Page 44 of Papa's Captive
“Oh yes, Lady Grayson, though I dare say you are confusing her with another. She is a delightful young woman and my friend, Lord Grayson, is utterly charmed by her. As is nearly everyone she meets.”
“Will you be serious?” Lady Wartwhistle glowered at him. “Have you no care for the shame you have brought upon the family?”
William leaned forward, hands flat upon the smooth surface of his desk and glared down at his unwelcome visitor. “Shame upon the family? Have I heard you correctly,dear cousin? The offenses you list, none of which are the fault of my bride nor do they affect my profound affection for her, are nothing to the shame you bring upon yourself and, by extension, the rest of the Caldwell and Wartwhistle families, as a result of your penchant for gossip, deceit and interference in the lives of others. If anyone ought to behave better, it is you.”
“How. Dare. You.” His cousin’s face contorted with vitriol. She turned to the detective, who had sat silently watching the ugly interfamily argument. “Tell him,” Lady Wartwhistle ordered.
“If I may, my lord,” Mr. Hoffman said, drawing a sheath of papers from his pocket and spreading them across William’s desk. “Lady Wartwhistle retained my services to investigate a young lady.” Here the detective at least had the good grace to appear uncomfortable. “Your new bride, to be specific.”
He ought to have known his marriage would not go without some harassment from his cousin. Any hope that she might have matured into a sensible woman vanished.
Much as he wished not to, William glanced down at the documents provided by Mr. Hoffman. It was a series of yellowed newspaper clippings. On one, the headline screamed TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR!
He picked another up and read:
The jury in the trial of Charles Andrews returned a verdict of swift and sure justice, finding the former government official guilty of the crime of treason. His sentence fixed at hanging which shall take place in the courtyard of the Old Bailey one week hence.
The trial lasted five days and included testimony from…
Here William stopped reading for below the text there appeared a sketch from the courtroom showing the defendant standing as the jury announced its verdict. The man’s face had crumpled in despair and behind him—the image made William’s heart plunge—stood a girl, though several years younger, there was no mistaking the face of his beloved Rosie, contorted in anguish.
A second sketch confirmed what he suspected. It showed the convict being lead away in chains, his eyes looking toward Rosie, her arms outstretched. The caption said, “Victoria Andrews cries out as her father is taken to await his execution.”
Fighting to maintain his composure—he loathed the idea of allowing the vile Joyce to believe she had unsettled him—he stared at the image of his darling bride, alone and suffering. He vowed to punish those who had caused her such pain.
Clearing his throat, he looked up at his visitors. Satisfaction was written across his cousin’s face and he wished nothing more than to slap it away. But, he did not.
“Mr. Hoffman,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “it is clear that you do thorough work.”
The detective appeared surprised by his praise. “Thank you, my lord.”
“I should like to hire you to investigate the crimes alleged against this Charles Andrews.”
Lady Wartwhistle’s head snapped back. “What?” she gasped, but the men ignored her.
“My lord, the trial was more than two years ago. The man was hanged. I am unsure what is to be gained by further investigation”
“There is a man’s good name.”
