As their lips met in a tender kiss that heralded new beginnings, the voices of Angels—Fiona and Glory, that was—floated through the building.
39
Three days later, Ben was getting ready to call upon Livy and the Strathavens, who’d returned from Scotland, when Beatrice arrived unexpectedly. He received his sister in the drawing room. Dressed in a gown that matched her eyes, she was as beautiful and remote as always. As they drank tea in painful silence, he racked his brain for some way to break the tension.
He had been planning to call upon her. He’d put it off because he hadn’t known what he would say. He’d feared that the visit would play out the way it always did…the way it was doing so now.
He said awkwardly, “How are Murray and the children?”
“They are fine.” She took a breath. “But I didn’t come for chitchat. The truth is…I am here to apologize.”
Ben assumed that she’d been reading the papers. Since Bollinger’s death, the police had started conducting an investigation based on the testimony and evidence that Ben had provided. They’d brought Stamford in for questioning, and he had sung like a bird. His account corroborated the theory of events Ben and the Angels had cobbled together.
Masquerading as Fong, Bollinger had contacted Longmere, the most impressionable of the group. Longmere had recruited the others, who were all desperate for money…and for the thrill of the forbidden. Bollinger had read his cronies like a book, using the guise of a “mystical Chinaman” and clandestine games to further entice the Horsemen into doing his bidding. Stamford recalled the group’s excitement over the arrival of the riddle with the delivery places; Bollinger had been the one to solve it when the others failed to do so.
After learning that two of his clients—Baron Winford and John Hagan—had died because of the drug, Longmere had begun to panic. He’d told the group he wanted out and was found dead shortly after.
Before his death, Longmere had shared his suspicions with Stamford: he thought all was not what it seemed with the mysterious Fong. The drug supplier knew too much about the group…as if he were an insider. After Longmere’s demise and the death of one of his own clients, Stamford got cold feet and tried to distance himself from the group. He claimed that he had no idea that the Devil’s Bliss was lethal and that he would have never gotten involved if he’d known.
The papers speculated that Stamford, Thorne, and Edgecombe might be tried for conspiracy to commit murder. Whatever happened legally, the men were socially ruined. The papers also reported on Ben’s role in the case; apparently, a source within the Metropolitan Police had labelled his efforts as heroic. Ben avoided the limelight as much as possible, especially since he couldn’t share it with the truly deserving heroines. Lady Fayne had asked him to keep her group out of it; to protect the reputation of Livy and the other Angels, he’d agreed.
To his sister, Ben said, “I understand why you thought what you did. Given my past, your assumption was not unfair.”
“It was unfair of me to judge you by your past actions,” Beatrice insisted. “I should have forgiven you long ago, Hadleigh.”
“What I did was unforgivable,” he said quietly.
He had come to accept his past. He’d also realized that, while he would always regret his mistakes, he did not have to carry their burden into his future. He had atoned as much as he could. He could make the choice to not let his history define his future.
“What happened was a tragedy not only for me, but for our family. Everything fell apart for us Wodehouses—including you—and I was too wrapped up in my own pain to see that.” Shaking her head, Bea said, “You were a young man, Hadleigh, and although your quest for vengeance was wrong, I think I understand some of your motivation. You felt you had failed me; by seeking revenge on Griggs, you thought you were protecting my honor.”
Ben swallowed. “What I did was still beyond the pale.”
“I don’t disagree. But the fact that you acted out of love makes a difference. And I know this because I have recently wronged you, for much the same reason.” Bea looked at him with troubled eyes. “I spoke with Livy yesterday.”
“You did?” he said warily.
He and Livy hadn’t yet made their relationship public. In fact, that was his purpose in calling upon Strathaven today: he intended to ask for Livy’s hand. He hoped that his friend would approve the match…and not demand to meet him at dawn.
“You needn’t look so surprised,” his sister said with a hint of wryness. “It is obvious that the two of you have, ahem, a special bond. I knew she would answer my questions in a way you would not. And she did. She revealed that during your mission to uncover this drug enterprise, you were drugged. That you’d nearly died.” Bea gripped her hands together in her lap. “And I believe I am the cause of that.”
Ben angled his head. “I don’t follow.”
“The last time we spoke, I did not express my concern in the best way.” Bea bit her lip. “But I was worried about you…and so I did what I thought was right at the time. I went to Bollinger.”
Ben stilled. “For what purpose?”
“Of your former cronies, he seemed like the most harmless one. I appealed to him to release you from the group. I told him that you had worked hard to give up your bad habits and that I was afraid of what a relapse might lead to.” Her throat worked. “I told him that I…I didn’t want to find you someday floating in the Thames.”
So that is where Bollinger got the idea to get rid of me in that fashion.
Aloud, Ben said, “It is not your fault, Bea. Put it out of your head.”
“I cannot.” Her eyes glimmered. “In trying to protect you, I
