Page 36 of A Murder in Trinity Lane (Rosalynd and Steele Mysteries #2)

Chapter

Thirty-Four

THE DEVIL’S DOORSTEP

T he fire in my study had burned down to a low glow, casting the room in long shadows.

Papers littered the desk—scribbled lines, half-formed theories, and sketches of connections Finch and I had spent the better part of the afternoon unraveling.

We were close, so close I could taste success. But not close enough.

Finch stood near the hearth, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.

“We know Lady Harriet suspected her nephew. But she never used the word murder. Only that he’d been reckless.”

“Oh, she knew,” I said. “She was simply careful in her phrasing.”

“In other words, nothing that would hold up in a court of law,” he muttered.

“Precisely. The question now becomes—how do we prove Nathaniel Vale murdered Elsie?”

The thought of a man like Vale—aristocratic, calculating—strangling a pregnant girl and getting away with it made my blood run cold. We had to find a way.

A sharp knock snapped us out of our thoughts. Before I could speak, Milford appeared in the doorway, face pale with alarm.

“Mister Honeycutt, Your Grace.”

Before I could respond, Honeycutt entered, damp from the rain and visibly shaken. The sight of him inside Steele House was enough to set every nerve on edge.

I rose at once. “What happened?”

“She’s gone,” he said without preamble.

“Gone where?”

“She received a note. Said she was going to St. Agnes. Refused the Rosehaven carriage. Refused a footman. Ordered me to stay inside the house.”

“Do you know who sent it?”

He shook his head. “No, Your Grace. It came in a plain envelope. Hand-delivered by a boy I’ve seen around the square. But something wasn’t right. I’ve known Lady Rosalynd since she was in leading strings. She lied to me.”

He certainly would know.

Finch stepped beside me. “When did she leave?”

“Twenty minutes ago. Maybe a little more.”

“Damn it, man, you should’ve come to me sooner.”

Honeycutt straightened to his full height. “She told me to remain inside. I waited, in case someone was watching. I didn’t dare risk drawing attention.”

He was right. I knew he was right.

“I apologize,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t have shouted. You did the right thing.”

Honeycutt’s voice cracked. “Bring her back safe, Your Grace.”

I pressed a hand on his shoulder. “I will.” That was a promise I intended to keep or die trying.

Finch and I rode to St. Agnes in silence, the wheels of the hackney churning through rain-slick streets. My mind spun through possibilities, each darker than the last.

When we arrived, Sister Margaret herself opened the door, her face pale and tight with worry.

“You’ve heard,” she said.

I stepped forward. “Heard what?”

“Marie,” she said, voice shaking. “She’s missing.”

I turned to Finch. “One of the residents at St. Agnes.”

“She’s due any day now, Your Grace. And she’s out there somewhere.”

“How did you find out she was gone?” Finch asked. His voice urgent.

“She and Teresa, another of our residents, went for a walk. Teresa returned, but Marie decided to stay out a bit longer. She never returned. Constable Collins was making his rounds, stopped to check in on us. He was a godsend.”

As if on cue, Collins emerged from the hallway, his coat damp, his expression grim. He gave me a nod. “No sign of her yet. We’ve searched the immediate area and alerted the watch.”

I glanced past her into the dim corridor. No sign of Rosalynd.

“Has Lady Rosalynd been here?”

“No,” Sister Margaret said. “Why?”

“She received a note this morning,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Claimed it came from you. Urging her to come here.”

“I sent no such message.”

I didn’t curse aloud, but my jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

Finch’s eyes met mine. “You think it was Vale.”

“I’m certain of it.” My hand curled into a fist. “He’s taken Rosalynd, and more than likely Marie too. He must have used her to draw Rosalynd out.”

Finch swore under his breath before turning back to Sister Margaret. “What time did you realize she was missing?”

“About two hours ago,” Sister Margaret said.

Two hours was a long time. God only knew what Vale had done to her. “There’s only one place he could have taken them,” I said. “A secluded place. One he controls.”

Finch nodded slowly. “The warehouse where his lab is located.”

I turned toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Anticipating we’d have need of a carriage, I’d asked the hackney to wait.

“Where to, Guv’nor?”

When Finch gave the address, the cabbie recoiled. “Whitechapel? Not a chance. I don’t drive into that part of hell.”

“There are two sovereigns in it for you,” I said.

He squinted at my clothes. “You look like a nob. But how do I know you’ve got the coin?”

I drew the gold from my waistcoat pocket and held it up. The lantern caught the gleam.

He stepped closer, bit one, then the other—hard.

A beat. Then he grinned. “Right you are, Guv’nor.”

“Get us there as fast as you can. Lives are in peril. ” And then I climbed in after Finch.