the Prince Regent, you can bet he is…was…a bitter enemy of Perceval’s.” Stephen rubbed his face. “I can’t believe he would do this out of a sense of spite—but what else is there? Gibbs could lose his reputation with this miscarriage of justice, and what does he have to gain?”
Before James could answer, Stephen turned abruptly and walked away, not at any great speed, but more like a man completely at a loss as to where to go at all.
James watched him until he disappeared into the crowds.
He’d brought up an interesting point. Was this rushed trial Gibbs being ultra-cautious about the state of social unrest, or was there something more to it?
James turned in the direction of Bow Street. Time to find out what John Vickery of Bow Street knew.
Chapter Seventeen
A unt Dorothy added two extra spoons of sugar to her tea and stirred it vigorously. “I still can’t believe—”
“Please.” Phoebe rose from her chair and lifted her hands up to her ears, realized how ridiculous that was, and dropped them. “I would prefer not to talk about it.”
Her aunt’s sharp intake of breath made her wince.
“But that he would renege. I thought he was desperate for your money—”
She turned to give her aunt a cool stare. “He was. He tried to help himself to it before he left. Perhaps he thought to flee and leave me in a perpetual state of betrothal.” Phoebe walked to the window and looked out into her garden. She wanted to go out into it, but she knew all too well now how easily her walls could be breached.
“But flee from what, and how do you know about the money?”
“I don’t know exactly what he was running from, but he told me about the money. He approached the trustees. Tried to negotiate some of the funds early. But Father had anticipated that and Sheldrake found himself outmaneuvered.”
“He told you?” Aunt Dorothy’s voice was without any animation now. As if every drop had been wrung from her. “I can’t believe he would be so crass.”
Phoebe thought of how Wittaker had looked just after she’d told him this same thing. The shock, and then that smile. Hungry and wild.
His loss.
She shivered, her eyes on the back wall of the garden.
“Phoebe.”
She blinked and turned to her aunt.
“What are we to do?” Her aunt looked lost.
“What is there to do? I didn’t tell anyone Sheldrake broke off the betrothal. I didn’t even tell you.” Phoebe shrugged. “I will mourn him, and then I will be free.”
“But what if he told anyone?” Aunt Dorothy stopped, then took a breath. “That is what I worry about. Sheldrake was not discreet. If he told anyone at all, you are ruined. You were together too often unchaperoned during your betrothal for it to be otherwise.”
They remained in silence for a long moment, Aunt Dorothy with her eyes closed, as if to escape reality entirely.
The sound of someone knocking on the front door broke the quiet. Phoebe heard Lewis’s steady steps to the front hall, the low murmur of his conversation.
A woman’s voice rose over Lewis’s deep bass, her tone strident, and Phoebe pushed away from the window and stood facing the door.
Aunty Dorothy didn’t even turn around when Lewis stepped into the room.
“Lady Halliford asks if you are at home.” Lewis’s words were clipped and a flush of color burned his cheeks.
It had been Lady Halliford’s ball on Sunday where Sheldrake had ended things between them. She had never visited Phoebe before, and a feeling of unease settled on Phoebe’s shoulders, heavy and prickly as a winter shawl.
The timing was suspicious.
Before she could speak, her aunt seemed to snap out of her listlessness. “Of course we are at home for her ladyship. Send her through, Lewis, and then bring in some fresh tea and some cakes.”
Phoebe regretted not having the courage to decline, but of course, as her aunt said, they would be at home for someone of her ladyship’s calibre.
Lewis ushered her in, and Phoebe felt a
Before James could answer, Stephen turned abruptly and walked away, not at any great speed, but more like a man completely at a loss as to where to go at all.
James watched him until he disappeared into the crowds.
He’d brought up an interesting point. Was this rushed trial Gibbs being ultra-cautious about the state of social unrest, or was there something more to it?
James turned in the direction of Bow Street. Time to find out what John Vickery of Bow Street knew.
Chapter Seventeen
A unt Dorothy added two extra spoons of sugar to her tea and stirred it vigorously. “I still can’t believe—”
“Please.” Phoebe rose from her chair and lifted her hands up to her ears, realized how ridiculous that was, and dropped them. “I would prefer not to talk about it.”
Her aunt’s sharp intake of breath made her wince.
“But that he would renege. I thought he was desperate for your money—”
She turned to give her aunt a cool stare. “He was. He tried to help himself to it before he left. Perhaps he thought to flee and leave me in a perpetual state of betrothal.” Phoebe walked to the window and looked out into her garden. She wanted to go out into it, but she knew all too well now how easily her walls could be breached.
“But flee from what, and how do you know about the money?”
“I don’t know exactly what he was running from, but he told me about the money. He approached the trustees. Tried to negotiate some of the funds early. But Father had anticipated that and Sheldrake found himself outmaneuvered.”
“He told you?” Aunt Dorothy’s voice was without any animation now. As if every drop had been wrung from her. “I can’t believe he would be so crass.”
Phoebe thought of how Wittaker had looked just after she’d told him this same thing. The shock, and then that smile. Hungry and wild.
His loss.
She shivered, her eyes on the back wall of the garden.
“Phoebe.”
She blinked and turned to her aunt.
“What are we to do?” Her aunt looked lost.
“What is there to do? I didn’t tell anyone Sheldrake broke off the betrothal. I didn’t even tell you.” Phoebe shrugged. “I will mourn him, and then I will be free.”
“But what if he told anyone?” Aunt Dorothy stopped, then took a breath. “That is what I worry about. Sheldrake was not discreet. If he told anyone at all, you are ruined. You were together too often unchaperoned during your betrothal for it to be otherwise.”
They remained in silence for a long moment, Aunt Dorothy with her eyes closed, as if to escape reality entirely.
The sound of someone knocking on the front door broke the quiet. Phoebe heard Lewis’s steady steps to the front hall, the low murmur of his conversation.
A woman’s voice rose over Lewis’s deep bass, her tone strident, and Phoebe pushed away from the window and stood facing the door.
Aunty Dorothy didn’t even turn around when Lewis stepped into the room.
“Lady Halliford asks if you are at home.” Lewis’s words were clipped and a flush of color burned his cheeks.
It had been Lady Halliford’s ball on Sunday where Sheldrake had ended things between them. She had never visited Phoebe before, and a feeling of unease settled on Phoebe’s shoulders, heavy and prickly as a winter shawl.
The timing was suspicious.
Before she could speak, her aunt seemed to snap out of her listlessness. “Of course we are at home for her ladyship. Send her through, Lewis, and then bring in some fresh tea and some cakes.”
Phoebe regretted not having the courage to decline, but of course, as her aunt said, they would be at home for someone of her ladyship’s calibre.
Lewis ushered her in, and Phoebe felt a
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