Winston’s hands tightened into fists. As they did, he felt the old wound flare in pain. After all these years, he could not be sure if the pain was real or if it was a distant memory his brain remembered.
He could not believe the Bow Street Runners had spoken to Egerton. The man was old and sick and lived far from London. But they had gone to see him, to question him on Winston’s past,which meant they were more serious in their pursuit of him than he had realized.
“You see, Lord Kingsley was seen that night by one of our constables,” the constable explained. “He was seen running along the rooftops and recognized. The other gentleman was not identified—he managed to escape. But knowing the strength of your friendship, we assumed that it was you. What we were less sure of was who was the instigator and who was the follower. But after speaking with Lord Egerton, and gleaning more into your past, and the vendetta you seem to have against any lord you perceive to mistreat women—with or without evidence—I am beginning to think that it is you, Your Grace, who is the instigator.”
Winston’s heart was pounding in his throat. The back of his neck was beginning to prick with sweat.They know more than I thought.And while they were still a long way from having a conviction, Winston still felt the grip of fear beginning to tighten its hold on him.
Not fear for himself of course. Prison would not be so different from the prison of the mind he already kept himself trapped inside of. But if he were in prison, then Vanessa would be alone and unprotected.
However, he had to play it cool. The constables had no proof… yet.
“There was a duel with my brother-in-law,” Winston said at last, and he heard the anger and threat in his own voice. It madethe constable blink and sit up straighter, and a shadow of fear passed across his face. “I lost that duel, and Lord Egerton gave me the scars to remember it by. Those scars have stayed with me all these years as has the lesson they taught me. One does not try to exact revenge through violence.”
The constable’s eyes narrowed. “Then why was Lord Kingsley seen that morning, fleeing from the Bow Street Runners?”
“Perhaps he was on his way home from his mistress’ house and didn’t fancy being chased by strange men he didn’t know,” Winston suggested with more than a small dose of sarcasm. “He probably thought you were trying to rob him!”
He couldn’t tell if the constable looked convinced by this—his expression stayed too neutral. But at last, he sat back again and tapped the folder in front of him.
“Your official statement, then, is that you were at home and asleep on the night of the thirteenth and the morning of the fourteenth?” he asked in a reedy voice.
“Yes,” Winston said. “Now, may I go? I need to prepare for a ball, and believe me, it will take hours.”
“You may go,” the constable said, waving a hand.
Winston was at the door before he spoke again. “But believe me, Your Grace, we will be watching you.”
Winston turned back to face the man. “I would expect nothing else from London’s finest.”
And then he strode from the room, his black cloak billowing behind him.
And although Winston did have much to do to prepare for the ball, it wasn’t back home that he went. After sending his valet off with a note, he made for White’s where, after half an hour, Leo joined him.
“I got your message,” Leo said, as he sat down in the armchair across from Winston. “So, you talked to the Bow Street Runners?”
“They managed to track me down to Dorset and summon me back to London,” Winston said as he took a sip of his scotch. “I just came from there.” He leaned forward and peered at his friend. “Did you know that they saw you?”
“Of course, I know,” Leo said. “They questioned me a few days ago, and at the end of all of it, after I’d told them I was at home, they sprung on me that I was seen.”
Winston let out a sharp expletive. “So, you were caught in a lie?”
“Yes. But I told them it was because I did not appreciate commoners questioning me about my personal life. And then I told them I was with my mistress and coming home from her house.”
“Were you able to have her vouch for you before they questioned her?”
“Yes,” Leo said, sniffing. “Although she was not pleased about having to lie for me, and she broke it off.”
“I see.”
Leo gave him a disgruntled look. “You could at least pretend to be sorry for me that my mistress has thrown me over.”
“We have more important things to worry about,” Winston said, setting down his glass. “Lady Odette may have kept you out of trouble for now, but the more people who know about and are in on this lie, the more likely someone is to accidentally let something slip. One of her servants, for example, might break under pressure.”
“I know,” Leo said gloomily. “It is not looking good for me.”
“I will not let you go down for me,” Winston assured, leaning forward and placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “If they are able to prove you were involved, then I will take the fall. I hope you know that. This was my idea, my vendetta, and it is my responsibility to pay the consequences for it.”
Leo looked at him with sad eyes. “You do not know me well at all, my old friend, if you think I would let you take the fall for me.”
