His Dark Obsession (15 page)

“What do you know? Do you know who killed Florence? Who tried to kill me?”

Elma slowly nodded her head.

Sarah grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a small shake. “Tell me, Elma.”

“Lord Warrington,” Elma whispered, careful to not be overheard.

Sarah took a step back. “That…that is…it can’t be…no…it’s ridiculous! How could you say such a thing!”

“I have proof!” claimed Elma as she reached into the deep pocket of her skirt. Elma pulled out a folded note. “Here.”

For you.

P.

Sarah recognized the handwriting as Pierce’s from his previous note but she had never seen this one.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was lying next to the box of chocolates Florence ate. I’m the one who found her. I saw the box of chocolates and realized they looked like the ones you bought for her the day we had tea at Lyon’s Corner. I snatched up the note just in case you had written it. Then Mary entered before I had a chance to read it. Without thinking, I put it in my pocket and then left to find you. I went to Mr. Flopson’s but you weren’t there. When I got back to Mrs. Needham’s, the constables were hauling you away. I was so frightened I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to Rose’s, my…my painter friend.”

Sarah was barely listening to Elma’s rambling explanation. Did Pierce try to kill her and got poor Florence instead? Only to try again when she was under his protection? No. It was too senseless. For what purpose? She was nothing to him! Well, perhaps nothing but still. Then Sarah thought back. He was very angry upon learning she was still an innocent. He had sent the chocolates that same night. Could it be he thought she had somehow seduced him? Did he think she was some scheming American trying to catch him in a parson’s trap? Could it be the real reason why he was angry the day she went to Mr. Flopson’s instead of him was he had planned on finishing the job? Maybe the only reason he rescued her from prison was to keep her from mentioning his name and dragging him into a scandal. Then there was the mysterious Linked Ring Brotherhood mentioned by Victoria.
It was all too much!

“Oh Elma, it can’t be. It just can’t,” muttered Sarah as she rubbed her temples. Her head hurt just contemplating it all.

“There is no other explanation, Sarah! He sent the chocolates for
you
. He even tried to kill you again with the tea!” she urged in hush whispers.

Oh god, the tea, thought Sarah.
Pierce had brought the tray in himself. She remembered him saying something about a parlor maid spilling it but what if that was just a ruse? What if he was covering up the fact he had put arsenic in the teapot. Good lord, he could have killed Victoria as well!

“What do I do?”

“We have to get you out of here!”

“That is not possible. He has footman at every door. The magistrate bound me over into his custody. Oh, Elma. What am I going to do?”

“You are not safe here. We have to get you away. Far away. No one is going to believe you over a powerful lord. If he doesn’t murder you, he will see you hanged for Florence’s murder. You have no choice, Sarah. You have to leave for America.”

“America?”

America was her birthplace and her home and yet, her months in England had changed her. Like her grandmother, she felt more at home here, in London. The idea of returning to America had never occurred to her. Now she supposed she had no choice. Elma was right, no one would take her word over an influential lord.

“Sarah?”

“You’re right. I need to leave now but how…how…” Sarah paced around the parlor as Elma anxiously looked on. “I have it. We will go to the conservatory. I will tell the footman I wanted to show you around. We will then slip through one of the low windows and escape through the grounds.”

“What happens if they catch us?”

“They won’t,” assured a confident Sarah, “but we need to hurry. Pierce is likely to check on us at any moment.”

Sarah had a moment of doubt as they entered the conservatory. The balmy floral scent, the lush greenery, the colorful flowers…all reminded her of her first session with Pierce. His sensual intensity. The spell he expertly wove over her. With deep sadness, she realized it was all probably a lie. An intricate seduction. A game.

With hardened resolve, Sarah wove her way through the trees and rose bushes to the back of the conservatory. Opening a large windowpane, they climbed over the ledge. It was just a short drop to the grass below. In no time, they were hand and hand running to the back gate. They would run to the street and hail a hansom cab to take Sarah directly to the docks. She would book passage on the next steamer to America.

Neither girl noticed the two footmen following closely behind.

“Stupid tide!” groused Sarah.

“Time and tide wait for no man,” was Elma’s sage response. At Sarah’s odd expression, she looked affronted. “What? Just because I’m Scottish I can’t read Chaucer?”

“I’m fleeing for my life, can we postpone the discussion on English medieval literature?” grumbled Sarah.

“The Captain says he can’t launch until high tide. There is nothing to be done,” placated Elma.

High tide was not for at least four hours. Plenty of time for Sarah to reconsider her rash decision to run. They were holed up in an upstairs room of a tavern along the docks. Their afternoon tea consisted of weak tea, certainly made from old used tealeaves, brown bread, brown butter and something that looked suspiciously like souse. Sarah cringed.

After leaving Warrington House, they had no choice but to sneak into Mrs. Needham’s for Sarah to grab her stashed money and a few personal items before leaving for the London docks. While there were always plenty of ships leaving for America, the delay in getting her things caused them to miss the tide. The next steamers would not leave till late tonight. At least Elma offered to stay and keep her company. Sarah was extremely grateful. The servants at the tavern had been kind but it did not escape her notice they catered to a rough crowd.

“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” asked Sarah for the third time.

“Posh, what would I do in America? My place is here. Besides, maybe one day you could return?” she answered hopefully. Although they both knew with a vengeful, powerful lord on her heels and a murder charge over her head, Sarah was never returning.

They both fell into a mournful silence. Sarah was left with her thoughts of doubt and dread.
Had she made a mistake in assuming the worst of Pierce?

~*~

The patrons of the tavern turned with curiosity as a bright flash of white light from the door opening lit the dim interior. Seeing the intruder’s aristocratic bearing and the obvious cold-rage emanating from his hard expression, they quickly turned back to their pints.

Pierce scanned the dark room filled with rough wood benches and even rougher looking sailors. For the hundredth time in the last two hours, he swallowed a curse. When he got his hands on Sarah, he would dole out a punishment she would not soon forget.

“Where is she?”

His question was directed at the footman he found guarding the back staircase. He had no time for pleasantries or affirmations of a job well done. It had taken an hour for the second footman to return to Warrington House with the details on the women’s location. One whole hour. An excruciating hour with all sorts of dire imaginings. The constables could grab her for attempting to flee. Whoever was out to murder her could capture her and finally succeed. Not to mention all the brigands and criminals she would encounter in the seedier part of London.

Pierce had no idea why she fled and quite frankly, he didn’t care at the moment. All he cared about was getting his hands on her, ensuring she was safe and then tanning her precious hide with a leather shaving strap.

The footman gestured above him. “Up there in a private room, my lord.”

Pierce nodded with his head. “Go wait with the carriage.” The footman fled his imposing presence without another word.

Pierce took the stairs one at a time. Trying to rein in his temper with each step.

~*~

There was no warning.

The decrepit door flung open so violently it fell off its hinges.

Sarah and Elma rose with a shriek.

Outlined against the faint light of the hallway was a tall figure garbed in black riding boots, tight fitting dove gray trousers and a heavy black frock coat over a simple white linen shirt with no waistcoat or jacket, as if he had dressed in haste. His bowed head slowly rose. Under the brim of his top hat, Sarah saw a pair of ice blue eyes.

“Pierce!”

Pierce took a step into the shabby room. His anger ratcheted up yet another notch when he saw Sarah back away, putting her friend protectively behind her.

What sounded distinctly like an animal growl slipped past his clenched jaw. Pierce prowled farther into the room.

Sarah held out a small hand defensively. “I’m leaving! I’m leaving! Please, you don’t have to kill me!” she cried out.

Her words brought him up short.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he ground out.

“I know. I know how you sent those arsenic chocolates and how you tried again with the tea. I know you tried to kill me because you are worried I would trap you into marriage. I promise I never had any such intentions! Please, just let me go!”

There was that phrase again…let her go.
Never.

“Sarah?” squeaked a frightened Elma from behind her back.

Pierce walked to the front of the room and threw open the window sash. Both girls gasped.
Oh god, he was going to throw them out the window!
Pierce threw them both an acerbic look before calling down to his footman. Moments later, the lad appeared at the door.

Pierce advanced on the women, ignoring their shrieks of terror. Pierce pulled Elma out from behind Sarah by her upper arm.

“Accompany her back to Mrs. Needham’s.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Elma kicked the footman in the shins and ran back to Sarah. “No! No! I won’t let you hurt her.”

Grabbing Elma by the arm once again, Pierce dragged her away. “Trust me the only pain I intend to inflict on your friend is not the kind she would wish you to witness,” he rasped into her ear. Without another word, he shoved Elma into the footman’s waiting arms with a gesture for them to leave.

Keeping his back turned, he took several deep breaths to calm his growing anger. He turned around just in time to catch Sarah, creeping towards him with an empty chamber pot raised over her head. Effortlessly pushing the pot out of her hands, he wrapped his arm around her small waist, pulling her close. Sarah started to struggle, pounding his broad chest with her fists.

“Enough,” he roared. Sarah stilled.

“On all that is holy, why would you think I am the one trying to kill you?”

“I have proof,” she offered tremulously.

Pierce raised his brow, curious to see what this proof could be.

“In my pocket, I have your note.”

It was incredibly foolish to tell him about the note but Sarah was already beginning to doubt his guilt. Seeing him standing there looking angry but also hurt at her accusations she realized now she had been wrong.

Pierce reached into the deep pocket of her dress. Sarah closed her eyes stifling a moan when the knuckles of his strong hand brushed her thigh. Even through the fabric of the dress and petticoat, she could still feel the warmth of his skin.

Taking a moment to read the note, he looked back at Sarah. “I didn’t write this,” he stated flatly.

“What? No. It has to be you. I recognize the writing. It was left with a box of poisoned chocolates for me. Florence took them out of spite and now she is dead.”

“My love, I will allow the hand is similar, an exceptional copy of my writing, but I can tell you emphatically, this note is not from me.”

Seeing her lingering doubt and confusion, he decided to explain further, her punishment could wait…but not for long.

Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to one of the wooden chairs by the cold fire. Placing her on his lap, he gave a strong look of warning when she tried to leap off. With a sigh, Sarah stayed where she was put.

Holding up the note for her inspection, he said, “While the writing may be a true copy, the card stock is not. If you will recall my original note to you was on heavy cream card stock with the Warrington shield embossed on the front.”

Sarah took the note from his hand. She now noticed what she should have immediately before. The note was on thin cheap paper. Of course a titled gentleman would have his own paper stock.

Still not completely convinced, she offered, “What if you were trying to evade detection? You wouldn’t use your own private paper.”

“If I was trying to evade detection, I would not have signed it “P” which even the simplest of detectives would quickly discern stood for Pierce given our previous acquaintance. Furthermore, when I give you a gift, trust it will not be some humble chocolates. It will be something far more intimate. Something that I could see flash and sparkle against your creamy skin,” he murmured along the slim column of her neck.

Sarah blushed at the inference…and his touch.

“I don’t understand. I have no enemies. It is clear someone killed Florence trying to get to me and they wanted me to think it was you!”

“Do you trust Elma?” he offered.

Sarah thought of Elma’s morbid fascination with murder and crime. She was forever reading those gruesome broadsheets and regaling Sarah with tales of mayhem. It was Elma who brought her the note and convinced her to flee. She also suspiciously disappeared for days after the murder. Sarah shook her head. No. She would not fall prey to these thoughts a second time. “I do. Elma is my friend. We have never quarreled. I cannot imagine even the slightest reason she would have to harm me.”

“Very well then. What about the rest of Mrs. Needham’s household? I believe we can assume it was not Mrs. Needham since a scandal of this nature would only do her business harm.”

“And she is the one who told you I was taken away!”

Sarah’s heart warmed at the reminder. He looked so powerful and strong standing there fighting with the magistrate on her behalf. She could not imagine a safer place than within his protective embrace at that moment.
Why had she been so quick to forget?

“True. How about the little parlor maid?”

“Mary? No. Mary might hide away and shirk her duties but Mary is a sweet little thing. It can’t be her. The other servants never took a shine to me because of Florence but I had so little interaction with them I cannot see it would lead to anything this severe.”

Pierce rubbed soft circles on her back. He knew this must be distressing for her. If possible, it was worse for him. There was an unknown threat against the woman he loved. Yes, loved. He realized it now with perfect clarify. His spirited American beauty had completely taken him in…had become almost an obsession. He needed to be near her, to hold her, to protect her. He could not imagine the rest of his life without her charming presence by his side. Now someone was threatening to steal that happiness from him. He had to figure this out before that unknown shadowy figure succeeded.

Something teased the back of Pierce’s mind. A transient memory.

“What about Victoria?”

“Victoria! No, it couldn’t be.”

Still Pierce could not shake the lingering thought.

“Have you ever discussed me with Victoria?”

Sarah thought of Victoria’s warning against Pierce. Now that he had calmed down, she was reluctant to make him angry again by mentioning the secret society. With a deep, fortifying breath, Sarah hesitantly admitted, “She told me about the Linked Rings Brotherhood.”

Pierce looked at her with surprise. “And just what did she say?”

“She said they were a debauched secret society who liked to take the maidenheads of innocents.”

Sarah braced herself for his wrath and was unprepared for his…laughter?

Pierce threw his head back on a bark of laughter. At Sarah’s affronted look, he offered, “Now is not the time to discuss this. One day soon you will meet the fellows from my club and can judge for yourself their level of debasement.”

Considering the matter settled, Pierce continued with his questions regarding Victoria. “So you had no quarrels with the lass?”

Sarah shook her head. Still, the more Pierce thought about it the more it fit. Victoria was home the day Florence was murdered. It was her statement that caused Sarah to be arrested. Shortly after her visit, Sarah fell ill from an attempted poisoning.
But why?

Pierce thought back to the day he met Sarah. Mrs. Needham introduced all her girls, but Victoria was absent. Yet…that elusive memory came to the fore. When Pierce was searching for Sarah the first time, Victoria greeted him with his Christian name, as if they were acquainted. Later, she commented on his fondness for seed cake. Pierce could not imagine how she would have come across such an intimate detail when even Sarah was not aware it. Not wishing to alarm Sarah, Pierce resolved to look further into the matter.

Rising with Sarah still in his arms, he made his way to the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“But my things…my ticket to America!”

Pierce’s intense gaze scanned her face. “Leave all of it. You are not going anywhere.”

Piqued at his handling of her, Sarah retorted, “You don’t have the right to tell me where I am or am not going!”

“A situation I intend to rectify as soon as possible.”

Pulling on the lapel of his frock coat, Sarah whispered the true reason why she was fighting returning to his home. “Are you going to punish me for running away?”