That letter had been written in anger. There was no question. But Val refused to make accusations until he’d heard his cousin’s explanation.
Only he couldn’t help but worry that as he’d overlooked his brother’s and even his father’s more disagreeable traits, perhaps he’d also done so with Frank’s temper. Did he wish to paper over his cousin’s words simply because the alternative was to accept the truly upsetting nature of his boyhood friend’s present character?
He was almost to the doors of the Albany when he saw a familiar figure walking toward him.
“I thought you’d be at the tailor’s being measured for a wedding suit.” A grin split Eversham’s usually serious face. “I did warn you that Caro would find some way to eviscerate you for that invitation, didn’t I? It didn’t occur to me that she’d do so with a leg shackle, but that was a failure of imagination on my part.”
“I’ll remind you, Eversham,” Val said with a scowl, “that’s my betrothed you’re speaking of. Keep a civil tongue in your head.”
The detective’s gray eyes went wide. “It’s like that, is it? You have my abject apologies. I meant no insult.”
“Oh, put away your letter of apology, man.” Val rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to challenge you to a duel.”
“I should think not.” Eversham’s inspector’s expression was back in place, though his tone held just a hint of humor. “Dueling is illegal, and I would refuse the challenge.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Val sighed. “Why are you at the Albany?” he asked. This was an odd location for him to stumble upon Eversham.
Eversham’s face grew grave. “I called at your house only to be told you’d come here looking for your cousin. I suppose I was quicker on foot than your cab because of the traffic.”
“You have news,” Val said, feeling a sudden pang in the pit of his stomach. “Have you found her?”
But Eversham shook his head. “We’ve found one of the men who kidnapped Miss Warrington, however.”
Val looked at him in surprise. “Where?”
“In the Thames,” the detective said bluntly.
Val swore. “How do you know he was one of the abductors?”
“Our inside man in the neighborhood where we found the carriage was able to identify him.”
“And this is someone you trust?” Val asked. But he knew Eversham wouldn’t have come to him with the information if he was unsure. He was far too careful a detective to use unreliable details.
The other man nodded. “I was hoping your cousin would come to the morgue with me to confirm he’s one of the men who took Miss Warrington.”
What a time for Frank to go off without a word, Val fumed. “We can ask him once we get up to his rooms,” he said, now more determined than ever to talk to him.
“So you believe him to be here?” Eversham asked as they walked into the building and climbed the stairs to the floor where Frank resided. “From what your butler said, he left your townhouse without a word to anyone. Which seems unusual for a man unable to leave his sickbed yesterday.”
“He seemed well enough at breakfast,” Val said. Though he suspected even if Frank had been feeling unwell, his cousin would very likely have tried to conceal it. He was stubborn that way. Especially if he had been planning to search for Miss Warrington and didn’t wish to be kept from doing so.
He wanted more than anything to believe that was Frank’s reason for leaving without word, and not some underhanded attempt at hiding the truth behind Miss Warrington’s disappearance. “I don’t believe he was feigning illness yesterday or wellness today, for what it’s worth.”
“That’s good to hear,” Eversham said mildly. “Let’s hope we find him upstairs, then.”
“What are you implying, Eversham?” Val asked as they neared his cousin’s apartment.
“I also stopped by Half Moon Street.” Eversham knocked on the entrance. “Mrs. Spencer told me about the letter you found from your cousin to Miss Warrington.”
When no one answered, Val pounded on the door again, twice as loudly as Eversham had done.
“So, you’ve decided he’d make a good suspect now, is that it?” Val asked peevishly. He had no idea why he was being an ass to Eversham. It was Frank that Val was angry with. Angry for putting him in a position where he felt bound to defend him to Eversham. To Caro. Hell, he’d even felt as if he should apologize to Mrs. Spencer for Frank’s letter to Miss Warrington. He’d never wanted to be so deeply embroiled in his cousin’s affairs.
He’d certainly never wanted to be searching for him so he could demand whether he’d done some irreparable physical harm to his fiancée.
Adding to Val’s annoyance, no one seemed inclined to answer their knocking.
Frowning, Eversham tried the knob.
The door swung inward.
Putting a finger to his lips, the detective crept stealthily into the room. Val followed, but the sight that greeted them brought them both up short.
The contents of every shelf had been scattered across the thick Aubusson carpets. Books were torn apart, paintings taken from the walls and ripped from their frames. The upholstered furniture was gutted and goose down floated eerily through the air in the wake of their entrance.
“The housekeeping staff at the Albany leaves much to be desired,” Eversham said dryly before moving forward to the rest of the chambers.
Stepping into the dressing room, Val noted that whoever had made the mess hadn’t spent as much time in the bedroom as in the sitting room.
“I see no sign of a valise.” Eversham peered into the wardrobe. “And it looks as if some clothing is missing if one goes by the gaps in the wardrobe.”
“That would have been from when I had my footman come yesterday,” Val said. “It can’t have been like this when he was here. He’d have alerted me to the fact.”
“Good,” Eversham said. “That tells us this must have been done last night or sometime today.”
“That’s something, I suppose,” Val said. “What could they have been looking for?”
“That I cannot tell you.” Eversham stooped to right a side table that had been thrown to the floor. As he did so, the drawer, which had been facing the floor, fell out with a clatter.
Eversham apologized but Val wasn’t listening. He’d spotted a bundle of letters, tied with a ribbon, on the floor. It must have been wedged between the bottom of the drawer and the table frame.
“Something the thieves missed?” Eversham asked.
Val untied the ribbon holding the pages together, moving to the nearby window to examine them.
Dear Miss Warrington,
The vicar and his wife never took me into their confidence regarding your true parentage, and as you know, there was nothing further to be found in their belongings when they passed. The only knowledge I have been able to glean since we last corresponded is that their coachman retrieved you from an inn near Brighton Road. But as that was many years ago now, I doubt anyone there has any recollection of the matter. I beg you to let this rest. The Warringtons were good parents to you, and continuing this pursuit can only come to no good.