Kendra dropped the coins in his hand and climbed into a cabin that stunk of tobacco smoke, sweat, and tawdry perfume. She sat back in the old leather seat as he cracked the whip, and the two horses started out at a brisk pace. As they moved away from the affluent residential neighborhoods and into the working-class areas, the streets became more choked with wagons and cattle. Costermongers were already out, pushing their carts and yelling their wares.
The hackney stopped and Kendra clamored down, joining the queue of pedestrians flooding the street. She didn’t know exactly where she’d find him, but she didn’t think Bear would be all that difficult to locate in Cheapside.
It became clear that everyone knew where Bear was, but they weren’t forthcoming with the information. It took a bit of cajoling—and giving a coin to a kid to deliver a message to the crime lord. When the kid finally came back, it was to bring her to a tavern, where she found Bear sitting at a worn wooden table in the corner of the smoky interior, aggressively cutting into a joint of lamb and swilling down a tankard of ale.
He didn’t stop shoveling food into his mouth when she slid in the chair next to him. She chose the seat so she could have the grimy wall at her back, rather than the roughly dressed men who were hanging out in the tavern. She angled her body toward him.
“I’ve got a flintlock aimed at your balls, so don’t do anything stupid,” she said.
That got his attention. He paused with the tankard of ale halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he set it down, his mud-brown eyes fixed on hers. “Ye are the most peculiar wench I’ve ever met.”
“Ah, now you’ve hurt my feelings. Alec didn’t murder Lady Dover.”
The giant grunted. “Aye, Snake told me a gentry mort did the deed.” He picked up his fork and knife again, and continued eating.
“Good. I wanted to make sure we understand each other. We had a deal and I kept my end of it. I want to make sure you keep yours.”
“I’ll leave yer tulip alone,” he said from around a mouthful of food. “Can’t say what I’ll do to the murderess of me Cordi.”
Kendra said, “She’s dead. The woman who killed your . . . Lady Dover is dead.”
He picked up the tankard again and regarded her over the rim. “Ye kill her?”
“She killed herself.”
He considered that news, then took a long drink. He set the tankard down with a loud sigh. “I guess dead is dead, whether the bitch got there by me hand or her own. And at least by her own, she’ll be burnin’ in hell.” He paused and gave her a long look. “Ye’re not gonna bring her back, are ye?”
“What?”
“The murderess? Ye’re gonna leave her dead? Snake told me how some fancy cocked up her toes, but you brought her back and she began casting up her accounts. Ye’re gonna leave the murderess dead, then?”
“Ah . . . sure. I’m gonna leave her dead.”
Bear nodded, satisfied.
Feeling a bit bemused, Kendra pushed herself to her feet, but kept her hand on the flintlock that she’d pulled from her reticule. “I’m walking out of here, and I don’t want anyone stopping me. Do I make myself clear?”
A glint of what might have been amusement came to Bear’s eyes. “Ye’ve got lashings of courage. If ye ever get tired of yer tulip, ye come see Bear.” He grinned at her.
I’d rather be given a lobotomy in one of the madhouses. Without further conversation, Kendra left the pub.
63
Kendra walked with Alec on the grassy knoll in St. James Park with Molly, beaming in her new role as lady’s maid, keeping pace at a respectful distance behind. The fog that had blanketed the city earlier had lifted completely by the afternoon. Amazingly, the gray clouds had even begun to part, revealing the sun for the first time in days.
“The Duke is anxious to return home,” Alec murmured.
Kendra had to smile. “Yes, I know. He says it’s impossible to view the night sky here, and he’s itching to get back to his telescope.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“I miss the night sky too.”
He smiled slightly. “I think you know what I’m asking.”
She said nothing for a long moment. Then she sighed. “It’s not like I have a choice in the matter, Alec.”
She paused, letting her gaze travel across the landscape. There was an older woman walking with a companion, and two gentlemen conversing near the lake. Another man was strolling down the path, twirling his walking stick. A lone woman was standing with her back to them, her eyes on the lake.
She glanced at Alec. “Will you wait for me here?”
He held her gaze. “I’ll wait for you.”
Kendra forced herself to walk away, down to the woman standing in front of the lake. If Kendra happened to look a little flushed, Miss Aubert was too smart to comment on it. It was probably all those years working as a lady’s maid.
Kendra said, “I got your note. Why did you want to see me?”
Miss Aubert turned to meet her eyes. Her own gaze was troubled. “Lady Louisa’s funeral is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“It is a terrible thing. The household . . . it is not a happy one.”
“I imagine it wouldn’t be,” Kendra said slowly.
“Lady Weston most likely realizes that she should not have left a newly purchased bottle of laudanum on the tea tray that she brought her daughter.”
Kendra couldn’t control her swift intake of breath. “Lady Weston gave her daughter the laudanum?” she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral.
“Yes. I saw her go into Lady Louisa’s room with the tray.”
“And she left the laudanum for Lady Louisa?” Kendra suddenly felt chilled as she remembered how Lady Weston kept glancing at the clock. At the time, Kendra had thought she was buying time for her daughter to escape. Now she realized that maybe she was just making sure enough time had elapsed for the poison to work.
“I’m sure she will tell you that she only meant for her daughter to take a small dose, as ladies do to calm their nerves and sleep. But Lady Louisa was a fragile woman. There are such high expectations, you see. Lady Weston mourns her daughter, but, I think, there is a certain relief too. The Westons have endured so much humiliation lately. At least they will be spared a trial and sending Lady Louisa to the madhouse.”
“Better to send her to the grave?”
Miss Aubert gave a light shrug. “For certain English families, yes. There will be rumors, but there are always rumors. The Ton has a short attention span. The Prince will do something next week, and everyone will be talking about him. The Westons will continue to receive their invitations to the balls and routs and assemblies. Viscount Dawson will have access to young heiresses.”
“And if Lady Louisa had stood trial, and then sent to an asylum?”
The maid gave her a long look. “There would be no invitations. There would be no young heiresses waiting to marry an impoverished viscount.”
Kendra fell silent and they both turned to stare at the lake. Today, it was placid, only the tiniest ripples across its mirror like surface.
“Why are you telling me this?” Kendra finally asked.
“You are the one who wanted answers, did you not?”
“I suppose so.” Still, she felt a little sick that Lady Weston had most likely encouraged her obviously disturbed daughter to commit suicide.