A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Mayhem (A Lady's Guide #1)(10)
“I’m Mrs. Bascomb,” she said suddenly, as if their current posture would be less improper with introductions. “Though it sounds as if you’d already guessed that, Mr. Eversham.”
He wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. Thank you for ruining a reputation it had taken more than a decade to build? It certainly wasn’t time for conversation. But despite his impatience with her, Eversham spoke up anyway. “Charmed.”
That only made him feel like more of an arse.
“If you don’t mind, let’s save the small talk for once we’re clear of these marauders.” That would have to do, he decided as he propelled them forward and toward a side street that would get them to the Embankment, where he could put his charge in a cab.
It took twenty minutes of difficult maneuvering, but finally they managed to get clear of the densest group of bodies, and soon they were able to walk freely side by side.
“I can find my way from here, Mr. Eversham.” Stiffly she held out a hand to him.
He wasn’t quite sure how she managed it when he was taller than she by several inches, but somehow Mrs. Bascomb was looking down her nose at him.
Eversham stared at her hand for a moment, trying to figure out how it was possible for him to be any angrier with this woman.
He ignored her hand. “What is your given name, please?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure what that has to do with—”
“Ma’am, I just escorted you through a throng of people who were moments away from rioting. The least you can do is humor me by telling me what the ‘K’ stands for in your pen name.”
It was a trivial detail, he knew, but he found himself wanting to know the full name of the woman responsible for his downfall.
“Please don’t think I’m ungrateful,” she said hastily. “I am truly—”
He cut her off again. “Just tell me your bloody name, please.”
Her gray eyes widened at his curse, but she didn’t chide him. “Katherine.” She licked her lips, then went on. “Katherine Bascomb.”
He studied her. He imagined at the beginning of the day her deep blue gown had been clean and her shiny black hair hadn’t been falling from its pins. And it went without saying that she’d probably been wearing a hat. And if he hadn’t held her responsible for the ruination of a career it had taken him over a decade to build, he might even have found her attractive.
But she was the architect of his downfall, and he most assuredly did not find her attractive.
Not in the least.
“Well, Katherine Bascomb,” he said, not bothering to hide his temper from her, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to escort you to the Embankment so that I can see you safely into a hansom cab. And then, if there’s any justice in this world, I’ll never have to lay eyes on you again.”
Once again, her eyes widened, and Eversham felt an unwelcome pang of conscience.
“I’m not sure what you believe I’ve done to you, Mr. Eversham,” she said, pulling herself up to her not unimpressive height, “but I can assure you that had you been doing your job as the lead investigator on the Commandments Killer case, then there would have been no need for me to find and interview Lizzie Grainger.”
“Ah, there she is,” he said waspishly. “The crusader who believes she knows better how to solve a murder than a thousand-man police force. By all means, Mrs. Bascomb, tell me how you would have done things differently.”
“For one thing, I’d have made sure to interview every person working at the establishment where Betsy Creamer was last seen on the night before her murder.” Her cheekbones were flushed with annoyance and her gray eyes blazed. “Maybe if you’d bothered to do that, you might have been the one to solve the case instead of that arrogant showman Adolphus Wargrove.”
“On the subject of Wargrove, madam, we are in perfect agreement.” Eversham scowled. “As for the rest of it, I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree. I only hope you won’t live to regret your decision to play at being a detective. The man Dolph Wargrove has locked up barely matched Lizzie’s description. Not to mention that there’s no evidence tying him to the other three murders. But he’s close enough to make the Home Secretary happy. And I suppose that’s all that matters.”
He’d never been particularly savvy at the political part of his job. His innate sense of right and wrong meant that he was often in conflict with those in the upper echelons of government who preferred speedy justice and triumphant headlines. But he’d never had one of his own investigations manipulated in such a way as to ensure the wrong man was faced with hanging. Wargrove, with whom he’d had run-ins over ethics before, hadn’t surprised him. But he’d thought Max was better than that. Or at least that he had a strong enough backbone to withstand pressure from the Home Office.
Eversham might not be able to change the minds of his superiors with appeals to decency, but he hoped that bringing the actual murderer to them would do the trick. It was no longer his case—or anyone’s for that matter—but he could do his best to ensure John Clark escaped the hangman’s noose.
His determination—or ire—must have shown in his expression because he saw a flash of surprise, then remorse, in Mrs. Bascomb’s eyes before she hid the response behind a cool mask of civility.