The Duke's Christmas Mystery: A Regency Romance Christmas Mystery

by Kate Carteret

  “Perhaps we should cover him over,” James said with kindness. “There can be no harm in doing so.”

  He drifted off to the now-empty stage couch and wondered when Lady Esme and Caroline had disappeared. There was nobody there on stage now except himself and Augustus Daventry.

  “Yes.” Augustus said behind him, his voice so quiet now it seemed far away.

  James took a soft-looking crocheted blanket which had been folded neatly and draped over the back of the couch. He smiled; the props really had been well thought out, with the exception of the dagger, of course.

  He returned to Augustus and, without a word, the two men set about covering over the contorted and lifeless body of Sheridan Winchester.

  “Please excuse me, Your Grace.” Augustus said in a near whisper when they were finished.

  The man looked suddenly ashen as if the reality had now settled itself in his heart and mind, allowing the inevitable shock to take over.

  “Of course, my dear fellow. My sister and Lady Tarleton are in the drawing room. My sister will see to it that you have a brandy, I’m sure. It will do you good.” As James patted the man’s shoulder, he wondered if there was any chance at all that Augustus had been the one to switch the daggers and set the seal on his friend’s fate. Money was a great motivator after all.

  “Thank you.” Augustus said shakily and sauntered away down the makeshift steps and through the velvet curtain.

  Standing alone with the body of Sheridan Winchester under a pretty crocheted blanket was a leveling experience for the Duke; one which was making him feel a little unsettled.

  He wondered who on earth could have been angry enough with the man to have him murdered so brutally, not to mention so publicly.

  Knowing the guests, save his sister and Lady Esme’s party, to be gone, an eerie silence seemed to envelop the ballroom. James knew he ought not to leave the scene of the crime unattended, but he wasn’t thrilled by the idea of hovering there on the stage. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to know what Lady Esme had discovered. She had been most determined in taking Caroline Ponsonby to one side and he had watched with interest as she’d made her way to the backstage area.

  “I say, is Esme alright?” The deep voice of Lord Tarleton, not to mention his disembodied head appearing suddenly through the gap in the closed velvet curtains, was almost enough to make James’ heart give out.

  “For goodness sake, Tarleton, you approached rather silently.” James said, but smiled at the man; he’d always liked Peregrine Tarleton.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace.” Lord Tarleton looked at James with clear amusement. “But my good lady wife has sent me in search of her sister.

  “Did she not come to the drawing room? She left with Caroline Ponsonby. At least I think she did. I just assumed she had delivered the woman there.”

  “Oh, she might have. In all honesty, I did not come straight here. I detoured through the French windows of the morning room for a smoke. I might have missed them.” He winced amusingly, his head still a lonely and free-floating entity shrouded in velvet.

  “Quite right.” James laughed. “Well, if Lady Esme comes this way, perhaps I should send her to her sister.” He paused for a moment. “But to be truthful, Tarleton, she is proving very helpful. She seems to have a knack for questioning people and a clear way of looking at things.”

  “I have no doubt.” Lord Tarleton began to chuckle. “She is rather nos… well, observant.” He corrected himself, but James had been clear the man meant to call his sister-in-law nosy.

  “Indeed.” James laughed.

  “Well, I shall inform Lady Tarleton that her sister is too integral a part of solving this dreadful mystery to be returned to her. How does that suit you?”

  “Very well, thank you.” James really was pleased. “And after that, might I ask you another favor?”

  “Ask away, Your Grace.”

  “Would you be so kind as to return and stand sentinel over this dreadful scene? I do not know if it makes a difference, but I would rather the constable see it as it is. He might even want the magistrate to see it all before the body is moved.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I am afraid I do not trust the rest of them, my good fellow.”

  “Of course.” Lord Tarleton nodded briefly. “I shall return in a moment.”

  Chapter Seven

  When Esme heard the handsome Duke discussing her in such glowing terms, she hid herself away at the side of the stage to thoroughly enjoy a few minutes’ eavesdropping. So, he wanted to keep her by his side, did he? Esme smiled to herself and felt a recurrence of the wisps of excitement she had felt when he’d crouched at her side and whispered into her ear.

  Feeling very little shame, as was her usual standpoint on matters of curiosity, Esme kept herself well hidden until her brother-in-law had left the ballroom. Waiting just a few moments more, she began to make her way back up the ballroom so that she might re-enter the stage, this time overtly.

  “Ah, there you are, Lady Esme.” The Duke gave her a smile. “Where did you put Miss Ponsonby?” He seemed to look over her shoulder as if the woman might be standing there.

  “Fear not, I left her with my sister in the drawing room.” Esme returned his smile with one of her own. “And my sister has strict instructions to keep her diverted whilst we try to work out what has happened.”

  “Well, I suppose we ought really to wait for the Constable to arrive.” His smile became a little mischievous, and it was clear he was simply playing devil’s advocate.

  “I doubt he will be easily tracked down on Christmas Eve. If I were the Constable, I would hide myself away on Christmas Eve so that nobody would find me.”

  “Then thank heaven you are not our village constable, Lady Esme.” He laughed when she shrugged and smiled at him. “But you are right, we cannot rely upon him being here before the night is over.”

  “So, we should keep investigating?” Esme said hopefully.

  “We?” He smiled again, and it was clear he was teasing her.

  “Unless you have no interest in all I have learned since the whole horrible business began.” She smiled sweetly and raised her eyebrows.

  “Well, let’s hear it.” He said and held out an arm. “But shall we take a seat in the make-believe drawing room? Leave poor Mr Winchester in peace.” He looked down at the covered body.

  “Yes, please.” Esme said and the two of them crossed the stage and settled down, Esme on the couch and the Duke in an armchair opposite which he had pulled forward to be closer to her.

  “So, what have you learned, My Lady?” He said and gave her his full attention.

  “Well, my first obvious point is that Miss Caroline Ponsonby is barely inconvenienced by the passing of her fiancé.” She began, and he nodded, smiling as the silent agreement that they had both seen that young woman throw herself at the Duke was made. “And when I delivered her to the drawing room, Katherine quietly told me that she remembers hearing that Miss Ponsonby was once closely linked to another young man, although they had not become engaged.” She paused. “Unfortunately, Katherine could not remember the name of the young man in question.”

  “Interesting.” The Duke said and looked thoughtful. “I wonder who the man was.”

  “And she has a deep and abiding disdain for poor Jane Beresford. She called her a fool for not recognizing the dagger as real.” Esme sniffed indignantly. “She strikes me as rather heartless.”

  “I agree, Lady Esme.”

  “Anyway, the folding dagger they were supposed to use was last seen this morning at rehearsals. And it was deployed in the correct manner as they practiced the scene. After that time, it was left with other small props on a table just at the point where the actors made their way onto the stage.”

  “And it is not there now? The fake dagger I mean.” He smiled. “I wondered why you disappeared out through the back curtain.”

  “No, there is no sign of it. Really, anybody could have replaced the fake one with the r
eal thing at any time since this morning. I do not suppose that Lord Beresford will be able to remember the last time he looked into his shield room display cabinet at the real dagger. Still, we can ask him. Or you can, for he seems unable to answer anything I put to him.”

  “Quite.” The Duke laughed.

  “So, it could be any one of them. They have all had unfettered access to both the shield room and this one. No doubt they have all been staying here at Beresford for Christmas and are likely part of the furniture now, able to move about without the servants seeing anything amiss.”

  “Good point.” The Duke nodded, his fair hair falling over his forehead attractively.

  “What have you found out, Your Grace?” Esme said, determined to concentrate on the dreadful murder instead of finding herself tongue-tied by her attraction for him the way she had been when they were first introduced.

  “That Sheridan Winchester was involved in some sort of investment scheme. A bogus one, by the sound of it.”

  “Goodness.”

  “To be honest, I had already heard a little gossip about it some weeks ago. But it appears Augustus Daventry lost money too, a good deal of it, but he claims it did not taint their friendship. Although….” He tailed off.

  “Although?” Esme prompted him.

  “He seemed rather keen for me to know that he and Winchester would fall out easily but remain the best of friends. Very keen, in fact. They have been friends since they were boys, apparently.”

  “I cannot imagine Sheridan Winchester was an easy man to have as a life-long friend.” She turned to look apologetically at the crochet-covered body. “I did not know him well but always found him to be something of a braggart and a little over-confident. Vain, I suppose.”

  “So far so good.” The Duke said.

  “Oh yes!” Esme rose hurriedly to her feet. “The dagger, Your Grace. Come and look at it again.”

  “Why?” He said but followed her nonetheless.

  “Because I noticed a tiny thread on it earlier. Here, see? Where the blade meets the handle.” She gently lifted the dagger with her already-bloodstained glove.

  “Yes, just. It is tiny. What color is it?” The Duke’s face was just inches from her own as he peered at the dagger.

  “I cannot see by this light. It is pale, but I think we will need true daylight to be able to identify it completely.”

  “Well, by your way of reckoning, we shall still be here come morning waiting for the Constable.” He turned his head, smiling at her.

  Esme laughed, hoping her cheeks were not blushing at the close proximity of such a handsome face.

  “Ah, now then!” Lord Beresford appeared so suddenly on the stage that Esme wondered if he had been eavesdropping, just as she had done. “Are you not going to join us all in the drawing room?”

  “Perhaps later, Beresford.” The Duke said, and Esme noted then the difference in his tone.

  When the Duke spoke to Esme, it was warmer, more conversational. And she liked it.

  “Lord Beresford, how long have your guests been staying here at the hall? The Beresford Players, I mean.” Esme had put the dagger back on the floor the moment the Baron had boomed his way back onto the stage.

  “They are staying for Christmas, Your Grace.” Again, he turned his attention to the Duke. “They have been here a fortnight already. They needed to write and practice the play and what-have-you. They seem to have enjoyed themselves.”

  “Lord Beresford,” Esme began again in a somewhat louder tone that could not be ignored. As the Baron turned to look at her, she caught the Duke’s amused expression. “Have you noticed discord of any kind between Sheridan Winchester and any of your guests?”

  “Nothing out of the common way for young people.” Again, he addressed his response to the Duke.

  Esme shook her head in disbelief and rolled her eyes in a way which made the Duke have to disguise a laugh with a cough.

  Well, her father would hear of this. No more would he worry himself with long-winded excuses when the Baron sent an invitation; he would simply say no. The Earl did not like rudeness one little bit, especially not when it was aimed at one of his treasured daughters.

  “No disagreements?” The Duke went on.

  “Oh well, yes, I did hear an argument.” Lord Beresford said. “Between Augustus Daventry and Sheridan Winchester. It was rather heated.”

  “I see….” The Duke began but the Baron was finding his stride now and was keen to continue.

  “Very heated, actually. In fact, I almost made my way into the library to break it up. I thought they might fall to solving their argument as pugilists, you see.”

  “As heated as all that?” Esme said.

  “As I said, very heated. Young Daventry seemed very angry indeed. Quite unlike himself, one might say.”

  “Could you hear what they were saying?” The Duke, a foot taller than the Baron at least, smiled benignly down at him.

  “Well yes, actually. I would swear I heard Daventry say “I’m tired of you and your arrogance. You will be sorry for this!” or something along those lines.” The Baron shrugged after what Esme thought was a performance so determined that he would not have been out of place having a part in the play. “I understand that Augustus Daventry recently lost a good sum of money to one of Sheridan Winchester’s schemes.” He added in an overly persuasive tone.

  “Is this a bad time?” Lord Tarleton appeared on the stage.

  “Not at all, take a seat.” The Duke smiled at Esme’s brother-in-law as the Baron looked quizzically at them all. “I thought it best to have someone keep an eye on things here. Until the Constable arrives, you understand.”

  “Well, perhaps I should make my way back to the drawing room and check on everyone.” Lord Beresford said, and Esme thought it was the first time she had seen the Baron so keen to be away from the Duke of Burnham.

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, I feel rather brushed-off.” James said and feigned hurt despite being glad to be rid of Lord Beresford again.

  “Was it just me, or did the Baron seem a little too keen to elaborate on this row between Augustus Daventry and Sheridan Winchester?” Esme said in hushed tones before making her way across the stage and peeking out through the velvet curtains to be sure that Lord Beresford really had gone.

  “Yes, he did.” James nodded. “Which is not to say that it is not all true, I suppose.”

  As he watched Esme peering out through the curtains, he stifled a laugh. There was something amusing about Esme Waterson, even when she did not intend it to be so. Perhaps especially when she did not intend it to be so.

  For a while, he forgot all about the body covered in the blanket, the peculiar task of investigating which he seemed to have set himself, and the fact that the lady’s brother-in-law was present to see him as he made a little study of her.

  She had dark brown hair which was rich and glossy, and blue eyes the color of cornflowers. The gown she wore fit her to perfection and was in a very pleasing shade of dark blue. Its darkness against her pale skin and pristine long white gloves lent a dramatic contrast, one which suited her very well.

  It was true that Esme Waterson was some years younger than him, perhaps more than ten, but there was something intelligent in her personality which was also rather fun. She just seemed to have a little bit more bite to her than the myriad of other young ladies who were presented to him on an almost weekly basis.

  And she certainly had something about her which made him think he would never get to the bottom of this dreadful mystery without her. The truth was, even if they did not get the bottom of it, James realized that he was enjoying that little connection between them whilst they tried.

  “I wish we could find the original dagger, the prop.” James said thoughtfully.

  “Yes, I suppose that would be helpful.” Esme said as she returned from the curtain.

  “Why?” Lord Tarleton said quizzically. “What does it matter? After all, it was not the fake dagger
which killed him, was it? That is the murder weapon there, surely.” He said and pointed at the floor where the bloodied dagger lay.

  “Yes, but whoever is in possession of the prop is surely our killer.” James said, and Lord Tarleton screwed up his face in confusion.

  “Because they would have had to remove it from the table when they switched the two daggers, Peregrine,” Esme said, gently explaining to her brother-in-law. “And I suppose they would have needed to take the fake dagger far away so that nobody realized there was anything wrong.”

  “They might have disposed of it, of course.” James went on, looking into Esme’s cornflower blue eyes as she nodded.

  “Yes, that is the likely explanation. After all, whoever did swap the daggers could have even done it this morning. That would give them ample time to dispose of it thoroughly.” Esme placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head to one side as she thought.

  James held back his smile, thinking how refreshing it was to be in company with a woman who was able to think of something other than becoming the Duchess of Burnham. Although he wondered if he would mind at all if she did think about that also.

  “So, what’s next for the two of you?” Lord Tarleton said with something of a mischievous look about him.

  “I really do think we need to speak to Jane Beresford,” Esme said with more than a hint of regret in her voice. “That poor woman.”

  “Yes, she must be suffering a good deal.” James agreed. “It must have been a dreadful shock for her to realize that she had killed a man.”

  “Especially one she loved.” Esme added sadly, and James looked around at her sharply.

  “She loved him?” He said, thinking that obviously, not all gossip made its way to the Duke’s ears.

  “Yes, my sister told me only this evening. So, it was already a great shame for her, you see, having to put up with the Christmas festivities. It cannot have been an easy thing for her to take part in a play that was so like life for her.”

  “You mean being usurped by Caroline Ponsonby?” James said and felt a moue of distaste when he thought of that dreadful woman. “Not just in life, but up on stage for all to see.”