"Help me, God damn you."
"I told you, I do not want your help." Brandon's jaw tightened. "Now go, before I call the turnkey to throw you out."
"It would serve you right if I let you rot," I said savagely. I wanted very much to throttle him, could feel the satisfaction of my hands closing on his neck. "But I care too much for Louisa to do that."
"I know you care for her. I am sure you will now go to her and comfort her."
I backed away to prevent myself from striking him. "You do not understand what you have. You never did."
His eyes narrowed, chill and hard. "Get out."
I left him.
I felt unclean as I made my way, angry and shaking, back through Ludgate Hill and Fleet Street toward Covent Garden.
Brandon hated me so much. I'd given up my entire life for him, had tried to be the man he wanted to make, and I'd failed. I'd tried to please him just as I'd tried to please my father, and got nothing for my pains either time.
Louisa had once told me that what Brandon could not forgive was that I'd taken her side when things had gone wrong between them. I'd stood behind Louisa, and he'd hated me since that day.
I had not tried very hard to heal the breach. I'd been too wounded by him, both physically and inside my heart.
Now Brandon needed me, and he knew it. Why he was being so bloody obtuse, I did not understand. I could not believe that even Brandon would take himself to the gallows to spite me.
As I rolled along in the hackney, I tried to calm myself and look at things logically. I went over the conversation I'd just had with Brandon, pulling out the facts that I'd learned.
If Brandon had made the exchange with Turner at eleven o'clock-the letter for the five hundred guineas-several of my assumptions had to change. Imogene Harper would not have been searching Turner's rooms for the letter if she knew Brandon already had it. She'd let me believe that had been her purpose in looking through Turner's coat when she'd found him dead and had not corrected me.
When Pomeroy had searched Turner's body, he never would have missed something so obvious as a bank draft for five hundred guineas. Therefore, if Brandon had given Turner the money, then Imogene Harper had removed the cheque or the cash when she'd delved the dead Turner's pockets.
What then, my mind prodded me, did she come to Turner's rooms to find?
Brandon had done something with the letter he'd purchased from Turner. He'd left the anteroom just after eleven and stepped into a private alcove with Mrs. Harper. She was the most logical person to whom he would have passed the letter.
Perhaps Brandon had decided to trust no one but himself and had refused to give Mrs. Harper the paper. Or perhaps Turner had promised to bring him the letter at a later date, and Brandon had paid him the money anyway like an idiot.
I rubbed my temples in frustration. If I could trace the letter and the money, I would be happy, indeed.
Putting my hands on the murderer would make me even happier.
By the time I arrived home, I had calmed somewhat and turned back to my plans. Tonight at the theatre, I would meet and interview Mr. Bennington and Mr. Stokes. If nothing else, they might be able to give me more ideas about what had happened the night of the ball.
I let Bartholomew draw a bath for me, then he helped me dress in my dark blue regimentals. As I attached the last of the silver cords across my chest, someone knocked on the outer door. Bartholomew darted into the front room to answer and returned quickly.
"Mrs. Brandon, sir," he said.
Chapter Ten
Louisa was staring mutely into the fire when I emerged. She wore a drab, long-sleeved, high-waisted gown and a woolen shawl that hung limply from her shoulders. A bonnet trimmed in green silk ribbon lay on the table.
My usual course in greeting her would be to take her hands and kiss her cheek, but when Louisa turned to me, her white face and haunted eyes made me stop.
"I thought Lady Aline was preparing to take you to Dorset," I said.
Louisa reached for my hands. "She is. But I could not remain in the house any longer. The walls seemed to press on me. Aline is a dear friend and my servants are loyal, but I believe they mean to keep me prisoner in my rooms." She heaved a sigh. "Why I ever thought yellow a cheerful color, I have no idea. It glares at me-laughs at me. Bloody horrible color for a sitting room."
I took her elbow and guided her to a chair. "Well, there is nothing cheerful here, so that should not worry you. You are in sore need of refreshment, and if I know Bartholomew, he's already run off to obtain it."
Louisa sank into my armchair. "I am sorry, but I simply could not stay home. I legged it, as my maid would say. Aline will be frantic, and I know it is childish of me, but at the moment, I truly do not care."
"I think I understand."
"Thank you. I somehow knew that you would enter the conspiracy with me instead of scolding me and taking me home."
I smiled. "That, I will do later."
Bartholomew banged back in at that moment, carrying a tray of steaming things. He set down the tray and poured out a mug of coffee. "You get that into you, ma'am," he said, handing it to her. "And a few of these sausages. You'll be right as rain."
Louisa fell upon them hungrily. "My maids believe that thin slices of bread and weak tea are all my constitution will abide," she said as she ate. "Aline simply keeps plying the brandy. I shall be in a sad state before long."
"I will send instructions to fatten you up," I said. "Is that why you fled? In search of food?"
Louisa dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief when she finished, and Bartholomew removed the empty plate and the tray. "The magistrate questioned me. Sir Nathaniel from Bow Street, I mean, along with your Sir Montague Harris."
"In the Bow Street House? I hope not." I thought of the smell of unwashed bodies in the lower rooms, the dirty, callused palms thrust out for coins.
"No, they came to me. They asked me all sorts of awful questions. Had I known that my husband was having an affair with Mrs. Harper? What had he told me about Mr. Turner? Did Aloysius behave in a peculiar fashion that night? How did he not remember bringing the knife with him? Did I know beforehand that he would kill Turner? And other nonsense."
"I will speak to Sir Montague," I said, my temper rising. "They should not have harangued you."
"No, no, do not grow angry with him. The pair of them obviously did not think me an accessory. They see me as the poor, betrayed wife, deceived by her husband." She gave me a bitter look. "Which is what I am."
I took her hand. "Louisa, I will do everything in my power to restore him to you."
Louisa's fingers briefly tightened on mine then flowed away. "I have been lying awake these last few nights thinking of you trying to save him. And sometimes, in the small hours of the morning, when I am most alone, I am not certain that I still want you to."
I gazed pensively at her, unsure of what to say.
She went on, "Oh, I do not mean I wish for him to be hanged. Of course not. But I believe that I do not want him to come home."
"Louisa…"
"I know now what you felt when Carlotta left you. I felt sorry for you at the time, but I see that then I did not truly understand. To live your whole life for someone, to stand by them and to care for them, no matter what happens, and then to have them betray you, throwing your devotion back in your face, is the hardest thing a person can bear. You feel foolish for having spent so much time on such an unworthy person. You feel as though you've given everything but been found wanting." She broke off, her eyes filling. "And I am so bloody tired of weeping. If you pat my hand, Gabriel, I shall never forgive you."
I took a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her in silence.
I knew that Brandon had found Louisa wanting. He'd told her so once, and not tried very hard to hide his disappointment in her inability to have children. Louisa had been forced to stand by a few nights ago while Brandon was arrested, and look into the face of the woman Brandon admitted was his mistress. I thought she was holding up well, considering.