He hauled Jane into his arms. Sebastian extended a hand to help Lydia to her feet, and they went downstairs.
“Oh, Alexander.” Lydia’s whisper of dismay cut through him as she saw the disaster that had once been the exhibition.
Outside, people still milled around the street, but the police had restored order and blocked off the entrance to the hall. Still holding Jane with one arm, Alexander pulled Lydia to him with the other. The tightness in his chest eased a little as her body pressed against his side.
“Lord Northwood.” Sir George Cooke of the Society council strode toward him, his expression grim. “The police inspector is heading to Mount Street now. You’d best meet him there. Hadley is on his way as well.”
With Sir George accompanying them, they returned to Alexander’s town house, where the servants rose in a bustle of activity. A doctor was summoned, warm water and clean clothes procured, tea and brandy offered. Lydia sent Jane upstairs with the housekeeper to look after her and wait for the doctor.
“Preliminary reports, Lord Northwood, indicate that you are responsible for causing the riot.” Police Inspector Denison peered at Alexander with a faint air of sympathy.
“Which,” Lord Hadley added, “destroyed the interior of the hall and the Society’s exhibition. We’ll have to send word to the lenders and the foreign commissioners.”
Alexander tried to muster up some concern at the ominous tone to the man’s voice, but he was too tired. He rubbed his burning eyes.
“And?”
“We’ve got to conduct an investigation, my lord,” Denison replied. “We’ve statements from several people who witnessed your altercation with Mr.”—he consulted his pad—“Cole. They saw you push him over the railing.”
“No.” Lydia’s voice sounded choked. “No, Inspector, that’s not correct. That man was after my… my sister. Lord Northwood was protecting us both. He was trying to—”
“Miss Kellaway, no need for a defense at the moment,” Denison interrupted. “More will come to light during the course of the investigation. However, I ought to warn you that the newspaper correspondents will be seeking people to give their account of events, and his lordship ain’t appeared to be cast in a favorable light.”
“Will charges be filed, Inspector?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t yet know, sir, but first the nature of the riot needs to be determined to see whether it’s a misdemeanor offense or possible treasonous—”
“Treason!” Lydia repeated.
“Well, miss, I don’t mean to suggest that’s the case here, but with the war and all and Lord Northwood’s… er… A couple of the workers remarked that he’s got sympathies with the czar.”
“As we know,” Sir George added, “that is not a new charge.”
Sebastian gave a hollow laugh. The inspector shifted with discomfort.
“That’s all yet to be determined, sir,” he said. “But his lordship will have to appear before the magistrate. And nothing I can do about the accounts people give.”
Alexander exchanged glances with his brother. A single thought passed between them. No matter what the investigation yielded, their name would be linked to a deplorable situation.
He looked at the inspector. “How many people were harmed?”
“Last I heard, a dozen.”
Lydia gasped. Sebastian swore. A rock sank to the pit of Alexander’s stomach. He rose and gestured to the door. “Gentlemen, it’s late. As I’m sure you know, we’re all tired. If we can take this up tomorrow, I would appreciate it.”
Lord Hadley nodded and picked up his hat. “We’re informing the rest of the council, Northwood. We haven’t made any decisions about a replacement for exhibition director, so you’re still the one in charge. Best be prepared for the consequences.”
The men filed out. Sebastian looked at Alexander, who gave him a short nod. Then Sebastian followed the men from the room.
The door clicked shut. Lydia’s apprehension spiked. She twisted her finger around a lock of hair, pulling it hard enough to hurt.
Alexander strode to the sideboard and removed the stopper from a decanter of brandy. He poured two glasses and took a swallow from one before pressing the other into Lydia’s hands. She stared at the amber liquid for a moment before taking a fortifying sip.
Alexander watched her, his expression brooding, a red scratch marring his cheek.
“Tell me,” he said.
Lydia drew in a deep breath, knowing she owed him the truth even though it would mean the death of their relationship. Only one other person knew the whole story, and that person was now gone.
“Joseph Cole was the mathematics professor at the University of Leipzig.” The past began to encroach upon her mind, all the hopes she’d had for herself, all