“His brother, Kit, insisted Charles was violent, so Harry must have been protecting me.”
“Harry—being altruistic? Don’t be daft.”
“It’s not entirely beyond the realm of possibilities.”
“Yes, it is,” Fish said. “The more likely scenario is that—if he’d come forward—Charles would have yanked you away from him, and he’d have had to surrender the income you generated. If he’d lost yours, he’d have had to generate some of his own, and he was too lazy to support himself. You were his breadwinner.”
Libby smirked. “That explanation is probably the closest we’ll ever get to a valid answer.”
A carriage rattled to a stop out on the street, and they perked up, hoping it would be Simon. They figured he’d tarried at Roland, but if he hadn’t, they had no idea where he might be. They were beginning to fret.
Libby went to the window to peer outside, watching as several officious-looking men emerged from the vehicle. They milled and muttered, assessing her house as if they were about to throw her out of it.
“Is it Simon?” Fish asked.
“No. It’s a group of men in uniform, but I don’t know any of them.”
She never liked to have strange men stroll in. It was an old fear, fueled by Harry and his wicked habits when she’d been a child. He’d always had creditors circling, so they’d had to brace for any catastrophe.
Finally, one of the men marched up and banged the knocker. Libby frowned at Fish, wondering what new calamity was about to arise, then she walked over and pulled the door open.
“Yes?” she said. “May I help you?”
He gaped at her, temporarily tongue-tied, then he asked, “Miss Carstairs? Miss Libby Carstairs?”
“Yes, I’m Miss Carstairs.”
“I most humbly apologize, but I’m here to arrest you.”
“Arrest me?” Libby cocked her head as if he’d misspoken.
“Yes, Miss. For spreading lies about Lord Roland?”
Libby gasped with affront. “Are you joking?”
“It’s called slander. A common person such as yourself can’t defame such a top-lofty fellow. It’s not permitted.”
Fish leapt to her feet, and she appeared mad as a hornet. “Charles is accusing her of slander?”
“Are you Miss Fishburn?” was his reply. He flushed, as if he was embarrassed by his task.
“Yes, I’m Fish.”
“My apologies to you too, ma’am, but I have to arrest you along with Miss Carstairs.”
“On what charge?” Fish demanded.
“On stealing cufflinks from Lord Roland? Apparently, you were caught red-handed in his bedchamber.”
Fish’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the other men barged in, and they looked much less civil. One of them blustered up and said, “Let’s go, ladies. We won’t brook any argument or delay.”
“May I pack a bag?” Libby asked. “I should grab my reticule too, so I have plenty of money once we’re at the facility.”
“Yes, you can fetch your things,” the first man said, as the second man said, “No, you can’t pack anything.”
The first man waved her to the stairs. “Fetch what you require, but don’t dawdle.”
“I’m sure this is in error,” Libby insisted. “May I write a note to my cousin and have you mail it to him? He’ll post our bail, so there’s no need to take us into custody.”
“You won’t be allowed any bail, Miss Carstairs. I’ve clarified the gravity of your crimes. You can’t commit a felony like this against a nobleman. You’ll be lucky if you don’t wind up hanged for it.”
Libby blanched, but Fish glared and said, “If you stumble on Lord Roland before I do, tell him I will kill him for this. I will absolutely kill him!”
“In light of your situation, Miss Fishburn,” the second man huffed, “you shouldn’t issue threats. It will only make matters worse for you.”
“Who’s threatening?” Fish retorted. “I’m deadly serious. I will kill him when I next have the chance.”
Fish stomped up the stairs, and as Libby followed, she sighed with disgust. She’d previously spent a night or two in jail. Harry hadn’t been all that honest, and whenever he’d been incarcerated, she’d been swept up with him as his ward.
It wouldn’t kill her to be detained, but after she was released, she agreed with Fish. She definitely might kill Charles Pendleton.
“Mr. Falcon? I would have a word with you.”
Simon glanced over his shoulder, seeing that Millicent Pendleton had spoken to him, which was a bad sign. From the minute he’d arrived at Roland, she’d treated him as if he were invisible, but he hadn’t minded.
She didn’t like him anymore than he liked her. She thought she was better than he was due to her having posh relatives like Lord Roland, but he deemed himself to be any man’s equal and never bowed down.
He pasted on a smile and spun to face her. “Yes, Miss Pendleton, I would be delighted to chat.”
“Please join me.”
She was standing in the doorway to Lord Roland’s library, and she gestured into the ostentatious room. He couldn’t wait to hear her comments, and he’d already guessed what the topic would be.
She sat behind the desk, and he sauntered in after her and plopped into the chair across. He kept his gaze locked on hers, and she struggled to appear very firm, but she wasn’t succeeding.
Ultimately, when she began to fidget, he inquired, “Are we about to discuss my scorned cousin, Libby? Or will we talk about Penny?”
She was taken aback that he’d blatantly toss out Penny’s name, but she quickly regrouped and straightened in her seat.
“We shall discuss both young ladies,” she said.
“Fine. What did you wish to tell me?”
“Miss Carstairs has departed the premises, and it’s time for you to leave too. Immediately. I expect—when we’re finished—that you will pack your bags.”
“I certainly will, Miss Pendleton.”
His tone was incredibly sarcastic, and she bristled. “You think I can’t make you go?”
“It’s always been difficult for women to make me do anything. I blame it on my horrid upbringing, but if you’re
