Murder at the Seven Dials: A Bow Street Duchess Mystery (A Romantic Regency Historical Mystery) (Bow Street Duchess Mystery Series Book 1) by Cara Devlin

Author:Cara Devlin [Devlin, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: First Cup Press
Published: 2023-01-27T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane appeared a bit shabbier by the light of day. The façade needed a good scrubbing, especially near the sconces where soot blackened the limestone, and trash—crumbled playbills, broken glass bottles, a lady’s black glove—littered the street. The red silk tapestries that hung from the side of the building gave off a rich, lustrous quality at night, gleaming in the light cast from lampposts, but the weak early morning sunshine showed they were in fact thin and bleached to a salmon color.

Audrey waited for Carrigan to stop the carriage and open the door for her, her stomach in twists. Hugh Marsden had said he would meet her there, and with mounting concern, she realized she did not dread his presence. In fact, if she were being honest, she would have preferred it. The last time she’d been in the backrooms and corridors of the theatre she’d been completely out of her element; having him at her side had given her a sense of steadiness…even if he’d been an arrogant cad. Now, after his sobering reminder that the real murderer was still loose, a chill tracked up and down her spine when she considered entering the theatre alone.

Whether or not Mr. Marsden could be trusted remained to be seen. His reputation as a Bow Street officer was on the line with this case; he couldn’t possibly wish to be known as the man who’d arrested an innocent duke. However, his evident insult the evening before, when she’d accused him of only wanting what was best for himself, lingered in her mind. His honor did seem to mean something to him.

It was likely why he’d accepted the challenge for a duel from the newly titled Lord Neatham after Mr. Marsden was accused of ruining his sister—Mr. Marsden’s own half-sister, if the rumor of his status as a by-blow was correct. It sickened her to think of it. It would be the height of dishonor and depravity. Had he been guilty? Why else would the young woman have fled England, draped in shame?

Carrigan swung open the door and helped her to the curb. “The Runner’s here,” he said in his gruff tenor, cutting his eyes toward the opposite side of the street. Audrey released a breath, which was immediately followed by another twist of her stomach, this one quite different. It intensified as Hugh Marsden came around the rear of her carriage, his hands in his pockets. He wore a gray morning coat, black trousers and waistcoat, and a curiously well-tied cravat.

He and Carrigan exchanged a terse glance, and then the driver turned to Audrey. She read his expression easily; he was wary about this visit, and about her entering the theatre with Mr. Marsden. Society gossip wasn’t just for the lords and ladies; if anything, the servant class ran wild with more gossip than their employers. Carrigan glowered at Mr. Marsden as though he knew the scandal that the officer dragged behind him.

Audrey touched Carrigan’s meaty forearm to relay confidence.

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