Page 35 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)
Chapter Thirty-Four
“ C ertain I can’t persuade you to stay in the carriage, guv?”
The question came from Adrian Foxworth, the investigator hired by Conrad to find the cutthroat who’d tried to kill him. In his late forties, with thick salt-and-pepper hair and tilted hazel eyes, Foxworth had come through for Conrad in the past, and this time was no different. He’d traced the pawn ticket Gigi had found to a shop in Spitalfields and persuaded the owner to give up the client’s name and address. As it turned out, “John Brown” was an alias of Gregory Johnson, who lived in a nearby tenement.
When Foxworth informed Conrad of the development, Conrad had decided to go along. Currently, he, Foxworth, and three of the latter’s men were monitoring Johnson’s tenement. Foxworth and Conrad were parked in a carriage in the lane behind the building, watching the rear gate. People had come and gone, none of them matching the description of the waiter at the gala.
Taking out his pistol, Conrad checked that it was ready for use.
“If Johnson shows up, I can handle myself,” he said.
“I don’t doubt it.” Foxworth was gazing through a slit in the curtains. “But I make it a policy not to put clients in danger.”
Truth be told, Conrad wouldn’t mind a little violence. Since Gigi left yesterday, he’d teetered between rage and despair, and he craved an outlet for his roiling emotions. A few moments when he didn’t have to feel the swirling emptiness inside him. When he didn’t have to see the hurt in Gigi’s eyes…as if he had somehow betrayed her. While he could concede that he probably ought to have told her his plans earlier, her reaction had been proof positive of why he hadn’t.
She claimed to love me. Yet when push came to shove, she left. Just like everyone else.
He couldn’t believe that she had given him an ultimatum. That she would make him choose between her or his revenge. He despised manipulation and yet… Now that his temper was cooling a little, he also felt prickling unease.
For the sake of revenge, are you willing to become like those men who hurt you?
He wanted justice for what had been done to him. His intention wasn’t to hurt innocent people…and, he thought righteously, he was willing to give the Chuddumites jobs. He’d even offered to build them a square. But that wasn’t good enough for Gigi. No, she wanted…what the hell did she want, anyway?
You are the one keeping secrets. You are the one hiding things from me.
The feeling of discomfort grew. While Gigi had given him an ultimatum, she wasn’t trying to manipulate him for her own gain. What she wanted was honesty and trust...things she had a right to ask for in a marriage. Things that he, himself, valued. She wanted him to do right by the people of Chuddums who, for some godforsaken reason, had welcomed him into their odd little fold. He thought of all the well-wishers who’d interrupted his packing, of Kenneth pestering him for lessons, of Wally’s interminable tours…and Christ.
For the first time in a long time, he felt…ashamed.
“Eyes up, guv. We ’ave movement.”
Shoving aside his jumbled thoughts, Conrad looked out the window. A man with his cap pulled low and a scarf hiding his face had exited the tenement and was headed in their direction.
“Is that the cove?” Foxworth said.
“I didn’t notice him at the gala, but his height and build matches what the others described.”
“Let’s have a chat wif ’im, then. I’ll go first, so as not to scare ’im. If it looks like I need help, you back me up.”
Before Conrad could argue, Foxworth alighted from the carriage and approached the man.
“Afternoon, sir,” Foxworth said. “I was looking for a friend o’ mine who lives near?—”
The man pulled out a pistol and fired. The rest seemed to happen in slowed time. Foxworth fell to the ground. The driver shouted something from the perch, and the man fired at him before turning and running down the alley in the opposite direction.
Shaking off his paralysis, Conrad leapt from the carriage. He checked on Foxworth, who gasped, “Bullet passed through my shoulder. I’m fine?—”
“I’ve got him.” The driver rushed over.
Conrad took off after the suspect. If the bounder escaped into the maze of streets beyond the back lane, they would never find him. Conrad pumped his arms, gaining ground. Just as the bastard reached the mouth of the alley, Conrad sprang. He tackled the other, dirt spuming as they hit the ground. They wrestled; Conrad’s opponent was strong, refusing to be subdued. The man’s hat flew off, revealing brown hair and a visage with prominent eyebrows that fit the description of Gregory Johnson.
Just when Conrad thought he had Johnson pinned, the man kneed him in the groin. The dirty move made him see stars and momentarily lose his grip. The other threw him off and made a run for it. Conrad caught Johnson by the shoulder, but the other’s coat tore, leaving him with a handful of fabric. The man escaped into the street, narrowly missing an oncoming omnibus. The vehicle trapped Conrad in the lane and blocked his pursuit of the suspect.
“Move,” Conrad yelled. “Get out of the way.”
“Bugger off,” the omnibus driver yelled back. “Can’t you see there’s a block-up ahead?”
By the time the omnibus moved, Conrad knew it was too late. He raced into the congested street, surveying the snarl of people, carriages, and carts. Seeing no sign of the suspect, Conrad let out a string of oaths.
I almost had him. I was this bloody close.
Turning back, he bent to pick up the section torn from the suspect’s coat. The brown kersey was thin and cheap, and when he searched the fabric for clues, he felt a lump in the inner pocket. Reaching in, he retrieved a small drawstring bag. He loosened the tie and poured the contents into his palm.
He stared at the familiar object, one he would know anywhere. The oval ruby upon the ornate gold band winked with secrets. It was Robert’s ring…the one Conrad had seen on his brother’s hand last night.
“What is the meaning of this?” Robert cried. “Who are you? How dare you invade my home!”
“I am a constable of the Metropolitan Police, Your Grace,” the man in the dark-blue uniform said. “I am here to arrest you under the suspicion of attempted murder. You must come with me to the station at once.”
“Can’t you see my husband is very ill?” Lady Katerina stood by Robert’s wheeled chair, pale and trembling. “Clearly, he is not capable of what you are accusing him of?—”
“We believe that this was an attempted murder by hire.”
The constable showed the duchess the ruby ring that Conrad had recovered.
“Do you recognize this, madam?”
“I…well, yes. I think I do.”
Lady Katerina cast an uncertain look at her husband, who was swatting at the surrounding constables.
“It looks like Robert’s ring.” Her voice held a tremor. “The one given to him by his father.”
“Indeed, your husband’s initials are inscribed on the inside of the band,” the constable informed her. “This ring was found in the possession of a man named Gregory Johnson, who we suspect tried to murder Mr. Godwin.”
“Lies! Lies!” Robert shrieked.
“There…there must be some mistake.” Lady Katerina turned to Conrad. “I beg of you, sir. I know there is bad blood between you and Robert. Whatever he did to you, look at him now. Surely, he is paying for his sins. If that is not sufficient atonement, you will soon be the Duke of Grantley. My daughters and I will be at your mercy. Are you not satisfied?”
Staring into those lifeless eyes, Conrad felt a spike of pity.
“There is nothing I can do, ma’am,” he said. “Robert must pay for his crime.”
“You’re a lying bastard!” Spittle clung to Robert’s cracked lips, his sunken eyes glowing with hatred. “You’re behind this. You want to destroy me!”
Staring at the pitiful, shriveled, and decaying man, Conrad expected to feel some sort of emotion. Some satisfaction, maybe relief. Instead, he felt nothing.
“I did want to destroy you,” he said. “However, you saved me the trouble and did it to yourself.”
Robert was still yelling as the constables wheeled him away.