Page 14 of A Wallflower Never Forgets
As for himself, Jonathan would have liked nothing more than a warm bath and a snifter of brandy. The ride from London had taken longer than usual as he’d stopped along the way to assist a family whose carriage had gotten stuck in a ditch.
“Good to see you again, Rupert,” Jonathan said, warmly greeting the butler whom he’d known almost his entire life.
“Thank you, my lord. It’s been too long. We’re pleased to have you for a visit. Rupert showed Jonathan to the study.
He entered Rochester’s study and saw his friend, Maxwell Wilde, the Earl of Worsley, leaning against the fireplace, staring into the flames, sipping a drink. “Worsley. It’s good to see you. I’m glad you and your lovely countess could make it.”
“We’re hiding in here, escaping the ‘Can you do this for me’ requests from Maggie and Melanie and the dowager countess.” Worsley chuckled.
“We arrived last evening. What kept you?” Worsley asked. “Rochester said you had things to work out.”
“Let’s wait for Rochester, and I’ll update the both of you.” He walked to the liquor cart and poured himself a brandy. “How was your travel?”
“Thankfully, it was uneventful,” Worsley said just as Rochester reentered the room.
“Did I miss anything?” Rochester asked.
“No. I thought I’d update the two of you at the same time,”
“You look like you haven’t slept much,” Worsley observed.
Jonathan wiped his hand against the growth of stubble on his chin. “I haven’t. But it has to do with that whole…” He waved his hand in a circle. “Incident. I got up early and threw a few things into the bag to get underway. I didn’t want to miss too much.”
“Except for the dinner last evening—which we served as a buffet so people could come and go as they pleased and have a chance to eat when they arrived. Other than that, nothing much has gone on.”
“Perhaps it would be good to start with this incident. I’ve heard from Rochester, but I’d like to hear from you if you don’t mind reviewing it again with me,” Worsley said.
Jonathan nodded and began when he received the missive in Slade’s office. He talked about his investigation and why he was concerned the target was Melanie.
“I asked my informant, the owner of the bookshop on King Street, to make some discreet inquiries of the various shop owners around the area where Melanie was almost hurt.”
“I know the man… Conners, right?” Worsley said. “Had dealings with him in the past. Sharp fellow.”
“He is. I was determined to turn up something—anything that could lead me to whoever was inside that carriage.” He had cursed himself many times over for not being more observant, a futile exercise. Self-recrimination changed nothing. It had happened so fast that most people wouldn’t have seen anything worthwhile. Except, someone did. He was sure of it. “Conners put me on to a boy, George, who works at Anderson Stables.” Jonathan filled in the details of what the boy had seen.
“That sounds promising,” Rochester said.
“He said several things that for me, confirmed Melanie was the target.”
Both men went silent.
“The first—George could see the gold crest on the side of the carriage had been painted over. He can’t read or write but he recognized the letter he saw where the paint had been smudged off. The boy pointed to the A on the Anderson’s Stable sign.
“That’s solid,” Worsley prompted. “What else did he say?”
“George described seeing the carriage that day, saying it was parked alongside the road in front of the stable. It seemed to be sitting there longer than was usual for a carriage, which drew his attention. It wasn’t as though they were waiting for someone. Then the carriage suddenly lurched forward, barreling onto the road, the driver whipping the horses into a frenzy, as it screeched onto King Street. George also noted the driver wore a mask. Which I’d witnessed as well. But the most crucial bit was the boy was certain he saw a woman in the carriage.”
For a moment, the three men remained quiet.
“There is only one person I can think of who is capable of this,” Rochester bit out. “The Duchess of Aumale.”
“While the woman is a viper of the first order, what would be her motivation for doing so?” Worsley asked. “She had everything she could possibly want as his wife. I heard it was his heart that did him in.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Rochester said. “Last time I saw the duke, he was hale and hearty. His sudden death seems suspicious to me. Losing a peer of Aumale’s standing upset the King. They were good friends—something new wives may not have been aware of.”
“Worsley, you more than anyone should know what an evil mind is capable of,” Jonathan countered.
Worsley blew out a breath. “Aye, I do. But you cannot simply throw out an accusation without proof.”
