fell away and with that came an equally sudden and overwhelming surge of feeling that had nothing to do with wanting her in his bed but was a tangle of love and protectiveness and sheer blazing joy that she was a part of his life…
He was still gasping at the physical shock of it when there was a sharp tap at the door and Miles walked in. Nat jumped and became aware that Dexter had been watching him with quizzical amusement. He wondered what on earth had been showing on his face.
Miles’s news, however, gave him no further time to consider his feelings. “There’s a lead,” he said briefly. “An anonymous tip-off about the masked woman seen in the village on the nights that both Monty and Spencer were murdered. The message was left for me at Drum this morning. Dinmont said that a maidservant delivered it.”
“Anonymous?” Nat said, frowning. “That could be nothing more than spite.”
“I know,” Miles said, unfolding a note from his breast pocket and handing it to Dexter, “but even so, we cannot ignore it.”
Nat watched as Dexter read the note, glanced at Miles and then dropped his gaze to the paper again. There was an odd silence.
“What is it?” Nat said. “Who do they say it is?” He had a strange premonition. “Not Lizzie?” he said. Shock, anger and protectiveness engulfed him, overwhelming in its power. He felt stunned with the force of his feeling for her.
But Dexter was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “It’s not Lizzie. It’s Flora Minchin.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LIZZIE WAS CROSSING the street on her way from Chevrons to visit Laura and Lydia at The Old Palace when she saw the small crowd that was gathered outside Mr. and Mrs. Minchin’s townhouse. Previously it had troubled Lizzie slightly that she and Flora were such close neighbors now. They had never been friends-indeed, Lizzie had always thought that Flora was the most irritating pea-brained creature imaginable, a feeling she could now admit a little shamefacedly might have sprung from a certain jealousy. Even so, when she saw the crowd she almost hurried past. Then she heard the screams from inside the house, a sound that was easily defined as Mrs. Minchin having the vapors, and despite herself she paused.
“What on earth is going on?” she asked Mrs. Lovell, who was one of the many people milling on the steps outside.
“Flora’s the one who murdered Sir Montague and Spencer, his valet,” Mrs. Lovell said importantly, her face alight with excitement. She loved a good scandal. “She was the masked woman! Only fancy! They’ve come to arrest her now-Lord Vickery and Mr. Anstruther and your husband.”
Lizzie screwed her face up. “Flora a
Mrs. Minchin’s screams intensified, then one of the maids came running from the open door of the house wailing and wringing her hands in her apron. “Please will someone fetch the master?” she cried. “Madam is in hysterics and they’re taking Miss Flora away and I don’t know what to do!”
“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Lizzie hurried up the steps, grabbed the maid by the arm and hustled her back into the house, slamming the door in the faces of the avid crowd. Inside, the sounds of Mrs. Minchin’s screams were so penetrating that they echoed off the walls. “Get the stable boy to fetch Mr. Minchin,” Lizzie said in the girl’s ear. “Run along now. Quickly!”
“But the mistress-” the maid began.
“I’ll deal with her,” Lizzie said. She went into the parlor. Mrs. Minchin was sitting on the sofa, her bulk quivering with every scream. Another maid was waving burnt feathers ineffectually under her nose. Lizzie pushed her out of the way and slapped Mrs. Minchin’s face. Mrs. Minchin’s blue eyes, so like Flora’s own, opened wide and then she gulped and fell completely silent.
“Smelling salts,” Lizzie said, grabbing them from the table and pressing them into the maid’s hand. “Make her lie down and then fetch her a cup of tea when she is calm.”
“Flora!” Mrs. Minchin wept, trying to rise.
“I’ll help Flora,” Lizzie said, pushing Mrs. Minchin back down on the seat. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I promise.” The matron collapsed into tears.
“She’ll be all right now,” Lizzie said, squeezing the maid’s arm. “Sal volatile, then tea.”
She hurried out of the room. There were voices in the drawing room and as Lizzie ran down the corridor, Dexter emerged through the doorway with Flora following him. Flora’s face was utterly blank, a terrible white mask, her blue eyes fixed and staring. As Lizzie watched, Flora stumbled over the edge of the carpet and almost fell. Lizzie rushed forward and grabbed Flora’s cold hands in her own, steadying the girl.
“What on earth do you think you are doing?” she said wrathfully, steering Flora back into the drawing room and turning like a tigress to confront Miles and Dexter and Nat. “Can’t you see she’s terrified? Let her sit down!” She steered Flora to a chair and gently eased her into it. “Why did you all have to come and frighten her?” she added furiously. “One of you would have been quite sufficient!” She chafed Flora’s hands. She could feel the other girl shaking. “It’s all right,” she said, in an undertone. “Don’t be frightened.”
Flora’s scared blue eyes fixed on her face. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Of course not,” Lizzie said stoutly. She drew up another chair and put her arm about Flora.
Nat touched Lizzie’s shoulder. “No one wants to frighten her,” he said softly, “but she won’t tell us where she was on the nights in question, Lizzie.”
“Well, go away and leave me with her, then,” Lizzie said. “Give me five minutes. Go and make some tea or something. I am sure Mrs. Minchin could do with it.”
Nat smiled at her and for a second Lizzie felt something tug deep inside her.
“Thank you,” Nat said softly.
“Now, Flora,” Lizzie said as Nat shepherded the others out and closed the door gently, “I am sure you haven’t done anything wrong, but if you won’t explain what you were doing that night, I can’t help you.” She paused. “Have you been slipping out at night, Flora?”
There was a pause and then Flora gave a little jerky nod of the head.
“So you did go out,” Lizzie said, keeping her voice very steady. “Where did you go?”
Flora bit her lip and did not reply. She looked stricken and miserable.
“I suppose,” Lizzie said gently, “you went to meet a man?”
Flora’s gaze came up sharply to meet hers. “I wasn’t…I didn’t…” Her face crumpled. “It wasn’t what you think,” she said, her voice strengthening. “The first time, I went to ask him to marry me but he turned me down. Then-” she hung her head “-I went just to…just to see him really. I
Lizzie caught her hand. “You’re in love with someone who doesn’t love you back,” she said, swallowing a very hard lump in her throat.
“Yes,” Flora said. She sighed. “It hurts.”
“I understand,” Lizzie said, with feeling. “Who is it, Flora?”
The other girl didn’t reply, her blue eyes sweeping Lizzie’s face as though weighing whether she could trust her.
“Listen,” Lizzie said quickly. “I know that you and I have not been friends, Flora, but I do want to help you. We need to persuade this person to vouch for you or you might be arrested-” She felt Flora shudder. “If you tell me who it is,” she said carefully, “I’ll speak to him and I am sure he will help you.” She was not actually sure at all, but what else could she say? At the least, the man, whoever he was, could not be married if Flora had gone to propose to him, a feat which gave Lizzie a great deal of respect for her. She wondered who on earth could have turned down Flora and her fifty thousand pounds.
“It is Lowell Lister,” Flora said with a gulp before bursting into tears. “I can’t help it, Lizzie,” she added, crying all over Lizzie’s spencer, as Lizzie hugged her closer, “I love him so much and he won’t marry me because he doesn’t want my money-”
“He must be the only man in Fortune’s Folly who
