Vow of Deception (The Ministry of Curiosities #9)(42)

The plan was to convince Gawler to have a frank discussion with Swinburn about risking the lives of members of both packs, something that might happen if the ministry was forced underground. It wasn't a great plan, but we could see no other way. Swinburn wouldn't let us get close enough to spy on him. Sooner or later, he would catch us. His sense of smell was just too strong.

We didn't have to leave Lichfield, however, as Gawler came to us just as we headed across the courtyard to the coach house. Gus called out to us from the back door and we returned. We met Gawler in the drawing room, but he was not alone.

Lord and Lady Gillingham sat with him. Or, rather, Gawler and Harriet sat. Lord Gillingham paced the floor. His walking stick was nowhere to be seen. The last time I'd seen him, I'd slapped him and thrown him out. I doubted he would make trouble today with Lincoln present.

"Where's Doyle?" Harriet asked.

"The servants are having some time off," Lincoln said.

She gasped. "So close to the wedding?"

"That's why they needed time off," I told her. "They were overworked. Don't worry, everything is in hand for Saturday."

"I am pleased to hear it, but you are generous employers indeed to give your household the day off at such a busy time." She sat awkwardly on the sofa and rubbed her protruding belly. If I wasn't mistaken, she'd grown even more since I last saw her.

"Do you think your time is close?" I asked.

She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Mr. Gawler thinks so, don't you?"

"Aye, ma'am." The big, bushy-haired man clutched his scruffy hat in his hand and perched on the edge of the chair, as if he worried his clothing would soil the upholstery. If Lady Vickers saw him, she'd make him stand and order him to leave his boots at the front door.

"Other shape-shifting women have had short pregnancies, as Lincoln guessed," Harriet went on. "I am glad I found out or I wouldn't have had the nursery prepared. We wallpapered it in a soothing yellow with white rabbits bounding across the border."

White rabbits. Ugh.

"Stop it," Lord Gillingham snapped, striding back to us. "Stop discussing this topic. We haven't come to talk about babies."

"Do hush, Gilly," his wife chided. "Stop pacing and sit down. You're making my head spin. It's not good for the baby."

He sat and picked up the small slender vase holding a single pink rose. He merely clutched it for a few moments then put it down again and closed his fist on his knee. It would seem he missed his walking stick.

Gawler also fidgeted where he sat. He peered out from under the mop of greasy black hair, his gaze flicking between the Gillinghams and Lincoln. He seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to speak, but even during a pause in the conversation, he didn't seize it. He simply waited.

"You must be wondering why we're here," Harriet finally said. "It's the police, you see."

"You've heard we had a visit from them," I said. "Don't worry, we told them nothing about you or your pack. They didn't take our records and any details we did pass on were limited. We gave them no names."

"Good. I am relieved." She smiled prettily. "See, Gilly?"

Gillingham grunted and didn't meet anyone's gaze. His fist rubbed his thigh slowly, up and down, up and down.

"My husband was worried," Harriet told us. "Of course, I knew you wouldn't tell them anything, but he wanted to come here and find out for himself."

"They questioned me, too," Gawler said.

"A politician named Yallop and a detective called Fullbright interrogated poor Mr. Gawler," Harriet said. "They accused him of those murders. It was awful, wasn't it?"

He nodded. "They said I was a dog, that I should swing for what I done. I told 'em I done nothing and that I don't know nothing about changing into a wolf."

"A necessary lie in this instance," Harriet said with a nod.

"What I want to know is, how'd they know to speak to me if you didn't tell them no names, Mr. Fitzroy?"

"Swinburn," Lincoln said. "I suspect he told them."

"God damn it." Gillingham thumped his fist onto his knee. "Do you think he gave them Harriet's name?"

"No, since the police haven't called on her."

Harriet shook her head. "They have not. But poor Mr. Gawler. What an ordeal!"

"Forget him!" Gillingham shouted. "It's you I'm worried about, not your so-called friends."

"Gilly! That's enough. We've been through this. What affects my pack also affects me." She rubbed her belly again. "They're like my family."

Gillingham dragged his hand through his hair and sat back, deflated.

"You really do think Swinburn is to blame for setting Yallop onto us?" Harriet asked Lincoln.

Lincoln told her what he'd learned about Yallop's debt to Swinburn, and their association.

She was nodding by the time he finished. "It must be Swinburn," she agreed. "First he commits the murders near Mr. Gawler's place to make it look as if he did them, then he colludes with that blasted Yallop fellow. What say you, Mr. Gawler?"

"I say he's a low down mangy cur, ma'am. Pardon my language, but I don't know no better words to describe him."