Katherine pursed her lips. “Are you speaking from experience?”
Scowling, Wayland snapped, “Hardly. I work for a living. A cardinal sin in the eyes of my father, so I’ll thank you to keep that information to yourself before I’m disowned.”
“You take money for your services?” Katherine made a face as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Directly, I mean. I employ a solicitor to collect the fees. It keeps my name from getting tarnished from my matchmaking endeavors.” She laughed. “I doubt I’d ever be invited into another elite event without a client if I took the money directly.”
His disapproving expression eased, the corners of his mouth tipping up slightly. “I think you underestimate yourself. But no, I don’t see the reason to waste money on such a ridiculous expenditure. My family speaks for itself. I would only think less of myself if I laid about all day and exploited my tenants.”
From the amount of paperwork Papa had to look after regarding his estates—employees, tenants, upkeep, and keeping the peace when squabbles arose—Katherine knew there was far more to managing an estate or even a household. However, she couldn’t disagree with his opinion of high society in general. It was fashionable not to lift a finger to work, not even to brush one’s hair. Katherine liked to think she was more sensible than to be coddled all the time.
In an attempt to maintain civility, Katherine murmured, “I doubt a man like you would take well to sitting back while others did all the work. What would you do with your time? Read the latest novels?”
“Or write them,” he said with a wink.
She laughed. “You ought to meet Lady Brackley. She always has an idea for a novel on the go, if not several. She was at the latest Society meeting.”
“I’m sorry to have missed it,” Wayland said, his eyes crinkling in the corners with mirth. “Our friends are getting away from us. Shall we?”
Katherine, pained, looked out over the shore once more. Perhaps she could use Lyle as an excuse to avoid those wretched blades.
“You know how to skate, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she said hastily. “I attended the last Frost Fair.” Even if it had been the first time she’d ever set foot—or blade—upon the ice.
“Good. It won’t take long for you to adjust, then. All it takes is a moment to catch your balance.”
Or fall flat on her face.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny his enthusiasm. For all that she would have preferred to remain on solid ground, he was right. The only people waiting on the shoreline were those of the working class or older matrons who watched their charges from afar. If she wanted to find Lord Conyers, it appeared as though she would have to meet him on the ice.
She swore under her breath, but Wayland seemed not to hear.
McTavish waited with a grin to hand them their blades. As he bent to tie Katherine’s to the bottoms of her boots, she leaned heavily on Wayland for balance. Even once McTavish stood, she couldn’t seem to find her balance—and she hadn’t yet stepped onto the ice!
“Easy, now,” Wayland whispered in her ear. “If you can’t manage to walk, I can carry you to the ice. Mind the bumps near the edge. That’s where the ice is thinnest and liable to crack.”
Katherine swallowed the urge to renege on her decision to skate. However, between the two men, she soon found herself deposited on the ice. McTavish retracted his arm first.
“Are you ready?” Wayland asked. “I have to put on my skates. If you stand on your own for a moment, I’ll return shortly to help.”
“I’m perfectly able to stand on my own,” she lied.
The moment he stepped away, she regretted the decision. Even hoisted up, her skirts seemed to get in the way. Her skates slid in opposite directions, and she flung out her arms in a desperate bid to keep herself upright. She bit her lower lip hard as she careened backward despite her efforts.
She impacted Wayland’s firm body with enough force to lose her breath. He grunted as he took an involuntary step backward, one foot on the ice and one on solid ground. She held tight to both his arms around her middle, her back to his chest, as she tried to angle the skates beneath her again. They had a mind of their own, intent on leaving her bereft of footing.
“You should have admitted you couldn’t skate.”
“I can,” she insisted, feeling embarrassed at their awkward position, which somehow didn’t feel so awkward. “If you’ll only tip me upright again instead of hauling me back, I’ll make do.”
“Liar,” he said, though he adjusted his position so she stood straighter.
Around them, people had stopped to gawk and giggle behind their hands. Her face flushed hot. “Release me,” she commanded, breathless.
“You’ll fall.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“Stubbornness alone will not keep you upright.”
Katherine gritted her teeth. “Neither will you. You haven’t even donned your skates.”
“You didn’t give me time,” he said, his voice thick with good humor. “Let’s get you back onto solid ground again. McTavish?”
“I don’t need your help.”
At that, he was silent. He released her into McTavish’s grip as he stepped back to don his skates. At the moment, with everyone staring, all she wanted was to remove hers and blend with the crowd on the banks. Surely Lyle was nearby.
“Lady Katherine! Come, give an old woman your arm.”
Katherine stared, agog, as Grandma Bath gracefully skated down the Serpentine and came to an elegant stop in front of her. She skated as if she had been born with blades on her feet! Weakly, Katherine answered, “I fear I’ll pull you to the ground.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’m sturdier than you make me out to be.”
Before Katherine could protest further, she found herself propped on Grandma Bath’s shoulder. As they started to move away from the bank, Katherine flung out her free arm and leaned more heavily than she intended on the elderly woman.
“It’s in your posture, not the position of your arms. You can’t skate as though you are walking down Bond Street. You have to position yourself over your skates. Keep your weight just behind the balls of your feet.” As Katherine adjusted herself, tentatively retracting her arm, Grandma Bath pushed off with her skate again, propelling them further. “There, that isn’t so bad, now is it?”
If it hadn’t been for the old lady, Katherine would have fallen on her face by now. She managed a tentative smile.
“Now, if you’d care to go faster, push with your skate on a slant, not with your toe pointed forward.”
“I don’t think I’d care to go faster at all.” Katherine’s voice emerged thin and reedy.
Grandma Bath laughed. “If you don’t push, you’ll stop.”
“That would be acceptable to me.”
“How would you get back to the bank? I’m afraid Ernest isn’t available to help you.”
And the only other option was Wayland. Grimacing, Katherine pushed with her skate. She nearly toppled onto the ice, but she clung to Grandma Bath’s stout form instead.
“Careful, now. You’re quite a bit heavier than you look.”
Precisely as Katherine had attempted to warn her. She eased her weight off, her knees shaking, and tried to use the old woman solely for balance.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to rejoin Miss Burwick. She might be more suited to holding me up.” Even if she would undoubtedly tease Katherine about it later.
“Ah, I just passed her skating after some young buck and calling for him to stop. You’d think one conquest ought to be enough for her.”
Katherine stood straighter. The miniscule change in position sent her off balance again, and she fell backward onto the ice. She hit with a crack that jolted through her. Had she splintered the ice? Her ears rang as she shifted her bruised body to look. No, it was whole. Perhaps it was her bones that had cracked.
Grinning, Grandma Bath skated a circle around her and stopped in fr
ont of her. “You must get up and continue skating when you fall. Elsewise, you’ll let your fear rule you and keep you from trying again.”
“You’re thinking of horseback riding.” Katherine grimaced as she twisted, wondering how she was going to get her feet under her once more without reintroducing herself to the ice. The cold assaulted her through her dress and pelisse.
“It applies to skating as well,” the old woman said cheerfully. “Come on, now. You’re a sensible girl. Up you get.”
Katherine braced her mittens against the ice, but the blades on her skates slipped out from under her when she tried to stand. As her bottom made contact with the cold ice again, someone slipped their hands beneath her arms and hoisted her to her feet as easily as if she were a kitten.
“I see Conyers,” Wayland whispered in her ear.
“What was that?” Grandma Bath asked, overly loud. “You aren’t keeping secrets, are you?”
As if she wasn’t embarrassed enough to be on the ice or to be at the mercy of Wayland’s goodwill, Katherine’s cheeks flushed further. The snowflakes that impacted them all but sizzled from the force of her mortification.
“We’re looking for a friend, Lord Conyers,” Wayland answered. He released Katherine but hovered his hands near her shoulders, braced in case she fell again. Thanks to the trick that Grandma Bath had taught her, she did not.
Though she undoubtedly would if she tried to move.
“Ah, is that what Miss Burwick is off doing, making friends? He’s the fellow I saw her chasing.”
If Pru had found Conyers, there was no telling what questions she would ask. She didn’t have Katherine’s experience investigating—not to mention, she didn’t seem to agree with the tactful way Katherine was conducting the investigation to avoid arousing suspicion.
“We shouldn’t tarry. Where did you see her?”
“Over by that gingerbread stand, but he seemed adept at eluding her.”
“Lend me your arm,” Wayland instructed. “If you can keep your feet, I’ll guide us through the crowd to reach them quickly.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Grandma Bath announced. “With the two of us on either side, she won’t fall.”
Katherine opened her mouth, but the pair immediately took up positions, latching on to each of her arms. Without hesitation, they struck off against the ice, flying down the perimeter. Women yelped and stumbled aside. Men raised their voices. Katherine had no breath left to answer them. She squeezed her eyes shut, her body tensed as the wind of movement buffeted her. On her left, Grandma Bath cackled with glee.
Suddenly, Katherine was flying free, without anyone to steady her on either side. She opened her eyes just in time to register the couple in front of her breaking ranks and allowing her to glide unharmed between them. Beyond them, a trio—two men and a woman—spoke on the ice by the far bank. The taller man and a brown-haired woman cornered a lean, foppish young man with black hair.
“Now look, you’ve lowered my fiancée’s opinion of me with your incessant attention. There she goes.”
“Och, I’d say ‘twas yer wandering eye and hands that did it.”
That voice belonged to Lord Annandale, and if he didn’t move, she was going to careen into his backside. If he was there, the others must be Pru and Lord Conyers. She’d found them. Now she was about to bowl them over.
“Katherine, turn your feet! Stop!”
If she could have done that, she wouldn’t have needed Wayland’s help to begin with. His shout alerted the trio. The man and the woman slid apart, turning harmlessly away from Katherine’s path. Lord Conyers, on the other hand, froze in place, his eyes widening a moment before she crashed into him.
They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Katherine groaned. His elbow or knee had dug into her stomach, winding her.
“Get off,” he grunted, breathless.
“Och now, lass. We would have come to ye. Hold still. Stop yer squirming.”
Like she was a rag doll, Lord Annandale lifted her up and deposited her on her feet. As the blades slid against the ice once more, Katherine fumbled for Pru’s arm.
Lord Annandale grinned. “Not too steady on yer blades, are ye, lass? I did hear ye was a bit on the clumsy side, so maybe skating isn’t for yer.”
She made a face but didn’t deign to answer him.
Fuming, Lord Conyers got to his feet under his own power. The fact that she’d thrown him half into the bank made the matter easier. He glared at her as he brushed away the snow and bent to retrieve his top hat. “I have never been so mistreated in my life. A great brute like him, I understand, but an earl’s daughter?”
Now he chose to recall who she was, despite reintroducing himself on every other occasion? Katherine flushed from her crown to her toes, radiating heat. “It was an accident, Lord Conyers. I’ll take care not to repeat it.”
“See that you do.” He jammed his hat onto his head. “Good day, ladies. Annandale.”
As he moved to skate around them, Wayland appeared, blocking his path. The young lord huffed a sigh. “Is this the Spanish Inquisition? I have to attend to my fiancée.”
“She can wait,” Wayland answered, crossing his arms. “I believe the ladies have a few questions first.”
Warily, Lord Conyers eyed Pru. When he spoke, it was to Katherine with a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It looked brittle enough for him to have practiced it in the mirror. “Anything for a beautiful woman, but I do ask that you make it quick. I’m on thin ice, so to speak.”
“Because of your affair with Lady Rochford?” Katherine asked boldly.
Lord Conyers flinched. His dark hair dripped from beneath his hat and onto his forehead. “Of course not,” he answered loudly. “I would never be unfaithful to my fiancée.”
Katherine highly doubted that woman was listening—or that she would believe a known rake like him. Resolved not to show the least bit of softening toward a bounder like Lord Conyers, Katherine lifted her chin. “We aren’t about to whisper poison in your fiancée’s ear. I’m certain she knows your measure already. We only want to know the truth about Lady Rochford’s personal life. Did you venture above to see her the night of her death? Is that why she was on the balcony?”
“No,” he snapped, his charming demeanor flaking off like old paint. “I was there with my fiancée. You can ask her if you have any doubts. I never went upstairs with anyone. In fact, I never left her side. If you’ll excuse me, I should be attending to her now.”
Without another word, he shouldered between Wayland and Lord Annandale, who let him pass. Katherine watched him, frowning. “He’s hiding something. Why was he so agitated?”
“I’d say he’s feeling some pressure to do right by his fiancée,” Wayland mused.
Lord Annandale grunted. “Aye, and well he should.”
“He’s lying,” Grandma Bath said bluntly, stealing everyone’s attention. She took hold of Katherine’s arm once more, the one not clutched around Pru’s for balance.
“Yes, he is. I do believe we saw him by the ice swan, and his fiancée was nowhere in sight,” Pru said.
Grandma Bath gave them a sly smile. “Not only that, but he’s also lying about Lady Rochford. Maybe he didn’t follow her above stairs, but I saw the look in his eye when she crossed the room. He looked at her like a man besotted—much the same way my grandson is looking at young Miss Verne over there.”
With her free hand, Grandma Bath pointed to a skating couple. Lord Bath skated slowly with Elizabeth on his arm, taking dainty bites of a round of gingerbread. They appeared so deep in conversation that they didn’t seem to notice the world around them.
Grandma Bath elbowed Katherine in the ribs. “You waited too long, my dear. It looks as though Ernest has fallen for another woman. Do try not to get in the way of their union. I want great-grandbabies before I die.”
With a smirk, Wayland lifted his eyebrows and met Katherine’s gaze, amused. She stifled a groan. “I’m very pleased for them,” s
he assured Grandma Bath.
Unfortunately, the elderly woman didn’t seem to believe her.
Chapter Twenty
The erratic pounding at her door nearly gave Katherine an apoplexy. Clad in her dressing gown, with her hair only half combed and Harriet close on her heels, she raced down the stairs to the ground floor, where the butler cracked open the door. Pru spilled inside, her cheeks ruby and her eyes gleaming. She looked past him to the steps, where Katherine sagged against the wall, out of breath.
“I have it!”
She kicked off her pattens and raced toward the steps. The harried butler chased after her, holding out his hands to take her cloak.
“What do you have?” Katherine asked.
“The answer! I know how we can prove that Lord Conyers killed Lady Rochford.”
Katherine caught her friend by the hands before she bowled them over. “How?”
“Emma.”
Although Pru didn’t yell the name, her voice carried, and the immediate excited scrabble of small claws heralded the pug’s approach.
“I beg your pardon?” Katherine asked. “Contrary to popular opinion, my dog does not solve crimes.”
Harriet chuckled as she turned to pick up the excited dog, who yipped and licked her chin, tail aflutter.
Pru smiled smugly. “No, but she does steal trinkets. Trinkets like errant rings. If we pay a call on Lord Conyers and ‘accidentally’ set her free, she might return with the ring! If she does, we’ll have him. Only the murderer would have that ring, don’t you think?”
Katherine frowned. As plans went, Pru’s felt about as substantial as netted lace. “If we’re able to find the ring, perhaps it will lead to the murderer’s confession… but Emma doesn’t steal on command. In fact, I try to do everything in my power to keep her from doing so. We have no guarantee this will work at all. We might only annoy Lord Conyers by calling on him.”
Pru’s excitement diminished. Her beaming smile faded into a frown, and her eyebrows pulled together. “It will work,” she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction. “If you won’t do it, I’ll borrow Emma and see to the matter myself.”
Murder at the Ice Ball Page 19
