Greydon cleared his throat as he offered his arm. “May I escort you back inside?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
As Enid placed her hand on his sleeve, she knew that Greydon would find a way to fix this. He always found a way. That was just one of the many reasons why she loved him.
ChapterTwenty
Greydon exited the hackney and stepped onto the pavement in front of White’s. He adjusted the top hat on his head and approached the main door, which was promptly opened by a liveried servant.
As he headed inside, his eyes roamed over the room until he saw Mr. Moore sitting in the corner. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were fixated on the drink in his hand. This did not bode well for him if Mr. Moore was in an inebriated state.
He approached the table and asked, “May I sit down?”
“Do what you want,” came Mr. Moore’s gruff response. He didn’t even bother to look up.
Greydon pulled out a chair and sat down. “Are you drunk?”
“No, but I wish I was.” Mr. Moore tightened his hold on the glass. “It might help this gnawing guilt that I am feeling.”
“Why are you feeling guilty?”
Mr. Moore brought his gaze up. “It is my fault that Lady Eugenie confessed to the murder. I pressured her to have her sister testify, hoping to create doubt in the jury’s mind, but I underestimated her determination to protect her sister.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Having her sister testify was the only way for the jury to sympathize with her,” Mr. Moore said. “I was trying to save her life, and in doing so, I had her condemned.”
“You were trying to help her.”
Mr. Moore huffed. “Yes, but look where she is now,” he demanded. “She is in the condemned area of Newgate.”
“I think I might have a solution.”
Bringing the glass up to his lips, Mr. Moore said, “I don’t think that is possible. Besides, I heard that Sir David forbade you to continue looking into this case.”
“He did, but I am not one to follow his orders.”
“He could have you arrested.”
It was Greydon’s turn to let out a huff. “Do you think he would really arrest me?” he asked. “Just think of the scandal that it would create for him.”
Mr. Moore lowered his glass back to the table. “It doesn’t matter now. We have lost and Lady Eugenie will be killed soon enough.”
“You just intend to give up?”
“She made her choice and we must accept that,” Mr. Moore replied.
Greydon leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I suspect that Harriet killed her husband and we can’t let her get away with it.”
Mr. Moore looked uninterested. “Do you have any proof?”
“Harriet was at my brother’s apartment the morning of the murder and she departed shortly before Lady Eugenie discovered the body.”
“That doesn’t mean she killed him.”
“She also had motive,” Greydon pressed. “She didn’t want him to proceed with the divorce so she could keep Lord William as her lover. He threatened to leave her if Phineas pressed the issue.”
Mr. Moore pushed his drink away. “That does create doubt, but that doesn’t prove she murdered her husband.”
“That is why I need her to confess.”
