When they emerged from the forest, they found Lady Louisa’s groom, Liam, standing near the Duke’s phaeton, holding the reins of both his horse and Lady Rebecca’s mare, looking bewildered by the behavior of his betters.
Rebecca was obviously in no condition to ride her horse, so Alec carried her to the phaeton. It was only supposed to seat two people, but Snake was small enough to slide in between Rebecca and the Duke. Because of the mare’s injury, they tied her to the back of the phaeton. Sam rode double with the groom, while Kendra hoisted herself up behind Alec again.
There was no way their little procession would make it to London in this fashion. Not only was it impractical, but night was falling rapidly, which would make traveling the short stretch of highway difficult and dangerous. Aldridge made the decision that they would ride into the village and stay at a traveling inn, while Liam rode back to London with instructions for Aldridge’s staff to send his traveling carriage.
Kendra had to sigh. Why could nothing be simple in this era?
Their entrance into the village caught the attention of a shopkeeper locking up and the lamplighters—a man and a boy, the latter carrying a ladder to light the lanterns set on poles. We probably look like a suspicious crew, Kendra thought. Then it occurred to her that she was the one who probably earned the most looks, riding astride with her skirts rucked up to reveal a scandalous length of leg.
The Duke guided them to the Black Lion Inn, a sprawling Tudor that was built in the shape of an L that rose two stories. The stable was located on the other side of its cobblestone courtyard, and as soon as they arrived, several stable boys ran out to capture bridles and reins. Aldridge issued instructions, while Alec helped Kendra down, and then returned to carry Rebecca.
“I can walk,” she grumbled, still wrapped in the Duke’s and Sam’s coats.
“After a swallow of that whiskey, I’m not so sure,” Alec joked. He carried her into the inn and demanded a room with a hot bath. Once upstairs, Kendra helped Rebecca undress and scanned her friend for injuries—scratches on her face and an ugly bruise on her arm, which Rebecca held gingerly against her.
“You can move it, so I don’t think it’s broken,” said Kendra, as she helped Rebecca into the copper hip bath. “But I’m not a doctor. We should send for one to look you over.”
Rebecca eased into the water with a hissing sigh. “Don’t be absurd. I’m fine. Just sore.” She lifted a hand to her chest, which also sported a large black-and-blue mark from the chest compressions. “You saved me, Miss Donovan. I don’t know how, exactly, but you saved my life.”
Kendra was grateful for the knock at the door. She crossed the room and opened it a crack. The innkeeper’s wife stood there, holding out a bundle of clothes. “They’re a trifle big, but His Grace gave me good coin for a frock for Her Ladyship, so she won’t have to wear those wet things.”
“Thank you,” Kendra said, taking the bundle and then closing the door.
From the tub, Rebecca said softly, “I believe she is quite mad.”
Kendra turned to face her. She knew to whom Rebecca was referring. “Maybe,” she said, and shrugged. “Maybe not.”
“She said it was an accident. She said that she went there to plead with Lady Dover to let her father go.”
“Do you believe her?”
Rebecca was silent for a long moment. “She brought the stiletto,” she said finally. “That wasn’t an accident. But I don’t understand why she did that to Lady Dover’s face.”
“I think she told us.” Kendra went to stand before the coal fire, stretching out her hands toward the warmth. “Remember, she said, ‘Why can’t men see women like that for what they are?’ And when you said that men are led too easily astray, she said she wished that men could see what was beneath their beauty.”
“She cut Lady Dover’s face to show us what was beneath her beauty?” Rebecca shook her head. “’Tis lunacy—which proves my point.”
“Anger, resentment, passion, hatred, jealousy—they’re all a form of lunacy, aren’t they?”
Rebecca shuddered. “She turned into a different creature, right before my eyes. I was terrified. And yet, for a moment, I felt sorry for her. Lady Dover treated her terribly.”
“Lady Dover treated a lot of people terribly. None of them tried to murder her.”
“She said she did it for her family. She was afraid Lady Dover would entice her father into divorcing her mother.”
“Lady Dover didn’t deserve what was done to her, regardless of the provocation. And Miss Cooper certainly didn’t deserve to be stabbed and pushed into oncoming traffic.”
“Why did she do that to your maid? I know that she thought Miss Cooper was you, but why did she do it?”
“It’s one of the questions that I’m going to ask her.” Kendra turned around to look at Rebecca. “I suspect she thought I knew more than I did and panicked.”
Rebecca nodded and agreed, “She panicked after she mentioned the baby, and I quizzed her about it. She could have told any number of lies, but . . . that’s when she changed.” She pressed her lips together in a tight, remorseful line. “Your maid . . . ’tis my fault. I nattered on about how bloody brilliant you are about solving murders. I think she must have panicked then as well.”
Kendra said nothing—but it made sense, she supposed. She tilted her head and regarded Rebecca. “It sounds like you had quite a conversation with her.”
“I was hiding . . .” She lifted her hand to the scratches on her face. “These came from one particularly vicious rosebush. She kept talking, trying to lure me out. I waited. I thought if I could get to her horse . . . unfortunately, she got to me first.”
Rebecca’s gaze fell on the cloth she was twisting in her hands. Then she glanced up. “How did you come here? You seemed to know that Lady Louisa was the monster even before I told you.”
Kendra shrugged. “Would you put your hair up with a ruby comb if you were wearing a light blue evening gown?”
Rebecca frowned at the non sequitur, but answered anyway. “Of course not. My maid would have the vapors if I tried such a thing.”
“Exactly. A woman like Lady Dover, renowned for her style, would never have done it, either. And yet a comb with rubies was found under the sofa. It had come off during the struggle.” It was always details like these that could break an investigation wide-open.
“Mr. Kelly believed Lady Dover was meeting her lover, so he never considered a woman as the killer,” she added. “He assumed the comb had been Lady Dover’s. He never thought about it not matching the dress.”
“Men rarely think of such things.”
“Then it was stolen . . .” Kendra sighed. “I should have realized the significance when I saw it. There was something off, but I didn’t connect the dots. If I would have figured it out earlier, none of this would have ever happened.”
“You take on too much, Miss Donovan. Such self-recrimination is pointless, and misplaced.”