The note contained a complete summary of what I referred to as the battle of my bank account. A bitter and hard-fought battle with my brother-in-law, Graham, the Earl of Harleigh. We eventually forged a truce and Graham withdrew his suit, but the matter was of such a personal nature only my immediate family and two close friends knew of it—well, and Inspector Delaney. I lifted my gaze to find him observing me closely. “This was in Mary’s possession? However did she learn of it?”
“You never told her about this dispute?”
“Of course not.”
“Is there any chance that the earl did, or perhaps his late wife might have done so?”
I would have dismissed the idea but Delaney’s penetrating stare forced me to give it some consideration. “Obviously I couldn’t say for certain, but I can’t imagine either of them sharing this information with her, or anyone else. It does not reflect well on them. I should think they’d be even more careful than I to ensure no one heard of it.”
“That’s rather what I thought.” He let out a weary breath. “Would the earl have been careful enough to pay Mrs. Archer for her silence on the matter?”
I leaned back as if I could distance myself from such a distasteful implication. “Are you suggesting blackmail? I can’t believe Mary would do such a thing.” I glanced down at the paper in my hands, assailed by confusion. How had she come by this information, and why would she document it? Perhaps the inspector was correct in his assumption.
Delaney tapped his pencil against the open page of his book, waiting for an answer. Had Mary committed blackmail and been murdered for her effort? Heavens, he wasn’t here to tell me of her murder; he was investigating it. I drew a breath, releasing it with a shudder. “She never approached me with the threat of exposure. Graham is a grieving widower.” I raised my hands in confusion. “No one with any decency would threaten someone in that state.”
Delaney reached out for the note. Much as I wanted to burn it, I handed it back. I suppose he’d need it as evidence. “I’m inclined to agree with you,” he said. “But I’ll have to speak to the earl before I can eliminate him as a suspect.”
“As a suspect in Mary’s murder? You can’t be serious.”
The furrows in Delaney’s brow told me he was dead serious. A chill came over me as I felt a moment of doubt. Graham and I had been on opposite sides of a battle in the past. He was not an easy man to deal with when thwarted. But murder? Well, I simply couldn’t imagine it. For one thing, it would require entirely too much effort on his part.
I pressed a finger against my temple as I watched him fold the page, and my secrets, back into the book. “Well, I must say I’ve had far too many shocks for one day. I’ve just learned my friend has been murdered. You announce she may have been a blackmailer. And to top things off, I learn my brother-in-law may be a suspect. I suppose I should be relieved you don’t consider me as one.”
He gave me a wry smile. “I can’t see you committing this crime, no. You shouldn’t worry overmuch about the earl being a suspect either. He’s only one of perhaps a hundred.”
It took a moment for his words to register. “A hundred suspects?” I gave my head a shake in an attempt to clear it. “Are you saying you found more of these potential blackmail notes?”
He stood to take his leave and gave me a stony glare. “I’m saying nothing of the kind, and though I doubt I can keep you from sharing this information with your brother-in-law, I would greatly appreciate it if you would otherwise keep this conversation to yourself.” He released a sigh that spoke of mental exhaustion. “It might take weeks to interview all the suspects, and I would prefer they have no advance warning.”
Good Lord, there were other notes. “How had I misjudged her character to such a degree? Heavens, to think I was trying to make a match between Mary and my cousin.” My shoulders drooped. “Well, no wonder things didn’t work out.”
Delaney, who had been on the point of departure, stopped and turned, regarding me with great forbearance. Oh, dear. I may have just given him suspect number one hundred and one. He lumbered back over to the chair he’d just vacated and sat down. “Lady Harleigh, when I asked how well you knew Mrs. Archer, this is the type of thing you should have told me.”
I chewed on my lower lip, assessing the level of his anger. The inspector possessed a great deal of patience and I had a tendency of putting it to the test now and again. But Cousin Charles seemed an even less likely suspect than Graham. “I suppose you’re right, Inspector, but I was not intentionally withholding evidence. You were speaking of blackmail earlier and that had nothing to do with Mr. Evingdon.” My gaze sharpened. “Unless, of course, you found a note about him, too.”
“I haven’t read them all so it’s possible we have one, but let’s put blackmail aside for now. Perhaps it would be best if you’d just tell me what you know of this Mr. Evingdon and his relationship with Mrs. Archer, so I can decide if he should be considered as a suspect.” He tipped his head to the side. “I’m assuming he did have a relationship with Mrs. Archer?”
It might be for the best, but I’d prefer to tell him nothing. I exhaled a huff of breath to show my indignation, but Delaney only raised his brows in response. Fine. “Charles Evingdon is cousin to my late husband and of course, the current earl. He’s also a friend of Mr. Hazelton.” Delaney knew and respected George, so I was hoping that would be a point in Charles’s favor.
“He’s lately been considering marriage and asked me to introduce him to a suitable lady. Considering his character, personality, and needs, Mary seemed to be a good match. I introduced them a few weeks ago, and to the best of my knowledge, they were simply becoming acquainted with one another. I heard he escorted her to a few events, but whether he was actively courting her, I couldn’t say.”
Delaney retrieved the notebook from his pocket and scribbled a few lines. Lovely. Charles was now a suspect.
“I can also tell you I spoke with him today. He told me he no longer wished to pursue the relationship.”
“Did he now? Any reason for his change of heart?”
How to explain? “In a rambling, roundabout way he told me it would be ungentlemanly to explain their differences. He would only say they didn’t suit.”
Delaney didn’t need to say a word. His expression was that of a miner who’d just discovered a nugget of gold. To his mind, Charles was an excellent suspect for Mary’s murder. I raised a hand to slow his conclusions. “You can’t imagine he murdered her simply because they did not suit, Inspector.”
“Could you have imagined Mrs. Archer blackmailing people, my lady?”
“No, I suppose not,” I said, admitting defeat. “I take it you intend to question him?”
“Unless you’ve recently introduced Mrs. Archer to a more likely suspect, he’s just moved to the top of my list.” Delaney tapped the stubby pencil on the notebook and slipped them both into his pocket.
“I was afraid of that.”
After showing Delaney to the door, I walked back to the empty drawing room, to the card table near the front window. I gazed down at the marquetry pattern of the tabletop, wishing my thoughts were so organized. Or better still that they’d been organized before I’d spoken to Delaney.
“Is he gone?”
I turned sharply as Hetty, Lily, and Lottie slipped into the room, glancing around as if Delaney might be hiding behind a sofa.
“Just,” I replied. We all gravitated to the tea table and seated ourselves on the chintz-covered chairs. Hetty leaned forward eagerly.
“Well?” she said. “Was he here about the murder?”
“Yes. And I’m afraid I may have implicated Cousin Charles in the matter.”
Lottie gasped. “Mr. Evingdon?”
“Goodness, Frances! He’s your cousin,” Lily said.
The two girls gawked at me as if I’d accused one of them of the crime.
“It wasn’t intentional, I assure you. I simply answered his questions.”
Hetty, practical as
always, patted my knee then rose to her feet. “You need a drink, dear. Then you must tell us about this conversation.”
While she moved to the drinks cabinet along the wall, Lily and Lottie eyed me with suspicion, waiting for my explanation. Heavens, what part had Delaney told me to keep to myself? The blackmail, wasn’t it? Yes, that and the notes.
“There really isn’t much to tell,” I said. Hetty handed me a snifter with an inch of brandy. I noted she’d brought one for herself as well. I took a sip and as the liquid warmed me, I detailed my conversation with Delaney, at least as it pertained to Charles.
“Dearest, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Hetty said when I’d finished. “Inspector Delaney would have learned about their relationship sooner or later anyway.”
I drew a deep breath. “Do you think so? He seemed rather keen on the idea of Charles as a suspect. In fact, I got the impression he planned to question him almost immediately.”
Lily leaned over the table and squeezed my arm. “I’m sure Aunt Hetty’s right, Franny. Inspector Delaney will question Mr. Evingdon and find him innocent of any wrongdoing. Best to get that out of the way so he can search for the real murderer.”
I imagined Charles stumbling through his answers to Delaney’s questions and couldn’t quite match Lily’s confidence. “I hope you’re right.”
Hetty turned to me, narrowing one eye. “You don’t believe he might have done it, do you?”
I joined in the chorus of denials from the girls while asking myself just how well I knew Cousin Charles. He was part of the Wynn family through his mother. But while the Wynns were a feckless bunch, snobs, terrible with money, and sometimes philanderers, I don’t believe they ever produced a murderer.
Hetty caught the indecision in my expression. “Frances?”
I pulled my lip in between my teeth. “I can’t imagine it.” But could I imagine Mary Archer as a blackmailer? “It doesn’t seem possible.” How well did I really know him? “He’s always been so kind.” But did he have a temper?
“As long as you’re sure, dear.”
All three of them watched me closely. Then Hetty brightened. “Perhaps you should confer with Hazelton.”
Of course, George. I should certainly speak with him. “Aunt Hetty, that’s an excellent notion.”
“Mr. Hazelton?” Lottie’s brows drew together in confusion. “Is he in the legal profession?”
“He is,” I said. Though I wasn’t quite sure how to explain George Hazelton’s profession, this would have to do. George “handled” matters for the Crown and other highly placed individuals in the government, but some of the actions he took could hardly be considered legal. Still, he had good connections, both with the police and the government, and more importantly he knew the law and what Charles might be facing.
Perhaps George could offer some clarity for my muddled thoughts. If nothing else, he could provide my cousin with some legal advice. They were friends after all. Yes, I should definitely speak with him.
Chapter 3
Pleased I’d made some sort of decision, I was eager to take action. I left the ladies in the drawing room and slipped through my library out to the back garden. Then out my back gate and in through the gate to George’s garden. In this manner I avoided the front door and any chance a passing neighbor might see me calling on a single gentleman.
I caught a glimpse of George through his library window. Seated at his desk, he leaned back in the chair, as if not completely absorbed in his work, one ankle resting on the other knee in a relaxed attitude. I paused, drinking in the sight of him. George had become a very important part of my life in recent months. Longer than that, really. He came to my aid the night my husband died, well over a year ago. And his gallantry saved more than one reputation.
Since I’d moved in next door to him, he’s been part guardian angel, part friend. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him in an emotional sense, but there could be no doubt about my attraction to him. Watching him now, I longed to caress that rugged face or run my fingers through his dark, wavy hair. I blew out a breath and lifted the trailing curls off the back of my neck. Goodness, I must learn to curtail my imagination. Particularly since I didn’t know how he felt about me.
George was an honorable man and had asked me to marry him not long ago. At least I think he did, but that’s neither here nor there as his proposal, if it was one, only arose from some manly sense of duty. My late husband had married me out of his duty to fill the family coffers with my dowry. I’d rather avoid making that mistake again. Besides, I’d only just gained my independence and the single state suited me well for the time being. I rested my hand against the glass. George was far too much a gentleman to be interested in a dalliance.
Not that I was, of course. Heavens, no! My face burned as I damned my imagination.
I saw his posture stiffen seconds before he drew his gaze up to the window. I gave him a bright smile and waved my fingers. In return he gave me a look of enduring patience. He inclined his head to the left, indicating that I should meet him at the doors leading into the drawing room.
“Good afternoon, Frances,” he said, holding open the French door.
“Good afternoon, George. I hope you’re well?” I stepped past him and into a room so masculine in style it felt as if it belonged in a gentlemen’s club rather than in a home.
“To what do I owe this surreptitious visit?”
“Well, I’m afraid I have rather bad news to report.” I preceded him into his library.
“Indeed?” With a gesture, he invited me to take a seat in one of the wingback chairs near the window, then waited for me to do so before seating himself next to me.
“It’s about Mr. Evingdon and Mrs. Archer.”
His inquisitive expression quickly turned to a frown as his brows drew together. “Evingdon and Mrs. Archer? Why are their names linked?”
I took a deep breath and continued. “I imagine you’ve already heard Mary Archer has been murdered?”
“Yes, I did. Such a tragedy.” He tilted his head slightly to the left. “I wasn’t aware you knew her.”
“As one knows anybody in society. At least I thought I did until Inspector Delaney called on me today.”
His brows formed one dark line. “Frances, don’t tell me she had some type of gossip about you?”
“Not gossip. She had facts—pertaining to the battle Graham and I had about my bank account.” I stopped abruptly as I absorbed what George had just said. “How did you know the reason for Delaney’s visit?”
George’s face registered his astonishment. “How did she know about your bank account?”
“Don’t change the subject. Who told you she was collecting information about people?”
“We’ll get to that. First, tell me how this pertains to Evingdon.”
“I introduced him to Mrs. Archer and they were becoming acquainted and keeping company for the past few weeks. Today he and I spoke at the Argyles’ garden affair. He told me he no longer wished to pursue the connection.”
George leaned back and rubbed his hands down his face. “And you relayed this conversation to Delaney?”
I gave him a helpless gesture. “How could I not? He asked how I knew Mary and I could hardly leave out the fact that I’d attempted to make a match between her and my cousin.” I looked down at my hands, fidgeting in my lap. “I’m afraid he sees Charles as a suspect. In fact, I believe he hopes he’s the murderer so he doesn’t have to go through all the files of information Mary seemed to be collecting.”
“I can understand that, but what Delaney doesn’t know is that I will be the one going through those files.”
“You?” George’s lips twisted in a grimace of pain as if the thought of reading all the juicy gossip was torture to him. I, on the other hand, would be champing at the bit to get my hands on it. I sighed. So many inequities in this world. “How did that come about?”
“A friend in high places called in a favor.”
I sat back and
crossed my arms. “I hate when you drop tiny crumbs of information, rather than reveal the whole story. What friend?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
Undaunted, I pressed on. “How high?”
He smiled wickedly, knowing he was driving me to distraction. He leaned across the arms of our chairs until I could see the dark ring circling the lighter green of his eyes. Funny, I’d never noticed that before.
“It’s a secret,” he whispered, his breath tickling my lips. “I can only tell my wife.”
I leaned back and gave him a scowl, pushing all thoughts of his lovely eyes from my mind. “I’ve warned you to be careful about that, George. Someday I may call your bluff.”
With a satisfied smile, he sat back in his chair. “Then I live in hope.”
“Now you’re trying to distract me. At least tell me why you’ve been given this assignment rather than the police.”
“Apparently some of the information in Mrs. Archer’s possession is rather sensitive, and potentially damaging, to more than one important family or career. My friend didn’t trust the police to keep that information to themselves. He used his influence to have the files reviewed by a liaison to the police.” He shrugged. “That would be me.”
“Considering she has personal information about me as well, I’m relieved to hear you’re handling this.” I gave him a narrow-eyed examination, wondering how much he’d tell me. “Based on my discussion with Delaney, the theory is she was blackmailing many people and one of them decided to end it by murdering her. You are to go through her information and determine the most likely suspect?”
“Essentially.”
I frowned. I still found it hard to believe Mary would stoop to blackmail. “Is there any evidence that she’d actually blackmailed anyone? Banknotes stuffed in a drawer? Large deposits to her bank account? Has someone actually made an accusation?”
A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder Page 3
