AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then pray tell me what you are!” Her eyes spat fire, and the gun trembled slightly in her grasp.
He might as well, before Geoff did it for him—or she shot him. “I’m a constable, and I was sent here by Westminster to investigate this school.”
“What?” It came out as a gasp, conveying both horror and disbelief. “Why?”
“Because we were led to believe this was a through-house for one of London’s underage-flesh-sellers. Surely you’ve heard about the missing prostitutes and children, and the brothel owners killed? We thought someone was thinning the competition and abducting the workers and their children to resupply their own stock.”
“Someone?” she asked, blazing eyes narrowed to slits. The barrel of the gun rose an increment.
In spite of his mortification—he’d never been so wrong—he forced out the words. “I thought it was the Archangel.” Her look of outrage was such that it made him cringe. “I thought he was deceiving them into thinking he was their savior so they would go with him willingly.”
“And you thought I was part of this—this soulless plan?”
“No,” he said at once. “I knew within a few days of coming here that you were innocent. And after seeing the students’ files, especially the letter, I knew the Archangel was as well.”
“Then why are you still here?” She again raised the gun a little higher.
“Because someone deliberately led me to this place, and I need to know the reason. I believe I now have it.”
“Go on.”
“London’s brothel owners are frightened and angry, and I think at least one of them recently discerned your connection to their enemy. The anonymous letter that led me here was a way of putting pressure on you. By threatening you—with my presence, with the nasty messages—they hope to somehow force you to reveal the Archangel’s identity. They want you to run to him for help so they can find out who he is.”
“Mon Dieu,” she whispered, paling another shade. “I sent him a message tonight!”
“Directly?”
“No, we use several intermediaries, but if the driver is followed—”
“Headmistress?” It was Sloane, returned from her private errand.
Trouvère lowered the gun. “All is well, Prudence. A misunderstanding of sorts, nothing more.”
When he turned, Will saw yet another pistol aimed at him. He watched, relieved, as Mrs. Sloane lowered and uncocked it. Are they all armed?
Looking reluctant but resigned, Trouvère continued. “It may be that what you say is true. But there might also be another explanation. There is something you ought to know concerning my relationship with the man you call the Archangel. Before I became—”
The ringing of the front door’s bell put a stop to whatever she’d been about to say.
Frustration gnawed at Will as the women hid their pistols away and Sloane went to answer it. It turned to self-castigation when he saw her admit an unfamiliar man.
Bollocks! He’d given himself away without need.
“Who are you?” asked the matron with a frown. “Where is Constable Birdsley?”
“On holiday, madame,” answered the newcomer with a respectful nod. “I’m Constable Coombs. The night watchman and I met your Mr. Young as he was coming to fetch Birdsley. He said someone had broken in and left a dead animal on the premises?”
“Yes,” Will cut in, shooting Trouvère a look he hoped she interpreted correctly as: say nothing! “And a rather menacing message. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you.” As he led Coombs through the hallways and out into the courtyard with the women trailing behind, his mind raced to try to puzzle out what she’d been about to say, but it was useless.
“Mrs. Sloane, will you hold my lamp, please?” Will handed it to her and then, with Trouvère’s help, lifted the edges of the cloth so the good constable could have a look without exposing the scene to the doubtless wide-awake eyes peering out from the dark windows above.
Coombs let out a low whistle. “Here’s a nasty bit o’ business.” Bending, he reached out and picked up the knife, holding up the skewered heart. “Somebody doesn’t like someone here. Who d’you think this was meant for?”
Trouvère spoke up. “I believe it was meant for me. I am Madame Trouvère, the headmistress of this school.”
Will didn’t like the way the man looked her up and down. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well,” said Coombs. “Whoever did it seems to want to give you a fright. Any ide
