An Invitation To Murder

by Leighann Dobbs

  Be still, or I will squish you. Annie might have some sort of attachment to this vermin, but Katherine most certainly did not.

  She fought not to squirm as the hostess pinned her beneath a disapproving stare, which was a difficult task when the moth’s legs tickled her palm. Do moths bite?

  “I’ll gladly volunteer my arm,” Lord Northbrook said. “It seems only fair, seeing as it was my garden that so injured her.”

  Katherine smiled. Fantastic! Not only had she managed to hide Annie’s predilection for insect collecting, but she’d wrangled Northbrook into noticing the young woman. Who said Katherine couldn’t solve a mystery and perform her matchmaking duties at the same time?

  Her smile faded as Wayland stepped forward. “Allow me to help, as well.”

  Katherine glared at him. They needed only one man to carry Annie. Surely Lord Northbrook could handle that task on his own. He seemed to be sturdily built.

  The hostess herded away the guests with a biting reprimand over paying too much attention to a moment of disgrace. Annie’s face flushed, and she hid behind her hair.

  “Come now, Miss Pickering,” Wayland said as he crossed to her side, opposite Northbrook. “Are you able to stand, or will we have to carry you?”

  Poor Annie tried to shrink into herself. From beneath a fringe of her hair, she glared at Katherine as though blaming her for the situation.

  All would be forgiven the moment Katherine returned the moth intact, she was sure.

  “I can stand,” Annie answered, her voice small.

  Wayland directed Northbrook to take hold of Annie’s opposite arm and help her to rise. When they did, the silly woman didn’t even have the sense to lean more of her weight on Northbrook.

  Instead, she leaned heavily into Wayland. Katherine tried to catch her eye and surreptitiously jerk her head toward Northbrook, but Annie didn’t appear to notice. Judging by his ill-concealed smirk as he helped Annie to turn toward the nearest door, Wayland did notice.

  A tortoise would have won a race against the procession. Katherine followed, biting her cheek to keep from making a sound as the moth made a bid for freedom through the crack of her fingers. It wasn’t in danger of escaping, but the sensation made her squirm. She tried to cup her hands to give the two-inch-wide insect more room, but it didn’t help at all. When Wayland glanced over his shoulder before turning sideways to help Annie through a door, Katherine froze.

  “Are you all right, Lady Katherine?” called Wayland.

  She fought not to grimace. “Yes. I stepped wrong, is all.”

  If this insect didn’t behave, she would feed it to her dog.

  “Oh dear,” Wayland said, his tone liberally laced with amusement. “Do watch where you’re stepping, or we might have to carry you in after Miss Pickering.”

  “I’m certain Lady Katherine can manage quite well on her own,” Northbrook interjected.

  Katherine entered behind him and shut the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Light filtered through from farther in the manor, but not near this particular entrance. “Thank you, Lord Northbrook. I can.”

  Wayland laughed despite the tension in the air directed toward him. “I never meant to imply she could not. But you must admit, today has held ill luck when it comes to matters of grace.”

  Annie emitted a low noise that resembled a moan or whimper.

  “Are you in pain?” Northbrook asked.

  Likely so, but of an emotional sort rather than physical. Katherine kept the thought to herself, hoping not to remind either of past embarrassments.

  When Annie shook her head, mute, Northbrook told Wayland, “Perhaps it would be better if I carried her.”

  “Nonsense,” Wayland answered. “I insist on helping.”

  Surely, he didn’t think to ingratiate himself to Annie in order to glean Katherine’s father’s findings regarding the murders. Those, she refused to share. She needed whatever advantage she could find.

  The moth beat its wings again. Katherine bit her tongue to stifle a yelp. She’d forgotten it was there for a moment, her hands growing slack.

  Lud, don’t let it escape now!

  The procession reached a wide staircase. “Are you able to brave the stairs?” Northbrook asked.

  Annie nodded, her face pointed toward the ground. “Yes. I’m feeling much improved. I could likely manage on my own.”

  Katherine was almost inclined to let her, if it meant ridding them of Wayland’s company.

  Unfortunately, Northbrook insisted on seeing her directly to her door. Katherine had half a mind to slip past them and let the moth free, but she held herself in check. After what felt like an eternity of beating insect wings and the touch of spider-thin legs, they reached the top of the stairs. Katherine directed them down the corridor to Annie’s room.

  Something long and thin probed between her fingers. It peeked through the crack into the open air, growing longer. An inch. Two inches.

  Please tell me that is not the moth’s man-part. She had to set this thing free posthaste, before something even more distasteful happened.

  Clutching her hands to her belly and hoping to hide the protrusion, Katherine said faintly, “I think Miss Pickering and I can handle ourselves quite well from here.”

  “We’ve only a few more steps,” Wayland answered cheerfully. “This is the door, isn’t it?”

  Thank Jove, it was. “Yes.”

  As he reached for the latch to the door, Katherine recalled the collection of dead insects Annie had strewn around the room. She opened her mouth, but it was too late. The door swung inward. She cringed.

  The men didn’t say a word as they helped Annie inside and deposited her on the stool to the vanity. A candle glowed by the bedside. The door to the adjoining room was open, and Emma dashed inside with a happy yip. She paused to sniff the boots of the gentlemen.

  Nowhere did Katherine spot a single insect. Bless you, Harriet.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, her maid appeared in the doorway and snapped her fingers. “Don’t disturb the gentlemen, Emma.” She glanced from Katherine to the men. “Is something amiss? Did you need anything, Lady Katherine?”

  “Not at the moment, thank you. The gentlemen were helping Miss Pickering up the stairs. She turned her ankle.”

  “Oh. I have a tea that will help with that.”

  Harriet had a tea for every situation. Katherine held her tongue as her maid disappeared once more. Oh dear. She pitied Annie. Harriet’s noxious teas were rarely palatable.

  Lord Northbrook frowned. “Is tea appropriate for this situation?”

  Katherine grinned. “Tea is appropriate for any situation. Thank you for your assistance, both of you.”

  Northbrook inclined his head. “It was my pleasure. I wish you ladies a good night. Miss Pickering, if that ankle gives you grief and you’d like to call a physician, let my housekeeper know at once, and we’ll send for one.”

  Annie tucked her feet behind her and mumbled her thanks.

  Northbrook stared at Katherine for a moment, and she feared that the sarding protrusion was visible. The moth had stopped moving for the moment, but in a way, that made the situation even worse, because she wondered what it was doing in there. She smiled and tucked her hands tighter to her body.

  Although Northbrook took a step toward the door, Wayland did not. He knelt and offered his hand for Emma, who wore a jonquil-yellow ribbon, to sniff instead. “And who is this captivating creature?”

  Northbrook lost interest in the conversation and departed.

  “That is Emma, my dog,” Katherine informed him. “Be careful. She’s a little thief.”

  Wayland laughed. He told the pug, “I catch thieves and lock them in cages, I’ll have you know.”

  Not intelligent enough to recognize a threat when she heard one, Emma balanced on her hind legs and begged for his attention. He obliged, scratching her beneath her ribbon, where she loved most. One of her back legs thumped the ground, and she lost her balance.


  Laughing again as the dog fell to the floor, Wayland straightened. “Oh dear. She’s swooned.”

  “Yes,” Katherine bit off. “I imagine you have that effect on multiple women. Allow me to show you out.”

  He pinned her beneath a debonair smile. “What a shame you seem to be beyond my charms.”

  Annie’s eyes grew wide and she watched them with rapt attention.

  “Quite.” Katherine gestured to the door with her chin. She herded Wayland out of the room, but he didn’t move past the threshold to the door.

  Lowering his voice, he vowed, “I’m not leaving until I get a glimpse of what you’re carrying. You’ve been cradling it as though it’s your newborn babe. Is it a clue?”

  Katherine battled the urge to toss the moth down the neck of his shirt and tell him he was welcome to it. Instead, she took a step back and told him, “Whatever it is, it’s my business, not yours.” She swung the door closed with her hips. One benefit to having a wide figure. She smirked.

  Turning, she rested her back against the door and held out her hands to Annie. “Take this thing away from me. It’s… doing something.”

  Annie approached, her eyes wide. Enthusiasm crossed her face as she bent to examine the protuberance. “That’s its proboscis!”

  It sounded revolting. Katherine didn’t respond.

  Grinning, Annie straightened, her dimples winking. “It must think you taste like a flower.”

  “Take it, or I’m throwing it out the window.”

  Annie’s smile shrank as she accepted the moth, cradling it to her chest as she mumbled about finding a jar of some kind to house it. Harriet could help her with that once she returned with tea. Katherine refused to spend another second in close proximity to that disgusting creature.

  She wiped her palms on her dress, but it wasn’t enough. Detouring to her bedchamber, she cleaned her hands in a basin along the wall. She still felt the insect’s legs tickling her skin.

  A portable lamp rested unlit on the bedside table. After finding a tinderbox, Katherine lit the lamp and called through the adjoining doorway. “I’m going back into the garden. Watch Emma for me, will you?”

  “Wait,” Annie squeaked. “What if she—”

  Whatever the end of that sentence was, Katherine didn’t wait to hear it. In fact, she hoped it would happen. It still wouldn’t be just recompense for carrying that moth for so long.

  As she retraced her steps, Katherine met with none of the guests. The revelry must have been continuing in the ballroom, given the faint sounds of music and laughter wafting through the manor. She exited into the garden unimpeded.

  She hurried to the spot where she’d found Annie. Once there, she slowed as she continued along the path. She bent, holding the lamp lower to illuminate the ground. The figure that she’d seen but been unable to pursue must have left some sort of trace behind.

  When Annie had screamed, everyone had come running to see to her well-being. Was the killer among them, or had he beaten a hasty retreat into the house, afraid to come outside and show himself?

  If Annie had unknowingly been in danger, her scream might have chased off the murderer before he had a chance to grab her, or she might simply have scared someone out for a walk—or an illicit tryst—in the garden. It was possible the man Katherine chased wasn’t even the murderer.

  Katherine resolved to keep a much closer eye on her charge from then on. What she really wanted, however, was to find a clue that might lead to the apprehension of the criminal.

  At the junction where she’d spotted the man, she found just such a clue, a boot print in the softer dirt next to the gravel walk. Oh, if only she’d had the swift-hardening plaster Lyle used to take shoe impressions! When he’d offered her a container, it had seemed too cumbersome to fit in her reticule.

  Even if she couldn’t match the exact boot, given the dampness in the air that hailed rain overnight, Katherine could do the next best thing. She fished a long string from her reticule. Knotting it once, she placed the ball on the tip of the toe. She drew the string in a straight line until she reached the heel, where she knotted the thread again.

  Grinning, she lifted the string to examine her handiwork. Now, all she had to do was match the length of the string to a man’s boot, and she would have her suspect.

  Chapter Six

  The task of measuring men’s boots to find the culprit would have been worlds easier had Katherine been able to sneak into their rooms while they were away.

  Unfortunately, she had her duties as Annie’s chaperone. After the scare last night, she didn’t trust Annie on her own, not even in a room full of guests. There was no telling when the young woman might wander off in pursuit of a ladybug.

  As it turned out, measuring men’s boots while they continued to wear them was not only challenging, but it drew an unfortunate amount of unwanted attention.

  Throughout the next morning and into the afternoon, Katherine developed a habit of dropping small objects on the floor, and quickly laying out her thread as she bent over to retrieve them. The entire gathering likely thought her the clumsiest woman ever to live. Unfortunately, she most often found herself standing next to one of the married men who hadn’t been on her suspect list.

  She’d confirmed that none of them had the proper sized feet to have been lurking in the garden yesterday, though one or two came close at just a touch bigger or smaller, enough that they might match if the impression left by the boot had been smudged. Every time a man stepped into her peripheral vision, she arranged to drop something and take his measurements.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t convince Annie to interact with any of the eligible men. Out of mortification, the young woman had retreated into herself and seemed determined to act the mouse and cling to the nearest debutante’s shadow.

  Nevertheless, Katherine had once managed to find herself next to Lord Northbrook, whose feet were too large for the boot print. She accidentally took Wayland’s measurements at least six times, and they were also too large.

  As a man stepped next to her position behind the parlor settee, she dropped the handkerchief wadded in her hand and bent to retrieve it. In her other palm resided the knotted string. She inwardly groaned as she recognized those Hessian boots.

  When she straightened, Wayland smirked. His eyes danced. “If you’re wondering whether they’re proportionate, you only have to ask.”

  Her cheeks flamed. She fanned herself with her hand, forgetting for a moment that she held her handkerchief. The fabric fluttered in a small flag of surrender, drawing the eye.

  Surreptitiously, she stepped back to hide herself behind Wayland’s large form as the conversation turned to the weather of late, cool and cloudy. But today the sun peeked through the clouds now and again, giving the illusion of summer.

  “You’re despicable. That is a far from appropriate topic to discuss with a lady.”

  At her hissed chastisement, his smile grew. “Should the lady understand the reference?” he quipped.

  She had married sisters, a curious mind, and access to a great deal of books. Nevertheless, she didn’t deign to answer his comment as she waited for her cheeks to cool.

  He persisted. “I don’t believe examining men’s feet is appropriate for a lady, either.”

  Katherine glared at him and stuffed her handkerchief into her bodice.

  He leaned closer, lowering his head to murmur in her ear. The other guests appeared rapt to a tale Lord Mowbry was telling about hunting or horse racing. For once, no one glanced in Katherine’s direction, and Annie still seemed out of sorts but contained in her corner of the settee.

  “You found a clue. I know you did. And evidently it has something to do with a man’s foot. If you’re searching for evidence of mud or some such, need I remind you that most will have brought a change of footwear for every day? Explain to me what you’re looking for, and I can help you search, likely far less conspicuously.”

  Katherine balled her fists and took a step away. “I will
never join forces with you,” she vowed, her voice little more than a whisper. She found Wayland and his tactics irritating, but that wasn’t the main reason. If her father thought Wayland had helped her solve the case, he might not give her the dowry, and she needed that for her independence.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what they told me in the war. Eventually, they all surrendered.”

  She turned to face him. “I won’t surrender, and you’ve only proved my point.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “That you have no morals and no limitations. There is a right and a wrong way to do things—”

  One side of his mouth curved up in a half-smirk, but his eyes held dead-serious conviction. “There is a right and a wrong way to catch a murderer? Lady Katherine, please tell me, is there anything you wouldn’t do to ensure that another helpless young woman doesn’t fall prey to this fiend?”

  She glowered at him. In this case, he might be right. As loath as she was to admit it, she would do anything to solve this case and earn her independence. Anything except this. “I won’t work with you.”

  “I thought you wanted to solve this murder investigation.”

  Although they spoke in low voices that likely didn’t carry over the lively conversation mere feet away, she lowered her voice further. “I do. And I will, but I’ll do it on my own merit.”

  “Odd, that you’d proclaim such. The only words to emerge from that pretty mouth of yours this afternoon have been your father’s.”

  Pretty mouth? Katherine seethed. Had they been alone in the room, she likely would have done something she would regret, such as slap him.

  No, she doubted she would regret that at all.

  A tendril of the others’ conversation caught her ear and her attention. She stepped closer to the settee behind Annie and inserted herself. “Bowl and nine pins? That sounds like a splendid idea on such a fine day.” She would take any excuse to remove herself from Wayland’s company, even for a moment.

  Her enthusiasm for the idea was soon echoed around the room, and Katherine excused herself to fetch her bonnet. While she was above with Annie, she collected her dog. Although dropping various items had seemed ingenious when she’d begun, she was through feeling like a lummox. Better she pretend to pet Emma.