Page 58 of The Detective and the Baroness

“This goes against every fiber of my morals, but I believe we should say nothing for now, as Mr. Chambers suggested. If the loan is the only withdrawal on record, the law and the police will assume it was money paid to Danaher.”

Corrine shook her head. “My father supposedly has papers for the loan, stating that the full amount is due if Travis and I divorce.”

“After talking with your father, I concluded he is a bit of a dunderhead, as well as an incredibly selfish person. Sorry to be so direct.”

“It is the complete truth,” Corrine replied.

“I think Addington fabricated the paper your father supposedly signed. He planned to use the document and the loan to make you amenable to his twisted heir plan. He threatened you with it in your last meeting with him. I’m sure it was politely put, but still a threat, nonetheless.”

“Yes, it was a threat. When I feel sorry for Travis’s tragic end, I recall his machinations, and any pity I might feel all but melts away. He held that blasted loan over my head. How horrible. Would he have told me about the discovered heir? Who knows?”

Mitchell laced his fingers through Corrine’s. “You are free. If the loan document existed, Mr. Dobson would have mentioned it today.”

“You’re right. He would be duty-bound to mention it.”

“We hope. I suggest we say nothing for now, as Mr. Chambers suggested. If the law comes to inquire, we can deal with it then. Obviously, we will give it back.”

“And if no one comes to inquire about it?” Corrine murmured.

“My first instinct is to say that you should keep it as compensation for all you have endured from your father and, more recently, your husband. However, that is an opinion from my heart, not my head.”

Corrine sighed. “Even though your reasons are sound, it would not sit well with me.”

“Honestly? Not me either. My common sense says to return it to the barony. But waiting until the solicitors work out the details is still the wise thing to do.”

“I feel—strange. I am not sure what I should be feeling. And because of that, I should not be making any decisions right now. I agree, let’s wait.”

Those words arrowed straight to Mitchell’s heart. Corrine was speaking of the money, but it also could be said of what had passed between them in the alley. Any emotional declarations from him should be delayed. So should any outward displays of passion beyond a kiss. Adding to her overcrowded plate was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a time and a place—and this situation was not it, no matter how much he yearned for her.

“After dropping you at Gloucester Square, I will go and see Mahone. He needs to know about Danaher and everything we learned at Mr. Dobson’s office today. Mr. Dobson said he would contact Mahone, but I would feel better if it came from me first. Besides, I want to know if the young man lived through the night, and if they discovered his identity.”

“Yes. I still cannot believe everything that has unfolded during the past twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Danaher as Gilbert’s illegitimate son? Remember what Thomason revealed? About a man with scars coming to see Gilbert? I guess Danaher came for money, just as you said. The fact that Gilbert never allowed the man at the door inside spoke of his disdain. The old baron paid Danaher and dismissed him.”

“Yes. Exactly that.” He looked outside. “And here we are.” Mitchell waited until the hansom stopped, then climbed down and assisted Corrine. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I will need to get a little food in, and some dishes and such, but all I want now is to sleep.”

Mitchell kissed her hand. “Yes, rest. I will see you tonight. Come downstairs for supper later if you wish.”

“I will. Just bang on the door if I do not come down before half past six.”

Mitchell escorted her through the rear yard entrance and watched as she climbed the wrought iron stairs to the second level. Corrine unlocked the door, turned, and waved. Maybe he should have checked the small flat, but Mitchell believed it unlikely that Danaher would have any idea where Corrine would be staying. Likely, he was lying low at the moment. Though how long he would stay secreted away was another matter….

Once he returned to the hansom, he told the driver, “Marylebone Lane police station.”

After he met with Mahone, he would travel to the Lancaster station and inform his inspector of the developments. The more police officers looking for Danaher, the better.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A uniformed policeman brought Mahone and Mitchell steaming mugs of tea, then closed the door and left them alone.

Mahone took a sip. “Nice and hot. Now, about the young man. He’s still alive, but the doctors are not sure he will fully recover. As the baroness surmised, his intestines were nicked by the bullet. There was a great deal of internal bleeding. After hours of surgery, they removed the bullet along with several feet of gut. They say he is young and strong and may recover if he lives through the next few days.” Mahone took another sip of tea and opened his folder. “A woman showed up at the hospital. She would not say how she discovered the young man had been injured. Her name is Erin Quinlan, and she says her son’s name is Cillian Quinlan.”

“Danaher’s son,” Mitchell stated. “I remember the name Cillian from my precinct’s reports.”

“She admitted that much and said the boy had no connection to his father until about a year ago when Danaher showed up out of the blue. Against her strong objections, Cillian has been following him around like a loyal puppy ever since. The young man just turned twenty years of age.”

“Danaher must have sent word to her about Cillian’s injury. Have you questioned the young man by chance?”