“Was the second Lady Rochford a poor mistress?”
The matron’s mouth twisted in distaste. Eventually, she admitted, “Not horrid. But she wasn’t as gracious or kind as Her Ladyship. And she had no right to conceive.”
Ahh, so Lord Rochford, and his entire household, did know about the baby. The driver likely knew about it too, then. If there had been an affair and the baby belonged to him, then perhaps he had argued with Lady Rochford...
Pru frowned. “Isn’t that the aim of the wife of a lord, to provide him with an heir?”
Katherine raised an eyebrow at her friend. Pru was soon to marry, but she didn’t seem the type to remain in the bedroom or nursery for the rest of her days. She liked investigating too well. Still, Katherine supposed that didn’t mean she wouldn’t welcome a pregnancy… It was a matter between her and Lord Annandale, something that Katherine had no right to speculate about. They were a long way from marrying, in any case.
The matron scoffed, turning toward the corridor. “If it had been a boy, the baby would have inherited everything and robbed her ladyship’s daughter of her rightful due. She is his heir, if you ask me, though the crown doesn’t see it that way.”
Katherine knew that well. If her new sibling was male, as her father and stepmother hoped, her father’s title and estates would fall to him upon Papa’s death. Katherine had known from the time she could walk that she would never inherit. She had her dowry, which Papa had already released to her on the merit of her solving the Pink Ribbon Murders, and that was quite enough for her.
Had Lord Rochford’s daughter been allotted as hefty a dowry? Her father wasn’t as rich as Papa, being a baron with less extensive estates than the earldom Papa managed. However, he had only one daughter to provide for rather than the five Papa had bequeathed dowries upon.
“If you’re set on giving your condolences to his lordship, I suggest you don’t tarry. It won’t be long before he starts reaching for the brandy again.”
Clearly, they weren’t going to receive any more information from her. Katherine nodded stiffly and, with her pelisse still on, followed the woman down the corridor into a parlor.
It smelled to high Heaven in there. The cushions from the armchair had been thrown across the room. A vase lay smashed on the floor, flowers strewn all over the oriental carpet. Lord Rochford sat in that wing-backed chair, a brooding master. His hair was disheveled, the gray strands sticking up at odd angles. His weathered cheeks were covered in a thick layer of stubble. His jacket was absent; there was no sign of it in the room. He wore his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his shirt was pulled from his breeches. Katherine didn’t want to contemplate the stains on the white linen. He was clearly a broken man.
“Lord Rochford?” Katherine said tentatively. “I’m Lady Katherine, Lady Dorchester’s daughter. She sent me to give her personal condolences for this loss. The news has impacted her greatly.”
Opening his eyes, the man passed a hand across his chin before he waved a hand toward the settee to his left. He didn’t even speak. Shoulders hunched inward, Pru scurried like a mouse and laid the posy of flowers on the table next to him, beside a tumbler with a sheen of amber liquid on the bottom.
Tentatively, Katherine perched on the edge of the settee, not too close. She breathed through her mouth, determined to make this quick. Pru settled next to her.
“My stepmother was devastated to hear of Lady Rochford, especially considering...” Katherine politely refrained from mentioning Lady Rochford’s pregnancy outright.
He scraped his hands over his face, his hairy knuckles for a moment obscuring his eyes and muffling his voice. “Fate robbed me of two beloved members of my family in one fell blow. Oh, Celia. How am I to survive without her?”
Gently, Katherine asked, “Do you know why she was up on the balcony?”
“I haven’t the foggiest notion.” Emotion clung to his voice, tears he refused to shed. Wearily, he added, “She told me she had to visit the withdrawing room a moment. Perhaps the morning sickness—she got it in the evenings—sent her out of doors for a bit of fresh air. But why the balcony? Why not the garden? I guess she wanted the privacy.” His voice caught, and his hands trembled, then he sobered for a moment. “Do you know they won’t even give me her things. Said I had to wait. How cruel.”
So the police had spoken to Lord Rochford. Apparently they hadn’t let on that they suspected her death might not be an accident. But they also had not returned her belongings, so that must mean they were still investigating.
Despite the stench of brandy drifting from him, Katherine’s heart clenched. It did appear as if he’d loved his wife dearly.
“Would anyone have accompanied her? Her maid or a footman, perhaps?”
Or her driver?
Katherine didn’t want to paint Lady Rochford in an adulterous light. Besides, they didn’t yet know that she had been unfaithful. Or that it was with the driver. Perhaps his presence in the house was entirely unrelated.
“I don’t know. She would have had to send for her maid, but I don’t know if she would have. Celia was so independent, she insisted she didn’t need help with simple tasks. Most days she fashioned her own hair if she didn’t plan to leave the house.”
So her maid wouldn’t have followed her around with a bourdaloue, a small ceramic cup for her to relieve herself into. But that still didn’t explain why the driver, Rayner, had been found in the house.
Lord Rochford looked on the precipice of falling apart, and Katherine couldn’t ask any more questions without raising suspicion. Taking pity on him, Katherine said, “Forgive me for bringing up such horrible memories. My deepest condolences to you, sincerely. I’ll show myself out.”
He made no move to stop her from leaving, so she stood. Pru gave her a sharp glance but followed without a word. They traversed the empty corridor in silence. Only once they’d exited into the bitter cold did Pru hiss a protest. “You didn’t ask him whether or not he knew of anyone who might wish her harm.”
“The family doesn’t know that anyone considers this to be a murder. From what Lord Rochford said, the police have kept Celia’s things, but he didn’t mention that they’d told him foul play was suspected. We must tread carefully to ensure that it remains that way. We don’t want rumors of murder to get out. Let the killer think they got away with it, and they may make a mistake. Besides, the servant who answered the door was rather helpful.”
“She appeared to hate Lady Rochford, if you ask me.”
“Yes. The first such person we’ve come across. She seemed afraid that Lord Rochford’s daughter would be robbed of her inheritance if Lady Rochford carried the baby to term.”
“Lord Rochford’s daughter won’t get a penny of it, anyway,” Pru countered. “I have no doubt that Lord Rochford has a cousin somewhere waiting for him to cock up his toes so he can inherit. I had no notion that he had a daughter, which means he hasn’t gotten the crown’s permission to bequeath his estates to his daughter when he passes by special remainder. If there’s no heir, the crown will seize everything.”
It was a sorry truth. Katherine frowned as they continued walking toward the livery. She held her hands over her ears to warm them. “You seem well versed in inheritance law.”
“My father is dead,” Pru pointed out. “I’m his only child. I know precisely the plight Mrs. Dillinger will face when her father perishes.”
Katherine paused in mid-step. “Did the crown seize your family’s holdings?”
“They would have if Papa had been the earl. He has an older brother. My uncle dictates our allowance now. Papa never touched Mama’s dowry, so she’ll bequeath it to me upon marriage.”
“That’s unnecessary. I’m certain Lord Annandale has more than enough money.”
Pru nodded. “Undoubtedly, but he might not have looked twice at a woman who had nothing. Besides, Mama says it’s good for me to have some money of my own, in case the worst should happen.”
For all that she drove her daughter
mad with the way she insisted on controlling the wedding, clearly Mrs. Burwick loved her daughter. She wanted what was best. Even if she mistakenly thought that to be atrocious buttons on her wedding gown.
Katherine touched Pru’s arm. “You and Lord Annandale will have a long, happy life together. I’m certain of it.”
Pru smiled weakly. “I’ll have to remember to stay away from balconies, then, won’t I?”
They continued walking. Pru wrapped her arms around herself and glanced back at the house. “What now? I truly expected the murderer to be Lord Rochford, but he seemed so distraught.”
Katherine pointed to the livery. “Now we interview the Rochford driver, Rayner.”
They reached the livery shortly, and none too soon. Despite the hands clapped over her ears, her skin burned from cold. The braziers in the stables provided some measure of warmth to chase away the icy temperature.
The moment he spotted her, the Dorchester driver jumped up from where he was playing cards with two other men, one of them presumably Rayner. “Forgive me! I thought someone would ring for me to ready the horses.”
Katherine waved her hand. “Don’t worry yourself. I wanted to visit the livery so I might see the Rochford carriage. I spotted it the other night at Lady Dalhousie’s house. Who is the driver?”
A handsome man with a slightly crooked nose stepped up and bowed. “That would be me, my lady. How may I serve you?”
Katherine drew herself up. “I’d like to see the carriage, please. I’m looking into purchasing one of my own, and I couldn’t help but admire the shape.” Though a convenient excuse, it also had a ring of truth. Once Katherine had her own townhouse, she would need her own carriage.
The driver, Rayner, led her and Pru down the line of stalls toward the conveyances parked in the rear of the building. Although Katherine’s driver levied a suspicious glare at Rayner as they departed, he didn’t follow. They had some modicum of privacy for Katherine to ask her questions.
As they reached the carriage in question, a tall coach with wheels that reached just below her shoulder, Katherine pretended to admire the fancy vehicle. Although she would need a carriage, she cared more for the functionality than aesthetic appeal.
Rayner ran his hand along the side of the conveyance slowly. “I’m sure this will meet with your delicate feminine sensibilities.”
Pru balled her fists. She looked as though she wanted to strike all notions of feminine sensibilities out of Rayner’s head. Katherine couldn’t much blame her, but they needed information, not violence. She stepped between her friend and the driver.
“It was much to Lady Rochford’s taste, was it?”
“It was indeed. Closed from prying eyes, doesn’t jostle the passenger unduly… unless you crave that sort of thing.”
Was he leering at her? Katherine gritted her teeth, resolving not to strike the man herself. Certainly he couldn’t entertain the notion that she’d made up this excuse to be alone with him! Well, she had, but certainly not for a salacious visit.
Now Katherine understood precisely why the maids in the Dalhousie house feared to be alone with him. He was a predator, and it seemed one that overstepped his bounds. But she needed information, which meant that however dearly she wanted to put him in his place, she must refrain.
She feigned innocence at his intentions. “Such a terrible thing happened to Lady Rochford the other night. Were you nearby when it happened?”
“Nearby?” He stiffened. His demeanor changed in an instant from flirtatious and accommodating to closed off. That, if nothing else, told Katherine that he was keeping a secret he didn’t want to tell. “I was with the carriage, as was my place.”
“But surely you might have been able to see the garden?”
“No.” His voice was hard. “All the carriages were lined along the front drive, to keep as many as possible from blocking traffic on the road. I learned of the tragedy only when a footman was dispatched to call me forth.”
“Is that so?” Pru asked from over Katherine’s shoulder. “Why, then, did I hear word that you were inside the house, trying to seduce one of the maids?”
Rayner crossed his arms. The hardness in his eyes mirrored his posture. “You must have been mistaken. I wouldn’t shirk my duty.”
To keep them from coming to blows—or worse—Katherine linked her arm through her friend’s and led her away. She ended with a sharp but polite, “Thank you for showing us the carriage. We must be off.”
“But—”
Pru didn’t know when to end an interrogation.
Leaning closer, Katherine lowered her voice to a hiss. “Let it be. You’ll draw suspicion.”
Her friend pulled a face. “We shouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense of having to hide the investigation in the first place.”
“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t. But at the moment, our only advantage is that the murderer thinks himself safe because the death is thought to be an accident. Let’s not reveal our cards before we’re ready.”
Pru’s mouth puckered, but she said nothing more as they approached their driver, who was busy readying the horses for their drive home. Once he and another hostler fetched the pair to the carriage, Pru leaned forward and said, “Do you think the driver might have killed Lady Rochford? We have witnesses placing him in the house. Now I’m not sure who I suspect more, the driver or the husband.”
“Rayner is clearly hiding something.” With a smile, she reassured her friend, “Never you fear. Whatever it is, we will discover his secret. In the meantime, there is one other person that might have information we can use. Lord Rochford’s daughter.”
Chapter Nine
By the time Katherine and Pru had toured Hyde Park once, the crisp edges of snow crunching beneath Emma’s eager footsteps, Katherine had begun to suspect that the information Harriet had provided was false. Normally she wouldn’t suspect the gossip Harriet gleaned to lead them awry, but they had scoured Hyde Park for an hour. If Mrs. Dillinger took to walking her dog here every morning at half eight, they had certainly missed her. By Katherine’s estimate, it was now after nine in the morning.
“Perhaps we should call on her like we did her father yesterday.”
“That would be a very poor idea. We have no connection to Mrs. Dillinger. I’ve never even seen her.” The only means she had for recognizing such a woman was by the description of her person and the hope that should their dogs cross paths, they would be able to exchange introductions. Thus far, in the crisp winter air, they hadn’t crossed paths with a soul. It was as though Hyde Park lay in a pocket of deathly silence. If not for Pru, Katherine might have found it too eerie to traverse alone.
“We must do something,” Pru said between gritted teeth. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms despite the thickness of her cloak. “Something other than walk in circles. I feel as though my nose is going to fall off.”
Katherine shoved her hands deeper inside the ermine muff, the leash dangling out the end. She’d borrowed the muff from her stepmother. The ermine matched Susanna’s cloak, a cloak likely similar to that which Peggy reported having seen. Though given what they’d heard from the cook and Peggy’s nervous condition, Katherine was suspicious she actually did see a woman in an ermine-trimmed cape. However, it would be very convenient if Mrs. Dillinger showed up wearing one.
“Perhaps we’ll get more information and try again tomorrow. If Harriet can discover her usual route or the gate by which she enters or leaves, we can arrange to cross paths with her.”
“We should have done so today,” Pru grumbled.
Privately, Katherine agreed. However, she had only thought to do such a thing after they had entered Hyde Park. She’d forgotten how large it was.
A tremendous bark shook the air, making Emma’s hackles rise. She shrank back, searching for the source as Katherine turned to do the same. A grey Irish wolfhound burst from the crux of the paths, a leash strained tight as it pulled a harried woman behind. With every ground-eating step, s
he dug in her heels. The hood of her cloak fell across her face, obscuring her expression as she was inexorably pulled nearer. The dog gave another shattering bark.
“Bonbon, no! Stop! They don’t care to make your acquaintance.”
Although the woman’s shout was breathless, having little effect on her pet, Katherine recognized it instantly. Elizabeth Verne seemed flustered and not at all herself. Katherine bit back a smile, knowing full well what a handful Emma could be when she had a mind to misbehave. She could only imagine the effect when amplified by one hundred pounds.
Lest her pug get the idea to run or trip them in the leash, Katherine leaned down to snatch her off the ground. Emma’s small legs kicked through the air as she twisted to look the wolfhound in the eye. She growled, her hackles stiff. Apparently, she hadn’t yet noticed the hound’s vigorously wagging tail.
As the wolfhound slowed to meet them, Elizabeth regained control over her pet and drew herself up. “Sit,” she said with the approximation of a harried schoolteacher.
The hound whined, ears back, as it looked over its shoulder at her.
She transferred the leash to one hand and used the other to point at the ground.
Mere feet away from them, the wolfhound turned to give them a forlorn look before it sat.
“Stay,” Elizabeth added, a note of warning in her voice. When the hound didn’t look in danger of running amok, she straightened her cloak and cast them an apologetic look. “I’m terribly sorry. She’s friendly, I promise. A bit too friendly, if I’m honest.” As she finally seemed to look up to see who stood in front of her, her eyes widened. “Oh, Katherine!”
Katherine held up her hand, hoping to stall whatever apology would fly from the other woman’s lips next. Emma squirmed in her other hand, wanting to be let down. “Is she friendly toward other dogs?”
“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth answered, nodding vigorously. However, she also tightened her hold on the leash, as if she feared the wolfhound would fly beyond her control once more. “She adores making friends.”
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