As she witnessed Lady Reardon herding her daughter away from the Duke of Somerset, Katherine pursed her lips. It was possible that Lord Somerset had turned his eye on the previous victims, who might have felt the same as Lady Reardon and refused him. Perhaps, with his wandering hands, they had even threatened to expose his lecherous ways. But whether that would anger him enough to kill was anyone’s guess.
It wasn’t the strongest of theories, but it was the best she had to go on for the moment.
When she stepped farther into the room, Annie clinging to her shadow, Katherine found herself intercepted by the very last man she hoped to exchange words with tonight.
“Captain Wayland.”
Dressed in his hussar uniform, a midnight-blue coat with gold bars and tan trousers, he bowed over her hand. He might have chosen his military uniform tonight to remind her that he had waged a war—and won. She raised her chin mulishly. If he thought to intimidate her, he would soon discover that she wasn’t easily cowed. Anyway, the race to unmask a murderer was a very different sort of war.
Annie curtseyed, and as Wayland bowed over Annie’s hand, Katherine smirked. The moment he straightened, she gave him a demure smile.
His eyes narrowed, and well they should—Katherine only played demure when it suited her goal. “Captain, how kind of you to honor our discussion earlier. I’d nearly forgotten.”
Her eyes widening with curiosity, Annie grew bold enough to ask, “What did you forget?”
Katherine’s smile grew as the woman behind the grand piano stroked the keys in a new song. “Why, Captain Wayland has agreed to stand up as your first dance partner this evening.”
Annie turned pink. “He has?” She dipped in another curtsey, pressing her lips together until her dimples winked into sight.
Not the twitch of an eyelash betrayed Wayland’s shock or distress at having been so cornered. He was a master at concealing his feelings.
After holding Katherine’s gaze a moment, he turned to Annie and recovered smoothly. “Indeed. It would be my honor. I only regret leaving Lady Katherine without a partner. If you’ll wait a moment, I’m certain I can convince Lord Mowbry or perhaps the host to stand up with you.”
Well played. Katherine fingered the line of her bodice and wondered how was she going to get out of this. Although a weak excuse, she said, “How flattering, but I couldn’t possibly take a partner away from the debutantes in attendance, not when the gentlemen are so outnumbered. I am here only in the capacity of a chaperone, after all.”
Wayland cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you must deny yourself the chance for a bit of fun? Lady Katherine, I didn’t know you for such a martyr.”
Scoundrel.
As Katherine gathered herself to return his quip, Annie’s shoulders slumped. She curled in on herself as if trying to make herself smaller. “If you’d prefer to dance with Katherine instead…”
Wayland glanced between both women. Clenching her jaw, Katherine drew herself up and met his gaze boldly. Do the right thing, you bounder.
He gave Annie a shallow bow. “Forgive me, it seems my conscience has spoiled the evening. I, of course, am far more eager to dance with you.”
Katherine released a breath. Maybe Wayland had an honorable bone in him, after all.
As he straightened, his hazel eyes danced. “However, I don’t see why I can’t prove an admirable dance partner to both of you. Lady Katherine, perhaps you’ll do me the honor of standing up with me for the second set. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Drat. Judging by the finality of his tone, he meant his threat. If she tried to avoid the dance, he would hound her for the rest of the evening. “It would be my pleasure,” she said, though she meant nothing of the sort.
What game did he play by forcing her to dance with him? It could have been simply to prevent her from learning any more about the suspects present, or he might have hoped to wheedle information from her. It would be a cold day indeed before she shared her knowledge with him.
As Wayland liberated her from Annie’s presence, Katherine struck out around the perimeter of the room to find her suspects.
Lord Mowbry didn’t need watching, given that he was already under the admiring eyes of at least six women, not all of them debutantes. With Mr. Greaves at his side, exuding every bit as much charm, Lord Mowbry entertained his companions, who giggled and sighed at his conversational prowess. Katherine rolled her eyes and continued walking. Annie and Wayland could only occupy each other for so long.
Mrs. Burwick whispered to her prim-faced daughter as she herded her past Katherine toward the young lord, “He just lost his fiancée. He’ll want to fill that void as soon as possible, and you must catch his eye.”
Katherine paused, but by the time she turned, the Burwicks had stepped out of earshot. Who has lost his fiancée? Was one of the murder victims engaged? It could have been that Mrs. Burwick meant the matter in a figurative sense and that the mystery woman had called off the engagement.
She nearly pursued the pair in an attempt to learn more, but movement near the door to the garden caught her eye. Lord Northbrook was attempting to lead Miss Young outside!
Katherine’s heart skipped a beat. The blood roared in her ears as she quickened her step. With the Season cut short, this party was the killer’s only opportunity to kill again, which could be why Northbrook was hosting the party—to kill again. Katherine must prevent Miss Young from venturing out-of-doors with him at all costs.
She intercepted the pair moments before they stepped out into the cool night air and planted herself in their path. “Lord Northbrook,” she said with a sunny smile and small curtsey. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you properly for throwing this gallant affair. It is most diverting from the ennui in London.”
The young earl stiffened. “You should direct your compliments to my mother. It is all her doing, I assure you.”
From the way he darted glances over her shoulder at the garden, she could tell he wanted desperately to escape. Unfortunately, Katherine couldn’t let him. Although she had no evidence to point to Northbrook as the Pink-Ribbon Killer, Katherine couldn’t take the chance. Even if it wasn’t him, someone else might be lurking in the gardens in wait.
“Are you taking a turn about the gardens? I’ll join you. I could use some fresh air, and it looks as though you’ve lost your chaperone, Miss Young.”
The young woman’s cheeks turned pink, and she took a small step back. Northbrook didn’t appear to notice, but he also seemed reluctant to accept Katherine’s company. Given the wistful look on his face, he would rather escape into the garden without either of them.
“Lady Katherine.”
Katherine pinned her smile in place as Mrs. Fairchild’s bitter voice rang through the air. It appeared that Miss Young’s chaperone wasn’t far, after all. Katherine turned to face the cutting woman.
Her mouth fixed in a sour moue, Mrs. Fairchild threaded her arm through Katherine’s. “Let’s not interrupt the young, shall we? I’m certain Lord Northbrook and Miss Young would prefer to continue their stroll around the room without two old matrons like you and me darkening their fun.”
Katherine was closer in age to Miss Young, whom she guessed to be near twenty years old, than she was to Mrs. Fairchild’s thirty-five years. Neither of them was old in any way, and Northbrook rested squarely between them in terms of age. As the matchmaker tried to lead her away, Katherine dug in her heels and used her superior height to her advantage.
“A stroll around the room, you say? I believe the pair intended to go out into the garden.”
Miss Young flushed crimson. She curtsied to the earl and mumbled an excuse about not feeling well and needing to sit a moment. If she used the trick to buy herself a few more moments alone with the object of her affections, it didn’t work in her favor. The moment he deposited her in the line of chairs, he departed, likely with the guise of fetching a glass of lemonade for her.
With a grip like a dog’s jaws on a bo
ne, Mrs. Fairchild led Katherine across the room to the shadow of one of the pillars. The moment they stood in shadow, she dropped Katherine’s arm. Katherine surreptitiously flexed her fingers, which tingled from lack of circulation.
The pianist ended her song. The hairs rose on the back of Katherine’s neck. She had to extract herself from Mrs. Fairchild soon. If she remained here, Wayland would surely find her and claim the dance he’d threatened.
The shorter woman wagged her finger in Katherine’s face. “Don’t think I haven’t guessed your aim.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mrs. Fairchild harrumphed. “You’re trying to undermine me! Well, I’ve news for you, Lady Katherine. Preventing Lord Northbrook from marrying my client will not earn an engagement to yours. She’s beyond help!”
On instinct, Katherine scanned the crowd, searching for Annie. She didn’t spot her or Wayland, with his noticeable height. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or wary. “I’m not trying to undermine you.” Katherine tried to curb the bite in her voice, to no avail. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Somerset slipping out into the gardens. What reason could he have for venturing out there alone? She had to follow him.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Fairchild stood in her way. Judging by her mulish, scathing expression, she wouldn’t let Katherine pass easily.
Perhaps she would drop the matter if she knew the truth. “I wasn’t trying to undermine you. I had Miss Young’s best interests at heart—”
The shrewish woman cut her off as she was attempting to explain her efforts to preserve Miss Young’s life. “You aren’t her matchmaker. Perhaps you ought to leave concern for her best interests to me.”
Sarding stubborn woman! Katherine bit her tongue. She stole a quick glance toward the door, but Somerset was already out of sight. “Believe what you will,” Katherine said sharply.
A glass shattered, providing her with the distraction she needed to leave unimpeded. She heartily hoped the spilled drink wasn’t at Annie’s hands again. If it was, she’d never convince the young woman to return to the gathering.
Men and women craned their necks, hoping to see the cause of the disturbance. None of them glanced at Katherine as she briskly strode the length of the ballroom and exited into the cool air.
Only a sliver of light drifted from the crescent moon. A few sparse lanterns at the junction of paths provided a meager measure of illumination by which to see.
She hurried along, her eyes barely making out the shapes of the path and the bushes in the dim light. She stepped lightly to avoid making sound as she searched for Somerset.
A woman’s girlish giggle wafted from her right. Katherine hoped Miss Young wasn’t out in the garden. She crept onward and took the next path leading to her right.
In the swathe of shadows, she found a grotesque figure. It took her a moment, with the spots from the lantern still glowing in her field of view, for her to realize that it was not one figure but two, locked in an amorous embrace. Crouching nearer to a bush to keep herself hidden, Katherine tiptoed forward.
She couldn’t be certain of the woman’s identity, but the scant light of the moon glinted silver off the strands of the man’s hair—Somerset. He fumbled over the woman’s breasts with his left hand as he kissed her. The right was tucked up against his body. His ineptitude seemed to be frustrating them both. Not that Katherine would want him pawing at her to begin with, but she wondered why he didn’t use his right hand.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t used his right hand at all this afternoon. He’d held the tumbler in his right hand, but always shifted it to the left before handing it to a maid or taking a sip. Was there a reason for it—an injury, perhaps?
Katherine shifted, hoping to find a better position to spy on Somerset. Although she hoped the encounter wouldn’t progress past kissing and pawing, she couldn’t leave a defenseless woman in his care. If she left and the woman became the next murder victim, she’d never forgive herself.
Crunch. Katherine’s slipper landed on the gravel. The couple broke apart.
“What was that?”
Katherine recognized the voice from earlier as belonging to a spinster chaperoning her cousin to the event.
“Nothing, love. You’re hearing things.”
The Duke of Somerset reached for the spinster again, but she shook him off. “It is not my imagination. Someone’s out there. We’ll be found.”
Somerset seemed reluctant to end the interlude, but the spinster was adamant. Within seconds, they retreated down the path away from Katherine. When they reached the next junction, they parted ways.
Katherine let out an exasperated breath. What a waste of time. She was turning back down the path, prepared to return to the gathering, when a woman’s shriek split the air.
Chapter Five
Katherine’s heart lodged in her throat. She bolted toward the sound.
Ahead, a man’s silhouette came from a side path and crossed in front of one of the lanterns, but he was there and gone before she discerned any identifiable traits. Phil’s advice to catch him in the act and force a confession rang in her head. This was her chance to apprehend the killer!
She tripped over a loose stone and landed on one knee. Hissing in pain, she forced herself upright and in hot pursuit of the culprit.
The path forked ahead, and she wondered which way he had gone. No one else was about, and Katherine realized he had run away from the shriek. As much as she hungered to catch the blackguard, if he’d left a woman injured, she should stop to help. Katherine turned and hurried toward the direction of the sound instead.
As she stumbled past another lantern, she found Annie, alone and unharmed. Pausing to catch her breath, she asked, “Did you hear a scream?”
The light glinted off Annie’s wide eyes. “Oh, forgive me, that was me. I was so excited, I couldn’t contain myself.”
Katherine blinked, not quite soaking in the young woman’s words. She had shrieked from excitement of… being out in the garden.
Annie held out her cupped hands, opening them enough for Katherine to peer inside. Two fuzzy antennae peeked out from between her thumbs. “It’s a violet-banded elephant moth. I’ve never seen one before!”
Distant footsteps crunched on the gravel.
“Let it be,” Katherine whispered to her charge. “We must return inside at once before someone notices our absence. We can’t have the whole party knowing that you were out here alone.”
And never mind what she’d been doing alone. Somehow Katherine didn’t think that collecting insects was going to help Annie’s chances of landing a husband.
Annie blinked her owlish eyes. Strands of her hair had worked free of her coiffure, half-covering her face again. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s extremely rare. I must keep it for my collection!”
If ever Katherine found herself in the position of chaperone again, she would make doubly certain before accepting the job that the young woman in question was not unreasonably fond of insects.
A man called, “Is someone hurt?”
They must have heard Annie scream from inside the house, but she couldn’t let them know why she’d screamed.
Thinking quickly, Katherine shouted, “Yes. Over here!”
Inwardly cringing, she held out her hands to Annie and said, “Give it here, and sit on the ground. Follow my lead.”
Her voice must have held some semblance of authority, for Annie obeyed at once. As Katherine cupped her hands around the moth, its legs tickled her palm. She fought back a shudder.
From the ground, Annie asked, “Why am I sitting?”
The footsteps thundered closer.
The insect did more tickling.
Katherine lowered her voice, not certain if her words carried over the sound. “Hold your ankle as if hurts. Say nothing if you can help it. I’ll do the talking.”
The men arrived first. Lords Northbrook and Mowbry, with Mr. Greaves a few paces behind, and—tarnation!—Captain Wayland. As Mr. Grea
ves came apace of Lord Mowbry, he clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“There you are, old friend. You had me worried.”
“You think I scream like a girl?”
Wait. They’d been together when Katherine had departed the ballroom, which made her wonder why Greaves would be worried.
But she didn’t have time to ponder the question, for Wayland stepped forward with an air of authority. “What happened?”
Lord Northbrook glared at him then took a step forward and crouched beside Annie. “Did someone harm you?” His voice was gentler than the captain’s.
Annie looked from the host to Katherine. Her chest remained still, as if she feared to so much as breathe without permission.
Katherine forced a smile. “No—oh!” She made an involuntary hoot as the moth between her palms shifted its wings. Vile creature. She tried not to show her distaste or desire to hurry everyone along. “I’m afraid Miss Pickering has turned her ankle. She has no one to blame but herself.”
Northbrook squinted at the lantern. “Perhaps we ought to put out more lamps.”
The women arrived, flushed and harried from the run. Curiosity ran rampant over their features as they craned their necks to peer around the men. The Dowager Countess of Northbrook pushed to the front of the group, clasping her hands in front of her as she strode serenely. Katherine tried to emulate her stance, hoping no one would notice the bizarre way she held her hand.
Wayland paid entirely too much notice to her.
The light cut across the hostess’s face, making her look even more formidable. “What has happened here?” she demanded.
Katherine yelped as the moth moved again. “Ah—I beg your forgiveness, Lady Northbrook.” Stop it, she thought to the excitable insect. “Miss Pickering turned her ankle. If someone will be so kind as to render his assist—ah!—ance, we’ll re—ee!—tire at once to ensure she gets her rest.”
An Invitation To Murder Page 5
