“Quite so, Your Grace.” Esme shook her head sadly. “I am loathed to seek her out, for she has suffered enough already. But she might have seen something, might she?”
“Yes, she might well have.” James said, and then tilted his head when he heard a sound far off in the ballroom.
“I hear footsteps.” Lord Tarleton said and raised his eyebrows.
The little party said not one word further until the footsteps grew nearer and Philip Wallace made his way up.
“Is there any sign of the constable yet?” Philip Wallace said doubtfully. “My uncle is flapping about the place like a wounded bird and Caroline and Augustus are sitting in stony silence in the drawing room. Stony silence which is making all present rather uncomfortable.”
“There’s no sign yet, no.” James said and wondered at the young man’s agitation. “Were you greatly acquainted with Mr Winchester?” Every time James referred to the man, he could not help but look over to where his body lay.
“Well enough.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose a little better than well enough. We are all here to spend Christmas under this roof and put on the little theatrical that seemed to mean so much to my uncle.”
“So, the play was your uncle’s idea, Mr Wallace?” Esme said gently.
“Yes, he wanted to do something a little different this year, something that would draw a crowd. You know how he likes his events to be well attended.” He smiled, and James thought him something of a cynical young man.
But then he remembered how he had tried his hardest to comfort Caroline Ponsonby on stage when she had first discovered that her fiancé had been murdered. Surely, he had looked at her tenderly before she had swatted him away like a fly on a hot day.
It was then that a little idea came to James and he knew that he would have to get the man alone. He bit his bottom lip knowing that Lady Esme would not be at all pleased to be left out of things, but he was sure she would understand if it all went as he thought it was going to.
“Shall we take a little walk, Mr Wallace?” James said, and Esme’s eyes flew to him. “I thought we might see if we could liberate a bottle of brandy from somewhere without having to go into the drawing room.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” He said. “My uncle usually has some stored in the pantry in the kitchen to save him creeping down to the cellar in the middle of the night when he runs out.” Philip Wallace laughed mirthlessly. “Follow me.”
As he left, James turned to nod apologetically at Esme who had narrowed her gaze and was studying him as if he were a botany specimen.
“We will be back shortly.” He said and stopped himself winking at her.
Whilst it might have given her the idea that he was up to something that would go in their favor, he wondered if she would be offended by so ungentlemanly a gesture and so decided against it.
“My dear fellow, you must perceive that I have contrived to have a few moments’ private conversation with you.” James said, opening the discussion as soon as they were out of the ballroom.
“Indeed?” Philip Wallace, a young man with pale hair, a pale face, and startlingly blue eyes, paused for a moment and turned to look at him.
“I believe you were once very close to Miss Ponsonby.” James said, hoping against all hope that he had not judged the thing wrong.
There had just been something in Philip Wallace’s manner of caring in those moments when Caroline Ponsonby ought to have been beside herself. And there had been something equally telling in the ease with which she dismissed him.
“It was a very long time ago, Your Grace.” Philip said, and James could have cheered he was so pleased with himself.
“Miss Ponsonby has not been engaged to Sheridan Winchester for long, has she?” James said, seeking to get the absolute truth out of him.
“Eight months, Your Grace. But I was never engaged to her, so there is no ill feeling.” Philip said with every indication that there was nothing but ill feeling.
“But surely you were a little upended by her decision to become engaged to another?”
“Look, Caroline Ponsonby doesn’t give a fig leaf for anybody in this world but herself,” Philip said, and his tone had become very bitter indeed. “Her family is middle class at best and she is a most determined little climber. She is digging for gold and titles, Your Grace, and with Sheridan, she did at least find gold.”
“And that is why she chose him over you?”
“I come from a fine old family, Your Grace, but we are no longer as wealthy as we once were. All I could give her was absolute respectability and a comfortable lifestyle. Sheridan Winchester could provide her with so much more. He was a very wealthy man, especially once he started playing so carelessly with other people’s money.”
“Then you do not miss having Miss Ponsonby in your life?” James said, doubting very much that he would get a completely honest answer.
“No, I do not.”
“And now that Sheridan Winchester is gone, you do not think that….?”
“I doubt that very much, Your Grace. After all, I’m sure that it was very obvious to you that she had already decided your sympathy would be of a much higher quality than mine.” The antagonism in the young man’s eyes was not lost on James and for a moment, he thought that the pale creature was going to strike him.
“I am afraid many young women are of the same mind, Mr Wallace. But I assure you I do not have the slightest interest in Miss Ponsonby.”
“Either way, it is your business, Your Grace.” Philip Wallace said and marched off down the servants’ stairs and into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of brandy and some glasses.
Chapter Nine
“Well, I never thought to see a Duke carrying a tray of glasses as long as I lived.” Esme said a little waspishly when the Duke and Philip Wallace returned to the stage.
The Duke, smiling handsomely and a little ruefully at her, set the tray of glasses down on the low table in the staged sitting room area.
“Would you like a glass of brandy, Lady Esme?” He turned to look right in her eyes, his smile slow and his eyebrows raised in amusement.
For a moment, Esme wondered if she would be able to answer. She was having another moment in which she was likely to be tongue-tied and she took a few deep and steadying breaths before responding.
“Yes please, Your Grace.” She said and returned his smile, relieved when he finally released her from his intent gaze to turn his attention to the brandy bottle.
“Oh, is it a little party?” Suddenly Caroline Ponsonby tottered onto the stage with eyes only for the Duke of Burnham.
“It is hardly that, Miss Ponsonby.” Esme said in a regrettably judgemental voice as she sought to remind the young woman that the man she was supposed to have loved was laying dead just feet from her.
“Oh please, do not remind me. I am trying to forget.” Caroline said in a staged wail of misery as she hurried to the Duke’s side. “Oh dear, I feel a little unwell.” She said and began to lean towards him.
The Duke could do no other than steady her, otherwise, the silly woman would have fallen over completely. But Esme could see right through it and she stared at the woman with a mixture of distaste and, she realized with some dismay, a little envy. She did not want some other woman to lean against the Duke of Burnham.
If anybody was to lean against the Duke of Burnham, Esme realized that she wanted it to be herself.
“Perhaps you should sit down, Miss Ponsonby.” The Duke said with just enough annoyance to satisfy Esme.
“I hardly know what to do, Your Grace.” Caroline purred and showed no sign of moving.
If anything, she leaned closer still.
“Mr Wallace, perhaps it would be for the best if you took Miss Ponsonby back to the drawing room. The real drawing room.” The Duke spoke with enough force that Philip Wallace swigged back his brandy at speed before hastening to take Caroline’s arm.
“No, I …. I would rather stay here.” She said pettishly as
she shook her arm free.
“It is not good for you to be here with the body of your fiancé just yards away.” The Duke was sharp, but he seemed to get through.
“Yes. Of course.” Caroline seemed to come back to her senses, clearly realizing that she was not showing herself in her best light right there at the scene of the crime. “I am not myself.” She took Philip’s arm, but Esme could see the flash of annoyance in her eyes.
The moment Caroline and Philip disappeared, the Duke drank down his brandy in one gulp and poured himself another. Esme looked at him with undisguised amusement and was pleased to see him roll his eyes when he saw her looking at him.
“Goodness, I needed that.”
“I did not think you were going to get free, Your Grace.” Esme laughed.
“She does seem rather attached to you if you don’t mind me saying.” Lord Tarleton added with some amusement of his own. “Still, I suppose it is an occupational hazard for a Duke.”
“It’s an occupational hazard just here at Beresford Hall.” The Duke sat down in one of the armchairs and Esme followed suit.
“How so?” She said, hoping that the Duke did not think that she was clinging to him like a limpet; if he did, he could jolly well solve the mystery on his own.
“Well, it’s not only the attention of Caroline Ponsonby I have had to suffer this evening.” The Duke took another sip of brandy. “But Jane Beresford also.”
“Jane Beresford?” Esme said in a high-pitched voice full of incredulity.
“Well, not the woman herself.” He said and shook his head vehemently. “What I mean is, Lord Beresford has been doing his best to throw the poor woman at me. He has been singing her praises and giving me the list of her little accomplishments in music and sketching ever since I arrived. If it is not the ladies themselves, it is always their fathers.”
“Oh dear, how very trying,” Esme said, relieved to find that he did not think her a part of that crowd. “But what of Jane herself?” She went on, wondering if it was perhaps another line of inquiry.
“She has barely looked at me, I am pleased to say.” The Duke shook his head slowly and Lord Tarleton chuckled. “I have nothing against the young woman at all, but I cannot imagine that we have anything in common. The very idea of having the Baron as my father-in-law.” He shook his head vehemently again and Lord Tarleton boomed with laughter.
“Quite so.” Lord Tarleton said when he had stopped laughing.
“So, perhaps Lord Beresford had a very good reason to see Sheridan Winchester out of the way,” Esme said almost to herself as she thought. “After all, if he had his eye on a Duke for her and she continually had her eye on Mr Winchester, perhaps that is motive enough for a man as ambitious as Lord Beresford?” She looked at the Duke and then at Lord Tarleton. “What do you think?”
“Yes, for some men I think that is motive enough.” The Duke nodded, and Esme was pleased that he once again not only listened to her but seemed to think that what she had to say held merit. “And he was, as we discussed before, awfully keen to throw suspicion upon Augustus Daventry.”
“I think we must speak to Augustus Daventry again, Your Grace,” Esme said, surprised that she felt so at ease with the man even though she was finding herself increasingly attracted to him. “I think we must confront him with this heated argument that Lord Beresford claims to have overheard.”
“Yes, I think so.” He nodded.
The Duke of Burnham was an exceptionally well-dressed man. He was wearing black breeches and highly polished black boots, with an immaculate black tailcoat, pale cream waistcoat, and pristine white shirt. And everything fit him to perfection, something which Esme thought due more to his fine form than to his tailor’s prowess.
He was a tall man, one who stood out, and Esme began to wonder if he wouldn’t be equally popular amongst the young women of the county even without the title.
“No doubt he will be in the drawing room with everybody else,” Esme said, not relishing the idea of returning there and facing Katherine, who would undoubtedly demand that she give up her little folly and behave herself immediately. “But it will not be easy to winkle him out without bringing half the room with him. They will all want to know what we have been doing.” She looked hopefully at her brother-in-law.
“I suppose that is my cue to go and have a quiet word with him and bring him here?” Lord Tarleton said with a chuckle.
“Oh Peregrine, would you?”
“Yes, although my having to face your sister when you do not hardly seems fair.” He said and set his brandy glass down on the low table and made his way off the stage.
“I must say, you are very good at this sort of thing, Lady Esme.” The Duke said when they were alone.
“As are you, Your Grace. I’m glad you are here, for I think that Lord Beresford would have taken charge were you not.”
“Yes, I am sure he would.”
“And there would have been no justice for Sheridan Winchester, for Lord Beresford would have declared it a simple accident and bullied the constable into saying the same.”
“I must admit, I am developing some suspicions about Lord Beresford.” He went on.
“Yes, although they all seem rather guilty to me.” She shook her head. “Tell me, what did you find out when you took Philip Wallace away and left me here to wonder what was happening?”
“Oh yes, I had quite forgotten.” He laughed and tilted his head back a little, his wonderfully white and straight teeth making him more handsome than ever. “You know how you told me earlier that Miss Ponsonby had once been attached to another young man? Well, I had an idea that it was Philip Wallace. I only took him away because I did not think he would answer truthfully in larger company. I did not mean to leave you out of things, Lady Esme, really.” His beautiful blue eyes seem to pierce her suddenly as if determined to have her know that he meant what he said. “And I was right, he was the young man that she threw over in favor of Sheridan Winchester.”
“Oh, how very clever, Your Grace,” Esme said and sounded every bit as impressed as she truly was. “So, there is another motive to have done with poor Mr Winchester. Thwarted love!”
“He seems rather more annoyed with Miss Ponsonby than in love with her, so perhaps it’s more a case of wounded pride.”
“Goodness, is there anyone we do not suspect?” Esme laughed and then fell silent when she heard Lord Tarleton and Augustus Daventry approaching.
Lord Tarleton was conversing in hearty tones, obviously keen to let the two of them know that they should be cautious of their own conversation.
“Ah, Mr Daventry.” The Duke said and indicated that Augustus should take a seat. “Do forgive us for dragging you out of the drawing room.”
“One drawing room is much like another, Your Grace,” Augustus said with a grimace as he sat down. “And I was contemplating making my way outside for some peace and quiet and a smoke, so I was glad of a reason to come away.”
“There was something I wanted to ask you, Mr Daventry, and I am afraid that it is rather an awkward question.”
“Well, you might as well ask it, Your Grace.”
“Lord Beresford intimated that he heard you and Mr Winchester arguing earlier today. He said it was rather a heated argument.”
“Did he indeed?” Augustus Daventry pursed his lips and shook his head in annoyance. “Well, as I said to you earlier, Your Grace, Sheridan and I argued as much as we laughed. We were like brothers, both quick to temper and quick to repent.”
“Would it be indelicate to ask what it was you were arguing about?” Esme said gently.
“Not at all, Lady Esme. And I would gladly tell you if I could remember.”
“Lord Beresford suggested that it was in connection with the unfortunate investment and the money you have lost.” The Duke went on a little more firmly. “He claims he heard you telling Mr Winchester that he would be sorry for it.”
“Well, that is quite something, Your Grace!” Augustus Daventr
y was now annoyed. “To throw suspicion at my door over the matter of this investment is quite laughable when the person throwing suspicion lost even more money in it than I did.”
“You mean that Lord Beresford invested in this scheme of Sheridan Winchester’s?” Esme said and tilted her head to one side to give Augustus Daventry the impression that she was entirely on his side. “Tell me, do you know the details?” She went on in a conspiratorial tone.
“Indeed, I do. The Baron lost more than three times as much as I did in the whole thing and was reported to be furious about it. Sheridan was amazed when he received his invite for Christmas here at Beresford Hall. He almost turned it down, thinking it would be dreadfully awkward, but Lord Beresford was insistent. He said he wanted to put on a play for the county and thought that Sheridan would make a very fine leading man.”
“Goodness.” Esme said and caught the Duke’s eye.
“So, as I said before, Sheridan and I fall out all the time. We fell out all the time.” He corrected himself as his voice trailed away sadly. “I don’t suppose we’ll be doing that again.” He rose to his feet quite suddenly and Esme was certain that he looked genuinely upset. “If you would excuse me, I think I would like to go outside for a smoke now.”
“Of course, Mr Daventry,” James said graciously. “And thank you kindly for your assistance.”
“Well, it would appear that Lord Beresford has more than one motive now,” Esme said when Augustus had gone. “Wanting to take his daughter’s mind off the man she loved and being angry at that same man for relieving him of so much money. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“Quite so.” The Duke said and nodded. “I think we need to speak to him again. It strikes me that this play of his was rather a clever way of solving his problems.”
“Well, perhaps whilst you speak to Lord Beresford, I might see if I can find a way to his daughter’s chamber. After all, the Baron will not converse with me at all, so there is hardly any point in my being there.”
“Apart from the fact that you do ask some very clever questions, Lady Esme.” He said and looked at her again in a way which made her feel a little unsteady. “But I shall do my very best without you. As you say, we must have some word from Jane Beresford.”
The Duke's Christmas Mystery: A Regency Romance Christmas Mystery Page 4
