Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library (The Rogue’s Alliance #1)

Chapter Nineteen

C harlotte, Edith, and Louisa were gathered in the drawing room of Charlotte’s family home. Her father was in his study while her mother made morning calls on their neighbors. William was at one of his clubs.

“What happened at Thorne’s?” Louisa asked impatiently as soon as she was seated. “My brothers won’t discuss it in front of me.”

“There was a shooting, but it wasn’t at Thorne’s. It occurred on Bruton Lane,” Charlotte replied with a shudder.

“And Lord Ashford was somehow involved?” Edith asked worriedly, her hands clasped in her lap.

“Lord Ashford was present when the shooting occurred. He was not injured. William visited one of the coffee shops on St. James’s Street this morning and heard all about it.”

“Do tell.” Edith leaned in.

A maid entered with a tea tray. Once the tray was placed on a low table in front of Charlotte, she said to the maid, “Please see that we are not disturbed.”

The young woman nodded, exited the room, and shut the oak door behind her. The tantalizing aroma of warm cinnamon buns filled the room.

Charlotte poured tea and handed out teacups. “Lord Ashford was pursuing some suspicious gentlemen who’d been lurking across the street from Thorne’s. He proceeded to speak to them, and they ran away. The marquess apprehended one of the men, and the second man shot his companion.”

“Oh my! The killer must have thought the man would give away some information leading back to him.” Louisa nodded, stirring her tea. “It makes sense to kill him.”

She and Edith looked askance at their friend.

As she placed her teacup and saucer on a fiddleback mahogany table at her elbow, Louisa said with a shrug, “I didn’t say it was a nice thing to do.”

“William told me Lord Ashford made a statement to the Bow Street Runners,” Charlotte continued. “There are rumors he went out last evening looking for Mr. Landry, along with Lord Wycliffe and Baron Harbury.”

“The marquess and his friends should be careful,” Edith said softly, taking a sip of her tea. “I can’t believe people were murdered over Thorne’s Lending Library.”

Charlotte found it hard to believe herself. If Landry had hired thugs willing to commit murder- She must stay calm. Lord Ashford would be careful, and his friend Lord Wycliffe looked more than capable of dealing with danger.

“I did overhear one of my brother’s discussing that dark, brooding friend of Lord Ashford’s,” Louisa said conversationally, her attention on her teacup.

“You know very well the man’s name is Lord Cecil Wycliffe,” Edith responded with a roll of her eyes. “What did your brother say about him?”

Looking up, Louisa leaned forward in her chair, an animated expression on her face. “There are rumors Wycliffe left the Home Office to pursue the men he believes murdered one of his brothers and is squandering his fortune tracking down the killers. My brother also mentioned a violent London cabal named the Rogues Alliance. It is said James Landry is a member of the alliance. I didn’t hear anything else as I was caught eavesdropping by one of the maids.”

The reason the marquess was keeping an eye on Thorne’s was now clear. Lord Ashford was helping to save the library merely to thwart Mr. Landry and help his friend Lord Wycliffe. James Landry and his associates were possibly more dangerous than she knew. She hated to admit it, but her trip to Bishopsgate had been foolhardy.

“I do hope Lord Ashford and his friends know what they’re doing,” she said, attempting to keep the anxiety she felt for the marquess from her tone of voice.

“I’m sure Lord Ashford can take care of himself,” Edith said with a weak smile, patting one of Charlotte’s hands. “Do drink your tea. A strong cup of tea will make you feel better.”

She nodded in reply but secretly thought she would only feel better when Lord Ashford advised William it was safe to go back to Thorne’s. Returning to the lending library would mean the whole terrifying business was over.

* * * * *

T he next day, Ashford , his elderly solicitor, and Nathaniel presented themselves at the offices of Mr. Jacobsen in Bishopsgate. The landlord’s son was seated behind his desk.

“Please notify your employer that I wish to speak to him about the murders committed yesterday. Advise him if he does not speak with me, I will be forced to tell the Bow Street Runners of my meeting with him two days ago. The police can then make what they will of his connection to James Landry.” Ashford and his companions stood silently as the clerk rushed across the room to his father’s office.

“Mr. Jacobsen will see you now,” the young man said when he returned a moment later. “Please go in.”

Ashford walked to the office and entered, his solicitor and Nathaniel accompanying him.

“Please have a seat, Lord Ashford,” Mr. Jacobsen said civilly, standing behind his desk.

“This is my business partner Baron Harbury and my solicitor, Mr. Gibbs.” Ashford took a seat, and the other men did as well. “We want to buy the property Thorne’s sits on.”

“To what purpose?” Jacobsen asked, his brow furrowed.

He shrugged. “To protect Thorne’s. You currently own the property. I want to buy it.”

“I own the whole street.” Mr. Jacobsen shook his head. “Why should I sell the land to you?”

He replied smoothly, “You were hoping for a deal with James Landry. Landry is now associated with the murder of two of his thugs.”

“Murder?” The other man’s face had gone pale. “I heard of a shooting in Bruton Lane. I didn’t realize Mr. Landry was connected to that unfortunate event.”

He nodded. “The murderer himself was murdered, strangled with someone’s bare hands. The police think it was a crime of passion. I understand Landry can be a violent man when he is angry.”

“So, I should anger him further by selling to you?” The man was now visibly sweating.

Ashford spread his hands wide. “If you don’t, I will tell the Bow Street Runners that I met with you before the killings and gave you information that may have led to the crime.”

“That is a bald-faced lie!” Jacobsen’s complexion was now purple with outrage. After several deep breaths he asked the solicitor, “You are bound to uphold the law, yet you would allow his lordship to lie about such a thing?”

Mr. Gibbs remained silent as he removed a sheaf of papers from a leather bag he carried and placed them on the desk in front of Mr. Jacobsen. Nathaniel merely sat quietly, looking unconcerned by the heated conversation.

Despite the anger he felt at the landlord for possibly putting Charlotte in danger, Ashford kept his voice even as he asked Jacobsen, “Did you tell James Landry that you received a visit from a Lady Charlotte?”

“You know the lady?” the man asked cautiously in reply. Jacobsen looked as if he might have a stroke at any moment.

Ashford balled his fists at his side. “If anything happens to her because of your loose lips, you’ll need protection from me.”

“Why do you want to save Thorne’s so badly?” the landlord asked. His voice sounded genuinely curious.

Ashford replied, “Lord Harbury and I feel Landry should not profit from intimidation and murder. We both will do what we must to prevent the bounder from doing so.”

Nathaniel finally spoke. “You are Mr. Thorne’s current landlord. There are witnesses to some of the sabotage his business has faced. Someone could even say that perhaps Landry wasn’t the culprit.”

“You would let me be incriminated?” Jacobsen’s eyes bulged.

The baron nodded. “Your just desserts for being in league with such a scoundrel.”

Ashford spoke into a tense silence, “If it keeps Landry from getting his hands on that land, you could be implicated in sabotage and murder.”

Jacobsen put his face in his hands. He asked in a muffled voice, “What choice do I have? I’m ruined either way.”

“I don’t think Landry will dare touch you,” he said to the other man. “Even if he is never brought up on charges for murder, the Bow Street Runners will be keeping a close eye on him. He will be afraid to put a foot out of place for some time.”

“And you can protect me from him?” Jacobsen raised his head, a glimmer of hope in his expression.

He nodded. “I have learned that you have family in Yorkshire. You and your son should leave London as soon as possible and head north. I will help protect you. If you sell me the property.”

“I’ll do it.” Jacobsen shook his head mournfully. “Where do I sign?”

* * * * *

A fter their gathering at Charlotte’s townhouse, Edith and Louisa returned to their homes. The friends had decided they would all plead illness and stay in the rest of the day. If Lord Ashford was worried about recent events in London, they would respect his concern.

Her mother, pale-faced, returned from an afternoon appointment and found Charlotte in the drawing room. “Did you hear about the shooting near your library?”

“William mentioned it,” she replied vaguely.

“You are to stay away from Thorne’s for the near future. I will discuss the matter with William and your father. Your brother should have informed me about the shooting.” The older woman looked as if she was on the verge of scolding Charlotte in place of William.

She couldn’t suppress a groan. Who knew how long her mother would ban her from the lending library?

“Are you all right, my dear?” her mother asked worriedly.

“I feel a migraine coming on.” It was only a little white lie. She wanted her mother to know as little as possible about recent events at Thorne’s and perhaps her concern for Charlotte would distract her from her anxiety about events near Thorne’s.

“A migraine, my dear?” her mother asked worriedly after Charlotte complained of the malady. “You must lie down. I will have the housekeeper make you a tincture.”

“Thank you, Mother,” she replied with a brief smile.

Her mother made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go upstairs to your bedchamber. And no reading. You should rest your eyes. You always have your nose stuck in a book.”

Charlotte didn’t mind a quiet afternoon in her bedchamber as there was always a book under her pillow. She could sneak in a few pages around the watchful eye of her mother.

After drinking a horrible tasting tincture courtesy of the housekeeper, Charlotte nodded off for a bit, comfortable under a warm coverlet. She awoke to the sound of her brother’s voice.

“Wake up sleepyhead,” he said softly. “It’s William.”

Sitting up, she yawned and stretched her arms. “Any news about Thorne’s?”

“None.” He added, “The excitement has blown over.”

“It would be nice if it has,” she replied somberly.

“Mother said you had a migraine,” William said with a frown, concern in his voice.

“Merely an excuse to forestall mother speaking to me further about Thorne’s.” She settled back against several propped-up pillows on the bed.

Her brother raised a brow. “Aren’t you going to ask me about Lord Ashford?”

“I imagine if you had news of the marquess, you would have told me already.” She kept her tone light. William need not know how worried she was about Lord Ashford.

“You play your cards close, dear sister,” William replied with a wink.

She ignored his statement. “Tell me about your day.”

He took a seat on the chair near her bed. “I went to the clubs to see what gossip is floating about. The shooting is still the talk of London.”

Charlotte peered at her brother, convinced by his indifferent tone of voice and careless shrug that something had occurred he didn’t want to tell her about.

“You look unsettled, brother. Is there something else? You did promise to be honest with me from now on.”

William rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I didn’t want to upset you. The man who shot Landry’s lackey was found dead himself.”

She gasped. “That is horrible? Do they know who killed him?”

“The rumors are the killer is a Mr. James Landry, but nobody can find him.”

It would not do for her to worry about events she couldn’t control. As far as she knew, Lord Ashford was out of harm’s way. She would hold onto that for now.

“Make yourself useful and see about getting me some tea,” she said lightly. “Tell Mother I feel somewhat better and have an appetite.”

William got to his feet. “You’re getting rather tyrannical, dear sister. I blame Louisa.”

With those words, her brother exited the room. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the bedchamber door.

“Enter!”

A maid appeared with a tray, Charlotte’s mother behind the girl. The tray held tea, bread and butter sandwiches, and ginger biscuits.

“The ginger should help your migraine, my dear,” her mother said, her face creased with worry.

The maid settled the tray on the small bedside table and took her leave. Charlotte’s mother poured the tea.

“Make sure you eat something and then get some more rest. You look a little peaked to me.”

She didn’t like to see her mother so anxious. “I’m feeling ever so much better. Thank you, Mother.”

“Just rest, my dear.” Her mother leaned in to kiss Charlotte’s forehead before leaving the room. The calming scent of rose water surrounded her.

When her mother was gone, she felt a twinge of guilt for her duplicity. She reasoned that guarding her parents from the unpleasant events in Town was surely excuse enough for the deception.

* * * * *

A shford spent the next day impatiently waiting for news of Landry. Cecil had informed him several runners were scouring London for the cit.

That afternoon he received a note from his friend.

Landry is at his office currently being interviewed by the constabulary. I will send an update when further details are known.

Ashford was relieved to receive no correspondence from Robbie notifying him of any problems at Thorne’s.

Despite taking chances with her safety in the past, Ashford trusted Charlotte and her friends to stay away from the library until he notified William it was safe to return. If he would allow himself to think on it, he knew in his heart that Charlotte was not a reckless young woman. If she was guilty of anything, it was caring too much about others.

An hour later, when Ashford was comfortably seated in a leather chair in his study, a footman announced the viscount.

“Have a seat,” Ashford said to Cecil with a wave. He’d given up trying to concentrate on correspondence and letters of business. Too often, thoughts of Lady Charlotte prevented him from getting any work done. Holding up his glass of port, he asked, “Would you care for one?”

Cecil shook his head and slumped onto a matching leather armchair. “Mr. Bones spent most of the morning outside the magistrate’s court in Bow Street. The runners are done interviewing Landry.”

He nodded. “What did they find out?”

“The man has an alibi. He was at a rout last night and then with his mistress until morning.” Cecil shrugged. “Several people will verify he attended the rout. His mistress and her maid verify the rest.”

Ashford sprang to his feet. “Of course! He has enough money to buy several alibis. It is as we expected. I must act before Landry decides to take further action against the lending library.”

“I agree.” Cecil rose from his chair. “What next?”

“We beard the lion in his den.” Ashford ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve had enough of the man. He may well get away with murder, but right now there is nothing we can do about that.”

Cecil nodded. “I came here in my plain town carriage. Let us collect Nathaniel and be on our way.”

“Excellent,” he replied. “There is enough gossip about James Landry at present. I can’t escape my part in it, but I’d rather not advertise the fact we’re looking for the man.”

The black coach was waiting outside Ashford’s townhouse. The day was bright and warm, incongruous weather for their grim mission.

Nathaniel’s abode was across the square from Ashford’s. The baron was at home, more than ready to accompany his friends. “My sister has visited Thorne’s several times. It pains me to think she or her friends could have been hurt by Landry’s tricks.”

The carriage ride to Cheapside in the afternoon traffic would take more than an hour, possibly two. Plenty of time for Ashford to tell Cecil about his and Nathaniel’s purchase of land in Berkeley Square. He settled back against the squabs in the carriage, steeled for whatever happened next.