Page 27 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
“They would also have had motive for your good cousin’s murder, as I am aware he went on to marry Miss Arabella Sinclair …?”
Alexander’s eyes dropped to the floor. Hearing his family’s history laid out in such a way sounded so scandalous, and he wrestled with the shame of it. Thomas interjected to assist.
“Edmunddidmarry Miss Arabella Sinclair to save her reputation following Alexander’s reported desertion and consequent apparent death.”
Alexander winced to hear it.
“Hmm.” Captain Morrison frowned at his notebook, clearly noting these were names he would investigate further. “Are there any known accountants or clerks who would have access to your father’s estate with potentially malicious intent?”
“There were accountants and clerks, indeed,” Alexander thought back. “I cannot recall names, but I know there were friends from my father’s club on Berkeley Square.”
“I shall look into it,” the captain concluded. Once again, his face erupted in a twitching spasm. Alexander wondered if it was perhaps some nerve damage from his time spent serving in themilitary. As before, he continued without drawing any attention to it.
“Are there any others who stood to benefit in any way from the dastardly events that materialized?”
Thomas and Alexander looked at each other blankly. Eventually, Alexander shook his head.
“I do not believe so, Captain Morrison.”
“Very well,” the captain closed his notebook and replaced it in the pocket of his breeches. “From all I have learnt through your cousin Edmund’s journal, I suspect that the perpetrator was aware he was digging, and it is also my belief that they silenced him because he was getting close to the truth.”
Alexander’s mouth dropped open at the insinuation.
“Gentlemen, I recommend you conceal our conference with the utmost discretion and that you keep your wits firmly about you. Somebody out there does not want this truth exposed.”
Alexander and Thomas both stood in silence, nodding their understanding.
“We will reconvene here at the end of the week to discuss any developments,” Captain Morrison concluded.
“Thank you for your time, Captain,” Thomas asserted.
“Yes … thank you, kindly,” Alexander added, in a daze.
As the captain left the warehouse and Thomas closed the door firmly behind him, the two friends turned to each other, their faces haunted in the light of this new reality.
Alexander blinked back a surge of emotion and whispered, “Edmund died trying to clear my name.”
***
As Alexander navigated the streets returning to his dank, cold room in Whitechapel, he kept his head firmly down. Dressed as he was in his common, ragged clothes and adopting the gait of a humble man with a slight limp, he was unrecognizable as the former heir to the Wellwood estate. But even so, he had yet to frequent the town during its busiest hours.
Alexander kept to the borders of the street as he made his way through the bustling crowds of Rosemary Lane Market.
Dockworkers flocked here, stallholders yelling out offers of warm, comfortable second-hand clothing as market-goers heckled over the price. It was unlikely anybody he knew would attend such a market, but he could not take any risks, no matter how small.
Walking through Church Lane, the crowd had dispersed a little, but this area felt more vulnerable, as the houses were owned by men who would have moved in some of the same circles he once did.
Alexander pulled his flat cap further down on his head and nestled his face into his collar as though he were cold, which was not far from the truth on this early spring morning.
A prickle danced up the back of Alexander’s neck as an awareness overcame him. An intuitive sensation that he might usually ignore, but knew that in his current precarious circumstances, ignoring such a feeling could be the misstep that led to his execution.
Alexander slowed slightly to allow the perception to settle. His consciousness was on high alert; he certainly felt as though the presence behind him that he had become aware of had also slowed to match his pace.
Alexander turned quickly, cautious to keep his face hidden. People generally milled around, going about their business, but nobody seemed to be paying him any particular attention.
Even so, the sense made him nervous, and he picked up his pace, with care to still adopt his feigned limp. He wanted to reach his room at his fastest opportunity, where he could once again relax that he could be neither seen nor exposed.
Upon entering his room, Alexander closed the door and locked it, leaning back against the wood to take a deep breath. A successful mission, though one that had revealed an unprecedented threat and provoked a cocktail of concerns.
