A Disappearance in Drury Lane by Ashley Gardner

Author:Ashley Gardner [Gardner, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, Historical, Mystery, Regency, Romance
ISBN: 9780986023880
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: JA AG Publishing
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

They at least let me take my family home, though it was only Pomeroy’s insistence that allowed it. Spendlove had wanted to haul me into a coach with guards then and there and carry me straight back to London. He at last agreed I could return home and pack a valise, but this concession came because he was confident of my guilt, not for any thought of courtesy or regard for my comfort.

Pomeroy preceded me into the dining room of our splendid house, where we would wait while Bartholomew gathered my things. Spendlove came close behind me. The parish constables waited in the hall, and Spendlove’s man stationed himself at the front door in case I made a mad dash for freedom.

Spendlove tried to keep Donata out after she sent Gabriella upstairs. “Not a place for you, I think, Madame,” he said, his hand on the door handle.

“Nonsense,” Donata said, pushing past him. “Gabriel is my husband, and I demand to know why the devil you are arresting him.”

Spendlove’s light blue eyes glinted. “For murder, as I said.”

“Supposed murder,” Donata snapped. “We departed London on Tuesday last and have not returned since. How is Captain Lacey to have murdered a man in London from the Crescent? I believe I would have noticed his absence for enough time to journey up to Town, kill a man, and return. The entire society of Bath would have noted it.”

“Madame . . .”

“I am Lady Donata Pembroke, Mr. Spendlove, and you will address me as such.”

Spendlove turned to me. “Can you curb your wife, please, Captain?”

“No,” I said. I leaned against the edge of the table to watch.

“Perhaps I will arrest her with you,” Spendlove said. “She can join you in the cells until the magistrate sorts things out. A happy honeymoon for you, eh?”

Pomeroy broke in with a growl. “Have some respect, man.”

“I have given Captain and Mrs. Lacey plenty of respect. I allowed them to return to this comfortable house, haven’t I? A bit posh for my taste.” Spendlove glanced around at the inlaid Hepplewhite sideboard, chairs, and table as though they offended him.

“You don’t outrank me, Spendlove,” Pomeroy said. “Let the captain defend himself.”

Pomeroy’s attitude made a change from his instant assumption of my guilt, as was his wont. He did not like Spendlove pushing in on his territory, it was apparent.

“We left London, as my wife told you, on the sixth of this month,” I said. “Tuesday last, more than a week ago. Since then, I have been making my rounds at the assembly rooms, bathing for my health, and immersing myself in insipid gossip, as one does at watering places.”

Spendlove, instead of looking disappointed, smiled anew. “Interesting you should say so, Captain. The coroner believes Mr. Perry has been dead a bit longer than a week, killed on the evening of the fifth of January. The night before you set off on your journey, in fact. Leaving London to come to Bath, which I’m told is not a fashionable thing this time of year.

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