To Deceive A Duke

Chapter 5

"It's funny, most of it talks about the Irish and Welsh revolts, but if you looks in this corner," His thick finger taps an tiny article in the corner. "I think you'll find this of interest."

Clarissa gives him a calculating look but takes the paper and reads the paragraph. Her stomach curdles as she reads a description of a woman who has been attacked, molested and then killed. The details of the attack is enough to make her blood freeze in her veins, but she forces herself to keep her composure, she swallows and pass the paper back.

"Pity, the streets are never safe for young women nowadays. My condolences to her family." Her voice is steady, although her hands threaten to shake.

Rawson takes the paper back and considers her carefully. "That's all you have to say? You don't find it strange? Curious? Odd?"

"What else is there to say? I didn't know the girl." Clarissa says slowly, "This is not my doing."

"That's funny, " Rawson chuckle wryly, "Everyone else I have spoken to is saying the same."

"Then maybe you are speaking to the wrong people." She says with mirth.

"Who would you suggest I ask?" He steps closer, folding up The Times. She looks down he nose at him, relishing the extra few feet she has over him.

"The name Cavendish is coming up quite a lot."

"I've spoken to Cavendish, he is the one who pointed me in your direction." Rawson tells her.

"He what?" Clarissa snaps, her hands folding across her chest.

"What's going on in Whitechapel that I don't know about?" He asks, lowering his voice.

"I don't know." She replies automatically, she fixes him with a punishing glare, "What did Cavendish say about me?"

"You are lying, you don't miss a thing like this." He retorts, ignoring her question.

Clarissa laughs, "Don't take me for a fool Rawson, I have no doubt one of yours is sniffing around the place while we speak, so if anyone is going to know what is happening, it is you not I."

He doesn't deny her words, but fixes her with a piercing stare. "Change is coming, I can feel it in the air, there is a strong power desperate to control this city, a power stronger than even you."

"Are you warning me?" She asks, her voice steely. She feels a chill surround her despite the sun still shining.

"It's not me you should be wary of Miss Lenoir, I am simply doing my job. It's those motivated by the past who you need fear," He bows his head as he steps away from her, "Keep an eye on the papers, they tell more than at first glance." He turns on his heel and leaves her standing by the cherry tree, confused and on edge.

She looks around the gardens, unease creeping on the back of her neck. Although the gardens and neighbouring street are bustling with people, none of them look as though they are spying on her. In fact they all look like normal people that aren't haunted by mistakes, unknown rivals and murder.

Her conversation with the detective makes Clarissa unwilling to dawdle, she quickly retraces her steps her and steps into the street. With much on her mind, she decides that a riverside walk will help to clear her head and she begins to head to down to the riverside path. The riverside is full of market stalls, people shouting and clamouring to sell their wares. It is noisy and lively but Clarissa enjoys the vibrancy of the riverside community, a simple stroll eases her stress and offers her some consistency in her ever-changing world.

When Roderick Lenoir was alive Clarissa had most of her days filled with activity and purpose, whether it be shooting practice or business management, she always had something on. The last two weeks have been completely different, with little for her to do, or even think about doing, and although it is nice for her to have a clear schedule, doing nothing is making her restless. Her mind itches for its next project, for its new purpose. Leading the Strand is her job now, but she is not required to be present everyday, there is little to do during the daylight hours.