The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares

“So my brother is safe?” Jessica asked. “We thought so, but we couldn’t be sure.”

“He’s safe. So is my son, and several others. And several refused, to the point where the Leader’s suggestion made perfect sense. the best and the brightest only, with no longer a birthright to gain anyone entry.”

“The best and the brightest. And the most strategically placed and influential, I would imagine,” Gideon commented. “Please, go on.”

“I should think it would be obvious what happened after we’d decided what we had to do. We drew up a list. Noddy Selkirk was the first, and then Cecil Appleby—they seemed the safest to use as our tests before we could chance anything more bold. When no one suspected, we moved on. Orford, Sir George Dunmore, Baron Harden. Dead because they’d begun killing us, dead before they could rid themselves of the rest of us. We took revenge for those who had been destroyed, and vengeance on the rest.”

“And the Marquis of Mellis?” Gideon asked, and Jessica realized he was testing the woman with that question.

“No, not him. The marquis died before we could reach him. He would have been right after Archie and poor Caro’s Lord Charles, although she swears she still loves him and won’t yet agree. But he and Archie would have been the last for us. All the members now wear full masks, just like the Leader, added one by one over the last five years. It was like being spitted by a thing, and not a person at all. It’s horrible.”

She looked up at Gideon, her complexion gone deadly pale, her pupils suddenly two small dots in a sea of watery blue. “You…you didn’t know it was us who killed them? I thought—But you sent your wife to us. I was so sure—Oh, God, what have I done? Isn’t this what this is all about? You figured it out somehow? You wanted to know what I know about the Society or else you’d turn all of us over to the Crown to be hanged? But we have an agreement, my lord. Please. I beg you.”

Jessica heard herself springing to the women’s defense. “Gideon, they really had no other choice.” She was terrified he wouldn’t understand that the true victims were the wives. He had to see that. He had to!

“It’s all right, Jessica,” he said quickly. “And, yes, of course we knew, Mrs. Urban, we simply needed to hear you say the words. I’ll help you, just as I said I would. But there are a few more questions, if you can manage them.”

“Yes! Yes, anything I can tell you. Anything at all. Because we had no choice. You see that, my lady, don’t you? You said that. We had no choice.”

Jessica got up, went to sit beside Felicity Urban on the couch. She took the woman’s shaking hands in her own. She’d had Richard. These women had no one but themselves and with their children to consider. “No choice, and every reason. We understand, truly we do. But I must ask about my father and his wife. Why them?”

Felicity looked from Jessica to Gideon, and then back again. “We didn’t…No! We had nothing to do with that. It was a coaching accident. A true accident, a horrible accident. Wasn’t it? Clarissa was different from the rest of us. She…she liked it. We would never have approached her with our plans. Turner could never say no to his young wife and her…appetites. But he hadn’t been the same since the murder. The vestal virgin sacrifice, you understand. He hated the new Leader, the new members, all of them, even as he was terrified of them, the way all of us were terrified of them. But you don’t leave the Society, especially when your wife has been named the High Priestess of Hymen. Oh, how she gloried in that role! She would have learned, in time, when her body began to sag, when even her talents weren’t enough.”

The woman smiled weakly at Jessica. “We women, we always thought your father hired Jamie Linden to spirit you away that night. Clarissa was so angry with him, you understand, when word came you and Linden couldn’t be found. And here you are, landed on your feet.”

Could it have been possible? Could her father have paid James to take her away that night, hide her somewhere? Had everything James told her been a lie? Had he been paid to escort her somewhere safe and then realized he’d been foolish to cross the new Leader, and it would be best if he disappeared, as well? Had her frantic offer of her stepmother’s jewelry given him the idea? Had he always been looking over his shoulder for the pursuing Society or for Turner Collier, a man searching for his daughter? Oh, how Jessica wanted to believe that. But she would never know… .

“All right,” Gideon said reassuringly. “We believe you. You had no reason to kill Collier and his wife, just as you say. But who did?”

The brown bottle was uncorked yet again. “Nobody. It had to have been an accident. Turner was the Keeper. That’s a very high honor.”

Jessica closed her hand over the bottle. Felicity Urban’s words had begun to slur, and her breathing had become rapid and shallow, as if she might soon pass out. It was important to keep her talking. “No more laudanum, Mrs. Urban, and only a few more questions, please. You said my father was the Keeper. Did that mean he kept the journals? The bible?”

Felicity nodded. “Yes. That’s what the Keeper does. In the tabernacle.” She looked up at Gideon. “We don’t go there. We never go there. It’s the most unholy of unholies, you see. Unholy ground, as they call it in their twisted way. Only Turner knew its location, and he wouldn’t tell anyone. Since the days of his lordship’s father, Turner was the Entrusted One. Those are the rules.”

Gideon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Are you saying even the leader of the Society doesn’t know where the journals and bible are kept?”

Again Felicity nodded her head. “Turner told him that was the rule. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes, of course. I simply supposed incorrectly. But what about the rites, the ceremonies? Weren’t they held in this tabernacle?”

“With the women, you mean? No, never. The tabernacle was where they conducted their meetings. Only the men were allowed, but not since your father died, when it was ceremonially unblessed and then sealed by the Keeper. Archie and I weren’t as yet married, so I was never at Redgrave Manor. Lady Orford told us, when we were still allowed to meet. Nobody ever went back there, not since your father died. Only the Keeper, and only then to store the journals and add to the bible. But even that stopped on orders from the Leader, although some of the members still kept to their journals because they liked to write down their exploits.” She shivered. “Pigs. Animals.”

“Meaning the journals are no longer mandatory?” Gideon asked.

“I mean they are no longer allowed. But the Keeper still secretly updated the bible. Lady Orford told me that, as well. She said he wasn’t supposed to do that, the Leader had commanded it stop, but he continued. Turner Collier, she said, had an orderly mind and believed in the old ways.” Mrs. Urban blinked a single time and then said, “Oh. Do…do you suppose that’s why he’s dead?”

Jessica and Gideon exchanged glances. She knew what he was thinking because she was thinking the same thing. Whether because of a love of rules or as a result of the leader’s demand Turner Collier hand over his daughter to be sacrificed, thanks to her father, the bible still existed. All the old names were there, all the newer names were there. Wherever there was…

“What else do you want to know? We meet…the Society meets at designated spots located on the country estates of the members. I was there with the others, waiting, the night Jamie Linden ran off with you, my lady. There had to be a new ceremony, the next full moon. We all suffered for that, we women. But we were glad for you.”

“Yes…um…thank you.” Jessica had nearly said I’m sorry, nearly apologized. There was also the fact that someone eventually had died in her place. Been sacrificed in her place. She longed to scream but knew it would serve no purpose. “Gideon? Are we done now?”

“I’m sorry but not quite, no. Mrs. Urban…Felicity…I know we can never truly understand the horrors that brought you and the others to do what you did. But are you certain you know no other names?”

“We don’t. Really, we don’t. I told you. The guests didn’t bring wives anymore, and they always wore masks, even before the new Leader arrived and took charge. We only knew the ones we…we only knew each other. We only had each other. These last few years have been terrible, the worst of any of them. We couldn’t concern ourselves with their wild plans. It was our husbands we needed dead, so that we’d finally be free, out of it. You can understand that. You were so lucky, my lady, that Jamie Linden died. Our husbands seemed to go on forever.”

Jessica could only nod her head, unable to meet the woman’s eyes. Too many memories, all rushing back at once. Memories she’d pushed to the back of her mind, as Richard had told her to do, as she’d needed to do.

Gideon got to his feet. “Very well, Felicity. You’ve been a tremendous help to us. Now allow me to keep my end of the bargain.”

“There is the one other thing,” she said as she leaned over, picked up the bandbox and handed it to him. “Archie had a locked cabinet in his study. I was able to locate the key and open it and bring you its contents, in the chance I needed to bargain. But now you can simply have it all.”

Gideon took the bandbox and set it down on the table. “Thank you. this may be helpful. But we’d better get you moving now, clear of the city before your husband realizes you’ve taken this and mounts a pursuit.”

Felicity Urban replaced the brown bottle in her reticule and rose unsteadily to her feet. She attempted a wobbly smile. “That’s very kind of you, my lord, but don’t worry. That’s already been taken care of. With the Marquis of Mellis so conveniently dying without it costing us a penny, it was Alfie’s turn, you understand. His turn…”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“PIN MONEY,” GIDEON SAID, staring into his wineglass once they were back in Portman Square, he and Max sitting together in the study. “The wives hired killers with their pooled allowances. No wonder the accidents always seemed to occur at the beginning of each new quarter. My God, it’s almost funny.”

“So where is the lethal Mrs. Urban off to?” Max asked as he lounged on one of the leather couches, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Ireland, although she wouldn’t say exactly where,” Gideon told him. “She has a cousin who will take her in. Her children were in another room at the shop. A boy and a girl. They took charge of her and led her down to the traveling coach. The boy is perhaps fourteen, and I don’t think it’s too fanciful of me to say he’s the near mirror image of the late Noddy Selkirk. You’d think they would have considered that sort of possibility.”

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