Page 84 of The Marriage Method

Garrick stilled. “That’s the charity school you were destined for?”

Miles gave the inspector an alert glance. Unless he was very much mistaken, that was recognition in the man’s eyes. “Do you know the place?”

“I have a passing acquaintance with it,” Garrick said.

“That’s interesting,” Mrs. Royce observed. “I don’t recall the Academy having had any business with Scotland Yard.”

“It wasn’t in my professional capacity.” Garrick paused. “I grew up in the neighboring village.”

“Did you, indeed,” Mrs. Royce said. “I do hope you weren’t one of those annoying lads who used to hang about the gates of the school.”

A dull flush crept up Garrick’s neck. He cleared his throat. “It was a long time ago,” he said brusquely. He turned back to Miss Brent. “You remained working as a scullery maid for how long?”

“Until today, sir,” Miss Brent replied. “When Miss Trewlove and Miss Flite came to rescue me.”

Miss Trewlove and Miss Flite?

Miles and Gabriel exchanged a dark glance.

“Mrs. Davenant paid me my wages and we left,” Miss Brent continued. “But Silas set upon us in an alleyway before we could reach the carriage.”

An ominous silence fell over the room. Nell’s gaze dropped to her lap, and Mrs. Royce pointedly didn’t look at her husband. The air vibrated with unspoken tension. Miles didn’t know which of them was more in danger of losing their composure, him or Gabriel.

Gabriel broke first. “Set upon you?” he repeated in a tone of perilous calm. “What might that mean?”

“He tried to take me back to Mrs. Pritchard’s,” Miss Brent explained. “Miss Flite fought him with her parasol. Then she threw her parasol to Miss Trewlove and Miss Trewlove cut him over his eyes. But Silas didn’t stop. He came at us again, and he hit Miss Trewlove ever so hard with his fist—”

Miles surged forward. “What?”

“We brought her here in the carriage,” Miss Brent continued haltingly. “Miss Flite used smelling salts to bring her round.” She looked between Nell and Mrs. Royce. “Did I do wrong? Should I not have said—”

“It’s fine,” Nell assured her. Her words were just as faint as they had been before, with a breathless quality to them, as though she was speaking with enormous effort.

Miles’s gaze raked over her. “He hit you?” She wasn’t only pale, he realized, she appeared a trifle green. A fine mist of perspiration had gathered on her brow. “Where?”

“It’s nothing,” she said in the same weak voice. “I don’t wish to alarm the girl.”

Mrs. Royce stood abruptly. “Given the circumstances, I believe it would be best if my husband and I took Miss Brent back to Sloane Street. She can stay the night. I’ll take her to the Academy myself in the morning.”

“We’ll take her,” Gabriel said.

Mrs. Royce smiled. “A fine idea. If you’re quite finished, Inspector Garrick?”

“I have all I require for now.” Garrick closed his notebook. “I may have more questions in the days to come. Until then…” He gave a warning look to Miles and Gabriel. “I want no retaliation against this Silas fellow. I still need to speak with the man. If he’s beaten or God forbid killed in the meanwhile, the case may collapse altogether, and there will be no justice for Miss Brent or Mr. Cowgill.”

Miles was only half listening to the inspector’s words. He was too busy examining every visible inch of his wife for signs of injury. Kill Silas? It sounded like a fine idea. At the moment, Miles would be quite happy to take the man apart with his bare hands.

“Leave Pritchard and Silas to the law,” Garrick ordered them. “If I can prove they murdered Cowgill, they’ll hang for it. Let that be enough.”

“Then prove it,” Gabriel said. “Before I lose my patience and deal with the man myself.”

“That’s hardly helpful, my love,” his wife said to him. She moved to fetch Miss Brent. “Shall we go, dear, and leave Miss Trewlove to rest?”

“I want to stay with you,” Miss Brent said to Nell, touching her right arm in entreaty.

Nell sucked in a sharp breath.

The girl jerked back her hand. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”