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Chapter Thirty-Three
Artemis stood on the platform of Pangbourne Station, her hands trembling as she accepted a telegram from the lad at the telegraph office.
A telegram from Dominic.
And then after she’d read it, all she could do was clutch the piece of paper to her chest. Even though the weather had turned inclement and rain bucketed down beyond the portico where she sheltered, her heart beat a joyous rhythm.He’s all right. He’s all right. He’s all right.
Brushing away the tears distorting her vision, she perused her fiancé’s words once again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
My beloved A.,
Good news! My fever broke late last night. On the mend & I remember everything! By the time you receive this, Det. L. will have arrested Lord G. I hope all is well with you & your family. I count the hours until I can see you again.
Yours utterly & completely,
D.
Not only was Dominic safe and sound, and all but professing that he loved her, but Gascoyne would no longer pose a threat to him or anyone else.
Artemis glanced at the clock suspended above the stationmaster’s office. It was almost a quarter to ten. She estimated she had just enough time to dash off a quick reply to Dominic to let him know she was on her way back to Dartmoor House and to compose a message for Aunt Roberta’s coachman to take back to Highfield Hall. Phoebe deserved to know about Gascoyne’s downfall. While the viscount’s arrest for the attempted murder of Dominic couldn’t repair the damage he’d done to Phoebe’s reputation and her heart, at least her sister would know fate was meting out some sort of punishment to the man who’d deliberately used her to further his own sick ends.
Artemis pushed Dominic’s telegram into her pocket, and after hefting her overstuffed carpetbag into her hand, she hurried over to the telegraph office.
My darling D.,
I’m overjoyed to hear that you are recovering & that G. will be brought to justice. About to catch the 10 a.m. train to Paddington from Pangbourne. Will be at your side before noon.
Yours entirely & unreservedly,
A.
She hesitated, and the clerk behind the counter raised an eyebrow. “Is that all, miss?” he asked.
Artemis frowned. Should she broach the potentially volatile topic of her alter ego and Miss Sharp’s ultimatum? It was clear Dominic didn’t know anything about that particular matter yet. Her joy might be short lived if he rejected her for her lack of honesty and the fact she was Lydia Lovelace.
But she didn’t have time to worry about that now. In less than two hours, she would be with Dominic, and they could sort everything out face-to-face.
For better or for worse.
Pushing aside her apprehension, Artemis smiled at the clerk. “Yes, that’s all. Thank you.”
She paid the fee to send the telegram and just as she’d farewelled Aunt Roberta’s coachman, the train to London pulled into the station.
I’m coming, Dominic,she whispered to herself as she claimed a well-padded seat in one of the first-class carriages.I just pray that you can forgive me for not being honest with you about who I really am.
***
The morning had turned dark—rain poured down in buckets in Belgrave Square—and Dominic glanced at the longcase clock for what seemed like the thousandth time. It was well after half-past ten. His telegram to Artemis had been sent hours ago, and there was apparently a telegraph office at Pangbourne Station, a mere two miles from Highfield Hall, so surely Artemis would have received it by now. Perhaps he should send another, informing her that Miss Rosalind Sharp had been given her marching orders and there was nothing to fear. That Artemis’s secret was safe. That he loved her unconditionally. If only he was strong enough to jump on a bloody train so he could tell her in person—
His frustrated thoughts were interrupted by another knock at the door. It was Morton, ushering in a rather damp-looking Detective Lawrence at long last.
“Your Grace, my sincerest apologies for the delay in reporting back to you,” began the tall, barrel-chested detective, his expression as somber as a mortician’s. Indeed, the man appeared almost nervous as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and gripped his dripping beaver hat in his hands. “But there’s been an unforeseen development in the case.”
“Oh, yes?” Dominic put down Artemis’s book and frowned. Apprehension gnawed at his belly. “What’s happened?”
Detective Lawrence’s Adam’s apple bobbed above his starched collar. “I don’t want to alarm you, but at 3:00 a.m. when we attempted to bring Gascoyne into custody at one of his clubs—the Firebrand, in fact—he gave us the slip. Through a secret passage in the club’s cellar that we knew nothing about.”
“So he’s currently at large,” said Dominic grimly.
