Chapter Twenty-three
"WAIT.” I was certain Hancock was about to shoot me. He was crazy, and I had to stop the madman from killing me. Talking seemed to be my only weapon. “I don’t understand why you didn’t burn the letter. It’s not proof of anything, but it seems dangerous to keep it.”
“Why? It was in my laboratory. Mine. No one was ever allowed in. I could sit in my room, surrounded by my equipment, and look at the letter that showed how clever I’d been in removing the people who were in my way. Just as I’ll remove the people who now put me in danger.” Hancock aimed at my head and cocked the trigger.
I sat down hard in the chair as my knees gave out under me.
The duke stalked toward him.
Hancock’s hand shook as he swung around, backed up, and aimed at Blackford. He raised his voice to proclaim, “You may be a high and mighty duke, but I hold the gun.”
“And I’m the only one who can get you your letters. You need me.” The duke advanced. Hancock continued backward until he was clearly visible in the doorway.
“Hancock,” a gravelly voice said.
Hancock wheeled around and fired as he tumbled onto his back, a knife handle protruding from his chest and the gun still in his grip. The noise in the small area shook the walls and left my heart pounding at a gallop. The room smelled of gunpowder like a Guy Fawkes Night celebration. Blackford stepped forward and grabbed the pistol. I could see there was no need to hurry. Hancock’s hand was already lifeless.
I swung around to discover if Sumner was hurt. He appeared uninjured as he faced Blackford and pointed upward. There was a hole in the plastered ceiling near the doorway, with spidery cracks leading away in all directions and plaster dust sifting into a coating on the faded carpet.
After that, everything became a commotion. Inspector Grantham and several uniformed constables arrived in a clatter. Sir Broderick, Emma, Dominique, and Jacob were freed of their bonds. The police carried Jacob to his bed and sent for a doctor to examine him. Inspector Grantham examined the room before Hancock’s body could be taken away for the police medical officer to examine. Blackford and Sumner followed Inspector Grantham as he pushed Sir Broderick in his wheeled chair into another room to hold a conference.
I sat on the sofa between Emma and Dominique, one arm around each of them as they spilled out their tears and their tale of Lord Hancock’s rambling complaints. I listened to them and dried their tears, but my gaze kept returning to the closed door across the hall where the men were deciding Sumner’s fate.
I was glad I didn’t have to play a part in that conversation. My nerves were still on edge from facing that horrible pistol.
The doctor went into the other room and then left the house. We continued to sit. My fright changed to surprise as I looked at the ornately painted mantel clock and realized on any other day I’d be greeting customers in my bookshop. My ordinary customers in my ordinary bookshop on my ordinary street. I hugged Emma tighter and blinked back my tears. She was still alive to work side by side with me.
Emma leaned her head on my shoulder. “Aunt Phyllida is going to be angry with me when she hears I was tied up twice by the same madman.”
I could hear the gray-haired spinster lecturing us and began to laugh. Emma joined in until neither of us knew if our tears were from fright or hilarity.
We’d calmed down and dried our eyes by the time the men finally ended their conference. Grantham left with the bobbies. Sir Broderick talked to Emma and Dominique. Sumner stood brooding in a corner. And Blackford came to me.
“Georgia. Er, Miss Fenchurch, I’m going to Waterloo Station to see the Drakes off. If you and Miss Keyes would care to join me, I’ll take you to your bookshop afterward.”
I probably hadn’t missed too many customers. And I did want to see this investigation finished. Perhaps I just wanted to make certain Drake left the country if he wasn’t going to be prosecuted for his crimes. Spending a little more time with the duke was a bonus I hadn’t planned on. “Yes, thank you, Your Grace. And you may call me Georgia.”
“Call me Blackford.” The hair at the nape of his neck seemed to be curling in a most beguiling fashion. I’d taken my gloves off to comfort Emma and Dominique, and without thinking I reached out to touch his curls and discover if they were as soft as they looked. They were wringing wet. His collar was soaked. Blackford may have appeared indifferent while we’d faced Hancock, but he’d broken out in a sweat. No doubt he was as frightened as I was.
He pulled away with a shocked look. When I continued to study his face, he gave me a fleeting smile before setting his expression into one of ducal disdain.
I shoved my surprise away and focused on the problem at hand. “All right, Blackford. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell society Drake had been your stable boy and why you’re letting him leave the country. His blackmail has had terrible consequences.”
The duke’s eyes proclaimed his honesty as he said, “I gave him my word as part of the deal to obtain his blackmail material, all his blackmail material, that I’d help him start a new life. I don’t go back on my word.”
“That was a terrible promise, Your Grace.”
“It was his condition for exchanging his blackmail papers for pounds, and he made me promise, knowing I don’t go back on my word.”
We gathered Emma and Sumner and climbed into the duke’s carriage. This time I was slightly more graceful about it. I decided I was getting too much practice.
Emma spent the ride fixing her hair, which had been mussed while she was tied up. Sumner sat across from her, staring with naked devotion in his eyes. I looked from him to the duke, caught Blackford’s eye, and grinned as I nodded toward the other couple. He nodded solemnly.
We rode to Waterloo Station and easily found the Drakes. They were outside the station watching a porter load their luggage onto a cart to move it to the train. We climbed down to join them.
Immediately, Lord Naylard and his sister arrived, followed by Inspector Grantham with the finely dressed young Viscount Dalrymple and his wife. All of them appeared angry, and Viscount Dalrymple, standing beside the inspector, looked as if he would strike Drake. I stared at the group, trying to puzzle out why all these people were there to see off their blackmailer and his wife.
Sumner and the duke shifted slightly to fence the Drakes in on one side while a couple of constables took up positions behind them.
Drake forced a smile and said, “What is this?”
“Is this the man?” Inspector Grantham asked.
“Yes,” Miss Lucinda Naylard said.
“That’s the cur,” the viscount responded, his hands in fists.
“Nicholas Drake,” Grantham began, “I am arresting you on suspicion of blackmail.”
“What?” Drake swung toward Blackford. “You promised.”
“I promised I wouldn’t press charges. But these honest citizens, once they received their stolen papers, have elected to press charges. The Earl of Waxpool has pressed charges in writing, since his health doesn’t permit him to point you out to the law in person.” Blackford smiled broadly.
“What? You can’t!” Drake shouted as two bobbies fitted him with handcuffs. “I’ll tell. I’ll tell the papers!” he bellowed as he struggled against the policemen leading him away to a police carriage with bars and locks on the double doors on the back. “You’ll be sorry, Blackford.”
Anne Drake broke down and sobbed.
Blackford moved next to her. “You can go to Canada without him. You can go back to Blackford village. Or you can stay in his house in London and wait for him. Let me know when you make up your mind and I’ll assist you. In the meantime, you have the money I gave him last night in exchange for the letters he stole.”