Murder at the Ice Ball

by Leighann Dobbs

  Katherine tightened her hand on Emma’s leash in case her dog decided one of these vials would make a tasty snack.

  “Here you are! Drink this!” Grandma Bath beamed as she thrust one of the squat bottles into Katherine’s hand.

  It didn’t look like a caudle. In fact, the clear liquid inside seemed harmless enough. She still didn’t trust it.

  “What is it?”

  “Healing water from the springs, of course! You’ve been there, so you know the curative powers of our waters.”

  Katherine looked at the trunk, dubious. “Why do you have so many bottles?” If she had wanted to bring some of the waters from Bath, she could have done so in a single, larger container.

  “I’m giving away the bottles as samples. Once more people know of the healing properties, they will flock to our grand city. Everyone will profit!”

  Gingerly, Katherine held out the bottle. “Perhaps you ought not to waste it on me.”

  “Nonsense,” Grandma Bath exclaimed overly loudly. Katherine fought back a wince. “We need you in tip-top shape if you’re to find a match for Ernest. Drink up, now. Or would you prefer the caudle?”

  Katherine broke the seal on the vial with her fingernail, removed the cork, and drank the lukewarm water. It didn’t leave her with a magnificent feeling at its end, but it was a sight better than whatever caudle Grandma Bath cooked up. She handed over the empty bottle.

  “I feel much improved,” she lied.

  “You see,” Grandma Bath said, beaming. “I knew you would. Our waters are most helpful. Why don’t you sit while you wait for the full effect?”

  Half afraid of what the old woman would offer her if she did not, Katherine sat. When Emma tried to jump up onto the pristine divan next to her, she caught the dog in mid-lunge and turned her onto her back in her lap, dirty paws in the air. Emma squirmed, but when Katherine started scratching her exposed belly, the pug stilled.

  Silent, Pru sat next to Katherine. Once Grandma Bath was settled, she sent the footman, Hugo, to the kitchen to fetch the tea service. The moment he vacated the room, she turned to Katherine with a gleam in her eye.

  “Tell me, how goes the matchmaking endeavor? Are you here with good news?”

  Good news? Surely she didn’t expect for her grandson to have fallen head over heels in love during a single evening. Lord Bath was more practical than that. Not to mention, he seemed to have standards for his future wife that he hadn’t yet shared with Katherine. How could she match him when she didn’t yet know the sort of woman he desired?

  Although Miss Verne, in her opinion, was a good contender.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any news regarding matchmaking. I’d hoped to speak with Lord Bath this morning if he’s at home. Your butler refused to say.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Grandma Bath harrumphed. “No news? Have you been making any attempt to match him at all?”

  She’d only been hired three days ago! Katherine bit her tongue. “Of course I am—”

  “Of course. I see your dilemma.”

  Although she was certain she would regret asking, Katherine rubbed her temple and said, “I beg your pardon?”

  “You want Ernest for yourself. That’s why you’ve been dragging your heels when it comes to finding potential matches.”

  Pru snorted. “Oh, is that why? Katherine, you should have said something.”

  Katherine glared at her friend.

  To her client, she said, “I am not dragging my heels. The events of the ice ball did not make an atmosphere conducive to falling in love.”

  Grandma Bath exchanged a glance with Pru. She didn’t look convinced.

  What did Katherine have to do? Paint a sign on her forehead reading “I do not want to marry Lord Bath”? She needed to match him with someone, anyone, as soon as possible. Grandma Bath didn’t seem likely to practice patience.

  But given that Lord Bath had been missing from the ballroom when Lady Rochford fell… Katherine battled her own conscience. History had proven that Lord Bath had a good heart and did things for the right reasons. But he also crossed lines that others would not. Could he have been responsible for Lady Rochford’s death? Only if it had been an accident, and even then she didn’t want to believe it could be so, as he would have confessed immediately.

  “I’ll find his perfect match,” she vowed. “All I need is a little time to find a woman worthy of him.”

  Grandma Bath lifted her eyebrows. “You needn’t look too far, my dear. I know someone with a sensible head on her shoulders.”

  Pru stifled a chortle behind her hand.

  Katherine stepped on her foot. That cut off the sound of her mirth quickly.

  Fortunately, Katherine was saved from further conversation on the topic when Hugo, the footman, returned. He carried the tea service in two hands, but on the corner of the tray was a piece of parchment held beneath the weight of an ink bottle and pen. He set the tea service down on the table.

  “Here you are, milady. Abigail sent along the letter she was writing for you. She said that you wanted to have it out in this morning’s post, but it’s only half done, milady.”

  Grandma Bath frowned. “Is it? I thought I’d finished it. Can you read out what we’ve written already, Hugo?”

  The young footman kept his gaze averted as he carefully picked up the letter. It was crosshatched over another letter, Katherine noticed, the new writing perpendicular to the old. The boy squinted as he tried to make out the script.

  “Dear Jane,” he read. “I pin… pine for ev-er-y-one dreed—drade—”

  He seemed to shrink with every mistake he made in reading the letter aloud. Katherine set her pug on the ground, fisted the leash, and stood to read over his shoulder. “Dreadfully,” she corrected, pointing at the word. “I know, those letters make an odd sound in some cases. They never seem to follow the rules.”

  His cheeks flushed with shame as he held the letter out to her. “Would you like to read it, milady?”

  “Forgive me, it’s not my place.” She took a step back and bent to pat Emma, who basked in the attention. “If we caught you at a bad time, we’ll be happy to continue on our way. I’d like to speak with Lord Bath, if he’s in.”

  Once again, Grandma Bath ignored the request. “It won’t take but a moment. Hugo is much improved since he first started in the household a year ago. Aren’t you, son? I’ve been teaching him better reading and writing skills little by little. My eyes aren’t what they once were, and I can’t tend to my own correspondence. I do wish there was free education for everyone. I would see to arranging it in Bath, but I haven’t the stamina or energy for such a time-consuming endeavor. Katherine, you seem the enthusiastic sort about reading.”

  Katherine straightened before the old woman somehow managed to appoint her the governess for all of Bath. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time to linger. I must speak with Lord Bath. Is he in his study or at the club?”

  For a moment, Grandma Bath’s expression hardened. Emma whined, pawing at Katherine’s ankle. The curve of the dowager’s lips turned sly, and her half-lowered eyelids softened. “Ernest is in his study, tending to estate business. It’s on the floor above us, overlooking the garden. But dear me, it looks as though Emma needs to take a walk. Miss Burwick, would you kindly see to that while Katherine conducts her business with my grandson?”

  Katherine cursed under her breath. It was as plain as day that Grandma Bath conspired to arrange for Katherine to be alone with her grandson.

  Pru would never fall for that trick.

  As she crossed to the door, Pru plucked the leash from Katherine’s hand and led Emma away. She had a twinkle in her eye as she called over her shoulder, “Of course, Lady Bath. I’ll meet you out front in a moment, Katherine.”

  Tarnation, Prudence!

  Fuming, Katherine gawked at the door, unable to formulate words.

  “Would you like Hugo to show you the way?” Grandma Bath asked.

  “Please.” Katherine bit off the w
ord. Even if Grandma Bath had ulterior motives in sending her to the study, Katherine needed to speak with Lord Bath and find out if he knew Lady Rochford.

  The moment the young footman escorted her to the room in question and announced her presence, he left her there and shut the door. Katherine stared at the dark wood and stifled a sigh. Is that necessary? Grandma Bath must have whispered a word to him as they’d left, though how she’d managed it without Katherine hearing when she was more than halfway to deaf, Katherine didn’t know.

  “Katherine.” Lord Bath greeted her warmly. As movement stirred at the corner of her eye, she turned to greet him. He neatened the pile of papers on his desk before he stood. “This is a surprise, I must admit. Has something happened to your father?”

  Lord Bath must not have been expecting to entertain, for he was only half dressed in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, no jacket or cravat around his throat. His wide cuffs were unbuttoned, flapping in the air as he straightened his desk.

  “Nothing has happened to Papa. I came to visit your grandmother and thought I would come up to see you as well.” Katherine tried to sound conversational, not wanting Lord Bath to know she was interrogating him. He wasn’t actually a suspect; she just wanted to assure herself that he couldn’t have done it.

  “Well, it is lovely to see you although a bit unusual.” His eyes narrowed. “Is my grandmother up to something?”

  Katherine looked away. “No, not at all. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that she’s been going on about finding a wife, and we did just attend the ice ball together...”

  Either Lord Bath thought Katherine was interested in him, or he’d caught on to the fact that his grandmother had hired her to find him a wife. But the mention of the ice ball was a convenient segue into what she really wanted to ask him.

  “Did you know Lady Rochford?”

  “No,” he said sharply, the word following close on the heels of her question. “Why would I? I’m rarely in London, save for Parliament sessions.”

  “Were you in the ballroom when she fell?”

  “Yes. Yes, I was. Terrible thing. That scream. Ghastly.”

  “Indeed. I’m surprised that you let your grandmother rush out into the snow to witness it.”

  Lord Bath started. “You are? I mean... I didn’t... I might have been in the loo or playing poker.”

  “Of course. Who can remember where they are every minute?” Surely one would remember where they were when they heard a bloodcurdling scream. And if Lord Bath had been in the ballroom, he never would have let his grandmother rush outside. So why was he acting so cagey?

  Yip!

  The sound of Emma’s bark drew Katherine’s attention to the window. Outside, Emma tugged the leash in one direction while Pru tried to drag it another.

  “Oh, you brought your adorable dog.” Lord Bath squinted out the window. “And Miss Burwick. It does seem like she needs your assistance.”

  “I can see that,” Katherine said. “I’d best be going.”

  Katherine gave the parlor on the floor below a wide berth as she hurried to collect her things from the butler and rejoin Pru, who was still in a tug of war with Emma.

  Pru held the leash out to Katherine, glad to be rid of it. Katherine tugged and looked sternly at the pug. “Stop it.”

  Emma obeyed, and Katherine started down the street.

  Pru hurried along beside her. “Well? What did he say?”

  “I don’t know if you deserve to know, being as you abandoned me to his presence alone.”

  Her friend chuckled. “Grandma Bath seemed so adamant. I didn’t want to disappoint her.”

  “It wasn’t funny.”

  “To the contrary, I’m highly amused.” Pru glanced at Katherine. “So, tell me what you learned.”

  “Lord Bath was not in the ballroom. Though at first he claimed he was.”

  Pru frowned. “So he lied to lead you astray?”

  “I’m not sure. He claimed he wasn’t keeping track of exactly where he was at all times.” At the corner of the street, Katherine paused. “Do you think he’s capable of killing Lady Rochford? He told me he’s never met her.”

  “I don’t know,” Pru said. “I’d like to think not. He dotes on his grandmother. He genuinely cares for his tenants. Would that sort of man resort to murder?”

  “We don’t know that the murder was premeditated. It might have been an accident.”

  “He said he didn’t know her,” Pru pointed out. “How could he push a stranger off a balcony by accident? It makes no sense.”

  She checked that the way was clear before she crossed the road, giving Katherine no choice but to follow.

  The moment Katherine stepped alongside her friend once more, Pru asked, “We need to discover the identity of this cloaked woman.”

  “I agree. Even if she isn’t the murderer, she might have seen something and fled before she was noticed.”

  “And Lord Rochford,” Pru added. “We can’t forget him. It’s almost always the husband.”

  For once, Katherine hoped she was correct. If so, Katherine might be able to tie this investigation in a neat little bow before it grew too dangerous.

  Chapter Eight

  Katherine adjusted the collar on her pelisse, wishing she’d thought to wear something with a hood. Her ears burned with cold. She and Pru had taken her father’s coach to Lord Rochford’s townhouse. The driver, rather than wait, had deposited them at the door and rumbled off toward the shared livery at the corner of the street. None of the houses in this part of Mayfair was quite large enough to accommodate a livery on the grounds.

  Using the large brass knocker, Katherine rapped on the door for a second time.

  “Perhaps Lord Rochford isn’t at home,” Pru mused. It had been her idea to visit immediately, before afternoon waned into evening. She held the expensive posy of flowers that they had stopped along the way to purchase. They couldn’t simply enter Lord Rochford’s home and begin questioning him without pretense. Therefore, they had arrived under the guise of offering their condolences, using Katherine’s tenuous connection between Lady Rochford and her stepmother.

  “Even if he weren’t at home, his butler would answer the door.” Was something sinister afoot in the house?

  Just as Katherine contemplated strolling along the perimeter and peeking into the windows to see for herself, the door was wrenched open by a haggard matron dressed in a smeared apron and simple frock. Her graying hair escaped her coif, flying around her face like a chaotic halo.

  “May I help you?” she asked, her voice terse and her expression hard.

  “I’m Lady Katherine, Lord Dorchester’s daughter, and this is Miss Burwick. We’re here to call on Lord Rochford and offer our condolences. Is he at home?”

  Although Katherine was tall enough to peer over the woman’s head and into the house, nothing she saw offered any explanation for why this person was answering the door rather than the butler. The foyer and corridor were neatly made up, with a single portrait of a beautiful, dark-haired woman that Katherine didn’t recognize hanging on the wall.

  “His lordship is not in a fit state to entertain, I’m afraid.”

  Drat, that put a damper on Katherine’s plan.

  “Are you certain? My family was friends of Lady Rochford’s. My stepmother isn’t fit to venture to offer her condolences personally, so she instructed me to pass them along for her. Sending a posy with a footman seemed too impersonal.” Katherine hadn’t told her stepmother of her plans to interrogate Lord Rochford, and she hoped Susanna had not already come to give condolences. That would be rather awkward indeed.

  The woman stared at them for a long moment then stepped aside grudgingly. “I’ll see if his lordship has raised himself far enough from his cups to see you. Wait here.”

  Katherine exchanged another glance with Pru. Left unattended in the foyer of a baron’s home? A housekeeper that talked about her master being in his cups?

  “This is highly irr
egular,” Pru muttered.

  Katherine couldn’t agree more. Uncertain whether or not to unbutton her pelisse, she decided to keep it on in case they were summarily ejected onto the street. She and Pru waited in silence, the only sound the rustle of their clothing as they shifted position.

  A moment later, their patience was rewarded when the matron returned, looking defeated. “He’s awake,” she muttered under her breath. “Which is more than I can say for this time yesterday. I had to throw water on him to rouse him so he could tell his daughter the terrible news. Would he resign her to learning of the death of her stepmother in the news rag? She deserves the dignity of being told the news in person, not by letter.”

  A daughter? Katherine frowned. “Does his daughter not live here, then?”

  The woman shook her head. “No, milady. She’s Mrs. Dillinger now, grown and married, and thank Heavens too. She didn’t need to see the way his lordship’s second wife slowly wore him down. He was even in love with this one, can you believe?” She raised her gaze to the portrait on the wall, her gaze disapproving.

  Lucky thing the housekeeper had a loose tongue. Katherine was shocked, as most servants never talked out of turn. If they did, her investigations would be so much easier. No more pretending to be a maid or cook so that they would gossip to her. Come to think of it, most barons never entertained in the bowels of the house, either. Apparently things at the Rochford house ran a bit differently than most. Tentatively, Katherine asked, “Was he not in love with his first wife?”

  “Not near as much as he should have been. Lady Rochford was angelic!”

  Interesting that she still referred to the baron’s first wife as Lady Rochford, when the recently deceased Lady Rochford had held that title for years. Although it seemed that the servant had an unceasing loyalty to her first mistress, Katherine wanted to be certain. After all, the woman painted a very different picture of the most recent Lady Rochford than the one Katherine’s stepmother had given.