The Return of the Duke - Grace Callaway Page 0,121

realized that the herbs had found their way into the queen’s tea, she was horrified. I told her that if she didn’t do my bidding and get rid of the remaining twin, I would tell my brother that she was responsible for Louisa and his heir’s death. I thought I had her under my thumb, especially since I believed she’d killed you too. Then I saw you that day at Madame Rousseau’s and thought you were a ghost: that is how much you resemble Louisa, down to that wanton beauty mark above your lip.”

Masking her fury, Fancy said, “You were certain that I was the babe you’d had murdered?”

“When you told me you were a foundling, I had no doubt. Just in case, I hunted down Rosamund. She had changed her name to Anna Smith and was living in this hovel on the outskirts of Camden Town. She broke down, confirming that she’d left you in a field. I would have killed her but my instincts told me to keep her alive. I realized that she might have other uses, particularly after your “accidental” death by bricks didn’t work out as planned. Rosamund became a guest at the asylum run by Dr. Erlenmeyer, a protégé of mine, but then the wily bitch escaped. Dr. Erlenmeyer caught her just in time and put into play my final stratagem.”

“You’re going to blame her for my death,” Fancy reasoned.

“You really are cleverer than you look.” Adelaide’s smile was as thin as a razor. “Your husband believes that Anna Smith has already tried to kill you once. How difficult will it be to convince him that she succeeded the second time?”

“Knight is going to find me,” Fancy said fiercely. “Then you will pay.”

“I don’t think so, my dear. Dusk is falling, and Dr. Erlenmeyer will soon arrive with Rosamund. When your husband finds you, you will be dead in her old cottage, the pistol that killed you in her hand. He will find Anna Smith’s crazed note, which will detail how she had completed her last mission: to assassinate you.” Princess Adelaide’s eyes glinted with terrifying satisfaction. “And since she, too, will be dead, the truth will die with her.”

“You are sure Erlenmeyer is in there?” Severin said tightly.

Through a crack in the carriage curtains, he watched the back gates of Brookfield Asylum. Harry Kent had joined him in his carriage; Tessa Kent, Garrity, and Ransom were monitoring the other exits of the building.

“I’m certain,” Kent said. “I went in there and asked for him.”

“That didn’t tip him off?”

“I had a convincing cover. Told him my father-in-law had bats in his belfry and I needed a place to put him. Erlenmeyer gave me a tour; he was quite proud of his treatment devices.” Kent shuddered. “The bastard has a screw loose, that’s for certain.”

“Just as long as he has sufficient wits to lead me to Fancy,” Severin said starkly.

His gut churned with fear, had been doing so since he’d discovered Fancy missing. According to her maid Gemma, she’d gone out for a walk alone and hadn’t returned…which didn’t make sense. Panic had swamped him, a certainty that something had befallen his wife.

Then he’d received the message from Kent, who had enlisted their other friends to help. Ransom and his wife Maggie had called upon Adelaide on the pretense of making a social call. The princess’s butler had informed the duke and duchess that his mistress was not at home. During this distraction, one of Kent’s men had gone in the back, verifying that the princess’s carriage was indeed gone.

Severin had men combing the city now for Fancy and Princess Adelaide, his search abetted by Kent and Garrity’s forces. Yet his instincts told him that his best chances of locating his wife now lay with Erlenmeyer. At first, he’d wanted to charge in and beat the truth out of the doctor, but Kent and Garrity had convinced him to bide his time and wait for Erlenmeyer to make a move. They’d reasoned that they had no solid proof of the doctor’s complicity. If Erlenmeyer refused to talk—and his close relationship with Adelaide made that a high probability—then they would be wasting precious time with Fancy’s life hanging in the balance.

Moreover, the waiting horse and wagon they had found tied up just beyond the back gates suggested that a journey would be made soon. Severin’s knuckles cracked beneath their covering of dark leather. If that bastard Erlenmeyer didn’t show himself within a few minutes, Severin was