“Confound it, hold still a moment more. I almost had it.”
Smiling to herself, Katherine sat up again and held out her arms. “Give her here. I’ll hold her steady.”
Scowling, Harriet was more than willing to comply. As she deposited the dog into Katherine’s arms, she asked, “Are you certain it was murder? This is the season when only fools venture out onto the balcony.”
“Pru and I checked the balcony straight away. There was no ice or snow, nothing that indicated Lady Rochford had slipped and fallen.”
“There.”
The moment Harriet stepped back and Katherine loosened her hold, Emma jumped up to happily lick the underside of Katherine’s chin. She bounded out the door to roam the house. Harriet and Katherine let her be. The servants in the Dorchester household knew to watch for Emma before opening any doors leading outside—or to their personal belongings. Emma had a penchant for taking things that weren’t hers.
“Now you,” Harriet said, shooing Katherine out of bed. “Let’s get you dressed and ready for the day.”
With a sigh, Katherine slid her legs from beneath the coverlet as Harriet crossed the room to shut the door. The dressing screen was on the far side of the room, near the wardrobe. A writing desk, scattered with Katherine’s notes on various investigations, stood on the other side of the room. The room itself was painfully neat, a product of Harriet’s attentions.
As the door clicked shut, Harriet asked in a soft voice, “Have you told Lady Dorchester?”
Wearily, Katherine nodded. She rubbed her face, her fingers tangling in the loose brown hair that fell forward as she rested her elbows on her knees. “I did last night. Susanna was inconsolable.”
Her stomach shrank as she realized that she would have to find and speak with her stepmother this morning. Susanna might have insight into Lady Rochford’s life, and if Katherine still meant to investigate the death, she would need that insight.
Harriet patted Katherine’s knee. “That’s to be expected. She was a good friend of Lady Rochford’s. It isn’t your fault.”
If her maid was remarking upon it, Katherine wasn’t making a valiant effort to hide her feelings. “I know. It’s a terrible situation.” She stood, her knees a little weak but better than they’d felt the night before. “I’d best dress to face the cold this morning. I’ll be going out, no doubt.”
Harriet led the way to the wardrobe, where she extracted the day’s garments while Katherine washed from a now-lukewarm basin of water.
The maid said, “If you’re looking to gain entry to Dalhousie Manor, I might be able to help. I’m friends with the housekeeper. I’m certain I could persuade her to let you question her staff in case someone saw something.”
Katherine glanced up as she dried her face with a hand towel. “How did you know that was exactly what I was thinking?”
Harriet smirked. “You always want to speak with everyone. Now, come. Let’s get you dressed so you can go down to breakfast.”
As Katherine tentatively stepped out of her bedchamber, afraid to disturb the household, Emma trotted up to her. Her jaunty yellow ribbon bounced with every step. Pleased with herself, she spat something onto the floor at Katherine’s feet and sat on her rump.
Katherine groaned. “You didn’t.” With a sigh, she bent to retrieve the item. Upon closer inspection, it proved to be a pearl stud earring, the white center encircled by braided gold, a distinctive piece. It belonged to Katherine’s stepmother. One way or another, Katherine had to face Susanna.
The back of the earring bit into her palm as she closed her hand around it. First, she needed to fortify herself with breakfast.
She paused in the doorway to the breakfast room. The sideboard was laden with covered dishes overseen by a footman in the Dorchester livery. He added more tea to the cup in front of Katherine’s stepmother. Susanna’s hair was tucked into a neat bun at the back of her head, and her appearance was tidy, but she appeared haggard all the same. Her fingers trembled as she raised the replenished teacup to her lips. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot as she glanced toward the door.
“Katherine.” Tea sloshed over the rim of the cup as Susanna carelessly replaced it on its saucer. “Please, come in.”
As she sat, Katherine held out her hand, palm up. “Emma brought this to me.”
“My earring.” Susanna raised her hands to caress her bare earlobes. “The fasteners on these are always loose. I was afraid I’d lost it. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Katherine held still as the footman placed a plate in front of her. Eggs, kippers, bacon, toast. She wasn’t hungry for any of it. “I’m terribly sorry to have to break the news about your friend. I didn’t want you to learn of it from someone else.”
“I still can’t fathom it.” Susanna’s voice broke. When Katherine raised her gaze, she found tears in her stepmother’s eyes. “She’s been my closest friend ever since I was pregnant with Maggie.”
Katherine’s youngest sister was now seven years old.
Susanna swallowed audibly. “We were of an age, you know. Both young, both married to older men and trying to conceive an heir. She had as much trouble as I did, and I was terrified that I would suffer another miscarriage.” She dipped her hand beneath the table as though queasy at the thought.
“Celia finally conceived.”
For a moment, Katherine couldn’t breathe as she pondered the implications. “Lady Rochford was with child when she…?”
Susanna nodded. “She confided in me last week. And I…” She fought for breath as she pressed her palm against her mouth. “We were going to announce this later this week, when your sisters come over for dinner, but… I’m with child too. That is, if I don’t…”
Miscarry. The dreaded word hung in the air between them. Great shocks were known to cause miscarriages, and Katherine and her father had been trying for so long…
She reached out to squeeze her stepmother’s hand. “You won’t. You and the baby both will survive this. I’m terribly sorry. If I’d known—”
With a weak smile, Susanna shook her head. “No, I had to find out sometime, didn’t I?” With a sigh, she stared down at her full plate. “I don’t know if I can eat after all this.”
Katherine’s father darkened the doorway. Although years had given him a bit of a paunch, he still stood tall and proud, his shoulders not yet bowed from the weight of time. This morning, he seemed to have more white than gray in his receding hairline.
“You must,” he said firmly, stepping into the room. “Darling, you must keep up your strength.”
His wife mustered a trembling smile and speared a kipper with her fork. “You’re right, of course.” She nibbled at the tail end.
When she set it down again, only half eaten, he paused next to her to press a kiss to the top of her head, then her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. Katherine made a face and set her fork down again. If her parents were expecting a child, why were they acting as if they still hoped to conceive? She needed to find a house of her own, the sooner, the better.
The affection had a clear effect on Susanna. The moment Papa lifted his head, the color washed through his wife’s cheeks again and her eyes softened. She seemed in better spirits.
Papa confessed, “I’m happy I was home from my consultation early last night. And even more relieved that you decided not to join Katherine at the ball. The very last thing you need is to see something like that.” He looked over at Katherine.
A haunted look overcame Susanna again as she looked down. Papa took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Katherine? Can I speak with you a moment?”
Since she had no appetite anyway, Katherine nodded. She followed her father into the corridor, where they could speak privately. His gaze was serious as he met hers.
“Be honest with me, kitten. Do you think Lady Rochford was murdered?”
“I do.” She braced herself, expecting to be relieved of the investigation at any moment. Papa was, after all, the one who h
ad taught her everything she knew. He was a better investigator, and finding out what really happened was important.
Papa softly swore. “Tarnation. I’d hoped it was only an accident.”
“I could be mistaken. I won’t know for certain until I’m able to speak with Lyle and get his opinion…”
“I trust your instincts,” Papa said, his voice firm. “I have a case I’m working with Sir John, a consultation. Do you think you’ll have trouble solving Lady Rochford’s murder?”
Katherine frowned. “You want me to—”
“Yes. Susanna does too. We both have every confidence in your abilities. After all, you did solve the Pink Ribbon Murders where I could not.” He raised his eyebrows.
Yes. She had. Firming her chin, Katherine squared her shoulders and announced, “You don’t have to worry, Papa. I’ll discover who killed Lady Rochford. I promise.”
Chapter Four
Having helped her older sisters choose the fabric and styles of their wedding gowns, Katherine knew to expect some measure of chaos when she stepped into the seamstress’s shop on Bond Street. The shop front consisted of a modest display of no more than three dresses—a walking dress, a ball gown, and a delicate nightdress—positioned between peculiar wardrobes with thin tiered shelves. Some of those shelves were pulled out to display the rich, colorful bolts of fabric or lavish scraps of lace contained within.
Mrs. Burwick strode into the shop with her shoulders thrust back, the hem of her woolen gown wet with the slush on the well-travelled street. Her heels clicked against the slick wood, echoing in the small shop’s interior. The curtain to the back of the shop, where women were fitted for their dresses, rustled, and a middle-aged woman’s salt-and-pepper hair peeked out. She released a gusty sigh as she spotted her customers.
“Oh, my heart. For a moment, I thought… What a calamity!”
Katherine exchanged a look of trepidation with Pru. Usually, the brides were far more overbearing than their seamstresses.
The woman, with bowed shoulders that approached five feet tall at best, laid a hand on her brow as if fighting a fever. “Can you believe? I only received word a moment ago.” She fanned herself with a news rag.
Katherine couldn’t believe that a woman whose face turned that pronounced a shade of purple hadn’t yet fallen to the floor in a dead faint. Perhaps she ought to have brought Emma to the occasion. The touch of a dog’s cold nose worked better than smelling salts to revive a swooning woman.
A young girl who stood an inch or two taller than the seamstress and who shared many of her features scurried out of the back room to latch onto her arm. “Auntie, you must sit down.” The girl tucked stray black strands escaping her bun behind her ear as she spared a glance for the shop’s customers. “She’s had a terrible shock this morning. Please forgive her. How may I help?”
A frown entered Mrs. Burwick’s voice as she hazarded a question. “A terrible shock? Oh dear. My daughter is set to be married within the month.”
Pru groaned under her breath. “Wishful thinking, Mama,” she muttered.
Katherine was likely the only woman who heard. She glanced at her friend, noting the high color in Pru’s cheeks. Although Pru had accepted Lord Annandale’s proposal, she had done so with the understanding that they had a long engagement. Pru loved Annandale, but she wasn’t in as much of a hurry as her mother for the wedding to take place.
“Do I need to seek the arrangements to have a wedding trousseau made elsewhere? I’m certain we passed a shop along the way that seemed reputable…”
The seamstress’s niece leaped to reassure Mrs. Burwick before the shop lost a customer. “Certainly not, madam. We are perfectly capable of outfitting your daughter to advantage. My aunt has only recently received news that a longtime customer has died, and it’s shocked her greatly.”
“Lady Rochford was so young,” the seamstress murmured. The crumple of the news rag in her clenched fists was louder than her voice, but Katherine’s hearing sharpened at the name. The seamstress leaned against the wall, shaking her head. “She was set to come in this morning with her stepdaughter to have her gowns let out. When they missed their appointment, I never thought…” Her voice wavered, and she pressed her fist against her mouth.
As the woman’s niece herded her behind the curtain once more, promising to attend to the customers herself, Katherine frowned. At the very least, Susanna hadn’t been mistaken about Lady Rochford’s pregnancy. If she was letting out her gowns, she anticipated that she would be getting thicker.
When the young woman returned, bearing a smile, she turned her attention to Mrs. Burwick. “Now, which of these beautiful young ladies is the bride?”
“I am,” Pru said, taking a small step forward. Katherine had never seen her so timid. Usually she wasn’t afraid to have an opinion.
The seamstress’s assistant eyed Pru then turned her gaze to Mrs. Burwick once more. “You’ll make a lovely bride, just you wait and see. I’ll fix you right up. Are we hoping for a wedding gown or the entire trousseau?”
“The entire trousseau. And I’ve some ideas on the cut,” Mrs. Burwick answered firmly.
Her eyes wide, Pru gave Katherine a pointed glance.
Right. She had a job to do. Thrusting her shoulders back, Katherine stepped forward to take charge of the situation and save Pru from the misery of her mother’s fashion choices.
By the time they exited the shop, Katherine was emotionally wrung out. Even her sisters had not been as stubborn and difficult to deal with as Mrs. Burwick. From the way the woman had carried on, she might have been arranging her own wedding, not that of her daughter, whose tastes differed greatly.
With measurements taken and fabrics and patterns chosen, they left Mrs. Burwick to instruct as to the delivery. Katherine took Pru by the arm and towed her from the shop for a breath of fresh air.
Pru looked as worn as Katherine felt. “Are you unwell?”
Although she rubbed the crease in her forehead, it did little to ease her pinched expression. “This entire affair promotes being unwell.”
“You love Lord Annandale, don’t you?” Katherine was certain that she did.
In fact, she became more certain as color flushed Pru’s cheeks. “You know I do. But with the way Mama talks, everyone will think I’m marrying him for his title.”
“Have you told him that you love him?” Katherine asked.
Pru nodded. “Of course.”
“And he loves you.”
Her color deepened to scarlet, and she ducked her head, coy. “I wouldn’t be marrying him if he didn’t.”
“Then who cares what everyone thinks? He knows you don’t care a whit for his title.”
Her words teased a smile out of her friend. Pru mumbled something that sounded near to You’re right, but a passing carriage drowned out the sound as snow sloshed away from the tall wheels. Katherine took a step closer to the shop to preserve her skirts.
“Are you ready to beard the lion?” Katherine teased, gesturing to the shop.
Pru laughed and nodded. “I suppose I have to face her eventually. Best to make sure she hasn’t added something hideous to my trousseau.”
Smiling, Katherine steeled herself to interfere once more should Pru think it was needed. For all that Mrs. Burwick had applauded Katherine’s efforts in arranging the match between Pru and Lord Annandale, her gratitude only stretched so far. If Katherine negated her wishes one more time, she might find herself uninvited to the wedding. Not that Pru would allow that to carry on for long.
As she glanced down the street, Katherine caught sight of a familiar figure stepping out of the neighboring milliner’s shop while donning her gloves. Elizabeth Verne exuded the same air of practicality as she had during the crisis at Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball. Her hair was tucked neatly under her hood, her fur-lined pelisse fastened to the chin to ward away the chill as she took her bearings. As she met Katherine’s gaze, she smiled.
“Katherine, dear!”
�
�Elizabeth,” she greeted just as warmly. She beckoned the young woman closer. “So good to see you!”
Pru smiled, too, though her expression was a bit tight. “From yesterday, yes?” she muttered under her breath. Had Katherine introduced them properly in the chaos? She couldn’t recall.
She did so now. “Elizabeth, are you acquainted with Prudence Burwick? Pru, I met Elizabeth Verne last night.”
“Miss Burwick, it’s wonderful to be introduced to you properly.”
“And you,” Pru said.
Elizabeth turned to Katherine. “How is Lady Bath? She mentioned as I was with her last night that you and she had attended the ball together.”
Katherine nodded. Fortunately, she had insisted upon taking her own carriage, which allowed her to deposit Lord Bath and his grandmother at their London townhouse before she saw Pru safely home.
Her smile turning brittle, Katherine answered, “As well as can be expected after such a shock. Lady Bath is heartier than most give her credit for.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I guessed that from the moment I saw her. You don’t grow to be her age and do so much for your town without developing a spine of steel. Why, I heard she even commissioned a unique attraction for the town square in Bath and is working tirelessly to bring more interest to the town. She is quite a gem.”
“Indeed, she is,” Katherine agreed.
Elizabeth sounded as though she admired the old woman, a good sign. Once again, the notion ignited to match Elizabeth with Lord Bath. She was sensible, pretty, gracious. And she seemed to enjoy Grandma Bath’s company. She might be the perfect match.
However, Katherine couldn’t broach the subject in the middle of the street. She needed a more private location to gain Elizabeth’s confidence first. Not that many women would object to being matched with a marquess, but Lord Bath was a bit eccentric. His heart was in the right place, even if he happened to make decisions that Katherine, for one, did not agree with. However, he was always kind and friendly, and he cared immensely for his tenants in Bath.
Murder at the Ice Ball Page 3
