Murder at the Ice Ball

by Leighann Dobbs

  “How will you know if he is to blame without speaking to him?”

  With a triumphant smile, Katherine dropped into the chair opposite. “Exactly!” The click of Emma’s claws was muffled against the carpet as she trotted toward Katherine, who obliged her by picking her up and placing the dog in her lap.

  “What makes her think Lord Conyers is the murderer?” Lyle asked as he rubbed his forehead, fatigued. “We can’t even say for certain that he is Lady Rochford’s lover.”

  “Actually, we can,” Katherine corrected sheepishly. “His neighbor, Mrs. Ramsey, confirmed that she had seen the Rochford carriage several times on that street over the past week.”

  “Several times?” Lyle raised his eyebrows, dubious.

  Katherine’s cheeks flushed with heat. “Yes, well, the woman seemed to like gossip and might have been confused. She has seen the carriage multiple times, but she seemed certain that the last time was on Thursday, when Lady Rochford was already dead. She clearly has her days mixed.”

  “Can we be certain that she wasn’t concocting the entire tale?”

  Katherine scratched beneath Emma’s ribbon. The pug made a contented sound and leaned her chin against Katherine’s leg. “Mrs. Ramsey was able to recollect the Rochford crest in detail. How else would she have been able to do so if not by having seen the carriage often enough to recognize it?”

  “Debrett’s?” Lyle asked, naming a popular genealogy record for titled families.

  Katherine had to concede the point to him, even if she added, “Why would she bother to say it was the Rochford crest if she was not sure? I’m inclined to believe her, at least until I can confront Lord Conyers and ask him myself how intimately he knew Lady Rochford.”

  “You don’t need to call upon him at his trysting house in order to do so—”

  Whatever Lyle was about to suggest, he was interrupted by Harriet as she carried a silver tray in through the doorway, struggling to angle it so that she didn’t nip her fingers as she walked through. As the tray tipped, laden with teacups, a teapot, plates and saucers, and a slab of seedcake, Lyle jumped to his feet and hurried to help her steady it.

  “I have it,” she said, sounding a bit out of breath from her run to the kitchen. “You should sit before you fall down.”

  He didn’t protest. As he returned to his seat, Harriet crossed to the nearest table and set down her tray. She poured out a cup of tea, fixed it the way Lyle liked it, and added a thick slice of seedcake to the dish before handing him both. She made no move to offer the same to Katherine.

  “Thank you,” Lyle said, his gratitude tentative as he eyed the space between the two women.

  Harriet straightened but didn’t look at Katherine. Primly, she said, “I only serve people who are not dressed to go out.”

  Katherine was still wearing her pelisse and hat. With a sigh, she tugged the latter off and shifted Emma to the floor in order to unbutton the thick garment ending at her calves. “Very well. Consider this your victory—for now. I still intend to speak with Lord Conyers. If he happens to have Lady Rochford’s ring…”

  “Ahhh, the ring. That is what Lord Rochford said was missing.” Lyle returned his teacup to its saucer with a clink.

  Katherine supplied, “Lady Dalhousie was blathering on about how Lady Rochford had been robbed before she had been killed. I think the scrape on her finger and blood on her knuckles is because the killer ripped the ring off her finger.”

  “See?” Harriet said, shaking her head. She arranged the seedcake on Katherine’s plate. “The killer is dangerous. Lady Katherine has more ambition than sense this morning.”

  “If you ask me, Lord Rochford is protesting too much about the ring. He was at the ball that night with his wife.” Lyle ate a piece of seedcake.

  Katherine paused with the teacup halfway to her lips. “Are you saying Lord Rockford took the ring and then pushed his wife over the balcony? Why? He would get the ring back with her things.”

  “Maybe he was angry. It was his family ring, and if he discovered her affair, it would be an insult to his family.” Lyle pressed his lips together. “Or maybe he had a more nefarious reason. He might have been intending to use the ring to frame the lover for her death.”

  Katherine frowned as she slowly sipped at her tea. It could have used a minute longer in the pot, but she didn’t say as much aloud, as she had more important things on her mind. “I recall when I paid a visit to Lord Rochford on Thursday, his housekeeper was lamenting that the day before, he had been too deep in his cups to tell his daughter the terrible news. If that is true, then he would have been in no shape to plant a ring anywhere. No matter what, it seems we must speak with Lord Conyers.”

  Lyle nodded slowly. He picked at his seedcake, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. “If you’re set on talking to Lord Conyers, then there is one location we’ll be sure to find him today.”

  “Yes,” Katherine answered, stalwart. “At his townhouse.”

  Harriet made a noise of dismay and took Katherine’s half-finished teacup. She bustled, arranging everything on the tray. Her movements were jerky and tight with disapproval.

  “As luck would have it, you’re better off waiting and trying to find him at Hyde Park later today.”

  Katherine frowned. “Hyde Park?” It was the middle of winter; hardly anyone went for a ride or walk in knee- or hip-deep snow if they could avoid it. “Why would I find him there?”

  Smirking, Lyle shook his head. “How is it that I manage to hear of social events before you do? There’s to be a miniature Frost Fair like the one on the Thames two years ago.”

  “It was colder then. I can’t imagine that the Thames has frozen solid enough to walk an elephant across.” Katherine had barely been able to see the beast, the crowds flocking to the Thames had been so thick.

  “It isn’t to be held on the Thames. Some vendors have decided to set up their stalls on the Serpentine in Hyde Park, since it has been frozen solid for the past two days at least.” Lyle shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll recall the last Frost Fair. Even if this one will cater only to residents of Mayfair, Bow Street expects it to be every bit as rowdy as the first and has asked for volunteers to patrol Hyde Park and keep the peace.”

  Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Are you calling the demure sea of debutantes and chaperones rowdy?”

  “Not precisely,” he answered with a shrug of one shoulder. “But their presence begs the presence of male escorts, which breeds more vendors, more money at hand, and let’s face it — pickpockets. You know how lords and ladies behave if they believe they’ve been robbed.”

  “Are you one of those who will be patrolling the park?”

  “I am,” he confirmed. He rose, stretching as he offered his plate and teacup to Harriet with a smile. “Thank you for the tea and cake, but I fear I must get some sleep before I take patrol. I’ll keep my eye out for Lord Conyers and let you know if I see him,” Lyle promised Katherine.

  She nodded. “Very well. Your way might be best after all, but if I don’t find him, I’m going to call on him tomorrow morning at Charles Street.”

  Harriet sighed as she escorted Lyle out of the room to fetch his greatcoat. She didn’t quite lower her voice enough not to carry as she murmured, “Thank you for trying. At least you postponed the inevitable.”

  “If we don’t find Conyers at the Frost Fair, I’ll make certain I accompany her to the townhouse.”

  “I’d rest easier,” Harriet answered in relief, her voice fading as they stepped out of earshot.

  Katherine leaned forward and plucked her teacup from the tray, finishing it in two sips. “I’m not helpless,” she muttered under her breath. “And I’m not reliant on my friends.”

  Stating the matter aloud didn’t help her to gain confidence in the subject. She feared that she had become altogether too reliant on solving her investigations with help. Lyle was overworked, and Pru was shortly to depart. Oh well, Katherine was perfectly capable of doing her detective w
ork on her own.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Katherine should have gone to Charles Street. For one thing, it would have taken less time even though St. James’s Square was farther from Dorchester House than Hyde Park. She’d sent a footman with a note to Pru with the idea the moment Lyle left. Of course, Pru had insisted upon waiting for Lord Annandale. While in London, it seemed that Lord Annandale was attached to Wayland. Or perhaps the latter was attached to the marquess. Either way, the pair were inseparable, and by the time the soon-to-be-married couple called upon Katherine, Wayland was in tow.

  On her doorstep. In plain daylight! Katherine’s heart jumped into her throat. She accepted her winter wear hastily, not even noting which pelisse, hat, and gloves the butler handed to her before she stepped out and shut the door behind her. Had he recognized Captain Wayland? With his height and broad shoulders, Wayland wasn’t easy to mistake. If word carried to Papa’s ear that she was keeping company with him, it would not be good.

  Katherine scurried down the stairs and attached herself to his elbow without complaint. “What are you doing here?” She hissed the question under her breath as she tried to stuff her hair beneath her hat using only one hand.

  Wayland, a gentleman even if he was also a scoundrel, paused to help her with the task. His expression was even, giving away no satisfaction or unease or any other emotion Katherine might ascribe to him.

  “Annandale invited me to the Hyde Park Frost Fair. It sounds like it will make for a diverting afternoon.”

  “You plan on skating and drinking hot chocolate and eating gingerbread, do you?”

  He shrugged. “If I’m in good company, why not?”

  “You haven’t brought any skates.”

  “Neither have you.”

  Katherine didn’t plan on skating if she could help herself. She had a reputation for clumsiness after the past two investigations—unearned, she might add. However, if anyone ever witnessed her on skates, she would be confirmed as the clumsiest woman in all England. Since she spent nearly all her time in London, she rarely had the opportunity to practice.

  With an air of friendliness and an easy lope, Lord Annandale strode abreast of them with Pru on his arm. Her cheeks were pink, perhaps from the exertion of keeping up with his stride. Clearly eavesdropping, he interrupted. “I’ve McTavish waiting near the park with blades. I was nae sure if ye Londoners had skates, so he brought ye some extra.”

  Tarnation! Somehow, she would have to find an excuse not to use them.

  “I’m not attending to socialize. We must find Lord Conyers at once.”

  “Aye, and I’ll keep watch, ne’er ye fear.”

  Did Lord Annandale even know what Lord Conyers looked like? Katherine opened her mouth to ask, but Wayland spoke overtop her.

  “As will I.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you weren’t helping this investigation.”

  He shrugged, his muscles bunching beneath her hand on his sleeve. “I’m not. I’m helping a friend. Annandale doesn’t remember meeting Conyers, so I’ll point him out.”

  That answered that question. Wayland was helping Lord Annandale, not Katherine. If it benefitted her, did she have the right to complain?

  Perhaps he, too, was only content in conducting his own investigations.

  But did that explain his change in behavior toward her? Since he’d returned, he hadn’t complimented her, hadn’t cajoled information from her or gone out of his way to find himself alone with her. He certainly hadn’t stood as close to her as he had in the alley in Bath, when they had been evading the city watch and pressed up behind a set of crates to shield themselves…

  She didn’t want him to stand so close to her or pay her so much attention. She needed no man in her life to do those things, him above all. But a small part of her seemed stuck in the past, in Bath, when she must have imagined the amorous look in his eye now absent.

  “Katherine?”

  She blinked hard as she returned to the present. They’d reached the grand gates of Hyde Park, open for all to venture inside. She turned her head to meet her friend’s inquisitive gaze. “Yes, Pru? I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  A sly smile passed across Pru’s face. “Nothing of import. Where do you propose we search for Lord Conyers? Perhaps we should split up, to better cover more ground.”

  “The vendors and skating are all set up on the Serpentine. It would be counterintuitive to look elsewhere.”

  “If you insist,” Pru answered, adjusting her hood. “I thought you might want a bit more time alone… with your thoughts.”

  How long had Katherine been brooding? Heat flushed her cheeks, and she snatched her hand from Wayland’s arm in order to adjust her hat. “I’m here to find Lord Conyers and question him regarding Lady Rochford’s murder. The sooner we do that, the better.”

  “There’s no reason you can’t mix business and pleasure. We are attending the Hyde Park Frost Fair.” Although Wayland didn’t look at her while he made the suggestion, his words were clearly aimed at her.

  “Said by a man who has no business to attend to at present.” And who likely was steady on his feet on the ice. Where did Wayland’s family keep their country estate? He might have grown up skating around frozen ponds in the north, for all Katherine knew.

  Softly, he countered, “Simply because I choose not to involve you in my business doesn’t mean I have none.” He offered his arm, stiff. “Shall we?”

  She’d offended him. He, like her, was a detective. Unlike her, the son of a viscount and a decorated war hero attained far more respect in the profession. To her knowledge, he’d even been asked to consult by Bow Street, much like her father. Katherine, on the other hand, had to sneak about in order to conduct her investigations so she wasn’t given the cut direct by high society. Eccentric earls’ daughters or not, gently bred young women did not conduct investigations. At least, not in the eyes of polite society.

  Her views on the matter were very different, hence why she had taken Pru under her wing so readily.

  “It looks as though we aren’t the first to arrive.”

  Her thoughts had consumed her once again. When she glanced up, they had rounded the bend in front of the Serpentine. Here, the ground gently rolled toward the bank of the manmade lake in the middle of the park. Now iced over, the scene was precisely as Lyle had described: vendors had set up their stalls in a long row down the middle of the ice. They hawked their wares, steam rising from vats of coffee and chocolate to drink, roasted chestnuts, steamed oysters, and more. Young girls skated with trays hanging from their necks, laden with pies and warm gingerbread. On the banks, officers of Bow Street stood guard, keeping a watch on the festivities. Music lilted into the air from bagpipes more suited to the north and flutes deftly played. These street musicians had hats upturned at their feet for coin.

  In between, everyone still in London appeared to have turned up to skate and mingle. Katherine recognized debutantes gliding on the gallant arms of their suitors, their chaperones waiting on the banks or skating slowly behind them. Families had brought out young children, hoisting them between adults so they wouldn’t fall on unsteady legs. Young girls not yet out in society skated in figure eights while casting eyes at men who pretended not to take notice. Their skirts were held up with sashes to avoid their tripping over them with the skates, displaying their stocking-clad ankles.

  In the whirl of bodies, Katherine couldn’t pick out those she knew from those she had only been introduced to once or twice or even guests from the country who didn’t typically winter in Town. Faces blurred into one another, gentlemen with hawkers, ladies with pie girls. People skated along the narrow Serpentine, and more still strolled along the banks, the snow having been stamped down to make for even footing.

  “Do you see him?” Katherine whispered as she clutched Wayland’s arm.

  “Not yet.”

  With a sigh, she slipped free. Lord Annandale raised his arm to hail the distinctive ginger head of h
is valet, standing head and shoulders above most of the crowd. Beaming, McTavish winked at the young woman offering him chestnuts along the shore and navigated the crowd, nodding in deference as he passed peers. He wasn’t the only manservant or lady’s maid in the throng today.

  Katherine followed Pru and Annandale to meet the valet midway, in an open patch of snow. He held up four long blades to be attached to their boots. “There ye are, milord. I’ve yer blades sharpened and ready.”

  With a shudder, Katherine stepped back, hoping to be excluded from the procession. McTavish was already fawning over Pru and coaxing her to the side of the Serpentine, where it would be easier to access the ice. Perhaps splitting up wasn’t the worst idea if they hoped to search the crowd.

  Wayland, unfortunately, attached himself to her side. “Where are you going?”

  “Pru had the right of it. There are so many people here that we can’t hope to catch sight of Lord Conyers if we don’t take separate paths. I’ll walk along the shore and see if I can find him.”

  “There are only servants, chaperones, and watchmen along the shores that I can see.”

  Katherine took another wary step or two backward. “He might have hidden himself among them. In plain view, so to speak.”

  “Why would he?” Wayland raised his eyebrows. “If he’s attended the fair, it’s to woo a ladylove or perhaps curry favor with his rich fiancée.”

  “I thought you said her father had rescinded the engagement.”

  Wayland shrugged. “I would if I were him, but I haven’t heard definitive news on the subject. It might be that Conyers has decided to wait out the gossip before he returns to polite society.”

  With a scoff, Katherine shook her head. “Why would he care? He already has a reputation for being a rake.”

  “Perhaps… but his future father-in-law is a very rich man, if not from an old family. Half the peerage is in debt up to their eyeballs. They need business arrangements with such men if they’re to keep their ancestral estates in one piece.”