“You must trust me on the depravity of the man’s character.”
She glared at him and stalked from the chamber.
He turned to the other sisters. “Neither of you will encourage that man’s attentions in any way. Is that understood?”
Her eyes wide, Agnes nodded.
His angry glance moved to Abby. She shrugged. “I did not find Mr. Wolf appealing in the least. Even if he is possessed of a great fortune.”
His sisters left the chamber.
“I’ll see you home in the coach,” he said to Dot, “and then I’ll be early to bed for I have to leave before dawn.”
* * *
Appleton lost count of how many times he had to change horses on his journey to London. He’d denied himself for so many hours, his hunger had abated, only to be replaced with a gnawing void in the pit of his stomach. He would not permit anything to keep him from making Redmayne’s establishment before it closed this day.
Night came early this time of the year. When he finally reached Savile Row in London, lanterns lighted the shop’s doorways against the darkness, and each shop window was illuminated from within.
Through the large window at Mr. Redmayne’s premises, a well-dressed man was hanging up a jacket. Thank God, I’m not too late.
Appleton handed off his horse to an hostler and entered the shop.
“Ah, Lord Appleton,” a smiling Redmayne said, “how good it is to see you.” The tailor’s discerning eye swept over his patron’s dust-covered boots and the general disarray of Appleton’s clothing. “Have you come from Bath?” As a good businessman, Redmayne was obliged to be acquainted with the habits of the men who patronized him.
“Indeed I have.”
The tailor’s brows lowered. “I will own, my lord, I’m surprised to see you since it was only last month that you took possession of three of those coats which I am gratified to say you admired so much.”
“What a good memory you possess. As it happens, I’ve come for information. It may be a matter of life or death. I can say no more.” Death. Ever since he’d visited the place where Ellie was murdered, he feared another death was imminent.
Even worse, he feared for Dot’s safety.
“Pray, my lord, what information could I possibly possess that could be so important?”
“Has anyone purchased a replacement of one of your special buttons in the past two weeks?”
Redmayne’s eyes widened. “As it happens, I did receive such an order—and I was instructed to send it to an address in Bath!”
Appleton’s pulse thundered. His stomach went queasy—and not from hunger. He was about to learn the identity of Ellie’s killer. It was likely someone he knew. All day he’d been hoping Redmayne could provide this information, and now that he was going to, Appleton felt sick. “His name?”
“Humphrey Mitchell.”
Appleton internally slumped. It couldn’t be Mitchell! Appleton had known him all his life. In fact, the man was the father of Abby’s closest friend. In all the years Appleton had been gaming at Mrs. Starr’s establishment, not once had he seen the affable family man there.
Appleton would stake his life on Mitchell’s innocence. But not Dot’s life.
He looked at Redmayne, who was an inch or two shorter. “Anyone else?”
The tailor shook his head. “Not recently.”
Appleton clasped a hand to his shoulder. “Since you are possessed of so fine a memory, I should be interested in knowing which other men with ties to Bath are clients of yours.”
“Besides yourself and Mr. Mitchell?”
“Yes.”
Redmayne stroked his prominent chin. “Your Master of Ceremonies at the assemblies, Mr. James King. He’s a loyal patron of my business. And one of my wealthiest clients had a new jacket sent to Bath recently. He’s a very good customer. As you must know, my lord, my services don’t come cheap. All of my clients are either of the nobility or very fine gentlemen.”
“Who would that wealthy client be?”
“Oh, that would be Mr. Henry Wolf.”
Appleton felt as if he’d plunged from the top of Westminster Cathedral. That queasiness he’d been experiencing expanded. He not only felt sick in his gut, his heart ached. He was almost certain Wolf was the murderer.
The realization brought no comfort.
He looked into Redmayne’s eyes, which reflected the glow from a nearby oil lamp. “You’ve been exceedingly helpful.”
As Appleton swept from the shop, Redmayne called after him. “Will you tell me why this is a matter of life or death?”
“Once everything’s sorted.”
He went straight to Appleton House in Mayfair, where a skeleton staff of two looked after their London home. They looked surprised to see him.
“I’m just here for one night,” he told the male servant who answered the door. Appleton did not know his name. “I won’t require a proper dinner, but please send something—I don’t care what—up to my chamber. I’ve not eaten all day. Then I’ll be off to bed, for I must rise before dawn—which I did this morning.”
With each step up the staircase, his worry mounted. He could not dispel the fear that Dot’s life was in peril.
He could not forget the look of sheer hatred that briefly distorted Wolf’s face when he eyed Dot the previous day after learning she was to marry Appleton.
* * *
Her father’s coach drew up in front of the Blankenship residence on Queen Square. “Now, Papa,” Dot said, “have a care about not getting in your cups in front of Mrs. James Blankenship. You want to make a good impression.”
This would be the first time her father and the widow with whom he was so enchanted would be together socially.
“That’s good advice, my pet. I do want to make a good impression. The lady mentioned she did not approve of her late husband’s excessive affinity for strong spirits.”
“There you have it—another good reason not to indulge.”
Her father collected the lady, and they rode on to the theatre. “Lord Appleton has done us the goodness of permitting us to use their family’s box tonight,” Mr. Pankhurst told his companion as they entered the opulently decorated lobby and moved to the staircase.
Dot
