Page 27 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

A fter Conrad’s departure, Gigi’s parents went to visit with James and Evie at Grove Hall for a few days. Xenia and Ethan decided to accompany them, but Gigi had begged to stay in Chuddums under the pretense of helping Miss Letty. Surprisingly, her family had agreed…probably because Conrad was gone. In addition, with Owen also staying behind, they probably thought it would kill two birds to have her and her brother looking out for each other.

Gigi had an ulterior motive for staying. While Mr. Rawlins was investigating the attacks and Conrad had hired professionals in London, she wanted to do her part. As both incidents had occurred in Chuddums, someone in the village might have noticed something. People had a natural wariness when it came to authorities, and perhaps they would find it easier to talk to her than the constable. At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to try, and Gigi was determined to assist Conrad however she could.

Thus, she dragged Owen to the village. They did the usual rounds, and she shopped, chatted, and visited with friends. During the conversations, Gigi made it known that she was interested in information regarding the opening gala. Anything people had seen or heard, no detail was too small. By week’s end, she’d listened to various theories about what had caused the statue to fall—including Wally’s far-fetched proposition that Fenwyck, a neighborhood feline known for mischief, had cut the wires with his claws. She was giving up hope on discovering anything useful when she received a note from Mrs. Sommers.

Arriving at the dress shop, Owen took one look at the neat but crowded interior and announced that he would wait outside. Gigi hurried in and found Mrs. Sommers waiting for her.

“You said you might have some information?” Gigi asked breathlessly.

“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Sommers’s expression was somber. “It’s best you hear it from the source. We’ll talk in the back.”

Gigi followed the dressmaker to the workroom, where Mattie was waiting. The young brunette was twisting her skirts, looking unaccountably nervous.

“Mattie, you must tell Lady Gigi what you told me,” Mrs. Sommers said.

“Oh, but it’s shameful, Aunt Henrietta.” Mattie’s bottom lip quivered. “I can’t speak of it.”

Concerned, Gigi said, “You can talk to me, dear. I shan’t judge.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“All right.” Mattie took a deep breath. “Do you remember I mentioned my new follower, milady?”

Gigi nodded.

“I met him when I was running an errand in Chudleigh Crest. He was a gentleman, opening the door for me and carrying my basket. He was handsome, too, with thick brown hair and the most charming manner.”

Recognition sizzled through Gigi. “Was he a waiter at the gala? His name was John?”

“He told me his name was John Brown,” Mattie said with a small nod. “He’d been a waiter in London, and Miss Letty had hired him for that evening. He said he planned to stay on in Chuddums and look for more work because…because…”

“Yes, dear?”

“He said he fell in love with me at first sight. He said he wanted to marry me. And I…I believed him. Because I did, I allowed him liberties. Oh, milady, I’m so ashamed!”

Mattie burst into tears while Mrs. Sommers put an arm around her.

“It’s not your fault,” Gigi said quietly. “He used his charm to manipulate you.”

“When the constable was asking around the village for information about him, I couldn’t come forward.” Mattie’s voice hitched. “I didn’t want there to be talk about me.”

“Mattie is a good girl,” Mrs. Sommers said. “While she’s had her followers, it’s always been a bit of girlish fun. She’s never acted improperly.”

Given her relationship with Conrad, Gigi was hardly going to judge poor Mattie. And she understood the importance of protecting the young woman’s reputation.

“We’ll keep your name out of this,” she promised. “What else can you tell me about Mr. Brown? Any details would be helpful.”

“We met a handful of times at an abandoned cottage. We didn’t, um, talk much.” Her cheeks red, Mattie said, “He told me our meetings had to be secret because he wanted to protect my reputation. He said he would speak to my parents, but he had to improve his prospects first.”

A likely excuse. As likely as the name John Brown.

“He was supposed to meet me the day after the gala, but he never showed. Then I heard that he’d left Chuddums, and I knew. I knew that he’d been lying, that he…he used me.”

Fresh tears dribbled down Mattie’s cheeks.

“Oh, my dear.” Reaching out, Gigi squeezed the other’s hand. “You deserve so much better.”

“Do you think John…do you think he pushed the statue?” Mattie asked. “People are saying it wasn’t an accident, and that is why the constable is looking for him.”

Gigi wasn’t surprised the villagers had figured it out. “Yes, that’s true.”

Mattie drew a shaky breath. “Then I have something that might help.”

Reaching into her skirts, she pulled out a slip of paper and offered it to Gigi. Gigi saw that it was a pawn ticket for a pair of cuff links. Unfortunately, the ticket was torn where the shop’s address would have been. The only clue to the location was the bottom half of a word, which she quickly deciphered: Spitalfields.

This is a clue. A way to track down the assailant.

Her heart thumping, Gigi asked, “Where did you get this?”

“John, or whatever his real name is, dropped it the last time we met. I had planned to return it to him.” Mattie sniffled. “Now I am giving it to you, in hopes that something good will come from my misfortune.”

That night, Gigi penned a letter to Conrad and enclosed the pawn ticket. The discovery filled her with excitement and apprehension. In truth, since he left, anxiety had gnawed at her: What if he was attacked again? What if he was hurt? Would she even know? Although he’d assured her he was taking every precaution—and he was, admittedly, a man who could take care of himself—their separation fueled her worries.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she ought to be by his side. Yet her parents would never permit it, and she needed to work on winning their approval of Conrad’s suit. She would redouble her efforts when they came back in a few days, and in the meantime, she would send Conrad the clue. She told herself that progress was being made.

She went to bed, intending to send the letter off first thing in the morning.

In the moonlight, her hands were shaking. Even though she’d washed off the blood, she felt the warmth of her beloved’s life seeping through her fingers. She stifled a sob, but there was no one to hear her in the dark woods. She was alone.

He should have never gone off by himself. We should have been together—protecting one another. I failed to trust our love, to keep him safe…and now it is too late.

It was too late—for regrets, for anything but one final act.

Thomas was gone, and soon they would be after her. She would have to flee, but she had one thing to do before she left. Before she pulled up stakes and found her destiny on the road, as her ancestors had done for centuries. Shunned by her family, she would now have to travel alone, but she wasn’t afraid. Her heart was too full of pain and grief and fury to feel anything else.

On the road, she would lose herself. But she would lose other things as well—the first lesson of traveling was to surrender the idea of possessions.

What you own is not who you are, her da used to say. If you possess nothing, then nothing possesses you.

Her eyes welled. She wanted that freedom again. Needed it to bandage her shattered soul. Yet there was one treasure she had to keep safe, and she’d come here to the place where Thomas had declared his love and asked her to marry him.

The rush of the stream told her she’d arrived. In the silvery light, she examined various hiding places, a poignant certainty filling her when she ran her fingertips over the ancient bark. Thomas had made love to her against this tree, whispering his adoration as she writhed in bliss against the sun-warmed trunk.

Taking the oilskin pouch from her pocket, she removed the paper one last time and reread it through blurry eyes. Then she refolded it, pressed it to her lips, and sealed it in the waterproof casing. Ascending the tree, she hid the pouch in a hollow obscured by branches.

“I know you’re here.” The predator hunted her in the darkness. “Come out, or I’ll drag you out by the hair!”

Quickly, she descended. A cloud shifted, and as the moon caressed her face, she felt power quicken inside her. For the first time, she was unafraid to meet her destiny. He caught her by the edge of the stream, wrapping her hair around his fist, yanking her against him. He clamped a beefy hand over her mouth, his voice pouring into her ear like poison.

“He’s gone. I killed him. Now it’s just you and me, Rose.”

“Wake up, Gigi. Wake up .”

Gigi bolted upright, her mouth open mid-scream. It took her an instant to recognize Owen’s worried face. He was standing next to her bed.

“Wh-what happened?” she said shakily.

“I couldn’t sleep and heard you shouting. You were having a nightmare.” Owen raked a hand through his shaggy hair. “I thought my dreams were bad, but you…you were screaming bloody murder.”

Murder. That’s what I saw. But it was no dream.

“You are going to think I’m mad,” Gigi said hoarsely.

Owen’s mouth twisted. “Given the madhouse I reside in, I am hardly going to cast stones.”

“I didn’t have a dream. It was a vision…like the kind Xenia was having.”

Owen’s gaze was searching. “About Mulligan and Rosalinda, you mean?”

“Yes. And I need you to help me with something. Please.”

“All right.”

“Get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”

Owen cocked his head. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

Sunrise was painting the sky as Gigi and her brother rode to the woods. Tying up their horses, they headed for the stream, leaving footprints in the frost. The giant yew stood by the water as it had for centuries. As it had when Rose had come looking for it. Gigi surveyed the tree, looking for the hidden hollow.

“I think it’s behind those branches up there.” She pointed at a spot about sixteen feet off the ground. “I’m going to need a boost up.”

She removed her velvet mantle, beneath which she wore an outfit suitable for climbing. Owen helped her onto his shoulders. She touched the lowest branch. After testing its strength, she pulled herself onto it, using it to access the next branch, and so on until she arrived at her destination. Pushing aside the dense, evergreen needles, she found the hollow she’d seen in the vision. She reached inside, feeling around in the darkness, her pulse speeding up when her fingers closed around a packet.

“I found it,” she called breathlessly. “The pouch Rosalinda left—it’s still here.”

“Splendid,” Owen returned. “Will you come down before I have to explain to everyone how you broke your neck?”

Tucking the pouch in her pocket, she descended nimbly. With Owen peering over her shoulder, she opened the oilskin envelope and pulled out a fragile, yellowed piece of paper. Her breath snagged as she read the faded but visible script.

“Oh my stars,” she breathed.

Owen’s brows pinched together. “Mulligan and Rose were married?”

The special license confirmed their legal union. Staring at the dark smudges along the edges, Gigi knew what they were. Even more than his shaky signature, Thomas Mulligan’s fingerprints, inked in his own blood, told of what he’d sacrificed for love.

He should have never gone off by himself. We should have been together—protecting one another. I failed to trust our love, to keep him safe…and now it is too late.

Certainty blazed through Gigi, vanquishing doubt and fear. She wouldn’t make the same mistake as Rose. She believed in her love and would do whatever it took to protect him.

“Owen.” She turned to her brother. “I have another favor to ask.”