Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) Read Online Free
back to her, and for a moment she wished Wilbert would kiss her again.
But the case was on. Emotion had to be cast aside. They left the garden and went to find Lady Lavery.
*****
Wilbert had lost count of how many times Lucia had saved his life. She never seemed to think it was a big thing. She never mentioned it afterwards. And if he ever dared to thank her for it, she brushed it aside as though it was of no concern. He tied the pipe in the handkerchief, wrapped it once more, and put it in his jacket pocket. Here he was, an officer of Scotland Yard, with cyanide and opium on his person! How his superiors would scream! Lucia was watching him. Her eyes were wide and bright, even in the torchlight—bright as only a case could make them. Wilbert thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her lips were slightly parted. Wilbert thought – madly – that she was getting ready for a kiss.
But then she turned and left the garden. Wilbert followed, and soon they were in the drawing-room, where Lady Lavery sat, an ignored novel open before her.
“My lady,” Wilbert said. Lucia melted into the shadows. Wilbert did the “emotional parts” (as Lucia called them) because Lucia claimed she was stunted in that way. “I fear there this something you need to tell us, my lady,” Wilbert went on, standing a respectful distance from her. “It concerns the Viking, Malcolm Radfoot.” She flinched at the name. “You know him, do you not, my lady? You do not need to be afraid. I have no desire to make this secret known. I just need to confirm that we are correct.” He paused, and then went on: “I need to confirm that he is, in fact, your son.”
“How dare you!” Lady Lavery cried, rising from her seat. “What scandal do you bring into my home! What lies! I am a quiet widow! Yes, yes, a quiet widow and nothing more! How dare you imply otherwise! I have never heard such nonsense, such slander, in my life! Oh, oh, if my husband were alive! He would tell you where to get off!”
Wilbert waited for her outburst to end, and then produced the poem. He read it, ignoring her looks of anguish, and then handed her the note so that she could read it for herself. “He has been on the grounds,” Wilbert said. “I believe the only reason he killed the boy, in fact, was to get us all on the grounds together. Me, because I almost caught him last time. You, because you are his mother. And Lucia because she is the best detective in England. Oh, it would make quite an article, would it not? Quite a return for the Viking? My lady, we need answers.”
“He’s taught himself to read and write,” Lady Lavery muttered at length.
“I beg your pardon?” Wilbert said, moving closer.
“I’ll tell you the story,” Lady Lavery said. “But you must promise to keep it a secret, forever!”
“I promise.”
Lady Lavery turned to Lucia. “And you.”
Lucia shrugged. “You have my word.”
“Very well,” Lady Lavery said. She slumped down upon the chair. “I was a young woman, not much older than a girl, when it happened. He was a brutish man. He—he fouled my honor, you understand? I did not wish it, but he did it anyway. He was the son of a very wealthy man, a merchant, but not a highborn man. He kept me prisoner – as his ‘guest’ – in Scotland in the middle of nowhere to nine months, as the child grew within me. It was horrid. It will sound abhorrent, but I wanted nothing so much as to lose the child. It was a parasite, feeding off me, a reminder of this evil man. When the baby was born, he took it from me and commanded me to leave and never return. I admit I did not fight. I let him have the child, and I returned to England where I met Lord Lavery. To the day he died, he never knew of the vicious affair.
“But sixteen years later, the merchant’s son sent me a letter. It detailed what he had done to my son. I can hardly speak of it. He left the boy in complete darkness, without companionship, for the first twelve
But the case was on. Emotion had to be cast aside. They left the garden and went to find Lady Lavery.
*****
Wilbert had lost count of how many times Lucia had saved his life. She never seemed to think it was a big thing. She never mentioned it afterwards. And if he ever dared to thank her for it, she brushed it aside as though it was of no concern. He tied the pipe in the handkerchief, wrapped it once more, and put it in his jacket pocket. Here he was, an officer of Scotland Yard, with cyanide and opium on his person! How his superiors would scream! Lucia was watching him. Her eyes were wide and bright, even in the torchlight—bright as only a case could make them. Wilbert thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her lips were slightly parted. Wilbert thought – madly – that she was getting ready for a kiss.
But then she turned and left the garden. Wilbert followed, and soon they were in the drawing-room, where Lady Lavery sat, an ignored novel open before her.
“My lady,” Wilbert said. Lucia melted into the shadows. Wilbert did the “emotional parts” (as Lucia called them) because Lucia claimed she was stunted in that way. “I fear there this something you need to tell us, my lady,” Wilbert went on, standing a respectful distance from her. “It concerns the Viking, Malcolm Radfoot.” She flinched at the name. “You know him, do you not, my lady? You do not need to be afraid. I have no desire to make this secret known. I just need to confirm that we are correct.” He paused, and then went on: “I need to confirm that he is, in fact, your son.”
“How dare you!” Lady Lavery cried, rising from her seat. “What scandal do you bring into my home! What lies! I am a quiet widow! Yes, yes, a quiet widow and nothing more! How dare you imply otherwise! I have never heard such nonsense, such slander, in my life! Oh, oh, if my husband were alive! He would tell you where to get off!”
Wilbert waited for her outburst to end, and then produced the poem. He read it, ignoring her looks of anguish, and then handed her the note so that she could read it for herself. “He has been on the grounds,” Wilbert said. “I believe the only reason he killed the boy, in fact, was to get us all on the grounds together. Me, because I almost caught him last time. You, because you are his mother. And Lucia because she is the best detective in England. Oh, it would make quite an article, would it not? Quite a return for the Viking? My lady, we need answers.”
“He’s taught himself to read and write,” Lady Lavery muttered at length.
“I beg your pardon?” Wilbert said, moving closer.
“I’ll tell you the story,” Lady Lavery said. “But you must promise to keep it a secret, forever!”
“I promise.”
Lady Lavery turned to Lucia. “And you.”
Lucia shrugged. “You have my word.”
“Very well,” Lady Lavery said. She slumped down upon the chair. “I was a young woman, not much older than a girl, when it happened. He was a brutish man. He—he fouled my honor, you understand? I did not wish it, but he did it anyway. He was the son of a very wealthy man, a merchant, but not a highborn man. He kept me prisoner – as his ‘guest’ – in Scotland in the middle of nowhere to nine months, as the child grew within me. It was horrid. It will sound abhorrent, but I wanted nothing so much as to lose the child. It was a parasite, feeding off me, a reminder of this evil man. When the baby was born, he took it from me and commanded me to leave and never return. I admit I did not fight. I let him have the child, and I returned to England where I met Lord Lavery. To the day he died, he never knew of the vicious affair.
“But sixteen years later, the merchant’s son sent me a letter. It detailed what he had done to my son. I can hardly speak of it. He left the boy in complete darkness, without companionship, for the first twelve
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