"Perhaps you do." Marcus retrieved the gold band from his front pocket. He laid the ring on the death certificate.
Steven looked at the ring, his brow furrowing in thought, then he picked it up and held it up to the firelight. Marcus watched him read the words etched inside the band—For all eternity—words he'd read a thousand times over the last month.
Steven set the ring back on the document and looked at him. "Why tell me any of this?" He nodded toward the death certificate. "She's dead."
Marcus took a deep breath. "Mayhap not." He produced the next piece of evidence: the notice of reward for Elise's body that had appeared in the Sunday Times.
By the time Marcus finished with the more bizarre half of his tale, Steven's expression had hardened. "I knew Price was a fortune hunter, but this goes beyond anything I suspected. Twenty-six percent of Landen Shipping remained held in trust for me until I reached twenty-one. When the shares became mine, Price wasn't pleased, but he still held controlling interest. Elise married Robert when she was twenty-one, four years before she would come into possession of her inheritance. Not that it mattered; Robert controlled the purse."
"The woman you describe is different than the one I knew. Elise—" Marcus laughed, "She has done things many men would grow fainthearted over."
Steven picked up the stick he'd laid beside him earlier and poked the fire. "She never wanted for courage. That night on the Amelia, she surprised even me." Steven looked at him with sudden surprise. "Damn! Her journal."
Marcus tensed. "What?"
Steven plunged the stick into the ground. "Amelia's doctor instructed Elise to keep a journal in order to chronicle her illness. After she died, Elise began doing research. Actually, she began the research before Amelia died but, by then, it was too late."
"Too late?"
"Amelia was diagnosed with everything from heart trouble to nervous disorders. No one could offer a cure. You won't believe this, I wouldn't have believed it either had I not caught Robert trying to kill her, but Elise suspected Robert of poisoning Amelia."
Marcus went cold. "Bloody hell."
"I learned of her suspicions from the journal. By then, Robert was gone." He gave Marcus a frank look. "Despite how I felt about Robert, if I hadn't walked in when he was strangling Elise that night, I would have attributed her suspicions to… well…"
Marcus clenched his fist. "If the bastard were alive, I would kill him myself."
Steven gave a cold laugh. "I would have done it long ago."
"Aye," he said. "I wager you would have."
Steven laid the stick back on the ground beside him. "Price being in Scotland and that bounty don't prove Elise didn't die in the carriage accident."
Marcus held his gaze. "Three months ago, Ardsley told the Landen Shipping board of directors that Elise was here in America."
Steven went white.
"Are you all right, lad?"
"When Elise married, I gave her my shares in Landen Shipping."
Marcus gave a slow nod. "The stakes are even higher. Ardsley has begun negotiations for a large loan to Landen Shipping. He wants to expand the shipping routes."
Steven started. "What?"
"He began negotiations six months ago."
"How can he hope to make the vote without me?" Steven's lip curled up in a derisive twist. "Of course."
"Aye," Marcus said. "He would not need you if he has Elise."
Chapter Nineteen
Marcus strode into the Single Penny tavern with Steven behind him. Marcus glanced back at his young companion. They'd spent seven days on the road and the boy looked none the worse for wear. No one would suspect he wasn't a regular in the establishment. The deception went beyond the rough clothes he wore. The metamorphosis from upper-class gentleman to the rough, bawdy character ready to yank his knife from its sheath and open the gullet of any man who looked in his direction was complete. Steven certainly wasn't the typical wealthy American.
The boy's gaze rested for an instant on a table in the far corner of the room, then moved on. Marcus glanced in the same direction and realized he had seen Justin sitting with another man. Even in the shadows of the dimly lit room, Marcus understood what had snagged Steven's attention. Despite the rough clothes Justin wore, the way his manicured fingers curled around the beer mug he drank from gave away the fact he wasn't a typical river rat.
Steven looked at Marcus. Marcus gave a small jerk of his head and Steven followed as he strode to the table. Justin set the mug of ale on the table and looked up at their approach. Marcus slid into the seat to his right. Steven circled the table and took the seat to Justin's left.
"Marcus," Justin's cultured English accent remained evident despite the hoarse quality he injected into his voice.
"Justin," Marcus greeted in a thick, Scottish brogue.
"Meet William Sheldon of the Boston police department," Justin said.
"Shhh," Sheldon hissed, ducking his head down.