“A brother who had everything that Dale did not.”
A long pause. Joan waited.
“A brother who had everything he did not,” Gregor agreed. “After dinner, Mr. Dale also said there were secrets I needed to know but Lotus Hall was not a safe place to share them. I pressed him, but he would not elaborate. He’s also not shared much with Phyllis, which seems odd, as they were always close.”
“Where would it be safe?” she asked.
“At my lodgings in London, presumably, but if he wanted to speak of this important secret, he should have come there first!” Gregor smacked a fist into his palm.
“If she thought Mr. Dale was a danger to your family, your mother would not have brought him here.”
“My mother is hardly an uninterested party and there are many different kinds of danger.”
That must have taken a lot to say out loud. “Dale’s still a suspect in my attack then.”
“Yes.”
A mystery indeed. “What’s next, then, for our investigation?”
“I need data.” He began pacing again. “I need to examine everything from Dale’s trunk, I need to search his rooms. I must solve the mystery of how they arrived.”
Joan stood and set her hand on Gregor’s forearm. “I’m surprised you haven’t already searched his rooms.”
Gregor grimaced. “My mother can track me, even in shadows. And she might inform Mr. Dale of my search. And if he’s dangerous, then he’ll be forewarned.”
This inaction must be killing him. “I know exactly what it’s like to be worried your parents are keeping secrets.”
“You understand, yes.” But he brushed off her contact.
“But you’ll not accept my comfort and support, as I accepted yours.”
He turned. “I must be logical about this. I cannot stay focused otherwise.”
“It’s impossible to be logical about one’s mother, as I know. Accept my help, here, Gregor.”
His gaze softened. “I am confiding in you. I’m hoping you see what I do not. How is that not asking for help?”
“All right, then, let’s talk about your brothers. What did Nick mean about Jared disapproving of him?”
Joan stretched her legs out on the couch. Gregor lifted them and stroked her calves. She closed her eyes, perfectly happy to be the instrument of his physical attention. He wanted to make his reticence up to her. She hoped. Or it could simply be desire. Gregor was definitely not above that.
“Nick is harmless, save mostly to himself, but Jared cannot see past his prejudices about certain things. Instead, the duke closes his eyes and insists Nick behave ‘properly,’ which makes Nick all the more willing to rub Jared’s nose in it.”
“In what?”
“You noticed Nick and Reg at dinner.”
Joan thought of the looks exchanged between them. Was it possible? “Does their…closeness…mean what you imply it does?”
Gregor closed his hands tight around her calves. “That was quick. You are perceptive.”
“So you’ve always told me.” It made sense, then, especially combined with Vai’s comments about Nick being hopeless regarding marriage. How awful for Nick to have to hide such an essential part of himself. “Poor Nick. That’s a hard burden to bear, especially when everyone is watching him for missteps. No wonder he went to America to be free from scrutiny. But now that he’s home, he cannot stop being himself any more than you can.”
“Joan.” Gregor set two fingers under her chin, lifted it so they could see eye-to-eye. “Just like that, you accept what others would condemn. I’m still not getting your limits, am I?”
Ah, she could get lost in those brown eyes. And had. “I’ve learned hiding what you are leads to the path of madness. As you well know too.” She kissed his fingers. “That is why I’m so frustrated when you hide yourself from me.”
He sighed. Not an answer.
“You like Nick a great deal, yes?”
“Yes. He teases and taunts but he means well.”
“And Jared less so?”
Gregor waved that away and settled beside her. “Jared is the duke and, before then, he was the heir to a man who cast a large shadow. He sees all through that lens. And he’s stressed by his responsibilities. You saw some of his temper tonight.”
“The duchess helped keep it in check.”
“Which is probably part of why she attended dinner.”
“Jared is concerned because he might deal with the fallout if the truth about his brother becomes a public scandal?”
Gregor leaned back. “Jared’s not completely wrong. A great scandal would reduce his effectiveness in politics. But sometimes I believe Jared wishes he could make Nick other than he is. Jared feels Nick should have married and done his duty to the family. Nick senses the disapproval and it makes him lash out at Jared.”
“And does Jared consider you a suitable heir, Gregor?”
He snorted. “He hopes that it does not get that far. After all, I’m acceptable as the third son but…a half-Indian duke is not so desired.”
“Even less desired would be a duke with Indian and Jewish blood,” she countered.
“Indeed.” He rested his hand on her thigh. “Obviously, Jared has pinned his hopes on this baby. Perhaps why he’s so sanguine about you.”
They laced fingers.
“Your eldest brother must have some flexibility in his thinking to have me in his home, at his table.”
“Hah. He’s hoping your children will be mage-gifted. Our children.” He regarded her. “And what about flexibility in your thinking, Joan?”
The marriage. Seeing Victoria and Jared together had helped, in some way. They seemed to have a partnership. “I’m…working on making up my mind for good.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“You can’t change who you are,” she said.
“Would you want me to?”
“No, but neither can I change who I am.”
Gregor might have worked on convincing her further, in bed, save for a quiet knocking on her door.
Joan snapped to her feet, holding her robe tight around her. Gregor vanished into shadow.
A voice called to them. “Miss Krieger, it’s urgent. Open up!”
“That’s Nick,” Gregor whispered.
She cracked the door to reveal Gregor’s brother. He pushed it open fully before she could stop him. He was half-dressed, in only trousers, an undershirt, and a formal shirt open at the neck. No sign of a collar or tie or cravat. He wore slippers, not shoes.
An angel rousted from bed.
“Blast it, brother, this is no time to play coy.” Nick glanced around the empty room, tossing the clothes in his hand onto a chair. “We’ve got a murder on our hands, and that’s not even the worst of it.”
Bloody Hell.
Gregor dropped his concealment.
“Come now, brother, dammit,” Nick repeated.
“Not without my partner.”
Joan could have kissed him for that but it would have delayed her dressing. In the bedroom, she hastily tossed on her day clothes, leaving her hair unadorned and loose.
Gregor slipped on the clothing that Nick had practically thrown at him.
“The socks are mismatched,” Gregor noted.
“They’re what I could grab from your room. Stop complaining and move.”
In a few moments, Nick hurried them down a short hallway, down one flight of stairs, threw open double doors to the left, rushed them through the largest private library Joan had ever seen (which contained an agitated Jared and Moriarty), to a smaller door and, finally, into an ante-chamber also full of bookshelves.
Cooper, obviously dead, hung in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass window, a steel chain wrapped around his neck.
The cravat that Jared Sherringford, Duke of Bennington, had worn around his neck at dinner was laced into the heavy links, its bright red a contrast to the iron color of the chain.
Chapter 9
Jared bu
rst into the room that held Cooper’s body.
“Out!” Gregor ordered. “I will handle the crime scene. Joan, go to the other room and gather an account of what happened from my brothers and Mr. Moriarty.”
Joan took a moment to glance at the dead man. He looked almost alive, save there was no animation, no breath, no power in him any longer. She muttered a prayer.
Phyllis Dale would be heartbroken.
“You cannot hover while he investigates, gentlemen,” Joan said. “Your Grace, you’re implicated by the cravat. You must not be part of this investigation.”
“Damn it all, I didn’t kill him!” the duke yelled.
“Out!” Gregor commanded, spearing a finger at the door.
“Let him work.” She gestured at Nick, silently pleading for his help.
“He’s my guest, I’m responsible,” Jared muttered.
“Listen to Miss Krieger, please, brother.” Nick backed out of the room, tugging Jared with him. Joan closed the door behind them, catching a last glance of Gregor examining the body, lost in his own world already. She knew from experience to leave him be.
Moriarty advanced on the brothers the instant they came into the room.
Like Nicholas and the duke, Moriarty wore trousers and a dress shirt missing its collar. The circles around his eyes told her that he’d been awake for some time.
“Who found the body?” Joan asked, taking command of the room.
“I did,” Nick said. “I came to the library. I could not sleep.”
But there must be a library on the family side of Lotus Hall. Oh. Nick might have been visiting Reg, as Gregor had been “visiting” her. Let that question go.
“What happened next?” she asked.
“I grabbed a chair to get him down, to help him but…” Nick collapsed into a chair, hands on his knees. “But he was clearly dead. I closed the door and rushed out…”
“…and found me in the hallway,” Moriarty continued. “His Grace and I had been up late, talking about the Mage Reform Act, and I could not sleep. When I didn’t find Cooper in our rooms, I went to look for him. I saw Lord Nicholas rush out. I pushed him aside to see for myself. I…saw…” Moriarty closed his eyes. A single tear slipped down his cheek. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, this is hard. He was young, vital, a friend.”
The duke maneuvered Moriarty to a chair. The headmaster put his head in his hands and said no more.
“And how did you come here, Your Grace?” Joan asked.
“Since we had just parted, Moriarty knew I was awake. He came to me at once.” The duke answered absently, looking at the door to the adjacent room.
“Have any of you told anyone else of this?” A servant might have heard the commotion.
“No, of course not, do you take me for a fool?” The duke paced from one corner of the room to the other, stalking who knew what.
“The duchess? Her maids?” Joan asked. “Are they aware?”
“No, and no.” He paused. “My wife sleeps separately, so her rest is not disturbed at this delicate time. I should like to keep this from her, as much as I can.” His face paled and Joan remembered they’d lost the last two babies prematurely.
“This is a disaster,” Moriarty moaned. “Samuel was one of the most vital and active members of the society. His death at this critical time, with the Mage Reform Act under review, is horrible.” He shook his head. “And a serious personal loss.”
“Of course. God, man, you look terrible. Have some drink.” Nick brought him a glass of something that looked like whiskey or brandy. He also poured one for himself and the duke.
“Miss Krieger?” Nick offered.
“No, thank you. I’m working.” She was in a room with someone who might have tried to kill her yesterday. Who might have committed murder just now.
It would be disastrous to operate with even a little drink in her.
“Working. Yes, you and Gregor deal in murder.” Nick glanced at Jared and seemed to receive some unsaid signal. That they’d cooperate? Trust Gregor? At least the duke stopped pacing.
“We deal in crimes and mysteries, which is why I have questions.” She placed her hands behind her back. Forget they were nobility. Forget that they were Gregor’s family. This was a case now, one that must be solved. Someone had tried to kill, twice now, and succeeded the second time. They might not stop there. “Let’s establish a timeline, starting with after dinner. I take it you all discussed the Mage Reform Act and other things after the meal?”
“Yes, we talked for some time,” the duke confirmed. “Those present included Nick, Mr. Benedict, Mr. Moriarty and Mr. Cooper, though Mr. Cooper left early. He wanted a walk in the gardens.”
“I saw him there,” Joan confirmed.
“All right. Good.” Jared took a deep breath. “The rest of us left at the same time. I went to my office, to examine evidence concerning Colonel Moran that Gregor provided.”
“Was anyone with you at this time, Your Grace?” Joan asked.
“Yes, my valet and Mr. Niles. And Mr. Moriarty eventually came to me. We talked for some time, hashing out my ‘tinkering.’ We finally agreed on the act.” Jared’s hands clenched into fists. “Why are you asking who was with me? You cannot believe I did this thing!”
“Establishing a timeline where you were always in the presence of others will objectively establish your innocence, Your Grace,” Joan said, as blandly as she could make the words.
“Right. Yes.” The duke downed the rest of his whiskey. “Of course. Moriarty left after our handshake but returned within ten minutes, with news of this, obviously distraught.”
That accounted for the duke and Moriarty.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Joan took a deep breath of her own. She was the tactful one in her partnership with Gregor, but she longed to cut through these manners. She longed to shake them up, make them angry, to see what happened.
Not yet, she thought.
“To add to the timeline, as I said, I spoke with Mr. Cooper myself after your meeting broke out, out in the gardens,” Joan said. “After we said our farewells, he took a late stroll.” With Phyllis Dale. “Does anyone know where he went after that?”
“To the sitting room that’s a common area that opens to our guest bedrooms,” Moriarty said in a distracted tone. “I last saw him when he came in from the gardens. He was lost in thought, in no mood for company. He was there when I left to speak to the duke. That’s the last I saw of him.”
No mood for company? Had Phyllis refused his suit? “Did anyone see Mr. Cooper after that?”
“I passed a footman in the hallway, on the way to our rooms, who said he’d had a call from Mr. Cooper. He might have spoken to him,” Moriarty said.
“Thank you, sir, that helps,” Joan said to Moriarty. “And, you, Nick, what happened after dinner for you?”
“Reg and I played chess in a sitting room on the main floor,” he said. “After that broke up, we walked together to his quarters.” A pause. “We drank too much, reliving my journeys in America.” He glanced at the drink in his hand. “I passed out in a chair in the sitting room assigned to his bedroom. I woke up with a bit of a headache and, not wanting to disturb Reg, I came down here, remembering the liquor cabinet in the library.”
Passed out? Unlikely. The truth was likely more intimate. But at least Reg could establish Nick’s whereabouts at the time of the murder, though making that public might cause another scandal.
The cravat indicated someone had wanted to implicate the Duke of Bennington, just as the address on the teapot had implicated someone at Lotus Hall. Why?
“Nick, you said earlier you came to the library to read, not for whiskey,” Joan pointed out.
“That’s true also, yes? Drink and books are a fine combination. I’m just giving you more details now,” Nick said.
“Just what are you implying about my brother, Miss Krieger?” the duke snapped.
“Nothing, Your Grace.” God, she wished Gregor were the one interrogati
ng his family.
If she weren’t careful, Moriarty would begin accusing Nick of something. Nick, by admission, had been alone for a time. “Your Grace, are any of the servants about at night who might have seen Mr. Cooper walk to the library or in the hallways?”
“Possible, if there was cleaning that was overdue. Mr. Niles would know.”
“Could this have been suicide?” Nick cut in.
Moriarty snapped to his feet. “Absolutely not. Even to say so is slanderous! I demand an apology, Lord Nicholas.”
Nick held up his hands. “Sir, the man is dead in my home. I want to know why as much as you do. Until we know something—”
“You slander the dead, degenerate.”
Nick flushed, stunned into silence. Moriarty’s magic began to glow around him. Deliberate or reflex, he must calm down. Now.
“I spoke with Mr. Cooper about a delicate matter during our conversation in the gardens, gentlemen,” Joan said into the charged silence. “From that encounter, I would say that ending his life was not on his mind at all.” One does not meet a lover and then commit suicide, not in Joan’s experience.
Unless there had been a fight between Cooper and Phyllis.
“You see!” Moriarty pointed at Joan.
Not helping, Headmaster, she thought.
“My apologies, sir.” Nick poured more whiskey and drank it down in another gulp. “I spoke out of turn.”
“All right.” Moriarty’s power receded.
“Any other questions, Miss Krieger?” the duke asked, his voice half a snarl.
“Many,” she said, “but, for now, the timeline is enough.” Until she knew of the exact manner in which Cooper had been murdered, she’d not know what other questions to ask.
Poor Cooper. So young, so vital. And a man hung in Lotus Hall, under the duke’s nose. Fleet Street would love it.
Moriarty was right. This was a disaster, for Cooper, for Moriarty who’d lost a friend and colleague, for the Sherringfords, with murder done in their home. For Phyllis and the future she must have hoped for.
A whirlwind in the shape of a young girl whooshed into the room. Lady Anne! Was everyone in Lotus Hall awake tonight?
A Hanging at Lotus Hall Page 12
