Murder at the Ice Ball

by Leighann Dobbs

  McTavish downed the contents of his cup with a flourish and grimaced. “I see ye sweetened it yerself, Lorna.”

  She scowled at him but didn’t answer.

  Tentatively, Katherine tasted hers. Not the sweetest of juices, but she wouldn’t go so far as to say it was unpleasant. When she was halfway done, Katherine leaned forward to help herself to some of the food. Lyle, given his complaints on the walk here, was hungry but too polite to admit it.

  “Allow me, milady,” Lorna said as she bustled forward. “What catches yer fancy?”

  Katherine chose a sandwich and a pastry and coaxed Lyle into asking for the same. Even Wayland took enough interest in the offerings to accept a slice of seedcake.

  When she noticed the captain at the mantel, Lorna turned to glare at McTavish as though it were his fault. “Go fetch the man a chair. Or need I do everything in this house?”

  Wayland held up his free hand. “I won’t hear of it. I’m perfectly happy to stand.”

  Chafing under Wayland’s unwanted presence and the tension straining the room between the two servants, Katherine forewent small talk and addressed McTavish directly. “What did you learn from the driver, Rayner?”

  McTavish grimaced as Lorna refilled his juice cup but drained it again. “Rayner was inside Lady Dalhousie’s house shortly before the murder.”

  “I knew it!” Pru exclaimed.

  Annandale shared a smile with her.

  Even Katherine couldn’t help but grin with triumph at the confirmation.

  At least, until McTavish added, “But he was nae with Lady Rochford. He snuck in fer a bit of a romp with his ladylove.”

  Lorna gasped in the process of pouring the tea. If McTavish had been closer, she might have struck him, if her expression was any indication. “Doona be crass!”

  McTavish held up his hands in surrender. “No word of a lie.”

  “Could the lover have been Lady Rochford?” Katherine asked.

  McTavish shook his head. “Nay, ’tis some sweet maid by the name of Ellie. Works fer—”

  “Mrs. Fairchild,” Katherine completed. Her rival in matchmaking couldn’t seem to hire a virginal woman, for all her propensity of insisting on the highest moral caliber in her clients. Katherine hoped the poor girl fared as well as Mrs. Fairchild’s last lady’s maid, who had found herself carrying the elderly Duke of Somerset’s child and been hastily married to make the child legitimate should he be the heir.

  Somehow, Katherine doubted that Rayner was the type of man to take responsibility for his actions. “If that is the case, why didn’t he admit to that from the start? With the upheaval in the house, I doubt he would have been reprimanded even if he had looked to his own pleasure before his duty.”

  “Och, well, the lad helped himself to a jewel he found on the floor while there. Wee fancy thing, ’tis, worth a pretty penny, but now considering the circumstances, he’s a bit off on trying to sell it.”

  No doubt he was. If it belonged to Lady Rochford, that would certainly raise a few questions. Could it be the “belonging” that Lord Rochford had accused the police of keeping? “Did you see it? Perhaps the owner lost it near the time of Lady Rochford’s death.”

  “And if we know who the owner is, we’ll have another suspect,” Pru added. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm as she clasped Lord Annandale’s hand.

  Lyle drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “It will take some investigating to find the owner unless the gem is particularly noteworthy. We might waste more time following that lark than we will be rewarded for, and we have no idea when it was dropped.”

  “No?” Pru questioned. “Surely the floor was cleaned thoroughly before the ball. Therefore it must have been dropped sometime after the cleaning and before Rayner found it near the time that Lady Rochford fell from the balcony. It couldn’t have been there for long.”

  “I’m not saying it isn’t worth looking into, simply that we shouldn’t rest our hopes upon it.” He straightened his collar and said to the valet, “McTavish, how well can you recall the jewel? If you can describe it well enough for me to draw it…”

  McTavish winked. “Oh, I can do ye one better than describing it. I convinced the lad to give me the trinket so as he wasn’t caught with it.” The burly valet dipped his hand into his pocket and emerged with a closed fist.

  Wayland stepped closer as the valet presented his fist to Katherine. He uncurled his fingers to reveal an earring, a white pearl stud surrounded by intricate braided gold. Her ears rang. She knew precisely who the earring belonged to.

  It can’t be!

  She snatched the earring from McTavish’s hand and curled her fist around it, hoping to prevent her companions from identifying the stud. Not that any of them knew her stepmother well enough to identify it as hers, but Katherine didn’t want to take the chance. How did Susanna’s earring find its way into Lady Dalhousie’s house the night of the murder, the same night Susanna had claimed to remain at home alone?

  Susanna had been a friend, confidante, even surrogate mother since Katherine’s own had died. She didn’t believe her stepmother was capable of murder, not even of getting into a spat with her dear friend on the balcony of a ball and accidentally pushing her over.

  No, Susanna had been so shocked to learn of her friend’s death. So shocked, in fact, that Papa had been afraid of her miscarrying the baby. Actually... she’d been unduly shocked. Katherine had thought she’d overreacted a bit.

  And Susanna had a cape with ermine trim.

  Unable to think straight with so many pairs of eyes upon her, Katherine stood. “Thank you for looking into this, McTavish. I’ll take on the task of searching for the earring’s owner. I’m afraid I cannot linger. Good day.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Katherine ignored Pru’s outburst.

  “Katherine?”

  And Lyle’s too. He was a grown man and capable of finding his own way home.

  Katherine blinked away the tears stinging her eyes as she stepped out of the Annandale townhouse and into the crisp air and light falling snow. She welcomed winter’s chill bite, a distraction from the cold turn of her thoughts.

  Turning toward home, she set out. If she reached a street with more traffic, she might be able to find a hack willing to take her home, as she and Lyle had opted to walk instead of ride. However, exertion seemed a welcome distraction despite the close of night around her. Her footsteps crunched in the hardening crust of snow piled along the edges of the road. Her cheeks burned, and her tears threatened to freeze to her lower eyelashes. One more reason why she couldn’t afford to cry.

  “Katherine, what’s gotten into you?”

  She stiffened at the voice, steeling herself a moment before she turned to face Wayland. Why had he followed her when no one else had? He didn’t even appear to care for the investigation, let alone how Katherine cared to spend her time.

  They stood between the two nearest buildings, each lit with a lamp out front to supplement the light of the gas streetlamps at the junction of the street. Around them, the snow seemed to muffle the sounds of London, and the desertion of this residential neighborhood made it feel as if they were the only two people in the world.

  “Nothing’s gotten into me, Wayland. I’m going home, is all.”

  “You can’t possibly think to walk all the way. Where is your carriage?”

  “I don’t have a carriage,” she said, her voice clipped.

  “Your father’s carriage, then.”

  “At home, I imagine. Lyle and I walked from his residence.”

  Wayland lifted his eyebrows. For a moment, it seemed that Katherine had rendered him speechless. All the better, but she couldn’t stand about and take in the sight. Her nose was already numb from cold, and tendrils of ice seemed to creep up her legs beneath her skirts the longer she stood there. Turning on her heel, she continued walking.

  His long-legged stride caught up to her within seconds. “I’ve never seen you
so abrupt, especially among friends.”

  Katherine didn’t know what sort of answer he wanted to hear, so she wisely said nothing at all.

  He persisted, “McTavish did well in uncovering what he did.”

  “You’re right. He did.”

  For a moment, Wayland’s presence at her right dropped away. She didn’t dare to hope that she’d lost his interest. He quickened his stride and caught up to her once more.

  “You aren’t angry with him for another lead you cannot hope to follow.”

  Katherine clenched her jaw. She didn’t dare to admit that she could, indeed, follow the lead. She had to know the truth for herself before she could confess the facts to her friends. “I am not angry with him, but I will be with you if you persist in this line of questioning. I’m going home. That shouldn’t be the cause for such scrutiny.”

  “If you were acting even remotely like the woman I know, it wouldn’t be.”

  Katherine clenched her hands, fighting the urge to box his ears. Wayland was not precisely a friend. Come to think of it, he must be an enemy, or at least her father thought so. But did she think so? Was she being too hard on him?

  Wayland stepped into her path, cutting off the light from the streetlamp mere feet away from him. His expression plunged into darkness, his silhouette limned with the tendrils of light. “You can’t think to walk home. You’ll fall ill.”

  “What does it matter to you?” She crossed her arms. “If you have business to discuss with Lord Annandale, you’d best return and see it through.”

  Posture rigid, he turned toward the light then back to face her once more. “I am a gentleman. It is my duty to ensure that women don’t succumb to frostbite if I can help them.”

  Katherine wanted to argue, but the chill had settled into her bones by now. Earlier, when Katherine and Lyle had arrived, the sun had still shone in the sky and lent the day some warmth. The temperature had plummeted upon the advancement of evening, and the flakes of snow blistering against her face with the unwelcome breeze didn’t help much, either. She would be foolhardy to walk all the way home.

  But to accept a ride from Wayland, of all people? If her father saw his family’s seal on the carriage so soon after he’d warned her of Wayland’s character, he might revoke his confidence in her judgment.

  “If it will allay your fears, I intend to find myself a hack as soon as I reach a busy street.”

  “No need,” Wayland said, his voice clipped. “I sent McTavish for my carriage with instructions to send it after me. If we wait, it’ll be here in a moment.”

  Katherine was tired. Far too tired to fight this battle, not when she had another to wage upon returning home. “Very well. I’ll accept a ride home, but only to the corner of the street. No farther.”

  When Wayland shifted to the side, the light slanted over his confused expression. “Why not to your door?”

  Was he serious? “Have you forgotten that our families are at odds?”

  “Ah, that.” Wayland was silent for a moment then let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. If you’re intent on being stubborn, I’ll deposit you at the corner.”

  Katherine nodded, appeased.

  “If you tell me what’s made you act so uncharacteristically at the moment.”

  That she could not do. Wayland might have proven himself helpful in past investigations, but she couldn’t trust anyone with this. She met his gaze, stalwart. “I’m reconsidering the clues of the investigation, that’s all. You have no interest in that.”

  Tilting her chin up in defiance, she waited for him to admit otherwise. He’d inserted himself into her investigations from the very first time she’d ventured to solve one on her own. He’d even feigned interest in her—interest he didn’t currently seem to indulge—in order to learn more about the Burglar of Bath. He had been feigning interest, hadn’t he? Because the way he was looking at her right now seemed to indicate...

  However, they were interrupted by a carriage. Wayland held her gaze a moment more before he opened the carriage door for her. Did he expect her to jump up without the steps?

  The driver, fortunately, had more sense. After tying off the reins, he jumped down and retrieved the steps from the boot of the carriage in the back. He laid them beneath the door. Katherine couldn’t escape Wayland’s hard gaze or his proffered hand. She accepted his assistance to step into the carriage, where a fur rested on the forward-facing seat. When she settled there and draped the fur over her legs to give herself something to do, the warmth sank into her cold bones, making her sigh in relief. The fur must have been heated next to a brazier while the team of four was hitched to the carriage.

  As the driver tugged on his forelock and motioned for Wayland to enter the carriage, instead he took a step back. His expression cutting, Wayland ordered, “Take Lady Katherine home and return for me here.” He lifted his gaze to hers for only a moment before he added, “I have further business to discuss with Annandale.”

  Katherine didn’t protest as the door was shut in her face, shrouding her in darkness. At least she didn’t have to abide his presence any longer.

  But a small part of her wondered at the vast change in demeanor. He’d never shown any qualms in accompanying her before. What had changed?

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time Wayland’s driver deposited her in front of Dorchester House, the early evening had deepened into a winter night. A lantern lit over their door meant that the staff yet awaited her return, or that of her father. Katherine didn’t know whether she should hope for the latter.

  After she handed off her garments, she retreated into the sitting room, where she was told a fire awaited her. She accepted the offer of tea and asked for Harriet to bring it. Perhaps before Katherine confronted her family, she would speak with her close friend and maid in order to garner her opinion. Once again, Katherine dipped her fingers into her reticule and emerged with the earring.

  She swallowed hard, curled her fist around the piece of jewelry, and strode into the sitting room. This room, allotted to family use, was warmly decorated in splashes of red and gold. A fire crackled behind a fire screen, shading the settee from its scorching warmth. Susanna perched on the edge nearest the fire, her hands resting on her stomach. As Katherine stopped short in the doorway, she glanced up.

  “Katherine, you’re home.”

  Her heart thundered so loud, she scarcely even heard her stepmother’s greeting. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  Indeed, she’d wanted to speak with Harriet before ever confronting her stepmother.

  Straightening, the woman frowned and patted her black hair. “What are you nattering on about? This is your home, too, for as long as you want it. You aren’t intruding.”

  Tentatively, Katherine took another step inside. The back of the earring bit into her palm, anchoring her to the moment. “Is Papa at home?”

  “No. He left for a meeting to arrange his next job.” Susanna rearranged her skirts. “You’ve never balked at being alone with me before. What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

  “It’s not the baby.”

  “Then what?” Susanna patted the seat beside her. “Please, come sit.”

  Numbly, Katherine crossed the distance to sit next to her stepmother, leaving a foot of space between them. The warmth of the fire soothed her but not enough.

  Trying to don the impersonal observant state that aided her as a detective, Katherine raised her gaze to meet her stepmother’s. “Where were you last Tuesday night?” Perhaps, without Papa around, this time she would receive the correct answer.

  Susanna’s delicately arched eyebrows pulled together. “I was at home.”

  Perhaps not. If Susanna was going to insist on lying to her, that left only one course of action: to present her with evidence that she could not deny.

  Katherine opened her hand between them. “This found its way into my possession.”

  “My earring!” Susanna’s face lit up with a smile as she took it out
of Katherine’s hand. “I thought I’d lost it. Actually, I’d suspected Emma might have stolen it again,” she added with a laugh.

  “She didn’t.” Katherine’s voice was flat. “It was found in Lady Dalhousie’s house. On the same floor where Lady Rochford plummeted to her death.”

  Susanna turned white, the glow from the fire giving her complexion a sallow look. She clasped one hand to her stomach, the other around the earring, which she pressed to her chest. She didn’t say a word.

  “Tell me the truth,” Katherine demanded. “You should have done so from the very beginning. Why were you at Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball? It wasn’t to socialize, or I would have seen you.”

  Susanna’s chin trembled, her eyes filling with tears as she brought both hands to cover her stomach protectively. “I didn’t harm my friend. I would never…”

  A wash of guilt turned Katherine’s insides cold, but she held firm. Her stepmother still hadn’t given her a definitive answer. “I withheld this evidence from my friends, my companions in this investigation. I am putting my reputation on the line for you, Susanna. Tell me: why were you there, and why haven’t you told Papa of it?”

  “It was for the baby,” Susanna whispered. The tremor in her lips muffled her words, as did the catch in her voice from emotion. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, overflowing to drip down her face unimpeded.

  Katherine steeled her spine, trying to appear unaffected. Her resolve crumbled in minutes. She loved Susanna with all her heart. Shuffling closer, she slid her arm around her stepmother’s slender shoulders and offered her comfort.

  “I don’t mean to distress you. Please, I only want the truth.”

  Susanna sniffled and offered her a watery smile. “I know. You’re a good girl, Katherine. You always have been. And a good detective. I should have known you would uncover my presence at the ice ball.”

  Still emotional, Susanna cried into Katherine’s shoulder. For the moment, Katherine allowed her the solace, but even if it broke her heart, she couldn’t allow her stepmother to sidestep the question again.