Page 69 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
Lord Scudamore gave her a cringing smile. “You are nervous, I assume, because you’ve heard about the master sweep who was murdered overnight.”
Anne blanched. “How do you know about that?”
“I called at Bow Street an hour ago, to see if they had arrested Gladstone and to offer my assistance with any questions regarding the R.M.A.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “The news I received was of a most horrific nature, and I… I fear it is all my fault.” He opened his eyes and held her gaze. “I wanted you to hear it directly from me.”
Anne gripped the edge of her desk. “What is it?”
He squared off his jaw. “Gladstone has fled.”
“Fled? What do you mean, fled?”
“Bow Street has patrolmen watching his house. He didn’t return last night, nor this morning. When they questioned his servants today, they said he came in through the back entrance around two o’clock in the morning, hastily packed a trunk, then left. They’ve no idea where he went.”
Anne tried to hold her voice steady but was unable to conceal its shaking. “So Lord Gladstone has gone to ground, and a key witness has turned up dead. I should like to know how he realized the net was closing around him.”
“You think—naturally, I must own—that I must have told Gladstone of our conversation last night.”
Precisely. “Well? Did you?”
“I swear, I did not.” He stared at the carpet. “I fear it is my fault nevertheless.”
“And why is that?”
Lord Scudamore set his drink upon her desk. “I swear to you, upon my word of honor, that I did not tell Gladstone.” He regarded her steadily. “But I did confide in Lord Aylsham.”
“The Earl of Aylsham?” Anne asked, startled. “Whatever for?”
“I thought he should know. Lord Aylsham is vice president of the R.M.A., after all. And I knew he couldn’t be involved. From what you told me, this has been going on for some time, and, being in the Royal Marines, he only returned to the country six months ago. I thought he might be able to think of some piece of evidence that I had missed. Although, if I am being honest…” He raked a hand through his tawny hair. “Part of me wanted to believe it was all some terrible mistake. That Gladstone was truly innocent, and that Lord Aylsham would point out something that would clear him from blame.”
The viscount rose to pace before the fireplace. “I spoke with Lord Aylsham in an empty sitting room on the ground floor. It overlooked the back gardens. The window was open, and at one point, I heard the sound of branches breaking nearby. I went and shut the window, but I didn’t think much of it. Probably just a pair of lovers meeting in the garden. But given what has transpired since then…”
“You think it was Gladstone.”
Lord Scudamore turned to face Anne. “Surely it must have been. What other explanation could there be for Smithers’s death?”
Anne studied the viscount. He seemed sincere in his distress, and he might very well be telling the truth.
But it was also possible that he had forewarned his friend, then staged a conversation with Lord Aylsham to cover his tracks.
Lord Scudamore cleared his throat. “The most important thing now, and the reason why I’m here, is because if Gladstone is eliminating witnesses, that places your two climbing boys in grave danger. You said one of them caught a glimpse of his face, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Lord Scudamore sat down again. “I assume they are staying at your lodging house. You will need additional security. I would be grateful if you would allow me to provide it.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Gladstone’s escape is entirely my fault. I should have been more circumspect, but I… I just wasn’t thinking clearly. My providing those boys with additional guards is the least I can do, given the circumstances.”
“Thank you, but I already have additional men in place.”
Lord Scudamore leaned forward. “Are you certain you have enough of them? What precautions are you taking?”
“I’ve placed one guard with them at all times, another at the front door, and a third to stand watch overnight.”
“Are you certain I can’t send a few more men to help? Through my connections with the R.M.A. I can access a network of former soldiers. Good, upstanding men, who are experienced at standing watch.”
“No, thank you. I am happy with the arrangements that are already in place.”
“Very well,” the viscount said, standing. “Do send the bill for the additional guards to me, though. It would be a weight off my conscience.”
“Very well, my lord.”
