Tony’s heels struck the tiles of the foyer; glancing swiftly around, he fixed his gaze on the supervisor behind the narrow desk, who was already eyeing him with increasing unease. This Watch House was situated on the edge of Mayfair; the hapless supervisor would know Trouble when he saw it. His expression as he hurriedly got to his feet suggested he recognized it bearing down on him now.
“Can I help you, sir—m’lord?”
I believe you have something of mine.
Tony bit back the words, reined in his temper, and quite softly said, “I believe there’s been a mistake.”
The sergeant paled. “A mistake, m’lord?”
“Indeed.” Tony drew out his card case, withdrew a card and flipped it on the desk. “I’m Lord Torrington, and according to Whitehall I’m in charge of the investigation into the murder of William Ruskin, lately of the Office of Customs and Revenue. I understand two of your men in company with a Bow Street Runner visited a private residence in Waverton Street an hour ago and removed, by force, a lady—Mrs. Alicia Carrington. The taradiddle I’ve been told—no doubt you and your men can explain it—is that Mrs. Carrington is accused of having stabbed Ruskin to death.”
At no point did he raise his voice; he’d long ago learned the knack of making subordinates quake with a quiet and steely tone.
With his gaze, he pinned the supervisor, who was now holding on to his desk as if he needed its support. “I should perhaps mention that it was I who discovered Ruskin’s body. In the circumstances, I would like an explanation and I would like it now, but first, before all else, you will release Mrs. Carrington into my care.” He smiled, and the supervisor visibly quailed. “I do hope you’ve taken exceptionally good care of her.”
The man could barely draw breath. He bowed, bobbed. “Indeed, m’lord—she did mention…we’ve put the lady in the magistrate’s office.” He hurried around the desk, almost stumbling in his haste to conduct Tony thither. “I’ll just show you, then I’ll get ahold of Smiggins—he’s the Runner, m’lord. We was acting under his orders.”
“Very well.” Tony followed the bobbing supervisor.
“What’s your name?”
“Elcott, sir—m’lord, begging your pardon.” Elcott stopped outside a door, and gestured. “The lady’s in here, m’lord”
“Thank you. Please send Smiggins here immediately. I wish to attend to this business and remove Mrs. Carrington as soon as possible. This is no place for a lady.”
Elcott kept bobbing. “Indeed, m’lord. Immediately, m’lord.”
With a curt nod, Tony dismissed him. Opening the door, he walked in.
Alicia was standing by the window, dressed in all her finery for the ball. She swung around as he entered; the pinched look in her face dissolved as she recognized him. “Thank God!”
She didn’t exactly fly to him, but she crossed the room quickly, her hands rising; shutting the door, he grasped them, and pulled her into his arms.
He held her tight, his cheek against her hair. “I came as soon as I could. You needn’t worry about Adriana and the boys—they know I’m here, and Geoffrey’s with them.”
A large part of her tension dissipated; she looked up, pushing back to look into his face. “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do—and I’ve no idea what’s going on. For some reason they think I stabbed Ruskin.”
“I know.” Tony heard footsteps approaching. Reluctantly releasing her, he urged her to the chair behind the desk. “Sit down—try not to say anything. Just listen and watch.”
A hesitant tap sounded on the door.
Resuming his previous, grim expression, he took up a stance beside Alicia’s chair. “Come.”
The door opened; a heavily built man in the distinctive red coat of a Bow Street Runner looked around the edge. He saw Tony; his eyes widened. He cleared his throat. “Smiggins, m’lord. You sent for me?”
“Indeed, Smiggins. Come in.”
Smiggins looked like he’d rather do anything else, however, opening the door wider, he entered, then ponderously shut the door. He turned to face them; meeting Tony’s eyes, he stiffened to attention. “Sir?”
“I understand you saw fit to apprehend Mrs. Carrington this evening. Why?”
Smiggins swallowed. “I had orders to bring the lady in to answer questions seeing as she was said to have stabbed some gentleman called Ruskin. To death, m’lord.”
“I see. I take it Elcott informed you that I have been placed in charge of the investigation into Ruskin’s murder by Whitehall?”
Hesitantly, Smiggins nodded. “That were a surprise, m’lord. We hadn’t been told that.”
“Indeed. Who gave you your orders?”