Thom was arguing violently with a man in the dark clothing of a watch officer, waving her hands and yelling above the sound of the children and animals. Beyond Thom a man of middle years was being accosted by Digger and India, both of whom were trying to pull him away from the door to the library. The man was obviously trying not to hurt the children as he pried their hands from his arms, but no sooner had he removed one hand than another latched onto him, the children yelling at the top of their lungs all the while. Plum stood in the doorway to the library, wringing her hands and pleading with Juan to remove himself from where he stood with outstretched arms, as if protecting her from harm.
Harry watched it all for a moment — animals, children, servants, strangers, and Plum — then put his fingers to his lips and blew a piercing whistle that sounded painfully in such a confined space.
Miraculously, it worked. For a moment. Then the animals, children, servants, strangers, and Plum all descended upon him. “Halt!” Harry bellowed, then took immediate charge. He pulled off his jacket and handed it to George. “You children, to the right, over there in the corner. George, put this on McTavish. Ben, Sam: you two and Juan to the left, near the door. You, the one on your knees, help your friend into that chair. I don’t know who you are, sir, but I will thank you to stop glaring at my wife, she’s in a delicate condition. Please move yourself over there, near the stairs. Plum—” He held open his arms. She ran to him, clinging to his shoulders as she glared back at the man.
“Harry, that man says Charles is dead. Is it true? Is he really dead? Did you — you didn’t — you didn’t arrange—”
“Yes, yes, and no to all the rest.” Harry dropped a little kiss on her head just because he felt like it. He gently removed her hands from his shoulders, turning her so her back was to him, wrapping his arms around her in a protective gesture that he assumed the man standing near the stairs could not mistake. “I gather you are with the police force?”
The man bowed. He was a few inches shorter than Harry, and had black eyes that glittered brightly in the soft glow of the lamps. “I am Sir Paul Stanford, my lord. I have the honor of being in command of the police within the bounds of the city. If I might have a word with you and your lady, I believe we can clear up this situation.”
“You will not take my most very lady into custard!” Juan declared, tearing himself from where the footmen held him, throwing himself at Plum’s feet, spreading his arms wide to protect her. “I will tear out your heart and eat it before your so black eyes if you try to take her, you worm the most pestilential, you!”
“Don’t let them take Plum,” India cried, running forward. The remaining children erupted from behind her, swarming him and Plum. “We like her! We want her to stay! She takes us places and doesn’t make us do our lessons and she lets me put my hair up. Don’t let that man take her!”
“Want Mama!” McTavish said, holding up his arms.
“Oh, you darling children,” Plum said, gathering them together in a hug. “You all mean so much to me! I couldn’t love you more if I had borne you myself. My sweet, adorable darlings.”
Harry had a very, very bad feeling. He looked over her head to where Sir Paul stood. “Would you care to explain why my family and servants are under the impression you mean to take my wife into custody?”
Sir Paul had the grace to look abashed. “If we might discuss the issue in private?”
Plum released the children and turned to him, her lovely velvety eyes hard with pain. “Sir Paul says he has proof that I killed Charles. He said he has a letter from Charles threatening me, and one of his men—”
“The one we hit on the head until he went to sleep,” Anne interrupted with no little amount of satisfaction, pointing to the still unconscious man now slumped into a chair.
“—one of his men found my scenarios when he searched the house. Harry, I didn’t kill him.”
He took her face in his hands, and before everyone kissed the protestations right off her lips. “I know you didn’t, love. Don’t worry, we’ll get this straightened out.”
Plum trembled, but it wasn’t with fear, it was with the soul-deep love for Harry that made her feel as if she were invincible. As long as she had him and Thom and the children, she could not be harmed.
She turned to the man who had apologetically informed her that he had reason to believe she was involved with Charles’s death. “Would you please go into the library, Sir Paul? Thom, you and George and the footmen take the children to the park for their outing. Juan, I greatly appreciate your brave and very selfless attempt to save me, not to mention your offer to tear out Sir Paul’s heart, fry it, and eat it before his eyes while it was still smoking, but do you think you could release my knees? Harry, shall we?”
“Most certainly we shall,” Harry said, giving Juan a meaningful look as Plum extricated her knees with some difficulty from Juan’s fervent embrace.
With her head held high, Plum led the way into the library, seating herself in one of the two chairs before the large ebony table that Harry used as a desk. “Perhaps you would repeat to my husband what you told me?”
Sir Paul accepted her gesture toward the second chair, composing his face into one that reflected abject apology and no little distaste for the task at hand. Harry, to Plum’s surprise, did not take his seat at the desk, but stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder as if to show his support. Joy swelled within her for a few precious seconds before Sir Paul’s words deflated it, turning her insides cold and clammy as if they were made up of day-old gruel.
“It is with the greatest reluctance that I inform you I am ordered to take Lady Rosse into charge until such time as the magistrate can review the case against her regarding the mysterious death of the Honorable Charles de Spenser, youngest brother of the earl of St. Mead.”
“What case?” Harry asked, his voice even and apparently unconcerned, but Plum knew better. His tight grip on her shoulder belied his placid facade. “What reason, what proof can you possibly have that would make you think my wife, a gentle lady, a marchioness, would dirty her hands with the murder of a man so wholly unconnected to her?”
Plum smiled a sad little smile to herself. Harry was using what she had privately dubbed his marquis voice, the voice he used whenever he wanted to intimidate someone with his title and consequence. Unfortunately, she had no belief it would hold sway with Sir Paul.
“There are three reasons we believe that Lady Rosse is involved with the death of Mr. de Spenser. The first is this letter, recovered from his body.”
Harry looked startled for a moment as Sir Paul handed him a somewhat battered and grubby letter. Plum flinched a little at the sight of it. She’d read it earlier when Sir Paul had come to take her into charge. She could not deny the letter was from Charles, addressed to her.
“Hmm…vague innuendo, vaguer threat…”
“Keep reading,” Sir Paul said, his eyes black and impossible to read.
“If you do not pay me the sum we discussed Monday past, I will be forced to reveal all I know, thereby regrettably causing the ruin of yourself and your noble husband. I have not yet spoken to anyone of our past, but do not fool yourself into thinking the price for my silence is gratitude. I do not fear bringing my own good name into speculation. Our relationship was of a nature such that censure cannot fall upon me, but you will, I fear, feel it most heavily once the truth is known about your literary accomplishment. Lest you imagine I am not serious in my intention to make all known, I would be happy to forward you a copy of a letter which is but awaiting word from me to be delivered to The Times. They will, I have no fear, print it immediately upon receipt. I remain, yours…I fail to see how de Spenser’s threats of blackmail lead you to believe that my wife — a woman in a delicate condition — would murder the man. It’s outrageous! Entirely unlikely! You could just as soon say my children were responsible for his death than Plum.”