Page 23 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

A quarter-hour later, Conrad found himself in the drawing room with the rest of Gigi’s family. The Harringtons had closed ranks around Gigi. She sat on a settee between her mama and sister-in-law. Ethan Harrington stood behind his wife, the Marquess of Blackwood behind his. James, the Earl of Manderly, and Lord Owen occupied adjacent wingchairs.

Conrad stood on the periphery, his shoulder braced against a wall. The position provided a good vantage point of the Harringtons and Rawlins, the local constable, who was preparing to address the group. Rawlins’s rumpled, sleepy-eyed appearance and the way he was fumbling to find his notebook did not inspire confidence.

Conrad had considered skipping the meeting, but as the topic concerned an assassination attempt with him as the target, he thought it prudent to stay. When he’d expressed his annoyance that Gigi had failed to mention that the falling statue had been no accident, her parents had stiffened, but she’d simply rolled her eyes.

“Please. You had just suffered a concussion and needed rest, not additional stress. Anyway, I have everything in hand. The constable will be by shortly, and if you are ready to get off your high horse, you are welcome to join.”

Despite his foul mood, Conrad admired Gigi’s spirit and begrudgingly conceded her point. He trusted her, and from what he’d overheard, he was right to. Gigi had stood up to her parents on his behalf: she’d admitted their mutual attraction and called him “caring.” It was not the adjective he would have chosen to describe himself, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. His bond with Gigi was growing stronger day by day, and he no longer had any doubt that they belonged together.

Yet her family remained an obstacle. Conrad was still fuming over the marquess’s characterization of him, although he ought to have expected it. All his life, he’d dealt with snobs who deemed him unworthy. Robert and his other half-brothers had shunned and tormented him because of his mama’s working-class origins. Robert had further instructed the headmaster of Creavey Hall to “rehabilitate”—in other words, to abuse and prey upon—Conrad in whatever fashion the sadistic bastard saw fit.

As a prizefighter, Conrad had fought his way to the top, yet his triumphs and popularity had been accompanied by an awareness that his admirers viewed him as nothing more than a source of entertainment. Even his lovers—Isobel and her ilk—saw him as some exotic beast they wanted a turn riding or a supplier of whatever worldly goods they wanted.

Yet Gigi was different. She cared about him. While they’d butted heads as often as they’d made love, she treated him like a flesh-and-blood man, capable of feeling. She angered and amused, teased and tormented him. Sometimes, he didn’t know if he wanted to fight or fuck her…or do both at once. All he knew was that he wanted her in his life, permanently.

And, hell, he might owe his life to her.

If not for her cry of warning, he might have met his end beneath a pile of rock.

Christ. He was going to have to find some way to deal with the Harringtons. As much as it galled him, to secure Gigi’s hand in marriage, he needed to convince the marquess and marchioness that he was worthy of their daughter. Apparently, his fortune held no swaying power…which left the other card he had to play.

Which I will reveal. When the time is right.

The constable made a clearing sound in his throat. “If I may. I would like to begin by expressing my sincere wishes to Mr. Godwin for a speedy recovery.”

“I’m fine,” Conrad said curtly. “But I will be better when the bastard who did this is apprehended.”

“Understood, sir.” Despite the puffy bags under his eyes, Rawlins’s gaze was keen. “I share your concern. This village has suffered enough mayhem. In recent months, a nefarious gang of thieves and cutthroats called the Corrigans were expelled by the good people of Chuddums. We are still hunting down some of the gang members as well as their remaining stash of stolen goods. The last thing the villagers need is more bad news. Unfortunately, last night’s disaster has led to fresh talk about a curse.”

“Oh no,” Gigi breathed. “Are people blaming Bloody Thom for the falling statue?”

Her sister-in-law reached over, and the two ladies gripped hands.

“Regrettably, that is the rumor,” Rawlins said in somber tones. “The bath is closed for the day while Miss Letty deals with the damage, which leaves many of her genteel guests with free time in Chuddums. Combine their reports of the gala with the villagers’ tales of the curse, and voila . Bloody Thom rises again.”

“This could undo the progress the village has made.”

Xenia Harrington bit her lip, and her husband placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ve come so far,” Gigi moaned. “All of Miss Letty’s hard work could come to naught if people believe a murderous ghost is lurking at the spa. Moreover, I know what I saw. The villain was no specter.”

“I am in agreement, my lady, and hope that our interview today will lead us to the real culprit,” the constable said. “Criminals have no place in Chuddums.”

Conrad cut in. “I place my faith in deeds, not words. What are you doing about it?”

“I would like to start with a review of facts.” Rawlins took the challenge in stride. “This morning, my men and I went to surveil the spa, and I believe Lady Georgiana was correct in her belief that this was no accident, but sabotage. We found traces of muddy footsteps on the second-floor gallery—fresh, but not identifiable, I am afraid. However, I discovered more compelling evidence when I examined the statues. They are attached to their respective columns by thin metal bands…all of which have been cut.”

Gigi gasped. “Any one of the statues could have fallen?”

“With a determined push, yes,” Rawlins confirmed. “My theory is that the assailant was not entirely certain where his target would end up. Thus, he needed a variety of options.”

“Diabolical,” Lord Ethan muttered.

“Indeed, my lord. The fact that the assailant chose to deploy Mars strongly supports that Mr. Godwin was the intended target, for he was the one directly in the line of fire.”

“A few days ago, there was another attempt on Mr. Godwin’s life,” Gigi blurted. “It cannot be a coincidence.”

Of course, she would make the connection. After the head injury, Conrad’s grogginess had prevented him from thinking clearly, but he’d awakened this morning with the same conclusion blazing in his head.

Someone wants me dead. Who?

“What’s this?” Rawlins asked.

With no choice, Conrad gave a terse summary of the carriage collision.

“You should have reported the incident, sir,” the constable said, frowning. “We could have taken precautions for your safety. Perhaps this latest attempt could have been avoided.”

“I’ve taken precautions, including hiring investigators to look into it.”

Brows knitted, Gigi didn’t look happy that he’d failed to mention his plan. But she couldn’t say more with her kin breathing down their necks. Given that they were supposed to be mere acquaintances, she shouldn’t know about his business.

“I handle my own affairs,” Conrad said. “Tell me about this latest attempt. Do you know who was behind it?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Rawlins replied. “However, thanks to Lady Georgiana, we have a clue. She saw that whoever pushed that statue was wearing a white glove and black-sleeved jacket, which matches the uniform of the waiters. The cutting of the metal bands indicates the villain had advance access to the spa. As the waiters helped to set up for the gala a few days before, this lends further credibility to her theory. To that end, I obtained a list of the serving staff from Miss Letty and conducted interviews with the five who live in Chuddums.”

“You have been busy,” Conrad said with grudging approval.

“As my mama was wont to say, never put off until tomorrow what can be done today. After speaking with those five fellows, I do not believe the culprit is among them. However, this leaves seven candidates to interview, some of whom are scattered throughout the county. In the interim, I wanted to ask present company if anyone noticed anything unusual last night. Even seemingly unimportant details might lead to a clue.”

Glances were exchanged around the room.

“This probably doesn’t mean anything, but since you mentioned muddy footprints…well, Lord Fiddleston arrived with mud on his shoes.” Lady Blackwood pursed her lips. “I only know this because he was complaining so much. His carriage got stuck—an axle broke, I believe—and he had to help his groom push and ended up soiling his favorite footwear. However, he was wearing a blue evening coat and no gloves.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Rawlins jotted in a small notebook before turning to Conrad. “To your knowledge, would Lord Fiddleston have reason to wish you harm?”

“Not that I am aware of,” Conrad replied. “The fellow is not one of my company’s clients, and I am not acquainted with him personally.”

“If Fiddleston had it in for anyone, it would be Lord Valmont,” the marquess said dryly.

Rawlins paused, pen poised above his notes. “Why is that, my lord?”

“Valmont and Lady Fiddleston have been rather indiscreet,” Lady Blackwood explained. “They were flirting by the pump.”

“Ah.” Rawlins crossed something out. “Any other instances of note?”

The discussion continued, with the Harringtons sharing a plethora of observations. Given Gigi’s cleverness, Conrad was unsurprised by her family’s acuity. The Earl of Manderly overheard a pair of lordlings expressing curiosity about the cordoned-off upper gallery, while Lord Ethan reported that one of the ladies had been caught filching one of the souvenir figurines. Xenia Harrington, who’d apparently been her husband’s housekeeper before their marriage, was particularly observant about the staff.

“There was this one waiter who captured my notice,” she mused. “A good-looking fellow with brown hair.”

Manderly shot her husband a devilish look. “Better watch out, old boy.”

“Very amusing,” Lord Ethan muttered.

“It was because of how the fellow carried himself,” Xenia protested. “He oozed confidence but was terribly incompetent at serving.”

“Around six feet tall?” Lord Owen said suddenly. “Thick eyebrows?”

“You noticed him too,” Xenia said with an eager nod. “Flirting with the ladies appeared to be his main skill. He kept spilling drinks and mixing up requests from the guests.”

“That wasn’t why I noticed him.”

“Oh. What grabbed your attention?”

“He had the eyes of a predator.”

At the shadow that came over Lord Owen’s face, Conrad felt a chill seep through his veins. Apparently, he had something in common with this brother of Gigi’s. Once one looked into the eyes of a brute, one never forgot.

Rawlins was writing busily. “This waiter does not sound like one of the men I interviewed thus far. Did either of you catch his name?”

“I think it was John,” Xenia said.

She looked to Lord Owen for help, but his gaze had shuttered.

“Two Johns remain on my list, and I shall prioritize them,” Rawlins said. “Thank you all for your contributions. Now, I have one further question, and it is for Mr. Godwin.”

Although Conrad knew the question, he waited.

“Do you know of anyone who might wish you harm?”

Competitors, a former lover, family…take your pick.

“I am a powerful man,” he said evenly. “Powerful men have enemies.”

Rawlins’s gaze sharpened. “Are you aware of specific enemies?”

When he did not reply, Gigi said, “ Do you know of people who would try to harm you, Con—I mean, Mr. Godwin? If so, you must tell the constable.”

If he were alone with Gigi, he would share his secrets…at least some of them. When the time was right, and she was his, he might even tell her everything. The long and sordid history of what—and who—had shaped him into the man he was today. He would not, however, expose any of this in public. Doing so would compromise the plans he’d meticulously laid out and jeopardize his long-awaited vengeance against the two bastards who’d wronged him.

“The constable has enough to do,” he said. “Rawlins, after you have interviewed the remaining suspects, I expect to be apprised of your findings.”

“Certainly, sir.” The constable’s face was grave. “But if you know of any threats to your well-being, I must advise you to share them.”

“We want to help,” Gigi said haltingly. “You trust us…don’t you?”

I trust you. But only you.

He hated how crushed she looked. Yet he saw her papa’s rigid disdain and her mama’s worry. Her brothers were ready to pound him to a fare-thee-well. Anything he had to say to Gigi would have to be done in private.

“Rest assured, I will be returning to London shortly to handle the matter.” Conrad bowed to the group. “Again, I thank you for your hospitality. If you’ll excuse me.”

He exited before the shock and hurt in Gigi’s eyes could change his mind.