A Murderous Affair, page 11
“That can’t be…”
Gabrielle shrugged and folded the shirt, setting it next to a pair of men’s boots. She didn’t appear to have finished cleaning them.
As loath as she was to put in any real work, Gabrielle looked far worse. In fact, Harriet feared her friend was a breath away from collapsing into a heap. “You look like you’re having trouble with those boots. Do you need help with them?”
Gabrielle sighed. “I’m at my wits’ end. The soles are charred, and nothing I do keeps them clean for long. I swear, Mr. Blake must make a habit of kicking logs into the fire.”
Harriet pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing. “I heard he has a bad temper. Is that true?”
Gabrielle shrugged. “That’s something you’ll have to ask Rita, not me. Like I said, I go out of my way to avoid them upstairs. I’m far happier scrubbing out the stains than watching the cause.”
A dark cloud enveloped Harriet’s chest. She understood Gabrielle’s sentiment all too well. Before she’d come to work for Lady Katherine, the best-paying job she’d found was as a laundry maid. And no one, not even the housekeeper, had respect for a laundry maid. Now Gabrielle was stuck doing the work of two women, not one. If Harriet could have helped in some small way, she would have.
But, since she was helpless, she let her gaze drift anywhere but to her friend. They stopped on a most curious item.
“Now what is that doing here at this time of year?”
Chapter Ten
If Katherine had to live for one more week in this house and watch her parents making calf eyes at each other, she would go completely and blithering mad. Even though she was more than occupied with the murder investigation and her holiday engagements, she must at all costs find the time to search out a residence of her own.
Susanna wasn’t even showing her pregnancy, and yet when Katherine passed her stepmother’s favorite parlor, she found Susanna lounged on the divan and her father kneeling at her feet, making what sounded like cooing sounds at her stepmother’s stomach. The child was going to think he was a bird if they kept this up! The moment she found them, Katherine battled a full body shudder. She took a hasty step back.
Not soon enough. Susanna raised a hand, halting Papa’s meaningless chatter at her stomach as she beckoned Katherine forward.
“Katherine, there you are! I thought you were out.”
If there were any justice in this world, she would have been.
She forced a smile. “No. I have Harriet out investigating for me. I’m awaiting her return.” And she couldn’t come soon enough.
Papa sat back on his heels, though he didn’t rise. His hand rested on Susanna’s knee, possessive.
Katherine’s smile felt brittle. “So sorry for intruding.”
Susanna swung her legs over the side of the divan and planted her feet on the floor, pushing her husband back a pace. “You aren’t intruding at all. In fact, I was looking for you earlier. We have an appointment tomorrow to inspect a townhouse in St. James’s Square.”
Katherine cocked her head to the side. “The one I told you about, on Charles Street?”
Susanna nodded. “The very same. The owner won’t be present, but he’s sending a solicitor to show us the interior.”
Katherine would just as soon not meet with Lord Conyers in any case. She smiled. “That’s brilliant news.”
Although she could have found a house on her own, Susanna had taken a singular delight in searching out precisely the right place for Katherine. Before marrying Papa, Susanna — a widow — had found her own such place in London and therefore had heaps of advice for Katherine. Truthfully, she was happy for the help. Not to mention Susanna’s enthusiasm was infectious.
Rousted from his place by Susanna’s belly, Papa unfolded himself to his full height, a few inches taller than Katherine. His piercing blue-gray eyes landed upon her, and he stroked his chin, pondering. “Katherine, if you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you in my study.”
Katherine was no stranger to her father’s study. In fact, it was where she had spent the greater part of her youth. Here, he had taught her the most vital aspects of investigation. Here, they had gone over countless clues, and he had fostered her mind above the silly etiquette that society insisted she learn. Nevertheless, there was a quality to his voice that turned Katherine’s stomach to knots as she followed her father down the first-floor corridor and into his masculine abode. It smelled like leather and firewood, a warm and soothing scent. Papa chose one of the chairs in front of the hearth, across from the small table perpetually set with the chessboard. Katherine took the other, perching on the edge.
He ran his finger over the crown of a pawn for a long moment before he spoke. “I know Susanna is very eager to see you settled in a house of your own, but please don’t let her enthusiasm fool you. You’re more than welcome to stay in my house.”
I know I am. Katherine opened her mouth, but her father continued over her. He moved his eyes to her, but instead of his customary shrewd gaze, for the moment they seemed limpid.
“I must confess, I’ll miss you if you leave the house. I’m certain Susanna will too.”
Looking into her father’s earnest features, Katherine hesitated. Would it be such a chore to live in this house with the new baby? She had done it before, with her younger sisters.
But no, she wasn’t leaving because her father was expecting an heir. She was leaving because she needed her independence. She had fought hard for it and didn’t intend to step away from this path because it was more daunting than the complacency she found here.
She reached out to clasp Papa’s hand in hers, squeezing it. The calluses on his palm from writing brushed against her fingers. “I have to leave the nest sometime, Papa. Besides, you and Susanna deserve your privacy, don’t you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “We have two children not yet grown and another on the way. What makes you think we have any privacy at all?”
She chuckled at that. “The girls are minded by their governess. It’s not the same as having a grown daughter in the house, and you know it. We no longer work on the same investigations, which means if we live in the same house, we’ll be likely to get in each other’s way.”
He sighed, pulling away from her to run his hand through his receding hair. “If that’s what you want, I won’t press you to stay. But I do hope you’ll visit.”
“Often,” Katherine promised.
“Susanna tells me you’re working on a case right now?”
She nodded. “It’s an old case. A maid from Mr. Blake’s household was found stabbed in an alley this past summer. Bow Street dismissed it as a random act of violence, but I don’t think it random at all. Pru, Harriet, and I are looking into it. With Lyle’s help, of course.”
Papa steepled his fingers on his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Blake, did you say? This investigation, is that why Annandale was asking all those questions at the club?”
Katherine nodded. “Yes, he’s investigating, too.”
Papa’s bushy eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Captain Wayland, as well?”
Katherine’s throat closed. She clamped her hands on the arms of the chair, struggling to find her tongue.
Papa dropped his hands. “Are you working with Captain Wayland?”
“No! I would never.”
Though, thinking back to the past few investigations…
No. In none of those cases had she invited his help. He’d simply shown up and offered it whether she wanted it or not.
“I mean yes, we are working on the same investigation, but not together. I promise you that.”
Her father passed a hand across his face to hide what must be a grimace. He certainly couldn’t be smirking at her! Though it appeared for a second as if that was what he was hiding.
But why would he smirk? Papa disdained Wayland. He would undoubtedly think less of her for accepting help from such a source. Would he? Why? Katherine gritted her teeth. From everything Wayland had shown her thus far, he was an intelligent, capable detective, perhaps even of higher morals in his investigation practices than she. Still, she’d rather be rid of him. She disliked him as much her father…
Didn’t she? Every time they were together, they butted heads and exchanged quips, trying to finagle information out of each other. It had been that way since her first solo investigation. But was her opinion born of experience, or had her presumptions about him been colored by her father’s complaints about him?
What had Papa said, precisely? Nothing specific that Katherine’s impeccable memory could recall. However, Katherine was adept at reading between the lines. If Papa disliked him, he had a reason—
And now Papa was staring at her, waiting for her explanation. Hadn’t she given him one already? He lowered his hand from his mouth, his expression impenetrable.
“Papa, you know I would never work with Wayland. I know you don’t wish for me to. The only reason I’ve been seeing more of him lately is because… Because of Pru! Pru tells Lord Annandale about all of our investigations, and he’s Wayland’s closest friend and—”
Papa laughed. “Since when do you ever do as I wish?”
Katherine stared at him, agape. She tried to be the dutiful daughter. If perhaps she was a little bit stubborn, the trait served her well in her chosen occupation.
At the flabbergasted look on her face, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. He crossed one ankle over the other. “Why don’t you tell me about this investigation you’re conducting?”
Thankful for the change in topic, Katherine let out a slow breath. “The very first thing I discovered was that Ellie Simpson, the maid who was stabbed, possessed articles of clothing and jewelry that no maid could afford. We’ve been following that clue for the moment, and I have Harriet off to the Blake household as we speak to ask the servants if Ellie had any paramours outside of the house. We don’t think Mr. Blake would have given her those things, seeing as he is rather stingy with his money.”
Papa nodded. “And?”
“And there are various other factors, as well. We’re not only looking at a potential lover for the crime, even though I think it is the most likely outcome. Mr. Blake has a reputation for taking his maids to bed.” Katherine didn’t hesitate to mention the sordid details, considering that they had worked on dozens of investigations together. Since the men and women involved were rarely saints, Katherine had learned of this side to life young. “Rita, another maid in Mr. Blake’s household, is certainly one of them, and it’s possible she was jealous if Ellie was a second. If Mr. Blake did provide those gifts to Ellie, both Rita and his wife had motive for jealousy. I have it on good authority that he never showers his wife with gifts. I don’t know enough at the moment to be able to point to one suspect over another, but I’m hoping that Harriet will return soon with some news.”
Papa nodded. “You have a good head on your shoulders, and you’re making good deductions. But, pumpkin, don’t forget that things are not always as they seem.”
Katherine frowned. In terms of the investigation, she thought she was looking at the clues from all angles. But from the way he spoke, it almost sounded as if his words had a double meaning. Whatever could he mean?
He stood, rolling back his shoulders. “You’d best get ready. Susanna and I will be leaving for the New Year’s ball soon.”
Katherine made a face. “I forgot about that. Will you give my excuses? I must meet up with Pru”—and Wayland, Annandale and McTavish—“to exchange news of this investigation.”
Papa held her gaze a moment more before he nodded solemnly. “I’ll give your excuses to the hosts. Dazzle her with your brilliance, my dear,” he added with a wink.
Almost as though he’d guessed she was meeting with more people than Pru alone.
Chapter Eleven
With the house to herself, Katherine paced the first-floor parlor. Emma trotted at her heels, the clicking of her little claws on the floor periodically muffled as she passed across the rug. Katherine turned and nearly tripped over Pru, who was lounged in a chaise with her feet stretched in front of her. Katherine hopped over her ankles and stumbled a couple of steps before she continued her brisk tour of the room.
“Where is she?” Katherine mumbled under her breath.
Click-click, click-click.
Loudly, Pru complained, “Why are we waiting? If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late to the meeting. Don’t you want to meet with the others to compare notes?”
Katherine spun to face her. “I do.” However, she craved the information Harriet had to provide more.
Her stomach clenched. What if Harriet wasn’t back yet because she hadn’t been able to find anything? At this rate, Katherine would have precious little to exchange with Wayland in order to discover what he knew.
No, Harriet couldn’t have failed. She was far too gregarious a person. She made friends like Katherine collected books, finding one in nearly every household in London.
“Harriet will return soon.”
“So you said half an hour ago.”
Katherine gritted her teeth and glanced at the open door. From her vantage point in the parlor, she could see the staircase and beyond, on the ground floor, the front door leading onto the street. It remained resolutely closed.
“I know I did, but I promised her I would wait. She’s out to find information for us, information we can use.”
Pru lifted a finger. “Wouldn’t it be better to go to the meeting first, in that case? Then after, we’ll know something the others do not. As it is, we’re set to exchange all information on the investigation.”
Katherine lifted her eyebrows at her friend. “Do you truly think they will be impressed with what little we’ve discovered thus far?”
“How do you know they’ve found more than us?”
She didn’t, of course. However, she had the irritating and perhaps irrational fear that Wayland had outdone her. Worse than the thought of acting the marriage-mad fool during a ball was the idea that she would lose to Wayland. At all costs, she had to prove that she was his equal, perhaps even his better at investigation. That would be the only way he would stop discounting her theories the moment they came out of her mouth.
She clenched her fists.
Emma yipped. Katherine jumped as the dog bolted out of the room, the sound of her departure echoing in the stillness. A moment later, Harriet’s laugh drifted in from the corridor, though its source remained out of view. Katherine rushed to the door, determined to meet her at once.
With a broad smile, Harriet scooped Emma into her arms and rearranged the bow around her neck. “Did you miss me, girl?”
“You’re back. When did you arrive?” Katherine glanced at the door down the stairs, reassuring herself that it was, indeed, shut. It hadn’t opened. She’d been keeping too close an eye on it.
Harriet raised one eyebrow in a supercilious expression. “I came in the servants’ door, as always.”
Why hadn’t Katherine thought of that? They could have waited in the kitchen. She lunged into the corridor, catching Harriet by the sleeve and towing her into the parlor. “Quick, tell me what you’ve learned. We’re set to leave for Lord Annandale’s townhouse at any moment.”
“I had a lot of time to think on the walk home. Near as I can tell, Lord Quinbury must be in financial trouble. Either that, or he’s battling some sticky-fingered servants.”
Katherine frowned. For a moment, she’d forgotten that she’d sent Harriet out on two investigative tasks. As much as she wanted to tell Harriet to forget this until tomorrow, better she committed to memory now.
“What makes you say that?”
Harriet tipped Emma over in her arms and started to rub her belly. As the pug wriggled in glee, she answered, “He’s been letting go of his staff. There’s talk in the house that maybe one of them stole the silver and pawned it, but if that were the case, Lord Quinbury would have simply bought it back. That leads me to believe he must be in financial trouble. I’d have to go back in order to find something more concrete…”
Katherine waved her hand. “It might be enough.” If she could find a way to slip that information to Miss Graylocke’s parents, perhaps it would be enough to dissuade them from the match. Of course, Katherine had scarcely spoken a word to them in her life. They might not trust her as an advisor. She had to find a subtler way of providing them the information.
That was a problem for another day. She waved her hand, indicating for Harriet to carry on. “What did you discover at Mr. Blake’s?”
Immediately, Harriet averted her gaze. She set Emma on the ground and straightened to brush the dog hair off her frock. She didn’t look Katherine in the eye.
“Did you find something?”
Harriet’s gaze, when she lifted it, was sly. “Oh, I found something.”
“Well, what is it?” Pru asked, impatient. She rose from the chaise and stormed closer. “We haven’t got the time to tease it out of you.”
It was the wrong way to deal with Harriet, as Katherine well knew. The moment the words left Pru’s mouth, Harriet crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, stubborn. “Shouldn’t you be asking me something else, instead?”
“Like what?” Katherine asked.
At the same time Pru answered, “No.”
The glare didn’t make its way to Harriet’s face, but she pointedly shifted her position to cut Pru out of the conversation. Looking Katherine directly in the eye, she said, “You should ask me to come along.”
Katherine raised her thumbnail to her mouth, nibbling on it. Why was Harriet so insistent on coming along? She seemed fixated on being incorporated into every part of this investigation, when usually she fought her hardest to stay out of the matter.
“You let that Scottish oaf McTavish into your meetings, don’t you? So why can’t I come, too?”
