Viridis - A Steampunk Romance (23 page)

Seth’s thoughts raced as he debated his options,
finally deciding the truth would be best since William already knew
of his involvement. “Aye, he is.”

“I will say this is an unfortunate matter that is
unlikely to go away on its own. If Lord Fenwick decides to pursue
this charge, you could be in quite a bit of hot water. Unless Lady
Hughes were to formally press charges? I can act as witness to her
injuries, though not to the event itself.”

Seth shook his head no, a spark of anger flaring up.
“I do not want her to have to revisit the situation, and I doubt
any good would come of it regardless.”

William tilted his head in acknowledgement. “That
very well may be the case, however it may be your only hope. I need
the details of the incident, as best as you can recall them.”

Seth nodded. He knew it could not be helped, but at
least he had the truth on his side. He recalled the entire incident
to William, starting with Phoebe’s attack.

William jotted it all down in his book, then flipped
it closed with a sigh. “I will see what can be done. I’ll have to
speak to Lady Hughes, you understand.” He got up to go.

Seth also stood, his mind already running through
the possibilities. “Yes, I suppose you must.”

“I’ll take the information to my superiors, though I
will warn you, Mr. Elliott. I do not think this will be the end of
it. Lord Fenwick does not appear to be the type of man to let
something like this go, and I’m afraid he has more than a few
friends in positions of power.”

Seth nodded, dread growing in his gut as he thought
of the promise he made to Phoebe to not keep secrets. If ever there
were something to keep from her, being accused of attempted murder
would certainly be it.

They walked to the door, but William turned before
stepping over the threshold. “I will have to ask you to stay in
London until this matter is resolved.”

He inwardly groaned. Phoebe would
not
be
pleased. “Yes, of course. Good day to you.”

Chapter Thirty Two

With the safe for her journal delivered and
installed in her laboratory, Phoebe took advantage of the free
time. Running through the calculations on her new formula, Sanctis,
she found herself distracted by thoughts of her wedding. At least
she would still be getting married, despite last night’s arguments
on the airship. She could not have been more relieved to have the
incident with Gavin out in the open and behind them, all
forgiven.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts and
she looked up to see Martha standing at the entrance.

“Mum, there’s a young lad here to see you by the
name of Samuel Hunter. Said you would know him?”

She was surprised to hear Samuel was here, and
worried suddenly that something had happened at the shelter. “Yes,
Martha. Please show him to the drawing room and I’ll be down
momentarily. Could you also get us some tea and a bit of luncheon?
Thank you.”

Phoebe locked up her journal and made sure
everything else was in order before heading downstairs, worry
nagging her. Usually, if there was something needed at the shelter,
they simply sent a note with one of the girls to Viridis.

“Samuel? Is everything all right?” She walked to his
side where he stood by the fire warming himself.

“Yes, Mum. I had not meant to worry ye. Everything’s
fine. I only came cause Mrs. Farthing got to thinking that with you
being so busy with your theatre and your drinks, and then the
shelter too, that you could do with a bit of help. Said I was to
run any errands for ye, do what ye told me, and not make myself a
nuisance. As long as that’s all right with ye. After you came alone
to the shelter, I got to thinking that I could be there to
accompany ye, and the like. So ye’d be safe. Ye wouldn’t have to
pay me or anything of the sort, seeings I get what I need at the
shelter.”

Martha wheeled in the teacart, and Phoebe gestured
for Samuel sit down and have a bite to eat. He ate like he hadn’t
eaten in years, thanking her in between bites.

Phoebe was more than a little confused at the offer
or why Mrs. Farthing would be sending Samuel to her aid. “Samuel,
I’m not sure I have any errands to keep you busy enough to keep you
here on a regular basis. And as for accompanying me, I really don’t
venture very far from the house or Viridis. Not that your help
isn’t appreciated.”

She saw the disappointment in his face, and it broke
her heart. “I can do work around the house, too. Fix the place up
for ye, seeings as I’m real handy like. And run out for your girls
to get them anything they might need so as not to keep them from
their work here.

She shook her head. “I just don’t know, Samuel.
There really—”

“Please, Mum! Mrs. Farthing will be sorely
disappointed if she finds out I’m not helping ye. Not to mention,
she worries ‘bout ye something awful every time ye come to the
shelter. Please? She can get down right stroppy if her wishes
haven’t been met, and I’d hate to be on the receiving end of her
tongue, if ye know my meaning.”

She looked into his pleading puppy-dog eyes, and it
tore at her heart to send him back to the shelter, knowing Mrs.
Farthing could indeed be a tough mistress to please.

“Fine then. We’ll give it a try for a week or two
and see how it goes. I’ll have the girls get a room together for
you in the servant’s quarters, though I’ll tell you now, I’ll not
have you sniffing up their skirts in this house.”

He looked appalled at the idea. “I would never,
Mum!”

“I’m not saying you would, Samuel. I just want to
make myself clear.” She smiled at him.

“Thank you, Mum! I’ll surely not disappoint.”

Chapter Thirty Three

William sat patiently with Niles’s accountant, a
hunched and little man with spectacles perched precariously on the
tip of his nose, as he went through his ledgers. Sunlight struggled
to make its way through the filmed panes of glass, specs of dust
dancing on the light, sent upward in flight by the turning of
pages. Leather bound books lined every inch of wall, reminding
William just how old this accounting firm was, if the ancient
accountant sitting across from him hadn’t been evidence enough.

The man tapped the ledger with a crooked bony
finger. “I think I have it here. A deposit of one thousand pound
Sterling on the tenth of January into the account of Lord Niles
Hawthorne. May he rest in peace.”

William sat forward a bit. “Does it say where the
money came from? I would like to know if it was a cheque, and if
so, I’d be most interested in who wrote it.”

“Yes, of course. I have it here. It was a cheque
from Archer Enterprises. I believe they have offices over on Murray
Street, though I do not do regular business with them.”

“Archer Enterprises? I don’t believe I’ve heard of
them before.”

“Shipping and trade. Several investors, I
believe.”

Sitting forward in his seat, William asked, “Could
you tell me, were there any other deposits made into Lord
Hawthorne’s accounts from Archer?”

The old man flipped back through a few more pages,
his eyes scanning left and right. He held onto a page while
continuing to look through the remaining notations. “It appears
there is only one other transaction made. Another cheque was
deposited a month prior to the first, again in the amount of a
thousand pound Sterling.”

William jotted down the information in his book. “I
wouldn’t suppose you know the investors involved with Archer?”

The man looked up from his books, pushing his
glasses back up his nose while giving the question some thought.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to say for sure, but I believe the major
investors are Lord Henry White, Lord James Marsden and Lord Victor
Fenwick.”

Chapter Thirty Four

It must have been the day for unexpected visits, for
Phoebe now found herself sitting across from William, stunned in
disbelief. Her heart, pounding erratically, was the only thing
keeping her anchored to her body. Her body felt as though it wasn’t
her own, and the hands fidgeting with her napkin belonged to
someone else. “I don’t know what to say. I cannot believe it.”

Phoebe looked into the inspector’s eyes, not quite
brown or hazel, but rather the unusual color of golden amber. He
sighed, before saying, “I would not normally take personal interest
in a case, but the situation may be dire, and Mr. Elliott has been
a great help. His best chance of avoiding the charges is for you to
press assault charges of your own. ”

“I see.” She took a deep breath, her corset feeling
far too tight. “Do you really think it will help?”

William tilted his head in thought. “It cannot hurt,
and would weigh heavily with the judge and jury.”

“Is there no way to get Victor to drop the charges?”
The thought of going through a trial with the very good chance of
Seth being convicted of attempted murder left Phoebe sick to her
stomach. “What if I speak to him?”

William’s eyebrows shot up. “After what happened
between you, I would not recommend it. You’ll pardon my saying so,
but the man seems to have a temper, and quite frankly, I doubt it
would do any good. Not when his pride’s been wounded.”

“I’ll file a formal complaint if you think it will
help, but is there nothing else we can do?”

“We will see where things stand once you have
pressed charges. You may have a bit more sway then. I’ll file that
paperwork for you and keep you and Mr. Elliott updated.” He got up
to go. “Good day to you, m’ lady
.

Good day indeed. Phoebe saw the inspector out, and
went back to the sitting room, still stunned and sick with worry.
Had she not asked Seth to leave it be?

She felt a surge of heat flush her face, her anger
taking hold as she poured herself a whisky with shaking hands. Her
mind raced through all the possibilities. There was no avoiding the
reality of the matter— she would need to speak to Victor and try to
persuade him to drop the charges before this got into the courts.
And the sooner the better. Once in the courts, Seth’s chances to
avoid conviction would be slim to none, since the jury would likely
be made up of other members of nobility, who would not take kindly
to one of their own being assaulted.

Though the inspector might manage something,
speaking to Victor seemed her best option, though she shuddered at
the thought.

She sipped at the whisky, the heat of it spreading
through her body. Yet it did nothing to calm her jangling nerves or
the nagging feeling of unease she couldn’t quite shake.

“Curse you, Seth Elliott,” she murmured.

Chapter Thirty Five

Seth knocked on Phoebe’s door and got the shock of
his life when Samuel answered. Pulling him outside, he hissed,
“What the hell are you doing here? You were supposed to keep an eye
on her without her knowing!”

Samuel shrugged out of Seth’s grasp, his eyes
darting between Seth and Gavin. “Aye! And that’s what I’m
doing.”

“Then what the hell are you doing inside her
home?”

Samuel pulled himself up, and cocked his head back,
proud. “I’m her footman. If she needs anything, I take care of it
for her.” Then leaning in with a wink, he said, “What better way to
keep an eye on her, eh?”

“And she’s not aware of our arrangement?”

“Nah. Told her Mrs. Farthing sent me to help
her.”

“And what if she speaks to Mrs. Farthing? What then
ye wee clotheid?” Seth was tempted to cuff his ear.

“Then nothing. Mrs. Farthing thought it a great idea
since m’ lady had been there not days earlier all on her own and
with no one to watch her. And seeing as they’ve plenty of help at
the shelter, she sent me off.”

“Hmpf.” It would have to do. Not as if he had much
choice in the matter now.

Samuel saw them inside.

“Where is she?” asked Seth.

“Well, after the inspector left, she looked worried.
Said she was feeling tired, so she sent word to her brother to mind
the club and took herself up to her room for a bath and rest. Said
she’d had a rough night.”

“Bloody hell.” He shot Gavin a look, then took the
steps to her room two at a time, ignoring Gavin’s mutterings of
“Better you than me.”

He slipped into her room after a quick knock.
“Phoebe?”

She was sitting by the fire in nothing but a silk
robe, her hair still damp from her bath. Other than a quick glance
at him, she said nothing. He crossed the room and knelt before her,
taking her hands in his, not daring to look up at her, knowing he
could not stand to see her angry with him, yet again.

“Phoebe, I’m sorry this has upset you, but it will
all be taken care of.”

“And how exactly are you going to accomplish that?
Would you mind telling me?” Her voice was thick was emotion. He
looked up into her face, and saw she had been crying.

He pulled her into his embrace to offer what little
comfort he could. “I cannot imagine he’ll want to pursue this, and
risk having the fact that he assaulted you come to light. I’m sorry
to have you worrying over it.”

She pulled away from him and said, “What do you
really
think people are going to believe when they hear what
happened? Whatever it is, it will not be enough to justify your
actions. Not in their eyes.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe not, but
there’s nothing to be done for it now.” He then tried for humor, a
hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he pulled her back into his
arms. “I’ve yet to figure out how to turn back time, aye? Perhaps
with my next tinkering?”

She pounded on his chest in frustration. “This is
not funny.” Yet he could see her mood had turned. Just a
little.

Taking the opportunity to change the subject, he
asked, “Samuel is now your footman? You
must
really be angry
with me.” He laughed as she pounded on his chest again, then tilted
her chin up and kissed her. She tasted so sweet, her lips soft and
hot, his kiss lingering just a moment more.