Page 96 of The Case of the Curate

Rupert let out a hiss of laughter.

“Miss Nye killed Dinah Fenn?” Chadbon said in astonishment. “And shot at you, Lady Ambrose?”

“Of course I did not,” Miss Nye wailed, tears streaming down her face. “The curate did it and tried to kill me! Lady Ambrose is in on it—she’s always sneaking off to meet him.”

“Stop, Sophie,” Nye said, with more weariness than anger. “It’s over. I should never have allowed you to deal with that girl. It never entered my head you would…would—”

“Oh, Colin, don’t be so weak and lily-livered,” Miss Nye said. “She was expecting your child! She had to go.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Rupert said.

Miss Nye spared him a look of acute dislike. “I suppose it was yours, then.”

“Actually no.” Mechanically, Rupert took the flask from his pocket and unscrewed the stopper. Since Chadbon and Sir Colin were both speaking urgently and intensely to Miss Nye, he offered it in friendly spirit to Gilbert.

With inexplicable guilt, Kate saw that it was not Rupert’s own flask, but the one she had passed to him in his cell. Gilbert’s flask, in fact.

Uh-oh.

Gilbert was clearly about to brush Rupert’s hand away in disdain, then blinked and took the flask. “Where did you get this?” he asked sharply.

Kate sighed. “I lent it to him.”

“In the clink,” Salter added, anxious to be a witness to Rupert’s innocence.

Gilbert’s jaw was dropping.

Kate smiled brightly.

Chadbon said, “But this is terrible! How can we ever keep all this from coming out? She’s your sister, Nye, and this is my house. Both our parties will suffer and your bill will be lost, Ambrose.”

Rupert, dragging his somewhat regretful gaze from the brandy, which he clearly wasn’t getting back, said, “She’s not quite sane, Nye.”

“I know,” Sir Colin said hoarsely. “I’ve been shutting my eyes to it.”

“No longer,” Rupert said. “She can’t be free. She’s too dangerous. She has killed at least one young woman and possibly more. But if you deal with that, get her the care and the security she needs, then I’m sure it can be covered up just as easily as—er…previous arrests for this crime.”

Chadbon frowned, thinking and then slowly nodding. He exchanged long glances with Nye, and with Gilbert. Then he said, “You’re a good man, Grande. A very good man.”

“I’ll take her away tonight,” Nye said. “If Ambrose is here, then the roads are passable at last. Come on, Sophie, time to pack. It’s all sorted out now.”

“Is it? Are you safe? Am I?”

“Yes,” sighed Nye.

But Dinah isn’t. Kate thrust aside the bleak thought while Nye and his sister shuffled out of the room.

“I’d still lock your door,” Rupert murmured.

Kate nodded, then caught sight of Gilbert’s outraged face and quickly took his arm. “Come, sir, we have both had a long day. Shall we retire? Have you eaten? You must tell me all about your journey.”

She did not dare look back at Rupert, though she felt the tug of regret and injustice. He deserved thanks and praise, not to be ignored. Oh well, tomorrow was another day.

Tonight was for placating her husband.

*

So that is Ambrose. Quite a distinguished-looking fellow, a man of presence, not yet forty years old. Medium height, clever, serious. Rupert rarely disliked anyone, and he wasn’t about to start with Kate’s husband, but he did not care for the lack of humor in the man. Nor did he like that Ambrose’s first shocked reaction had been to blame Kate.