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“I’m sorry, my lord,” Sofia apologized hurriedly. “Marco has too much emotion for his own good. He forgets, sometimes, that Lola is her own woman.”
“Then it’s good he has you as a friend to remind him,” Theodore said, scanning the area for any sign of Lola. “Where is Lola? I wanted to talk to her for a moment.”
“I haven’t seen her.” Sofia shrugged. “I wish I could be more helpful.”
Theodore thanked the young acrobat and walked back to his carriage, unsettled for a number of reasons. He didn’t like not knowing where Lola was and if she was safe. She’d promised to be careful, but he wasn’t sure if her definition of the word was in kind to his own. Then there was the matter of Marco and finding him on the tightrope platform. Was he really checking the ropes? Theodore couldn’t be sure. Additionally, Marco’s outburst concerning Lola’s past was as confusing as it was troubling. He’d made it sound as if a nobleman had forced Lola to leave Ipswich and abandon her family. How could that be true?
His driver wasn’t going to like it, but another detour was necessary. Theodore would stop at Bow Street to tell Fredrickson and Johns where to notify him in Ipswich if anything new came to light. At times it seemed as if he was going in circles, but with any luck the trip to speak to Fremont’s valet would prove beneficial. Hopefully, Timmons would offer some much-needed clarity.
Lola wavedto the gathered spectators seated in the grandstand as she prepared to step onto the rope. It was nine o’clock. Time for her performance and then she could go home. All day her emotions had shilly-shallied between contentedness and frustration. Her time spent with Theodore warmed her from the inside out and yet her argument with Marco and his inability to behave reasonably dampened her joy. Deep down, where she buried her greatest fears, she wondered if Marco had the right of it. But now was not the time to weigh doubt against hope.
Instead, she drew a deep breath and cleared her mind. Focused on the end of the rope where it was knotted tightly to the wooden stanchion on the other side of the platform, she placed her right foot and then her left.
A sound of hushed awe rose up from the crowd below. Some spectators perceived the risk and danger, while others doubted her ability to stay balanced. She proved them all wrong every time. At mid-rope she paused and arched her arms in a graceful display of poetic expression, not unlike a ballerina’s elegant dance. A rush of applause filled the air around her, carrying her all the way to the end of the rope. Her smile burst through as she once again waved to the crowd.
With the show over, the grandstands cleared quickly, but as Lola gathered her slippers and shawl, she noticed Fredrickson and Johns lingering near the bottom of the ladder. There would be no escaping their questions now. Huffing a breath of annoyance, she moved down the ladder and faced the Runners.
“You wish to speak to me?” she asked, aware it was the obvious assumption.
“Just a few minutes of your time, Miss York,” Fredrickson said, his tone even and expression calm. “I’ve learned there was a threat made to your person the other night.”
“During the presentation of the Cascade.” She looked from one investigator to the other. “Yes. A man came up behind me.”
“And was that the extent of the interaction?” Johns asked, his pencil and pad in hand.
“No,” Lola continued. “He held my neck and told me to mind my own business. He had some kind of weapon. He pressed it to my side.”
“And why didn’t you bring this to our attention?” Fredrickson asked, his stare more serious than moments before.
“I didn’t want the person, this stranger, to think he was in further danger of discovery. I feared he would return and hurt me because I’d notified Bow Street.”
It wasn’t the truth, at least not completely. The thought did cross her mind that the stranger could target her again, but the true motivation for avoiding the Runners had to do with her family’s past. She wasn’t about to share any of that information.
“We’re trying to solve Lord Fremont’s murder. Even the smallest detail is important,” Johns commented.
“I understand your hesitation,” Fredrickson said, although Lola wondered if he was sincere. “Can you give me a description of the man who accosted you?”
“No,” Lola said quickly. “I mean, I wish I could. But he approached me from behind and pushed me away after he threatened me. I never saw him. It was too crowded. All I know is that he wasn’t very tall because when he spoke in my ear he just leaned forward.”
“Thank you,” Johns said, making a note on his pad. “In the future, if you see this man or have any other troubling interactions, you must notify us.”
“I didn’t see him, so I can’t recognize him,” Lola repeated, her agitation growing. “I never expected Lord Essex to go to you with the information.”
“In an investigation, most especially when we’re trying to expose someone who took the life of a nobleman, all information should be shared,” Johns said.
“It’s important we know as much as possible, otherwise the opposite of your intention could result,” Fredrickson elaborated. “If Lord Essex hadn’t informed us of what had occurred, we wouldn’t be aware of the stranger’s return to Vauxhall. That fact leads us to other clues we can investigate. Furthermore, it pinpoints you as a target. You should take extra care withyour safety. We have it in mind to post a few Runners here in everyday clothing each night.”
“Well, then I’ll be sure to offer Lord Essex my gratitude for his concern over my wellbeing,” she said, trying to extricate herself from the conversation now that it seemed complete.
“That will have to wait until he returns from Ipswich,” Johns said with a casual chuckle.
“Ipswich?” she asked, her pulse taking a leap. “What do you mean?”
“The earl advised us he would be away from London for a few days. He wanted us to be informed of his whereabouts in case there was a development in this situation,” Fredrickson explained further.
“That’s a fine example of what you need to do as well,” John added. “If anything else occurs that could be connected to this matter, you should report it to Bow Street straightaway.”
Lola nodded woodenly, her ears ringing with panic. Last night, Theodore had mentioned his travel. He’d called it unfinished business and she hadn’t given it another thought, her body still tingling from their intimacies. But it couldn’t be a coincidence. That seemed impossible now.