House of Furies by Madeleine Roux

Author:Madeleine Roux
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-04-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

“When if ever did I sign over ownership of this establishment to you two gentlemen?” Mr. Morningside was dressed impeccably in indigo with a pale green cravat. The room seemed to shrink at his presence, and my eye went at once to his feet; they appeared normal, sheathed in glossy black boots.

“Really, sir, please, nobody is suggesting—”

“Anything of merit, how right you are, Colonel.” Mr. Morningside waved a folded piece of parchment back and forth as he wandered into the room. “This letter ought to clear young Louisa of any suspicion. The widow Eames was not robbed, and her correspondence suggests she had every intention of fleecing both you, Colonel Mayweather, and you, Mr. George Bremerton. If there are accusations to be flung about willy-nilly, it is not in her direction.” He paused when he reached Mrs. Haylam’s side, lazily finding my gaze and winking. “Unless of course you fancy her some enterprising young avenger of your honor, gentlemen?”

“Preposterous!” Colonel Mayweather half exploded with the word. He blinked hard, wringing out his hands and then his mustache. “Just . . . outrageous. To insult us and the widow in one breath—”

“The insult, I’m afraid, is hers to claim,” Mr. Morningside said, handing the unfinished letter to the Colonel. “Read it yourself. I believe you will find evidence enough to quench the flames of injustice.”

Before the old man could even finish reading the letter, Mr. Morningside extended his hand toward me, the very picture of calm certitude. “Now, Louisa, I think you should remove yourself from the room. There is no need for you to endure these unfounded allegations any longer. You must be exhausted.”

It was not a request, that much I knew. I stood without thinking, with one last look at Lee. Never had I felt such a tearing of my desires. I had no interest in staying in the room, but I also dreaded whatever Mr. Morningside might say to me in private. Did he know I had his book? But now I was standing, halfway to a decision, and I could not linger there without seeming suspicious. I might blurt out to these men that they were going to die here, that the widow was just the beginning, but what love had I for them when moments earlier they were ready to send me to the constable and then, presumably, the gallows?

“My condolences to you all,” I said softly, dipping down into a curtsy. “She seemed a very . . .”

Mr. Morningside’s golden eyes flashed at me.

“. . . accomplished woman.”

With that, I was being swept out of the room by Mr. Morningside, buoyed on a tide I felt powerless to stop. Mrs. Haylam said one more word to the men about taking solace in the tea and then followed us. Neither of them laid a finger on me, but it didn’t matter; I felt the combined force of their urgency and something else . . . elation, perhaps. Excitement.

The door to the Red Room closed with a bang.

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