Rule's Bride (22 page)

“A gentleman?”

“Nah, just an average-lookin' bloke.”

“Any scars, anything that could help us identify him?”

Danny wet his lips.

“They'll hang me, Danny.”

The boy blew out a breath. “All right. I noticed 'e had a scar, a thin line what ran from 'is ear along 'is neck down into 'is collar.”

Rule made a mental note of that. “Did you see this man go inside the hotel?”

Danny shook his head. “Like I said, I just took me money and run.” He stared at the door of the White Bull. “I gotta go. Bates'll be lookin' for me.”

“What sort of work do you do for Bates?”

Danny swallowed and glanced away. “I do what 'e tells me. I don't, I don't eat.”

Rule could see by the lad's uneasy expression that some of what Bates paid him to do was likely illegal. Sooner or later, Danny would wind up in prison—or worse.

A few weeks ago, concern for the boy wouldn't have entered his mind. Now he couldn't help looking at Danny through Violet's eyes and knowing she would want to help him.

“How would you like a real job, Danny?”

He stared at the sovereign Rule turned over in his fingers. A glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes, then slowly faded. Danny held up his hand, showing the stumps of his two fingers. “These is gone.”

“That doesn't make any difference. You get yourself to Tooley Street, on the other side of the river. You'll see a big tower. That's Griffin Manufacturing. My name's Dewar and I own the company. Come tomorrow morning and I'll see you get a job.”

Danny's gaunt face broke into a smile so wide something tightened in Rule's chest.

“I'll be there, sir.” He started toward the door, so excited he forgot about the money.

“Danny!” Rule flipped the coin into the air, the gold shining as it tumbled end over end toward the boy. Danny caught it easily, stuck it into his pocket, waved and disappeared through the tavern door.

Rule sighed as he started back to the carriage. Danny's information hadn't really helped. Perhaps the man who had paid him to deliver the note had worked for Charles Whitney and Rule's arrival at the hotel at that precise moment had simply been a coincidence.

Rule didn't believe it.

T
hrough the open carriage window, Violet watched Rule striding back to the carriage. She had witnessed his brief confrontation with the tall, gangly youth, but it seemed to end without any further trouble.

Rule climbed into the carriage and lounged back against the seat. “Danny didn't know the man. According to his description, the fellow wasn't dressed well enough to have been Whitney himself. As I think on it, Whitney would probably have used someone who worked in the hotel to deliver the message.”

“Then you think the man who hired him was the killer?”

“I don't know. He could have been working for someone else.”

“But who?”

“That, love, is the question.” Rule relayed the rest of his conversation with Danny, including the description of the man with the scar, and Violet was pleased to know Rule had offered him a job.

“The tavern maid said he was the sort who kept his word and she was clearly protective of him. I got the im
pression it bothered Danny to work for a man like Bates.”

Violet smiled at him. “You did a good thing.”

“I suppose that remains to be seen.”

The carriage rumbled on down the street and when they arrived back home, a note from Chase Morgan was waiting. The investigator wanted to stop by the house that afternoon. Rule sent a footman to confirm the meeting and Morgan arrived at precisely four o'clock.

“I didn't expect to hear from you so quickly,” Rule said as Morgan followed him and Violet into the study and they all took a seat.

“After we spoke the last time, I went directly to the hotel. I wanted to see what I might find before the cleaning people came in to put Whitney's room in order.”

“And?” Rule asked.

“I didn't find anything useful inside the room. The door was slightly ajar when you got there, so we can figure the murderer probably left it that way. He could have climbed over the railing onto the balcony, but I don't think he did.”

Rule frowned. “Really? I assumed that was the way he got in.”

“That's what the police believe, as well. By the way, they've ruled out burglary as a motive. Whitney had money in his purse and nothing seemed to be missing from his suite.”

“Somehow I never really believed that was it.”

“And I spoke to Whitney's valet. He works mornings and evenings. Whitney preferred having the suite to himself in the middle of the day.”

“Someone must have kept track of the valet's comings and goings,” Rule said.

“I'd say so. When I went to the hotel, I noticed the servants' stairs are located just down the hall from Whitney's
room. If you will recall, it rained the night before the murder. I found a set of muddy boot prints leading up the stairs from outside. The imprints lessened as the man walked down the hall, but traces of mud led straight to Whitney's door.”

“Good grief,” Violet said, “if the killer went in through the door, Mr. Whitney must have let him in. He must have known the man.”

“That's one explanation,” Morgan said.

“What's another?” Rule asked.

“The killer may have had a key.”

Violet and Rule exchanged glances. “The chambermaids would have keys to the rooms,” Rule said.

“The killer could have paid one of them for the use of it, or he could have stolen it.”

“There were no signs of a struggle,” Rule said.

“I think Whitney must have been asleep. The killer walked in, picked up the pillow and shot him through the heart.”

Violet suppressed a shiver. “Dear God.”

“We need to speak to the hotel manager,” Rule said, “see if any keys have been reported missing.”

“I'm headed there from here,” Morgan said. “Since you were close by, I thought I'd stop and give you a report, see if you'd thought of anything else.”

“Actually, we did come up with something.” Rule told Morgan about finding Danny and the boy's description of the man with the narrow scar who had paid him to deliver the note. “It wasn't Whitney, but it could have been someone who worked for him.”

“Or it could have been the killer,” Morgan added. “Anything else?”

“Not so far.”

“All right, then, I'll keep you informed.” Morgan rose
from his chair and left the study, and Rule walked over and sat down on the sofa next to Violet.

“There are just so many possibilities,” she said at his worried expression.

“Unfortunately, there are. And the most logical explanations all point directly to me.”

She reached over and took hold of his hand. “We are only just beginning. In time, we'll figure this out.”

“
Time.
I'm not sure how much of that we have.”

 

The following afternoon Caroline and Luke arrived at the town house. While Violet took her cousin into the drawing room, Rule led Luke down the hall to his study.

“So how did you hear?” Rule asked as he poured Luke a brandy and one for himself, and they sat down on the deep leather sofa and chair in front of the hearth.

“Royal told Lily, who told her cousin Jocelyn, who told my brother, Chris, who told me.”

“Damnation. A man can't have the least amount of privacy in this family.”

“It wasn't a secret, Rule. You were taken to police headquarters. The Duke of Bransford arrived to gain your release. Word spread like wildfire after that.”

Rule sighed. “Yes, I suppose it would.”

“I knew Whitney. He was an honest, forthright man. Who would want to kill him?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Maybe it was just a simple robbery that went awry.”

“It wasn't a robbery. The police said nothing was stolen.”

“Then what was the killer's motive?”

“I've been asking myself that question since the moment I found Whitney dead. Perhaps he had enemies, someone who killed him for personal reasons, I don't know.”

“That could be. But if your arriving in that hotel room at that exact time wasn't purely coincidence, then someone wanted you to take the blame.”

“That's what I keep thinking.”

“And if you're arrested and found guilty, there's a good chance you could hang. Charles Whitney was a powerful man. Being the brother of a duke won't save you.”

“I know.”

“So who would benefit by getting both you and Whitney out of the way?”

Rule took a sip of his brandy, looking at the question from a slightly different angle than he had before. “I suppose one of the men who wanted to buy the company would be glad to see Whitney gone. We had two other offers. With Whitney dead, we'll be looking for a buyer again.”

“Who made the offers?”

“One came from Burton Stanfield, the other from an American named J. P. Montgomery.”

“If you were to hang, Violet would become sole owner. You refused their offers. Maybe they think they'd stand a better chance getting a woman to sell them the company.”

Rule scoffed. “They might think so. If they do, they don't know my wife.” Rule flicked a sideways glance at Luke. “Speaking of wives, how are things going with you and Caroline?”

Luke looked away, his face closing up. “She seems happy enough.”

“And you?”

His gaze swung back to Rule. “To my amazement, I discover I like being married. I never thought I would say that, but I do. I just wish…”

“You wish what?”

“I wish I knew how Caroline felt about me.” He straight
ened in his chair. “I'm crazy about her, Rule. God help me, I think I might even be in love with her.”

“For God's sake, don't tell her that. Women castrate the men who fall in love with them. You can't afford to give your wife that kind of power over you.”

“So you aren't in love with Violet?”

Rule firmly shook his head. “I won't let that happen. I care for her a very great deal and I think she cares for me. Whether or not we love each other isn't important. We enjoy each other. That is more than most married couples can claim.”

Luke just shook his head. “I don't know… I feel like I want more. I feel as if something is missing.”

Rule said nothing. He was happy the way things were. He didn't want to risk any deeper feelings for Violet or any other woman. “Be glad for what you have, Luke. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

“That is what you're doing? Enjoying yourself?”

“Of course. What's wrong with that?”

“And if you grow tired of Violet?”

Rule shrugged his shoulders. “I'll do what other men do, I suppose.”

Luke made no reply. Leaning back in his chair, he took a sip of his drink. “All this talk of women and marriage has made me think of a suspect you might have forgotten.”

“And who might that be?”

“Jeffrey Burnett. You said he was in love with Violet. With you out of the way, he might believe he'd have a chance of winning her back.”

“Why would he choose Whitney? He doesn't even know the man.”

Luke shrugged. “It was just a thought.”

Rule couldn't deny Burnett would like nothing more
than to be rid of him. But Jeffery had no connection to Whitney and no motive for wanting him dead.

“I think it's time we joined the ladies,” Rule said, rising from his place on the sofa. “What do you say?”

Luke nodded and stood up from his chair. “I wish I knew what Caroline was in there saying to Violet.”

Rule slapped him on the back. “My friend, don't even try to guess.”

 

“So, you are happy?” Violet asked, taking a sip of tea.

“Very happy. If I had to pick someone to marry, I couldn't have done better than Luke.”

Violet studied her closely. “
If you had to…?
I assume that means you would still prefer to be unfettered, as you were before.”

Caroline shrugged her shoulders, moving the puffed sleeves of her crisp peach silk gown. “I wasn't ready for marriage. You know that.”

“Not even to Luke?”

For an instant, Caroline glanced away. She took a sip of her tea. “I've seen what happens to marriages, Vi. My parents came to hate each other. As long as I keep things the way they are, I am safe.”

“So you're afraid to fall in love with Luke.”

Caroline's chin went up. “I'm not afraid of anything. I'm just… I'm happy with the way things are.”

“I see….”

“Do you? You're in love with Rule. If things go wrong, you are going to be badly hurt. I don't want to risk that kind of pain.”

Violet didn't argue. In a way, Caroline was right. As long as she kept her emotions in check, she was safe. Unfortunately for Violet, it was already too late. She was
deeply in love with Rule and if something went wrong, she would be devastated.

“At the moment,” she said, “the thing I am most concerned about is proving his innocence.”

“That is the reason we came. Is there anything we can do to help?”

Violet set her cup and saucer down on the table. “Just keep your eyes and ears open. If you or Luke learn anything that might aid Rule's case, please let us know.”

“You know we will.”

The doors slid open just then and the men appeared in the opening. Violet ignored the funny little curl in her stomach that seeing Rule always stirred. Luke was smiling warmly at Caroline and a slight flush rose in her cheeks.

Her cousin might pretend to be immune to her husband, but Violet wasn't so sure.

Inwardly she sighed. She ached to be loved. Caroline feared it.

Violet wondered what the future held in store for the two of them.

 

It was three days later that a gathering of the Oarsmen was called. Rule met Royal and his friends in a small meeting room at White's.

Royal stood in front of the paned window staring out at the street when Rule walked into the room a few minutes early. His brother turned at the sound of footsteps on the thick Persian carpet.

“I am happy to see you look none the worse for wear. How are you holding up?”

Rule sighed. “All right, I guess. I haven't heard anything more from the police. I'm hoping that is good.”

Royal strode toward him. “The others should be here
any minute. Quent's out of town. Only Savage, Night and Sherry are in London, but they've all been nosing around.”

“Anything they uncover might be useful.”

The brothers made their way over to a polished mahogany table lined with eight matching high-backed chairs upholstered in dark green silk. Gilded gas sconces lined one wall and a chandelier hung from the ceiling.

Royal sat down at the head of the table and Rule took the chair to his left. To Rule's surprise, the first person to arrive was Reese.

“I thought you were at Briarwood,” Rule said, smiling at the brother who, with his thick black hair and blue eyes, looked the most like him. He shouldn't have been surprised to see him. The trio stood by each other no matter the circumstance. They were family. That was what mattered.

“I couldn't just sit home while my little brother was being accused of murder,” Reese said darkly, taking a seat across from him.

“I haven't been formally charged.”

“No, but from what I hear, there's a good chance you will be.”

“What have you heard?”

“I stopped by the police station and spoke to Constable McGregor. They know the pistol that killed Whitney was made by Griffin. They say they are pursuing other information.”

Rule swore softly. “The maker's mark was on the weapon. I knew it wouldn't take long for them to realize Violet and I own the company. I just hoped they wouldn't figure it out so soon.”

“I hear Morgan's on the case,” Reese said.

“Yes, and working hard to find the murderer. Yesterday he sent word that one of the chambermaids had quit her job
at the Albert the day before the crime. The key to room 112 was not among those she turned in when she left. Morgan believes there's a good chance the killer or someone in his employ paid her handsomely for the key and warned her to leave London. Morgan's trying to find out where she went.”