.”
What if one of them suffered an injury, or did they plan to fight to the death? And why would Lord Denby meet threemen in Greenwich Park and not insist on taking someone who could corroborate his version of events?
Not just that.
Why hadn’t he stopped his sister from leaving when he knew she’d called for a carriage? Where was Miss Denby’s maid? Lord Denby would never permit his sister to travel alone at night. And wouldn’t the coachman have knocked on the door rather than risk embroiling a young woman in a scandal?
“No wonder you’re upset,” Elsa said, observing Miss Denby carefully. “I suppose this business will hinder your marriage prospects. A stain on your brother’s reputation will affect you terribly.”
The confident tilt of Miss Denby’s chin didn’t suit a woman feigning distress. “It’s of no consequence. I have no desire to become a breeding machine to appease some foul-breathed fool.”
Elsa laughed, though nothing about this situation amused her. “Yet you seemed interested in Lord Rothley when we spoke the other day. You thought he’d make an excellent match.”
