Delivering Rebecca to her home at Half Moon Street proved more complicated. Before he’d left, the Duke had sent word to his sister about what was happening, and the Countess had gone to inform Lord and Lady Blackburn of the events. Rebecca’s parents and Lady Atwood were sitting in the fire-lit drawing room, the trio having passed a tense evening, waiting for news.
Lady Blackburn began crying when they entered the drawing room, racing to hug Rebecca, while Lord Blackburn demanded answers. After they were given, including the unprecedented action Kendra had done to save Rebecca, Kendra was shocked to find herself caught in Lady Blackburn’s strong embrace.
“Thank you, Miss Donovan.” Rebecca’s mother stepped back and wiped away tears. “Forgive me, but I am overcome . . . I cannot imagine life without my daughter. Will you not stay? Have a glass of wine?”
Rebecca, who was now being held in the circle of her father’s arms, looked at Kendra. “I think Miss Donovan has another commitment, don’t you?”
“Yes, we do.”
Still, it was well after ten o’clock by the time they were able extricate themselves. As they clamored back into the carriage, a dirty gray fog rolled in, adding to Kendra’s sense of foreboding. It also lengthened the time it took for the coachman to maneuver his way through the streets to the Westons’ Georgian house.
When they finally made it, the mist was wet against Kendra’s face as she descended the carriage steps. Through the thick haze, she observed the blurry glow of light from several windows in the upper story. Two men wearing greatcoats materialized out of the grimy fog, approaching Sam.
“All’s well?” asked the Bow Street Runner.
“Aye, not a peep outta them,” the taller man said. “No one ’as left the premises since we delivered your message, sir.”
“There are men guarding the back?”
“Aye, Gerald and Wallace.”
Sam nodded, then looked to Kendra. “The guards will keep ter their post until tomorrow morning. Lady Louisa will then be escorted ter the Magistrates Court on Bow Street. She won’t be leavin’, Miss.”
“I don’t want to wait until morning,” Kendra said. She’d spent too damn much time waiting as it was and she couldn’t shake her unease. Lady Louisa had slipped away from the eyes of the Ton at her sister’s ball to commit murder and she’d managed to leave her family home with no one being the wiser to kill Miss Cooper. Kendra didn’t trust the constables standing guard on a foggy night to stop her from escaping, if that’s what she planned to do.
The butler, more grim-faced than usual, answered their knock. His gaze rested on Sam and Kendra for a long moment, and Kendra had a feeling that he was considering turning them away. Then his gaze moved beyond them to where the Duke and Alec stood.
Sam spoke up. “We need ter speak to Lady Louisa.”
The servant hesitated. “Lady Louisa is indisposed.”
“Then we shall need a word with Lord and Lady Weston,” said Aldridge.
The butler inclined his head but opened the door to allow them into the foyer. Only two wall sconces were lit, leaving the entrance hall draped in opaque shadows. “If you’ll wait here, I shall let His Lordship know of your arrival, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary, Wilson.” The voice of Lord Weston drifted down to them from the landing above. His face was barely discernible in the shadows as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the balustrade. “You may let them pass.”
The Earl waited for them to ascend the stairs, his face as expressionless as that of the Sphinx. Then he turned on his heel and went through the open doorway of the drawing room. They followed him into the room, and though Kendra didn’t know what to expect, this scene hadn’t been it. Lady Weston was sitting on the sofa, working on her needlepoint; she didn’t even glance up when they entered the room. Weston returned to the wingback chair, positioned to face the fire. Earlier, Kendra had thought that he looked older than his forty-eight years. Now, she thought he’d aged decades—his face had a sunken quality, the skin hanging loose in the jowls.
Weston finally broke the eerie silence. “Have you come to gloat about our misfortune?”
“I think you know that is not true,” Aldridge said gently.
“I would like to speak to your daughter,” Kendra said.
“Why?” Lady Weston looked up and her gaze went to the clock ticking on the shelf before focusing on Kendra. Her eyes were red and puffy, but otherwise she seemed oddly calm. Shock, Kendra guessed. “Can you not leave her in peace?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s important.”
Lady Weston studied her for a long moment. Then she glanced at the Duke. “My family is coming to terms with what has happened. We would prefer to do so in privacy, to avoid having our grief displayed to the word like some minstrel show.”
“I am aware that this is a difficult time for you, madam . . .”
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “A difficult time is running out of port while hosting a dinner party. This is the destruction of my family, sir.”
“Your daughter is responsible for murdering two women,” Kendra felt the need to remind Lady Weston. “And nearly killing a third.”
For a moment, Kendra caught the flash of rage in the other woman’s eyes. Then it was gone, and she said coldly, “My daughter was not herself. Lady Dover’s actions pushed her into madness.”
“That will be determined at her trial,” Aldridge said.
Lady Weston flinched. “Another public humiliation.” The words were said in a low voice, but filled with accusation.
“I really need to talk to your daughter,” Kendra insisted.
Sam nodded. “Aye, milady. I would have words with her as well.”
Lady Weston’s gaze slipped again to the clock. “Can this not wait until morning? The hour is late. What could you possibly learn from Louisa that you don’t already know?”
“I would like to hear in her own words why she committed the crimes.”
Lady Weston flicked a look at her husband’s tense, haggard face. “I think we know who is at fault in this fiasco. One selfish act begot another selfish act. And my family will continue to suffer because of it.”
Aldridge said, “We do not wish to see you suffer, madam. Miss Donovan and Mr. Kelly shall be quick about their business.”
Lady Weston glanced at the clock a third time. Something is wrong, Kendra thought, a thrill of alarm darting through her. She gave Sam a sharp look. “Do you know if your constables outside actually saw Lady Louisa here? Or were they told that she was inside?”
The Bow Street Runner’s eyes widened. By the look on his face, Kendra knew it was a possibility that his men had been guarding a house without a murder suspect within it. The constables probably wouldn’t have questioned Lady Weston if she said that her daughter had taken to her bed, distraught. They certainly wouldn’t have insisted on going into the bedchamber of a lady of the aristocracy to check on her.
Why hadn’t Lord and Lady Weston been with their daughter? Knowing what confronted her in the morning, wouldn’t they be with her right now?