“You think she has gone to stay with her aunt?” Allan said, watching as Charlotte nodded.
“If she went of her own volition, where else would she go?” Charlotte asked. “She certainly wouldn’t go to her parents, not if she wanted to feel safe.”
“But she would go to her aunt’s. With Honora, she would feel safe,” Allan realized, muttering to himself and shaking his head. “Damn I’m such a fool.” He stood, only taking the strip of linen which had been prepared for the wound on his hand when Dorothy offered it up to him.
“Wrap up your wound, please,” Dorothy begged. “And no more punching men.” When Allan arched his eyebrows at her, she revealed the smallest of smiles and nodded. “I’m still glad you hit him. He deserved it.”
“He got a good beating,” Stephen said. He was still a little uncomfortable though Gerard just smiled broadly.
“He deserved even worse,” Gerard muttered.
Allan made his way toward the door, stopping when Stephen called to him, so he had to tarry in the doorway for a moment.
“Where are you going?” Stephen asked from his seat nearby.
“Where do you think?” Allan asked with a gruff laugh, as if stating the obvious. He walked out of the door, calling the last few words over his shoulder. “I’m going to go to Cornwall and get my wife back.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Allan turned up at the constable’s station early in the morning. He planned to leave for Cornwall as soon as this meeting was over and had arrived in the early hours of the morning to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.
“Lord Padleigh?” the senior constable said, standing to greet him as Allan walked in. “I’m Constable Burns. My junior said you wish to report an assault.”
“That’s right.” Allan shook the man’s hand and sat down on the other side of a desk as the constable returned to his seat. “Before I begin, the assault took place some time ago. In fact, it was a year ago.”
Constable Burns muttered, as if this meant nothing.
“That wouldn’t affect your chance of a conviction?”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Constable Burns shook his head. “I need evidence though.”
“Very well, I will give it to you.” Allan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two strips of paper.
One had been written by himself the night before. He had extensively written down everything he could remember about what Frederica had told him of the night she had been attacked. He had also written down some of the meeting he’d had with Lord Wetherington, choosing to leave out the part where he himself had assaulted the man. Instead, he had talked of Wetherington’s obsession with Frederica and his need to stop any other man having her — something he had as good as confessed to her.
The second paper was a letter which had been addressed to Charlotte. It was from Frederica and had been written during her time in Cornwall.
Last night, as Allan had left the house, ready to make his plans to go to Cornwall, Charlotte had caught up with him and handed over the letter, saying she hoped it would help him in his quest for justice for Frederica.
He wasn’t sure if Charlotte realized exactly what she had handed him, but it was everything he needed to see that Lord Wetherington wouldn’t just leave Frederica alone by escaping to another country but by being sent to a prison instead.
“In this letter,” he said, handing it over to the constable. “You will see it is from my wife, Lady Padleigh. In it, she writes to her friend about an assault she suffered last year. She does not mention the man by name, but I now know the man.”
He proceeded to hand the constable the other two strips of paper.
“A viscount.” Constable Burns shifted uncomfortably.
“Will that be a problem? Arresting a viscount?”
“If a marquess and a marchioness are making the accusation? That should make things a little easier.” Constable Burns nodded. “I just have to find him first and bring him in.”
“You will take this seriously then?” Allan asked with hope. “Forgive me, I’ve met men in my life who easily dismiss the idea of a woman being assaulted by a man. They do not consider such things as serious matters.”
“It is serious to you though?” Constable Burns said with interest.
“I cannot tell you how much. The thought of Lord Wetherington ever trying to touch her again, or any other woman for that matter, sickens me.” He sat rigidly in his seat, hoping not to appear too angry. If he was to get what he wanted, he needed to sound like a calm and reasonable man making this accusation.
“Well, it is serious to me too.” Constable Burns’ face suddenly firmed up, and a deep frown creased his brow. “I knew a young woman who had been attacked once in such a way. I know what you mean, My Lord. Many men in this world take violence against women as something that is happenstance, but I am not one of them, and I will not stand for it.”
