London Interlude

by Tracy Grant

  "You're a very astute woman, Laura. I know you were in shock. But did you note anything in the room that might give a clue to who had done this?"

  Laura frowned, again in a seemingly genuine effort at recall. "There was no sign of a struggle. Whoever did this, it was someone he knew."

  "Did you notice any sign anyone else had used the secret passage?"

  "No. Given His Grace's state, if that's how the murderer came in and out of the house, he or she was only minutes before me."

  "Or was still hiding in the house when you got there."

  Laura's eyes widened. "Dear God. I didn't consider— But of course that's a possibility." Her hands locked, and Malcolm would swear she suppressed a shiver.

  "I'd shiver at thought myself," Malcolm said.

  "If he or she was there I obviously didn't come to any harm."

  Malcolm nodded. "If you think of anything else send word to me. I'm not sure where they're taking you, but one or both of us will visit you tomorrow along with Alan Cunningham, the solicitor we're going to engage."

  Laura glanced between them. Her eyes were at once granite hard and suspiciously bright. "Mr. Rannoch. Mrs. Rannoch. You don't owe me anything."

  "On the contrary," Suzanne said. "Whatever else you've done, it doesn't change what you've done for Colin and Jessica these past years."

  Laura met her gaze. For a moment, Malcolm sensed the children were as tangible between them as when Laura put Jessica in Suzanne's arms or they bent together over Colin's schoolroom slate. "I thought you might be cursing yourself for trusting me with them."

  "No. I'm unshakably sure I was right to do so."

  "You're a clever woman, Mrs. Rannoch. But that could be a very foolish mistake."

  "It could. I don't think it is."

  Laura swallowed. "Tell Colin— Tell him I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to finish Robin Hood."

  "I'm sure you will finish it before long."

  "You're an optimist, Mrs. Rannoch. It's a good quality in a mother."

  Malcolm got to his feet and helped Suzanne up. "You're too sensible a woman to refuse help, Laura."

  Laura stood as well, shaking out her skirts as she always did. "Perhaps I'm just sensible enough to know when it's useless."

  "Nonsense," Suzanne said. "You're no more the self-sacrificial sort than I am."

  Malcolm moved to the door, but turned back, one hand on the tarnished handle. A seemingly casual action, but in fact careful stagecraft. "Oh, one more thing. Who's Emily?"

  Laura tensed, but merely said, "I haven't the least idea."

  "Trenchard died saying her name."

  Laura's gaze went shuttered. "Then I would look for clues among his effects."

  ***

  "Well?" Roth met them at the base of the stairs.

  "Very little more than she told you," Malcolm said. "I wish I knew whom she was protecting."

  "If she killed him, she's clever enough to have made up a better story," Suzanne said.

  "Perhaps. Fear and guilt can make people do odd things."

  "I'd wager she feels guilt," Malcolm said. "But not because she murdered Trenchard. Where are you taking her?"

  "Newgate," Roth said. "We should be able to move her in a few hours."

  "We'll want to see her tomorrow."

  "Both of us," Suzanne said.

  "I expected as much."

  "And I'm sending Alan Cunningham to wait on her," Malcolm added.

  Roth nodded.

  Malcolm pressed a purse into Roth's hand. "This is to make sure she's comfortable. I know you'll see it gets to the right people."

  "Of course."

  "Can we see Trenchard's study?"

  Roth hesitated. "I don't see why not, if I'm with you. But—"

  "You can't share the investigation with us because we aren't unbiased observers. Quite."

  "Just as we can't necessarily share everything we discover with you," Suzanne said.

  Roth grimaced. "I hope to God she isn't guilty. But—"

  "It's your job." Malcolm touched his arm. "I know what it's like to feel distaste for one's job."

  The door swung open. A wiry, compact, purposeful presence swept into the room, the dark folds of his greatcoat snapping about his ankles. Lord Carfax stopped, pushed his spectacles up on his nose, and surveyed the three of them. "Malcolm. Suzanne. Glad you're here. This will save time."

  "My lord—" Roth began.

  "Spare me." Carfax put out a hand. "Did you really think I'd remain ignorant of a murder in Mayfair for three hours?"

  "You had a source in Trenchard's house?" Malcolm asked.

  "My daughter. Mary sent for me." Carfax paused in the center of the room, shrugged out of his greatcoat, and began to remove his gloves. "I take it Miss Dudley is upstairs?"

  Roth flicked a gaze at Malcolm. "Do you want to speak with her?"

  "Not at present. I doubt she'd say anything to me she wouldn't say to Malcolm and Suzanne. Where are you taking her?"

  "Newgate."

  "She'll be watched," Malcolm said. "She isn't going to disappear."

  "My dear Malcolm, you over estimate my nefarious designs and perhaps underestimate my morals."

  "I merely proceed based on past experience."

  "A fair point. But in this case I'm here as a concerned father."

  The idea of Carfax's concerns being strictly domestic was laughable, but Malcolm had seen him show seemingly genuine affection for his children. Quite unlike the man Malcolm had grown up calling Father.

  Carfax removed his second glove and slapped the pair down on the table. "What was your governess doing at Trenchard House?"

  "She won't tell us," Malcolm said.

  "Leaving one to draw obvious conclusions."

  "Rather too obvious for a woman of Laura's subtlety."

  Carfax held Malcolm's gaze in the flickering lamplight. "Yes, I thought you'd take her side. Personal loyalties have always been your weakness."

  "Perhaps. But look at the hard facts, sir. She brought a pistol but it's not the pistol Trenchard was killed with. She could have fled through the secret passage and left the duke to die. Instead she summoned help and then sent to Bow Street."

  Carfax aligned the fingers of the gloves. "Your logic is nearly as annoying as your weakness for personal loyalties, Malcolm. I admit you have a point." He swung his gaze to Roth. "That's why I want you to let him assist you in your investigation, Mr. Roth."

  Malcolm could often keep up with Carfax, but he wasn't sure he had heard aright. "You want me to investigate?"

  "And for once I assume you aren't going to refuse to undertake the mission. I assume you're going to investigate in any case."

  "And you think—"

  "I have no illusions that you aren't hopelessly biased in Miss Dudley's defense. While I admit there are irregularities in the case against her, I am by no means as certain as you of her innocence. But I agree it would be best to learn the truth. And the best chance of arriving at that is to have you working with Mr. Roth."

  "Because people will say things to him that they won't to me." Jeremy Roth was not one to be intimidated by authority.

  Carfax met Roth's gaze. "Quite. This is Mayfair." The earl picked up his gloves and slapped them against his hand. "I know your Radical sensibilities, Mr. Roth. But you're also said to be very good at your job. I trust you take your job seriously enough that you won't let Malcolm get away with covering up the truth."

  Roth returned Carfax's gaze like a soldier used to taking fire. "The chief magistrate—"

  "I'll speak to the home secretary. He'll speak to the chief magistrate." Carfax's gaze moved to Suzanne. "I trust you'll forgive me for not addressing my remarks to you, my dear. I naturally assume you will be working with Malcolm. In fact, I trust you will keep his more extravagant impulses in check."

  Suzanne met Carfax's sharp gaze. "You don't think I'm biased in Laura's favor as well?"

  "I expect you are. You trusted her with your children. But you're
more of a pragmatist than Malcolm."

  ***

  "Concerned father is an unusual role for Carfax. Though there's no denying he loves his children." Malcolm scraped his hands over his hair. "There's no reason to think he knows anything about you."

  Suzanne cast a sideways glance at her husband. His profile was set in grim lines, outlined against the watered green silk that covered the squabs. They were sitting in their carriage in front of the Brown Bear, waiting for Roth to join them for the drive back to Mayfair and Trenchard House. "You sound rather as though you're trying to convince yourself, dearest."

  "Perhaps I am. But there's still no reason to believe it." He turned his head to meet her gaze. "Is there?"

  She swallowed. She could feel the pressure of Carfax's gaze as keenly as if he sat across the carriage from them. "Not as far as I know. Surely if he knew anything about me, he'd be more careful to keep things from you."

  "That assumes he doesn't keep things from me." Malcolm gripped her hand. "I don't want him anywhere near our family."

  She twined her fingers round his own. "Darling, he's part of our family."

  Malcolm gave a wry grimace. "I've always felt guilty for inflicting my family on you, though it wasn't Carfax I was thinking of."

  "He's been part of your family ever since you and David were at Harrow."

  "I suppose so. To the extent I had any family at all. Laura's been far more a part of our family this past year."

  "Yes. And yet—" Suzanne drew a breath. This was one of the moments when she felt the full impact of how the ground had shifted beneath them three months ago. "I was thinking of what we know about her and what we don't. There are certain questions it's never occurred to me to ask her."

  "You wouldn't pry."

  "That's part of it. But— we live in the same house with them. We trust them with our children. But in so many ways we don't know them at all. It—"

  "Outrages your Republican sensibilities?"

  Suzanne looked up at her husband. "Yes. I wasn't born into this world."

  "And the fact that I was means my sensibilities, however Radical Carfax would claim they are, are undisturbed?"

  "It makes it more understandable that you don't question such things."

  "I think that's giving me at once too much and too little credit. I don't think I should be excused from noticing. And it does bother me. But you're right, I think you have a more clear-eyed perspective."

  Sane, reasonable Malcolm. She was beyond fortunate that he was so understanding. Yet she sometimes wondered if he could be entirely human. Or when he would crack.

  As though he understood, his fingers tightened over her own and he carried her hand to his lips, just as Jeremy Roth pulled open the door and swung into the carriage.

  ***

  The Mayfair Affair will be out on May 5th, 2015.

  ALSO BY TRACY GRANT

  Rannoch / Fraser Series

  The Mayfair Affair

  London Interlude

  The Paris Plot

  The Berkeley Square Affair

  Imperial Scandal

  His Spanish Bride

  Paris Affair

  Vienna Waltz

  The Mask of Night

  Beneath a Silent Moon

  Secrets of a Lady

  Traditional Regencies

  Widow's Gambit

  Frivolous Pretence

  The Courting of Philippa

  Lescaut Quartet

  Dark Angel

  Shores of Desire

  Shadows of the Heart

  Rightfully His

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tracy Grant studied British history at Stanford University and received the Firestone Award for Excellence in Research for her honors thesis on shifting conceptions of honor in late-fifteenth-century England. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her young daughter and three cats. In addition to writing, Tracy works for the Merola Opera Program, a professional training program for opera singers, pianists, and stage directors. Her real life heroine is her daughter Mélanie, who is very cooperative about Mummy's writing time. She is currently at work on her next book chronicling the adventures of Malcolm and Suzanne Rannoch. Visit her on the Web at www.tracygrant.org.

  Photo copyright by Raphael Coffey Photography