The door opened and a footman stepped in to announce Sam’s arrival. It seemed a bit redundant, considering the Bow Street Runner was already halfway into the room.
“Your Grace . . .” Sam began, then stopped when he spotted Rebecca. “M’lady, this is a wondrous surprise.” He sketched a quick bow and smiled. But his smile slipped and his eyes widened when they fell on Alec. “Bloody hell. M’lord! What happened ter you? It looks like you’ve been in a mill!”
“Sutcliffe fought a ruffian named Bear,” Rebecca told him. “Good evening, Mr. Kelly. I’m delighted to see you as well. It would seem fate has drawn us together again—Rota Fortunae.” She shot Kendra a smug smile. Kendra rolled her eyes.
Sam didn’t notice the byplay. “Bear? Did you say, Bear? The Bear?”
“Yes.” Rebecca raised her eyebrows, her turn to be surprised. “Are you are acquainted with the man, Mr. Kelly?”
“I know of him. His Christian name is Guy Ackerman, but everyone calls him Bear. They say he once fought a—”
“Bear,” Kendra supplied. “Yeah, we heard. God knows, he’s big enough for that rumor to be true. Who is he?”
“You encountered the rogue as well, Miss?”
“I was with Lord Sutcliffe at the time.”
That brought him up short. “You were?”
“Yes. What do you know about him?”
He regarded her closely, probably checking for bruises or post-traumatic stress. When he didn’t see either, he said, “Bear’s a crime lord, Miss. Keeps mostly ter the flash houses in Cheapside.” He looked back to Alec. “How’d you tangle with him, if you don’t mind me askin’, sir? He’s a cutthroat, ter be sure, but it isn’t like him ter take on the nobility with his fists.”
“He’s not exactly adverse to it, either,” Alec muttered, sipping his brandy.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Never say you fought with Bear and won.”
Alec scowled. “I’m not a fop, Mr. Kelly. I spar on a regular basis with Gentleman John Jackson himself.”
“Oh. Aye, sir. It’s just that Bear weighs at least twenty-one stone. He . . . ah . . .” Sam hesitated, then apparently realized there was no way he could extract himself from the insult he’d unintentionally delivered. He asked instead, “Do you want ter press charges? I can round up me men and go after him.”
Alec sighed. “No, we’ve reached an understanding for now. I may reconsider the matter in two weeks.”
“Two weeks, sir?”
Aldridge answered. “That’s the length of time the criminal gave us to prove my nephew is innocent in Lady Dover’s murder, before he attempts to dispense his own brand of justice.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Kelly?”
Sam visibly perked up. “Aye, sir. Thank you.”
“Whiskey?”
“If it’s no trouble.” Sam eyed the amber liquid with appreciation as the Duke splashed a generous four fingers into a stout glass. “I don’t understand. Why would a man like Bear concern himself with Lady Dover’s murder?”
“It would seem that they were acquainted when she lived in Cheapside,” Kendra said. “More than acquainted, really. He appears to have been in love with her.”
“But . . . Lady Dover’s from Cheapside?”
Alec lifted his glass in a mocking toast. “My sentiments exactly. The horror.”
Kendra ignored him. “It looks that way. Did you locate Lady Dover’s coachman?”
“Aye, I did.” He smiled as the Duke handed him the glass of whiskey. “For the last month, he’s been deliverin’ his mistress ter a cottage in St. Margaret’s every Wednesday evening, half past nine. He then picked her up some time in the early morning hours.”
“Who did Lady Dover meet?” Kendra asked.
“His duty was ter leave her off. He never saw the man.” Sam paused to take a swallow of whiskey before continuing. “I made inquiries around the neighborhood. The cottage was purchased five months ago, but nobody’s seen the owner.”
“Obviously it was purchased for the purpose of being a place to rendezvous with Lady Dover,” said Rebecca.
“Aye. I was given the address of a local widow who’d been hired ter clean the cottage and have a hot meal waitin’, the fires and candles lit.”
“Excellent.” Aldridge smiled. “Who did she say hired her?”
“I don’t know. The widow—Mrs. Frost—appears ter have disappeared.”
The Duke asked, “What do you mean, she’s disappeared?”
Sam shrugged. “She’s gone. She was seen getting into a hackney, so I think she’s still in London Town, unless she later got on a stagecoach ter take her elsewhere. I’ve got me men on it. We’ll find her.”
“’Tis too convenient. Why vanish now?” Rebecca shook her head. “Lord Weston must have bribed the woman into leaving, to avoid having his name become linked with Lady Dover’s in such an intimate way.”
“Lord Weston’s name was linked with Lady Dover the moment she appeared in public wearing the Weston jewels,” Aldridge pointed out.
Sam eyed the slate board. “Lord Weston—that’s the cove that you think Lady Dover was having an affair with?”
“It looks that way,” Kendra said.
Rebecca frowned. “I would agree that Lord Weston is a likely suspect, given his relationship with Lady Dover. Except for one thing—he was at the ball that his daughter, Lady Frances, threw on Monday night. Lady St. James said that the entire family attended, with the exception, of course, of Lady Weston.”
“Lady St. James also said that most of London was at the ball,” Kendra pointed out. “The bigger the crowd, the easier it is to slip away unnoticed. The real problem would be getting from Point A to Point B without being seen. Where was the ball held?”
“Presumably, the home of Lady Frances and her husband, Mr. Roberts,” Rebecca replied.
Kendra went to study the map of London. “We need a location, and we can work from there.” She looked at the Bow Street Runner. “Did you check with Lord Dover’s club to see if he was there as he claimed?”
“I spoke with the porter and he told the same story as Lord Dover. His Lordship left the club at ten. The porter offered ter hail a hackney for the Earl, but Lord Dover declined the service, said he’d do it himself.”
Kendra frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“I asked if Lord Dover was in the habit of hailing his own hackneys; the porter said His Lordship did it on occasion. Sometimes gentlemen who imbibe too much like ter walk a bit ter clear their heads before getting a hackney.”
“And had Lord Dover imbibed too much?”
“The porter couldn’t say. Or wouldn’t.” Sam shrugged. “I went ter Lord Dover’s residence and interviewed the staff. They confirmed that His Lordship arrived home at eleven o’clock; the housekeeper was certain she’d heard the Watch yell out the time. Lord Dover’s butler was also positive, as he’d been counting the household silver, a duty he says he performs before retiring, precisely at eleven.”