Page 46 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
Darwin refused both the seat and the drink, instead of beginning to pace the floor. Thomas, relieved for the change in focus, tried to put his hand on his supervisor’s shoulder, but the man would not be still.
“I have the most shocking news,” he said, not ceasing his frantic movements or looking anxiously at the other two men. “Perhaps you two should sit down.”
Thomas felt his stomach grow heavy. He did not understand the dread building within him, but he instantly knew he was not going to like whatever Darwin was about to say.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, unable to ask further of the terrible news.
Rupert succeeded in putting his hands on both of Darwin’s shoulders. He gave him a concerned look and a gentle shake.
“What news?” he asked softly. “What’s got you so upset?”
Darwin looked at the men as if for the first time, and Thomas barely suppressed a gasp. He had never seen Darwin’s eyes so filled with genuine fear. His earlier impatience had not stemmed from his usual agitation; Darwin was genuinely worried about something.
“What is it?” Thomas asked firmly, his own fear bubbling.
Darwin shook his head, his eyes glazing over with disbelief. The expression on his face was one that Thomas would normally find droll. But at that moment, Thomas saw nothing amusing about it. He held his breath, waiting anxiously for what Darwin had to say.
“It is about Mayson Winters,” he said, “and Gabriella Dupont.”
Thomas let his shoulders slouch as relief slowly crept into his muscles. He was surprised to hear Gabriella’s name, but he felt more respite that Lady Faye’s name had not come out of Darwin’s mouth.
“Well, tell us, Darwin,” Rupert said, trying to encourage the man.
Darwin shook his head again, and Thomas marveled at how genuinely stunned his superior seemed to be. Nothing surprised Darwin or caught him off guard. But whatever he was about to tell them seemed to have sent him into deep shock.
“Mayson,” he said, looking at Rupert and Thomas. “Well, it turns out that he has been secretly meeting with Gabriella for some time now.”
Rupert’s eyes widened, and Thomas whirled to look at him.
“That almost makes a bit of sense,” Thomas said. “Who else could he depend on to accomplish certain tasks and get him information and not get caught in the process?”
Rupert nodded slowly, his mind working to fit this new information in with everything they had been trying to piece together so far that day.
“That is shocking, indeed,” he said. “But how does this fit into everything we already know? What does it have to do with Charles, or the shipping business?”
Darwin shrugged, running his hand over his balding head, his forehead beading with sweat from the exertion of keeping himself calm enough to speak.
“I am still largely at a loss about those details,” he said. “But I have another of our sources working on it. And since I now know that Gabriella is prancing around disguised as a young boy, we know how we can track her, so we do not lose sight of her again. Is there any word of Lady Faye and Lady Salisdene’s success at Charles’s country home?”
Thomas’s stomach twisted into knots of sharp, cold ice as Darwin continued to speak. He was no longer listening to what his superior or partner were saying because what Darwin had already said told Thomas everything he needed to know. They had now proven that Mayson was not acting as a lone criminal out for himself. Worse still, he understood in a single instant that he was right to have been concerned about the boy who had spotted them leaving Welborn Manor. It was never a young child at all. It was Gabriella. He knew there was no reason to doubt anything Darwin said, but he had never wished so fervently for his boss to be wrong because along with Darwin’s words, came another clear message: Lady Faye was in grave danger.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Faye could hardly believe their luck. Even as the carriage carried her and Selina far away from Lord Turlington’s country home, she still feared she would awaken to find it had all been a dream, and they were still practically imprisoned within the mansion’s cold, unwelcoming walls. The countess continued to praise her on her performance feigning a severe illness, which had enabled them to immediately head back to London, with the journal, no less. But Faye struggled to shake off the nerves that had claimed her as they had fled the manor. What if the marquess figured out that his journal was gone before they reached London, and he managed to beat them there? What if he was ready to have her killed for stealing it from him? And what would Mayson do once he had it?
By the time the coach reached Welborn Manor, Faye felt her nerves stretching like piano wires. She bade the countess a brief, though affectionate, farewell, and then hurried from the carriage so quickly, she nearly tripped over the hem of her dress. She steadied herself and then hurried into the house, hoping her worries for her mother’s health while she was gone all unfounded.
When she did not see Huston standing in the shadows behind the manor's front door, Faye relaxed immeasurably. She was sure then that Mayson was indeed still out. She only needed enough time to get to her mother’s room and check in on her. Then, she could face her cousin with no fear whatsoever when he returned.
What Faye did not expect was what she saw when she walked past the drawing-room. There, her mother sat, staring out the window, her face shrouded by her hair, which was falling loose around her shoulders, rather than sitting atop her head in a bun or braid. Faye was not surprised; she doubted that her mother would feel well enough to tussle with her hair. What did surprise her was that her mother was out of bed and moving around on her own.
“Mother,” Faye cried, feeling joy and relief as she stepped into the drawing-room. “It is so good to see you out of bed. How are you feeling?”
Faye smiled as her mother turned to face her. There were splotches of pink in her cheeks, but her face was once more largely pale, but gaunt with fear that was echoed in her eyes. Faye stared at her mother, not understanding what had happened to her. Something was clearly wrong, and she stepped toward her mother, hoping to offer her comfort and find out what was upsetting the dowager countess so.
A small clicking sound drew Faye’s attention from her mother’s frightened face. Faye turned around, looking around the room with wide eyes. When Faye saw what had made the noise, all her happiness and confusion fled, quickly replaced with pure terror. The dowager countess looked at her daughter sadly, and Faye understood then that her mother’s eyes had been fearfully pleading with her not to enter the room. Though Faye would have always chosen to protect her mother, if she had caught on to what was happening sooner, she could have fled and brought help with her. Now, it was too late.
Mayson’s face contorted into a twisted semblance of a smile as he aimed his pistol at her. He took a step forward, tilting his head, clearly amused and pleased with what was transpiring.
