Page 46 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Rachel hugged Margaret over and over, alternating sobbing and scolding her for not coming to her family sooner. Finally, she wiped her eyes and demanded, “What happened? Tell us everything.”

Gently, Genevieve suggested, “Perhaps the whole story ought to wait until the family is together, so she doesn’t need to tell the details over and over.”

Still wiping her eyes, Rachel explained to Margaret, “Cole arrived home last night.”

Christian said, “I think you should stay here with him under the protection of his title so the constables don’t try to come take you.”

“Come,” Genevieve stood and tugged on Margaret’s hand. “You can wash and change before dinner. When Cole and Alicia arrive, you can tell us everything.”

Margaret would rather crawl into bed and sleep for a month, but she agreed.

Touched by the gesture, Margaret managed, “Thank you. That is very thoughtful of you.”

An hour later, bathed, changed, fed a light repast of fruit and bread with clotted cream, and warmed by a cheerful fire in the hearth, Margaret greeted the remainder of her family.

Cole nearly crushed her to him. She leaned into him, her outer casing cracking again under the fierceness of her brother’s love. “What were you thinking of, running off alone like that?” He scolded. “I’ve been all over the country looking for you. Jared is still in the Lake District, hoping you’ll show up there, and Grant went to Cornwall. Why didn’t you come to us?”

“Let her tell us what happened,” Rachel said.

Margaret wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and told them everything from the moment she went downstairs to find her husband. They listened, wide-eyed, without interruption, believing her, accepting her story as truth. She’d never realized how much it would matter to have someone believe her innocence. Margaret teared up again. When was the last time she’d wept so much? She pulled herself together. She refused to be a watering pot.

Cole interrupted with, “If you had come to me that night, it would have saved us all a great deal of trouble.”

He was right, of course, not that she’d admit that to her little brother. Margaret lifted a hand. “I suppose I wasn’t in my right mind. Perhaps I was more overset than I knew.”

Rachel huffed a wry laugh. “Overset? I would have been in sheer panic.”

“What happened when Mr. Jackson found you?” Alicia asked.

Margaret continued her narrative, skipping over those confusingly intimate moments with Connor, and concluded with, “I cannot stay with any of you. I’m putting you at risk even being here.”

Genevieve spoke first. “Margaret. You aren’t giving your brothers enough credit. They protected Alicia, they protected Elise, and they protected me. They can protect you.”

Margaret picked up a throw pillow and hugged it. “But Cole got shot, and Jared was hanged. They both barely escaped with their lives.” Margaret looked at Christian, pleading. “All of you were in danger each time. It’s a miracle you’re still alive and whole.”

Christian got that determined look in his eye he always used to get when the older brothers told him he was too young to do something. Usually, he proved them wrong. “I won’t allow you to face this alone. We are family. We will do this together.”

Alicia’s expression clouded over as she, no doubt, relived tending Cole after he’d been shot, his life hanging in the balance. “It’s dangerous—of course, it is. But think of what it would cost your family if they lost you.”

“I can’t believe you tried to do all that alone,” Christian grumbled at Margaret.

“We need to get you to Tarrington House,” Cole said. “The rest of the family can stay there, too. It will be safer if we are all in one place.”

Margaret flinched as Cole spoke her worst fear, that the killer might try to get to her through her family. Perhaps she should not have come to London at all.

Christian nodded. “We’ll hire armed guards to keep watch on the house. Meanwhile, my next assignment to Connor Jackson will be to find the killer.”

Margaret let out a sharp breath. “He thinks I am the killer. I doubt he’ll be willing to look for any other suspects.”

“He’s a professional; he’ll investigate everything.” A quick smile twitched Christian’s mouth. “It’s a matter of pride.”

Rachel shifted, frowning, “How can Mr. Jackson not believe you?”

Really, it ought not bother Margaret that Connor didn’t believe her. He spent his life in the company of criminals. He likely believed ill of most people. She wrapped her hands around her midsection, unable to give an answer.

Cole stood. “Come. We’re going to Tarrington House.”

Christian nodded. “We’ll pack a few things and be over soon.”

Genevieve got a long, hooded cloak for Margaret. “I don’t think anyone is watching the house, but you never know.”

Exhausted and unable to think clearly, she only nodded. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep, she could come up with a plan to clear her name.

Perhaps she could find Cora, the cook’s assistant whom she’d helped relocate last spring, and ask if she knew anything about the ‘Tal’ of Hennessy’s last words. She also wished to recover a few very personal items from Hennessy’s townhouse before her brother-in-law and his wife moved in, if they hadn’t already. Either way, that would require stealth and deception.

Margaret fastened the cloak’s frog closures and followed her eldest brother and sister-in-law into the night. She could only pray that by going to her family, she had not put them at risk.

Was it too much to ask that she might also prove her innocence?