“Oh, good thought, Mrs. Forsythe,” said Mr. Dawson. “Dirge, perhaps? Or hymn?”
A new set of suggestions emerged, war dirge and battle hymn included. Lily’s team was chuckling, and Mr. Clay leaned close to Lily to whisper, “We have them stumped!” when she suddenly caught sight of Mr. Spencer’s face.
She recognized that slow, pleased smile—she had worn it often enough herself.
“Mr. Spencer,” she called. “I believe you have found us out. Will you share your guess?”
He looked startled, and then the full force of his handsome smile was turned on her. “I will if you answer my questions first. Was the charade your doing?”
Lily smiled pertly. “It was.”
“And another word for a dirge is lament, is it not?”
Lily felt her smile growing. “It is.”
“Then I am either about to be very clever indeed or about to make a great fool of myself in front of a number of beautiful ladies,” Mr. Spencer said, shaking his head, while the rest of his team leaned forward. “But I see there is no escaping now.”
“Pfft, you will still be pretty even if you are wrong, which is more than some of us can say,” Mr. Dawson shouted, prompting peals of laughter. “Spit it out, my boy.”
Lily thought she could see the edge of a blush around Mr. Spencer’s collar. But he smiled gamely. “Very well, then. In the first tableau, we all recognized Napoleon, may he remain on his island prison forever. But we did not pay enough attention to what he and his fellows were doing. They were all talking, of course. And when the French talk, they parle. Thus, my guess is that hallowed and infuriating institution where no few of us here spend our days. Your charade is Parliament, Mrs. Adler.”
“He got it!” Major Hastings groaned, as the room filled with cheers and exclamations.
“Well done!” Andrew Harlowe laughed.
As the groups mingled together once more, Margaret herded everyone back into the dining room for a small, late supper. This was a lighter, less formal repast than the dinner had been, set out on the sideboard. The men and women laughed and teased each other as they loaded their plates with a variety of jellies, cold ham and peas, candied nuts, white and yellow cheese, pears, melons, and fat slices of spiced cake. As they resumed their seats around the table, the servants refilled the wine.
The fun of the charades and the late hour of the supper had combined to set them all at ease, and the guests were happy to talk across the table rather than confining their discussions to the partners on either side of them. Lily found herself next to Matthew Spencer once more and, recalling the conversation that had been interrupted by the start of the game, took a deep breath. She needed to find just the right way to turn the talk back to his cousin if she wanted to find out whether her suspicions were correct.
He beat her to the opening. “I hope, Mrs. Adler, that you won’t hold my guessing your puzzle against me. I’d not have managed if Mrs. Forsythe hadn’t made her very well-timed observation.” He raised his glass to that lady in a salute.
Lily joined in. “I had rather hoped to carry the day, but I think I can manage to forgive you,” she said, prompting chuckles around the table.
Jack caught her eye from across the table, making a small gesture at himself. When she dipped her chin in a discreet nod, he raised his voice. “Seems like quick minds must run in your family, Spencer. Did you not say your cousin is a prestigious solicitor?” Catching Lily’s eye once more, Jack dropped one eyelid in the barest wink.
Mr. Spencer laughed. “Well, time will tell how prestigious he becomes. He certainly hopes to be. But right now he is the very distracted father of the very loud brood of children who have taken over my home.”
Lily narrowed her eyes playfully. His words were completely undercut by the smile that softened his features as he spoke of his cousin’s children. “I have a suspicion you secretly love that they have taken over.”
“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, shaking his head. “They are at the age of being charming little monsters. My cousin would spoil them if he were at home more, but his wife knows better than that. So I am free to be the bad influence in their lives with candy in my pockets and games in the parlor. I highly recommend the role of favorite relation to anyone who has no taste for parenthood itself.”
Margaret caught Lily’s eye then, and the very pointed look she gave almost made Lily blush. The Harlowes, clearly, had not given up their matchmaking ideas. But while Lily was thoroughly charmed by Matthew Spencer, it wasn’t his fondness for children that she wanted to hear more about. She needed to somehow turn the conversation back to his cousin.
She was saved by one of the other guests, who leaned forward from her spot across the table, a mischievous smile on her face and her eyes alight with the prospect of gossip. “I suspect Mr. Hammond may well be in the way of notoriety, if not prestige, given his current work. I do hope you are going to enlighten us, Mr. Spencer? Summer is so deadly dull in town; we could use the gossip.”
Mr. Spencer’s good humor transformed almost instantly to unease, though he tried to laugh it off. “I am sure I do not know—”
“Oh, come, sir.” The lady’s smile was full of expectation. “I live on Wimpole Street, you know. The whole neighborhood is abuzz with the death of Sir Charles, whose legal affairs, as I have heard, Mr. Hammond is responsible for managing. Surely your cousin has let fall some interesting tidbit that you can share?” She lowered her voice, glancing around to make sure all eyes were on her. “I say death, but of course that death was most unnaturally assisted.”
“Good gracious!” Mrs. Dawson exclaimed with grisly excitement as a shocked murmur went around the table among the guests who hadn’t yet heard that particular piece of gossip. “Mr. Spencer, now we are all curious. Do enlighten us.”
Lily glanced at Margaret, wondering if their hostess planned to put a stop to such a discussion. But Margaret was watching her, eyebrows raised as if asking a question. Her lips moved silently. No? she mouthed. Or more?
Margaret had been there when Lily was seeking out gossip. And now she wanted to know if she should facilitate more of it. Lily hesitated, then nodded. She wanted to know what the conversation might reveal.
“I am afraid I can have very little to add to the story,” Mr. Spencer said, the lightness of his tone sounding forced. “My cousin is merely a junior solicitor at the firm that kept Sir Charles Wyatt’s will. He does not discuss his confidential business with me.”
“Well, the will’s damned important in such a business,” Mr. Dawson suggested, his words slurring a little as he leaned forward, his face red with wine. “Poor fellow was probably done in because someone wanted his money.”
The comments flew fast and thick after that, some eager, as if the discussion were merely an amusing game, others fluttering and distressed. Lily listened silently, frustrated that nothing new was being said.
“Surely it was a servant?”
“How do they know it was even an unnatural death at all?”
“Who is this fellow? I never heard his name before.”
“I know Mr. Frank Wyatt, and a more pleasing young man I could not imagine.”
“I heard the family thinks it was a burglar—”
“That rumor is because they do not wish their little secret to come out.” It was the first lady again, the one who had asked Mr. Spencer for gossip. All eyes turned back to her, and she looked pleased to be the center of attention once more. Even Lily couldn’t help leaning forward, wondering if this time she would learn anything useful. “Apparently Sir Charles had not one, but two sons. And they never talk about the younger because he is …”
The lady paused, either for dramatic emphasis or out of some delicacy. A cold knot settled in the pit of Lily’s stomach.
“Not quite … right,” the lady said at last, lowering her voice. “There is some suspicion that he may have become violent and …”
There were gasps and murmurs around the table.
; “Suspicion from who?” Lily demanded, the words coming out more heated than she intended. But the cold feeling in her stomach was spreading through the rest of her body. Across the table, she could see one of Jack’s hands clenched around his wineglass, though he was endeavoring to keep his surprise from his face.
The lady looked a little affronted at being questioned, but she smiled smugly. “From one of my dear friends, Mrs. Martin Ashwood. Mr. Ashwood has more than ten thousand a year—you know, quite an old family—and Mrs. Ashwood knows Lady Wyatt well.” The lady took in her rapt audience once more. “Though even Mrs. Ashwood had never heard of this younger brother before Sir Charles’s death. But the cat is out of the proverbial bag, it seems.”
“I believe we have all had enough of such grim talk,” Margaret broke in.
Lily didn’t look at her friend, hoping her distress didn’t show on her face, but she was grateful for the sudden change of topic. How had rumors about Arthur begun to spread so quickly?
Margaret rose, leading the group from the room. “Shall we set out the card tables to finish out the night? And Major Hastings, do I remember that you were planning to visit Brighton this summer? I hope you will bring back an account of how the Regent’s pleasure palace is progressing. I have heard so many ridiculous things about its construction …”
Lily followed slowly, letting the current of conversation flow around her once more. The cold feeling in her body had turned hot and anxious, and she didn’t try to keep up with what was being said. If the Wyatts were spreading rumors about Arthur, then Ellen’s fears, it seemed, had been well founded. She needed to speak with Mr. Page …
“Mrs. Adler, are you well?”
The gentle inquiry broke into her reverie. Lily glanced over to find that Mr. Spencer had taken a place next to her as they walked and was watching her with polite concern. He lowered his voice, keeping his question between the two of them while the other guests chatted and laughed about the extravagance of the Prince Regent.
Lily gave the room a quick glance as she chose a seat. The group had divided itself into parties for cards at two different tables. One lady had been persuaded to take a turn at the pianoforte; after a polite protest, she settled herself and began to play a very pretty, very gentle air that provided a counterpoint to the hum of conversation and eager bets of the card players. Lily and Mr. Spencer were both among those who had abstained from cards, as did Margaret, once she had her guests settled.
Turning back to her companion, Lily managed a smile. “Perfectly well, I thank you. I was only a little surprised by the last turn of the conversation.”
“Mrs. Steele does enjoy shocking others,” he replied, glancing over to where the lady in question was preening over her hand of cards.
The words were stern but his tone was light, and Lily had the impression that he was trying not to seem too upset. But a moment later he changed the subject, turning back to her and smiling warmly. “I think I remember Mr. Harlowe saying you had not been to London in some time before this spring. How are you enjoying town?”
Having the full attention of such a handsome man was enough to make Lily feel almost flustered, now that they were speaking alone and not as part of the larger group. She guessed him to be around forty, with hair that had the slightest hint of gray around the temples, though he had the fit build of a sportsman. And he smiled as if he really meant it.
“Very much, sir. Though I fear I have still not fully adjusted to town hours.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I think I am the only one here who would prefer to be abed at this hour.”
That made him chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling up into cheerful-looking laugh lines. “Not the only one, I’m afraid. At the risk of sounding dull, I confess I prefer country life—and country hours—myself.”
For a moment Lily felt a pang of guilt; there was every chance she was going to use this nice man for access to his cousin and his cousin’s information. But that laugh made her wish her only motive was a pleasant conversation.
Her guilty thoughts were interrupted as Margaret joined them, her arm through Jack’s. They had caught the last part of Mr. Spencer’s comment, and Margaret was shaking her head, her look teasing. “Prefer it! Really, Mr. Spencer, how could you admit such a thing? I ought to be deeply offended.”
“Ah, Mrs. Harlowe, your entertainments are all a man might wish for. But there is unfortunately no competing with the pleasantness of being with one’s family, or enjoying the beauty of Hampshire. Have you ever been there, Mrs. Adler?”
“My aunt resides in Hampshire, and I always enjoy visiting her. It is indeed a lovely part of the country.” Remembering what Margaret had told her of the Spencer family’s horse-breeding, she added, “How being stuck in town makes one long for a gallop!” She didn’t look at her friends as she spoke, but she could feel their sudden suspicion, even without making eye contact.
“Dreadfully so.” His agreement was instant. “There is nowhere in town for galloping, of course, but one can still go riding.”
“Alas, I do not keep a mount for riding,” Lily replied. “My brother, Sir John Adler, assures me that he will help me purchase one when next he is in town, but he is much occupied in Hertfordshire.”
“Then, Mrs. Adler, you must join me for a ride. I keep a number of horses in town, and I believe I have just the mare for you. Perhaps tomorrow?”
He looked so pleased with the idea that Lily felt guilty once more. But then she remembered the last time she had been invited to go riding and the dreadful scene that had awaited her when she and Jack went to join Lady Wyatt that day. Sir Charles had been murdered, and now someone wanted to pin the blame on the son he had loved. That was reason enough for a little deceit. With a smile and a bow, she agreed to the scheme.
After a few more minutes of talk, Mr. Spencer excused himself politely, saying he did not wish to monopolize their hostess as he bowed and moved to join the group around one of the card tables.
Margaret restrained herself for nearly a full minute until Mr. Spencer was out of earshot and she could say in a low voice, “I’m sure you are a decent horsewoman, Lily, but you are no more likely to long for a gallop than I am to sing a solo at Drury Lane. What was that about?”
“Really, Margaret, it is a trot in the park. I do not see anything so surprising in that.”
“And yet you will not look at me as you say so.”
Lily felt herself blushing. “I have my reasons,” she said, tamping down another surge of guilt.
Margaret didn’t press any further. Whatever suspicions she might harbor, she was too circumspect to pursue them in the middle of her own gathering.
As Margaret stepped away to see to other guests, Lily was left alone with Jack, who was regarding her with his arms crossed.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you flirt to get your way,” he said, his arms crossed.
He spoke quietly enough that Lily couldn’t tell whether he was disapproving or not. But she felt defensive anyway. “If my accepting his offer of a ride was flirting, what were you doing when you accepted Lady Wyatt’s invitation?”
“That was a completely different circumstance.” Jack shook his head. “I hope you know what you are about, Mrs. Adler.”
“It is worth it,” she said quietly.
The Wyatts were hiding something. Knowing what had been bequeathed and withheld in Sir Charles’s will might be the first step to learning what that was.
CHAPTER 15
As she dressed the next morning to go riding with Matthew Spencer, Lily wasn’t sure what she even planned to do—she had simply seized the chance to find out more about Mr. Spencer’s cousin so as to pursue the Wyatts’ secrets from another angle. But she had no idea what she thought might happen, or whether she would have the courage to take advantage of such an opportunity if it presented itself.
She even thought, for a brief moment, of sending a note with her regrets. But her resolve held; she was going to be of some help to Mr. Pag
e, even if he didn’t know he still needed her assistance. And that meant pursuing every connection and possibility she could.
Her conversation with Jack did give her pause, and she stared at her reflection in the middle of settling her riding cap to perch at a jaunty angle over her dark curls. But her mind was too focused to spend any length of time wandering into such sentimental territory. If Mr. Spencer potentially had amorous inclinations, so much the better. There could be nothing serious in his designs yet, and he might be more likely to let something slip in conversation with just her than he had been last night in company.
And if she came away having learned nothing, all she would have lost was a few hours in the company of a handsome man. There were worse ways to spend a morning.
She was careful not to keep him waiting. She had no desire for him to come face-to-face with her father or to deal with any more of her father’s insinuations about men. When she came down the stairs, she was unsurprised to see that Matthew Spencer made a dashing figure in his riding clothes. His hat held carefully under his maimed arm, he took her offered hand in his and bowed over it.
“Mrs. Adler. How lovely you look today.”
“You are very kind, sir. Though I must warn you,” she added briskly, smiling to take some of the sting out of her words, “I’ve very little patience for flattery.”
“And what of your patience for genuine compliments from a friend?” he asked, not seeming put off by her bluntness.
“We will have to see if we are friends first, will we not?” Lily asked. “After all, I’ve not yet known you for even a full day.”
“So I am to conclude, then, that you are merely using me for my horses?” He looked amused rather than offended.
“Something of that nature. Though I promise to be entertaining enough to make it worth your while.” Lily flicked her cap’s feather back from where it had fallen over her eye and added, “If you wish, you may compliment me again when we return. We can see how I feel about it then.”
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