‘It must have been appalling.’
‘It was…quick. Better than prison and a trial and a noose. But it was a terrible shock.’
She kept her tone as neutral as she could, but Tess was intuitive. ‘It was more than a shock, wasn’t it? Were you pregnant?’
‘Yes.’ She looked down at her hands, willed them to stillness.
There was a little silence, then Tess turned the subject and began to talk about the reception Cris had asked them to hold in order to entrap Franklin. ‘He said to make it for a week today. He seems very confident he can amass the evidence he needs for then.’
‘I have the suspicion that if he hasn’t he will bluff and I’m sure he will be excellent at that. But if his Bow Street Runner can lay hands on the so-called Mr Goode, then I think it will be all right.’
They chatted about decorations and the menu for supper and whether a string quartet or Pandean pipes would be best and by the time Tess took her leave, off to give her husband her glad news, Tamsyn found that the need to retreat to her room and weep that she had been fighting for an hour had left her.
You see, she told herself. You can manage this. You can leave him without your heart breaking.
*
Five days passed. Tamsyn fretted about the pictures, wrote long, chatty letters home, spent too much on clothes and helped Tess with the planning for the reception.
Despite it being July there were still enough people in London to garner a respectable number of acceptances, including, to everyone’s relief, Lord Chelford’s.
‘I made sure he heard there would be plenty of card tables and some heavy play.’ Alex sat on the arm of his wife’s chair, his hand possessive on her shoulder. He was having to fight not to fuss over her as though she was spun glass, Tess had confided.
They were at the Weybourns’ town house, expecting Cris and Gabriel for a council of war, as Alex termed it. ‘And about time,’ he added as the two were announced. ‘There’s only four days to go.’
‘Jem Clarke, the Runner, has got Goode safely locked up at Bow Street,’ Cris said, dropping into the chair next to Tamsyn’s and sending her a rapid assessing glance followed by a hint of a smile. ‘He is singing like a canary because the magistrate has hinted that if he only meant to wound Ritchie, and if he gives us the full story, then he will be transported, not hanged. It means that we’ll not be able to get Chelford for conspiracy to murder, because I doubt any jury is going to believe that Goode would be hired to kill and not carry it out, not with his record.’
‘If this is the only way he is going to be brought to justice—’ Tamsyn broke off, shivered. ‘I hate the thought of anyone hanging. One thing worries me, though.’
‘Only one?’ Cris reached across and took her hand, ignoring the interested stares of the other three.
‘Aunt Izzy is going to be devastated by the scandal. Franklin is her nephew, after all, and if he comes to trial I do not know how she will cope with it.’
‘So we had best make certain he finds a pressing necessity to leave the country and not come back,’ Gabriel said dryly.
‘It is hardly justice,’ Alex commented. ‘What of Ritchie’s family?’
‘I have made enquiries,’ Cris said. ‘Fortunately he was not married, had no parents living and I can’t locate any dependents. He seems to have been something of a loner, which is one small mercy.’
‘Who is Chelford’s heir?’ Tess asked.
‘His younger brother, Michael. A nice young man as I seem to remember,’ Tamsyn said. ‘I haven’t seen him for years, but Aunt Izzy said he is a lawyer somewhere in Somerset and is married with a family.’
‘Couldn’t Chelford discover he has weak lungs and must go and live in Italy, or the South of France or Greece or somewhere hot?’ Tess said. ‘I am only thinking aloud, but if he hands over the estate to his brother in return for a pension—’
‘A modest one,’ Alex said.
‘Yes, although the world at large need not know that. Then the brother could take over and have the benefit of the estate and Chelford would be exiled for the rest of his days.’
‘We could see to that, certainly,’ Cris said with a thin smile that made Tamsyn shiver. ‘There would be no scandal for the family.’
‘What about his debts? They must be serious if he is prepared to do what he has and if he needs to sell a pair of Rubens’s paintings to cover it.’
‘Yes, those must be paid.’ Cris pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. ‘I’ll cover them, then talk to the brother about making it a long-term loan on the estate. He’s a lawyer, he can sort something out.’
‘Now we just need to make sure Goode doesn’t name Chelford in court,’ Gabriel said. ‘And hope his brother will see this the same way as we do. He has a young family and the opportunity to save the estate and family name for them. That should do it.’
‘We are conspiring to help a criminal to escape justice,’ Tamsyn said worriedly. ‘Just because the family is going to hate the scandal… Is this really the right thing to do?’