The Hanged Man (13 page)

Alex hadn't known that women were allowed to participate, but when the Serpentine Swimming Club opened the race to nonmembers then it was no surprise that females had applied. That explained the size of the crowd and why groups of women were about: not merely to take the air, but to cheer their more adventurous sisters to victory.

The director called to straggling bathers to come to shore. Men and a few women waded clear, quickly dried and wrapped up.

Mad. Quite, quite mad, the lot of them.

Alex withdrew from the immediate edge, thinking to head for the bridge. The higher vantage would improve her view, and it was a logical meeting point. Fingate might be there already.

“I say, Alex, hold up!”

Bloody hell. Teddy. Why isn't he in church?
She couldn't pretend she'd not heard and waited for him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I needed to walk and to think.”

“So you weren't really meeting a friend?”

“I'm sorry. I couldn't bear to be in that press in the church. You know I don't like great numbers of people.”

“Yet here you are.”

“It's different out of doors. Please, Teddy, I need to be alone now. Go back.”

“I wouldn't think of it. You're much too pretty to be wandering alone with all these rough fellows about. I'll be your escort and so quiet you won't know I'm here.” He started to take her arm. This time she evaded his grasp.

“No.”

“There now, Mother wouldn't want us quarreling,” he said with a good-natured smile. She'd seen it before and it usually meant a trick.

She backed away a step. “I don't give a bloody damn.”

“What?” He was genuinely shocked.

“I need to be alone.”

“You don't want that, you just think you do.”

She pushed the damp veil clear of her face so he could see her eyes and thus have no doubt of her intent. “No one in Pendlebury House ever listened to me when I lived there, but by God one of you is going to listen to me now. Teddy, go back to church and let me have an hour's peace. I don't need your protection or company or anything else.”

“Fine words from you on a Christmas. Always one for playing the queen, thinking yourself so much better than us with all your running around the world. Well, you're not having your way. I'm sticking with you through thick or thin. It's for your own good, you silly nit. There's a man following you.”

“What?”

“When you flew away at the church gate this rum-looking savage took off as well. Made me think of a hawk after a mouse. I didn't like his look so I followed him. Lost him, but I found you, and you're not shifting me, so there.”

“What did he look like?”

“As I said, rough sort, unshaved; who doesn't shave on Christmas morning?”

“His height, his form, what was he wearing? Give me details!”

“I don't have any, it happened too quickly. He was there and gone, but I might spot him again if we walk around. Why is a man like that following you?”

It was past nine. Fingate could be anywhere and if she turned up with company he might not meet her. He wouldn't know that Teddy was family.

But who's this man? Fingate in disguise?

Perhaps. He might think she still lived with the Pendleburys and anticipated that she would enter the park by means of the Arthur Gate. Aside from her not being able to stand them—which he wouldn't know about—there was no reason why she shouldn't continue to live with family long after she reached her majority. Many young women did, even when they had independent means.

The alternative was the ghost. He must know she was a Pendlebury and had been watching for her to emerge from the house. Lennon was right about his tethered goat analogy. That frightened her as few things could. When it came down to it, she was desperately vulnerable. So was Teddy. His only experience with physical conflict was on the playing fields of his school. He was no rugby forward, so that left cricket or fencing or—

Stop panicking and think
.

“Have you a weapon?” she asked.

Teddy stared. “Why on earth should I want a weapon?”

“In case Hottentots attack, of course. Never mind, keep that walking stick of yours handy.”

She opened her reticule, closed her gloved hand over the grip of her revolver, and felt better for it.

He saw and was appalled. “What are you doing with
that
? We're in
London,
for God's sake.”

“Which is no safer than any other part of the world that has people in it.”

“And I thought Andrina was one for dramatics. Put that away. You're making me nervous.”

“Forget it and look around. Do you see the man?”

He gave the immediate area a hasty glance. “Can't say as I do. Let's go back to the house. A nice cup of tea and a slosh of brandy will set us both up and—”

“The devil take it, little Alex, what are
you
doing here?”

Though they'd been moving steadily toward the Serpentine Bridge and were on the watch, James Fonteyn appeared out of God knows where, falling into step with them. Alex nearly jumped out of her skin and had to abort a movement to bring her hidden revolver to bear.

“Go away,” she snarled.

“Can't do that, as I went to a good deal of effort to get here. Actually walked. Walked every step from my digs to this if you can believe it. That's far too much exercise to be healthy.” James did indeed look worse for wear, his eyes blurry and his nose red, but he was in his best coat and hat, and swaggered with a silver-trimmed walking stick. He was also shaved and couldn't be the man Teddy had seen.

She stopped to face James. “I can't talk to you, I have to meet someone and I must be alone to meet him.”

“Oh, ho!”

“Don't be vulgar.”

“Never, just curious, and you're not alone, you've company off your port bow, and he's in want of an introduction before he bursts.”

That described Teddy with embarrassing accuracy. He eyed the intruder on their duet with the entrenched politeness of his class, which was clearly at odds with a need to identify the new fellow and thus present the appropriate social face.

Alex gave up and conducted the necessities that would allow two young gentlemen of the upper castes to exchange cordial greetings. She felt ridiculous, and this put her too much in mind of the last time she'd done it. She kept glancing around, dreading the sight of hooded men with air guns, yet hoping to spot Fingate. He'd not come within yards of her if she was lumbered with escorts. But if she shed her cousins, then she might be vulnerable to the ghost.

“James, why are you here?” she asked.

“Come to see the swimming race. One of my chums from the Elysian Club is in it. Thought I'd put a shilling on his nose just for a bit of fun. Happened to see you and thought I'd give greeting.” He addressed Teddy. “It's a disgrace, Alex and I live on opposite ends of the same street and hardly ever see each other.”

Teddy agreed it was disgraceful. “She should have asked you to put her up after the fire and saved a trip across town to Pendlebury House.”

“Fire? What fire?”

“Her neighbors had a fire and she couldn't stay for the smoke. She's with the family at Pendlebury House until it clears.”

James shook his head. “I never saw a fire, but then I was celebrating rather a lot last night. Could have been a war on and I'd have missed it. Alex, why didn't you come tell me?”

She'd been holding her breath, expecting her lie to be discovered, but James had saved things. “I did, but everyone was too drunk for sense.”

James found that amusing. “Too true. Cousin Alex is being kind. My humble abode is crammed to the rafters with medical students and they're all chaps and rather a boisterous lot. Wouldn't be appropriate having a female under my roof even if she is my cousin. And the noise! I'm used to it, but Alex likes her quiet.”

“Strange how we've never met,” said Teddy.

“Is it not? Different circles, I expect, but there should be some overlap of acquaintances, always is in this town. See here, Alex is
our
overlap.”

Teddy liked that. “We're practically related, then. You should come to my club for dinner. Let me invite you now, here's my card.…”

James provided one of his own in turn, and Alex wondered if something wholly regrettable would result from this new mix of Pendleburys and Fonteyns. It would be her bad luck indeed if they became best friends; they'd start comparing notes and swapping childhood stories about her.

The three of them made it to the Serpentine Bridge, which proved a perilous place to walk. The sleet from last night had frozen on the cold stones. Ashes and straw had been thrown down to aid the footing, but the only effective cure was sunshine. None today in that thick, dreary sky—it was the same dull gray as the water.

They found a place by the rail and looked down the twisting length of the water. People who had gathered on both banks to watch the race began dispersing.

“Drat, I missed placing a wager,” said James. “That's what I get for putting family above sport.”

The contest over, the participants were emerging and wrapping up against the wind. Three were awarded medals from the swimming club.

“First place to a female, by God! Wish I'd seen that mermaid splashing about. There's something to toast at your ladies club, Alex … Alex?”

She'd put her back to the view, separating herself from them to look at people on the bridge. She leaned close, whispering, “Keep Teddy here. It's important.”

Fingate—she was sure of it, having spotted a man in a long coat behind a group of onlookers. He was the right height. She moved toward him, tugging off one glove.

He caught sight of her and pulled his muffler down, revealing his face. She felt a wash of relief, her own, though his was plain to see. He clutched a walking stick and used it to aid his footing as he navigated from one patch of straw to another.

“Bless you, bless you for coming,” he said. “I'm so sorry.”

The years fled and she was fifteen again and a bit in awe of Fingate, who seemed to know how to do everything. Traveling the most dangerous parts of the world or running an errand in the heart of London were all one to him, to be met with the same amiable face and outlook.

But a decade of life reasserted itself as she drew close. Alex saw the influence of time and hard living on him, along with a profound sadness in his eyes. His master and longtime friend was dead, and Fingate had obviously wept his grief while she had not.

“I am so sorry,” he repeated, his voice unsteady.

She held his hand in both of hers, a gesture of friendship and trust she did not lightly undertake, given the risk of consequences to her emotions. “I know. It's all right. We must talk. They're after you for Father's murder.”

“Murder. Yes. I knew he couldn't have—it's too awful.”

“You must come with me to the Psychic Service and tell them everything you know. They've taken over the case from Scotland Yard. A Reader will hear you out.”

“Impossible. I'd have gone there myself, but—no, I can't.”

“Why?”

“There's no knowing who to trust. Your father was inquiring into something delicate for the Home Office.”

“What would that be? Did Uncle Leo know?”

“There's no proof for it, but orders came from high up. His lordship did not say how high. It was a close secret, because of worry about spies within the office itself.”

Ridiculous, but she had to hear more. “We're in the open here. Let's find a quiet place away from the cold. Tell me everything and we'll—”

“Please, miss, you have to arrange a meeting with Lord Richard Desmond. Your father said he was the one man in England besides the Lord Consort who could be trusted. I know it's mad, but perhaps your uncle Leopold can clear a path. What's wrong?”

“Father knew Lord Richard?”

“They corresponded.”

That explained how Richard knew so much about her and her history. But why was it possible for Father to write to an acquaintance and not to her? “I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“It's a state secret. Oh, bother that. Lord Richard was killed the same night.”

Fingate's shock was genuine. She felt it through her contact with him, along with the rush of fear that followed. “How?”

“A group of masked men came to Harley Street and ambushed Lord Richard in his coach, wounding him with some type of air gun. I got him away, but they followed us and finished him off.”

“Lord Richard was
there
?”

“As part of the investigation.”

“Dear God.”

Alex's mind spun rapidly with Fingate's information. A connection between her father and … so Lord Richard had not come because of her inadvertent violation in regulations. It simply wasn't important enough. But the death, the murder, of a friend, would bring him thundering in like a Zeus on a rampage. He'd already known the true identity of Dr. Kemp, so he must have known something about that investigation.

Who else at the Service knew?

“Have you had any encounter with or news of such men?” she asked.

Again, shock. “Oh, Miss, you don't think
I
brought them?”

“That's exactly what will be thought unless you come in and tell everything to a Reader. They'll know you're telling the truth and can move this forward.”

“You're Reading me? Right now?” He didn't pull away, though.

“It's my duty.”

He nodded, understanding. “Fair enough. It's best you don't have doubts.”

“Very well. Now tell me: Who killed Father? Have you any idea? Why was he posing as Dr. Kemp?”