Page 113 of One Wicked Secret
She didn’t raise her mask but hoped the sensual curl of her lips conveyed her eagerness to be alone with him. “Another hour at most. Did Mr Daventry have any new information regarding Miss Denby?”
“Her family petitioned to have her committed to an asylum, claiming she’s mentally unstable, not a calculated criminal.”
Elsa drew a sharp breath. “But that’s ridiculous. Only a sane person could construct such a web of deception.”
“That’s what Sir Leopold said when he presided over the case. The truth about Clarence Denby’s death went againsther, and the judge sentenced her to spend twenty years in Newgate.”
Given the brutal and inhumane conditions, Miss Denby might not survive her time in gaol.
Mr Graves, sentenced to hang for the murder of Mr Carver and Lord Grafton, would visit the gallows next week. No one would be punished for the untimely death of Clarence and Cynthia, but Lord Denby believed his grandfather was to blame.
“Daventry accompanied a jury to Edenberry, where they recovered Carver’s body. They assumed Graves buried him there, and Daventry supported the theory.”
All the tension drained from her body. “Thank heavens. I know Mr Daventry said not to worry, but I feared you would be charged with concealing a murder.”
He smiled, a smile that made him look dangerously handsome in the black mask. “We can move on with our lives and never need think of that night again.”
She would still think about those dark moments during times of reflection. She wouldn’t have married Daniel if not for Miss Denby’s licentious antics.
“I wonder if Miss Denby cared about the men she used.” She had manipulated both her lovers—Mr Carver to spy and ruin the Tylers, Mr Graves to silence those who threatened to confess.
“Denby said his sister changed the day Carver revealed what he’d overheard during your parents’ secret conversation. Given Carver’s frequent trips to town, Denby suspected the two were conspiring and hoped they were searching for proof of your lineage.”
Lord Denby had been quite helpful, all things considered. If Elsa inherited Wendlow Follies, he needed her to pay him aportion of the profits. Moreover, it was his fault Lord Grafton was dead. He’d been gossiping with his family over breakfast and mentioned the lord was living in squalor at The Salty Gull.
“The love of money is the root of all evil,” she said, bracing her hands on the stone balustrade and staring out into the moonlit garden.
She spotted Clara sitting on the bench, dressed as The Crimson Contessa. A man in a dark velvet coat and a silver-and-black harlequin mask stood beside her.
“It’s only Rutland,” Daniel said, following her gaze.
“But I told him Clara was at home nursing a megrim.”
“He’s no fool. Besides, the more eyes on Clara the better. I’ve told Rothley and Rutland to take turns playing chaperone while we’re away.”
Elsa pursed her lips. Clara would be furious. She yearned for freedom and would see it as proof that her blind eye marked her as fragile in everyone’s eyes.
“Rothley plans to take Clara to James & F. Green and demand a confession from the assistant,” Daniel said, amused.
“But you said the constable secured a confession and proved Miss Denby had bought the cologne and later bribed the assistant to alter the card.” The man had been dismissed, though not before giving a detailed statement.
Daniel chuckled. “Rothley wants to return every bottle of cologne and jar of shaving soap he’s ever bought from them and ensure they know he despises liars and frauds.”
Elsa laughed under her breath. “Perhaps Clara should add that to her list, marching into shops and delivering scathing lectures.”
“Rothley can dismantle a reputation with nothing morethan the twitch of a brow. By the time he’s done, they’ll wish they’d never opened their doors.”
And yet those the marquess really wished to punish had eluded him. She touched on her brother’s shocking revelation. “Do you believe Magnus saw Justin Lovelace in Geneva?”
Her brother was prone to exaggeration. Indeed, Mr Daventry said he was likely attacked by a footpad in Port Noir.
“Rothley is rarely wrong about anything, though people have spent a decade trying to convince him otherwise. I pray Justin is dead. If he’s not, he’ll wish he’d never been born.”
Despite the certainty in Daniel’s voice, Elsa knew Lord Rothley would not rest until he had answers. That kind of obsession never brought a man peace.
Thoughts of men and peace drew her gaze to the oak tree at the bottom of the garden, and the night she stormed into the countess’ ballroom and thrust two shillings into her husband’s hand. The night she changed her fate forever.
“So, Daniel,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing edge, “what did you get for your two shillings? I would hate to think you’ve been cheated.”
