Page 42

W hen Lucy climbed out of the carriage in Piccadilly, she scanned the busy street for Vera or anyone who looked suspicious, but there was no sign of her friend.

She hurried toward the entrance of Hatchard’s book shop, which had been one of Lucy’s favorite haunts since she’d been gifted a three-volume set of Pride and Prejudice by Miss Jane Austen from the shop for her fourteenth birthday.

On an ordinary visit, she’d have lingered outside first, scanning the volumes in the window displays on either side of the door, but today she had no time for such things.

But before she could step inside, she heard her name being called. Turning to look behind her, she saw Vera hurrying toward her, looking a bit pale but otherwise well.

“Oh, my dear, you do not know how glad I am to see you,” Lucy said, giving her friend an impulsive hug. It was the sort of thing that would scandalize both her mother and the dowager Lady Gilford, especially in such a public locale, but Lucy had spent the better part of a week searching for Vera Blackwood and fearing for her friend’s life and she was relieved to see her. “If you only knew how we have been all over London looking for you.”

Vera returned the hug but then quickly pulled back. “I wish you had not,” she said with a troubled look, which Lucy had difficulty interpreting. “But there’s no time for that now. We have to get to the train station at once.”

Lucy pulled her into a nearby alley, where they were still within sight of the street, but out of the way of the people walking down the busy sidewalk. “Vera, what’s this about? I know you said something about leaving England, but surely you didn’t mean today?”

“I do not have time to explain, Lucy,” said Vera with a hint of impatience. “You’ll understand once we’ve reached the station. I know this is a little unusual, but you must trust me.”

“But Vera,” Lucy said, not budging from where she stood, “there are things you need to know. Your father is missing now. I was waiting to learn whether my cousin has had any luck finding him, but I got your note before I could speak to him.”

At the mention of Mr. Blackwood, a flash of what could only be hatred flared in Vera’s eyes. But just as quickly it was gone.

Had she somehow misunderstood the circumstances of Vera’s kidnapping? Lucy wondered. But this was Vera, her friend, whom she’d discussed the plots of any number of books with, and who had clearly been in need of a friend when they’d first met. And Lucy would never forget the sight of Jedidiah Hamilton hauling Vera backward and tossing her into the carriage that night in the mews.

However odd Vera might be acting, Lucy would simply have to trust her for the moment. If only she could find out what had happened to her since her disappearance.

“All right,” she agreed, allowing Vera to take her arm and lead her in the direction of the train station. “But can you not speak to me as we walk?”

Vera gave her an exasperated smile. “You are such an inquisitive soul, Lucy. I’ve always liked that about you.”

They made their way along the increasingly crowded walk, Vera clinging to Lucy’s arm as if afraid of losing her.

She had begun to think that Vera would not speak at all, but finally, she said, “You’ve learned about my betrothal to Christopher Hamilton, I suppose.”

“I did hear of it,” Lucy admitted, feeling somewhat sheepish about the fact that she’d invaded her friend’s privacy in such a way. That Lucy, and indeed her family, had believed her to have been kidnapped and in danger didn’t seem quite so strong an excuse now that she was speaking to a seemingly healthy and safe Vera in person. “We intercepted a letter to you from him.”

At the mention of the letter, Vera gave a cryptic smile that Lucy couldn’t interpret.

“None of us knew you’d been engaged back in Philadelphia,” Lucy said, pretending she wasn’t beginning to feel uneasy. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I couldn’t tell you, silly,” Vera said with a smile. “Then the plan would have been completely ruined.”

“What plan?” Lucy asked, feeling as if she was seeing Vera for the first time.

As if Lucy hadn’t even spoken, Vera went on. “When I think of how many disgusting fortune hunters I had to let within even an inch of me, Lucy, I completely understand your decision not to dance rather than be pursued by the likes of those scoundrels. I’d have done the same thing, but I had to make Papa believe I was well and truly done with Christopher.”

“But the letter we saw said that you had broken things off with him,” Lucy said, trying to hide her alarm at what she was realizing from Vera’s words. “And then we learned that his cousin had come to London. And that Christopher was dead.”

At this, Vera laughed and the sound chilled Lucy to the bone.

“That was Jedidiah,” Vera said with roll of her eyes. “He was just a bore, Lucy. You cannot imagine how dull a dog he was. When Christopher came up with the notion of coming to London, I was afraid that if Papa found out, he would cut up rough. So I suggested he come as Jedidiah.”

“That was clever,” Lucy said, trying to sound admiring despite her fear that Vera might also have suggested that Christopher kill his cousin in order to take his place.

“They looked so much alike, you see,” Vera said as chattily as if they were discussing the latest style of sleeve. “And Papa was so fond of Jed. But of course he was. Two peas in a pod, those two. But I tried once more to convince my father when we arrived here that Christopher was just as respectable as Jedidiah, but he would not be moved. So Christopher did what needed to be done. He sent the letter begging me to take him back as if I’d broken things off with him, then he took care of Jed.”

By which, Lucy surmised, Vera meant that Christopher had murdered his cousin. Then he’d set out for London.

“But what good did it do to try to make everyone think he was Jedidiah?” Lucy asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

“Because Papa would never allow me to access the money my mother left me if I married Christopher,” Vera explained as if she were speaking to a small child. “This way, we staged the abduction to convince everyone that I’d been taken by Jed. And Christopher approached Lord Cheswick, since they’d met when Cheswick was in Philadelphia. It was a risk, of course, because Chris was supposed to be dead, but it worked. And Cheswick introduced Chris to Sir Charles. All of this to hide the fact that Christopher had come for me. Everyone would believe it was his diabolical cousin Jed who took me.”

“And then Christopher murdered Sir Charles,” Lucy said, stunned at Vera’s complete lack of remorse or compassion for anyone but herself.

“Oh please, Lucy. You know as well as I do that Sir Charles was ghastly. His death is no great loss to the world.”

Lucy winced.

Reading her expression correctly, Vera gave a soft chuckle. “I have shocked you, haven’t I? You have always been the one in our reading group who expressed sympathy even for the most ruthless of villains. You have a soft heart, Lucy.”

Lucy wanted to argue, but Vera told the truth. Lucy had always had a facility for placing herself in the metaphorical shoes of other people. And the swiftness and frequent unfairness of the way that the courts in England meted out justice had always bothered her. How was it right for a child of the streets with no other means of putting food in his belly to be hanged for petty thievery when the wealthy man whose watch the boy had stolen made his money by working other children nearly to death in his factories?

“I simply do not believe it can be right for the government to punish murder by committing another murder in turn,” she said a little stiffly. “I don’t think that makes me a fool.” She and Vera had debated the topic a time or two, but Lucy didn’t recall the hint of mockery that was present in her friend’s voice now.

“Come now,” Vera said, gripping Lucy’s arm a little more tightly, “you met Sir Charles while you were trying to figure out where I’d gone, didn’t you? He was an awful man. Certainly not someone I’d ever consider marrying. Despite what my dear Papa hoped.”

At the mention of marriage, Lucy decided to just come out and ask about Vera’s marriage. “But why not simply tell your father the truth? It isn’t as if he could keep you from your mother’s bequest forever.”

“I’d have to wait until my twenty-fifth birthday,” Vera said with a look of disgust. “I don’t want to live until then in poverty. And why should I have to? We thought that if we gave everyone the impression that Jed had forced me into marriage, Papa would relent since he thought him such a paragon. But instead, he still refused to relinquish it.”

But Vera simply laughed again. “You should see your face! Don’t worry, my kindhearted Lucy. Papa is still alive. He’s simply tucked away where he won’t be able to tell his banker to stop payment on the draft he wrote for us.”

The interior of the station was loud and teeming with people. But all Lucy could think about was how many of them might be harmed if she did anything to overset Vera’s good mood. Because without a doubt Lucy knew her former friend would have no compunction about hurting any of them if she thought she needed to.

“Here we are at last,” Vera said as they reached one parlor door in particular.

When Lucy tried to let Vera enter first, her friend shook her head. “You first,” she said as she pushed Lucy inside.

Lucy looked back as Vera followed her inside, then shut the door behind her and locked it.

“It took you long enough,” said a deep voice in the distinct nasal tones of an American accent from the other side of the room, and when Lucy looked up she saw a handsome but somewhat nondescript man standing in the corner. But it was not his looks that made Lucy gasp. It was the pistol he held pointed at her. “You will forgive me if I don’t bow, Miss Penhallow, but please allow me to introduce myself. Christopher Hamilton, at your service.”