‘Do what? I was trying to save you.’
‘And you got shot instead.’ Salt tears blended with Cynthia’s sweetness.
‘But I did save you.’ Cynthia tightened her arms around Helena, strong and sure and alive.
‘Yes. You did. We saved each other.’
‘Thank the goddess. Because I love you too, my darling witch.’
Superintendent MacDougal, after ensuring Sinclair and his men were safely on their way to Newgate, insisted on speaking to Cynthia despite Helena’s vehement protests.
‘He told me he’d confessed to you, Cynthia. You know the truth of Hubert’s death, and he would no’ say a damn thing more. The bastard.’
‘This is not the time! She needs to come home and rest.’ Helena pulled Cynthia closer, her warmth seeping into Cynthia’s skin.
Sinclair hadn’t told Superintendent MacDougal about Mrs Higgins.
Of course. He said himself he wanted to see what I would do.
He wanted Cynthia to bear the weight of condemning a good woman for killing a bad man. He truly was a devil.
Cynthia stepped out of Helena’s warm embrace, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. ‘Mr Sinclair is guilty of terrible crimes, including shooting me. But he didn’t kill Hubert.’ She swallowed, searching for courage in her depths. She had been raised to know right from wrong. To hold people accountable for their actions. To understand the hierarchy of classes and honour those codes. In the end, a housekeeper from Seven Dials had murdered a marquess from Mayfair. The correct choice was clear.
‘Hubert killed himself.’
Helena stepped close, gripping Cynthia’s hand and squeezing.
‘Sinclair told me he was going to call in all of Hubert’s debts. He returned the keepsake from his mistress. Even she wanted nothing more of him. We would have been ruined. Instead of facing the consequences of his choices, Hubert killed himself. In the end, the only person responsible for Hubert’s death was Hubert.’ Sinclair had been right about that.
The early-morning sun broke free of white clouds and drenched the sky in gold and pink, the soft colours filtering through the glass ceiling above them.
Superintendent MacDougal shook his head. ‘He’s lying to protect his own skin. I’ll make him tell us the truth.’
‘That is the truth, Superintendent MacDougal. He tried to murder me, but he didn’t murder my husband.’
Helena stepped in front of Cynthia, blocking her from the superintendent. ‘You’ve heard what she has to say. She is telling the truth, Uncle Lachlan.’
Cynthia felt quite swoony watching Helena guard her.
‘This canna’ be right.’
‘Enough! If you have more questions, you can ask them after Cynthia and Helena have had a chance to recover.’ Aunt Rowan’s voice echoed on the tile. ‘You never know when to stop, Lachlan.’ She bundled the women into a carriage, and after a quick discussion with Clio and Ellie, they all departed for Blair House.
When they arrived, Ellie busied herself with baking clementine tea cakes. Aunt Rowan put on a pot of chamomile tea for Helena and coffee for Cynthia, and Clio went into the greenhouse to gather the ingredients for a restorative elixir.
Cynthia and Helena went upstairs to change into fresh clothes. They decided, as Cynthia’s one remaining travel dress now had a gaping hole in the chest, she would borrow one of Helena’s dresses, even if it wasn’t black.
Hamlet was given a special hambone for his courage and bravery, so he remained in the kitchen, munching happily.
When the door clicked shut, Cynthia leaned against it and watched her love begin to unbutton her dress. ‘Helena, I lied to your uncle.’
Helena’s brows drew together in a silent question as her finger froze.
‘Hubert didn’t kill himself.’
‘What do you mean? Sinclair told you that he did.’
Cynthia shook her head. ‘No. He didn’t.’
