Murder on Charles Street (Lady Katherine Regency Mysteries Book 5)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Lord Annandale’s carriage stopped in front of her house. The first man to exit was not the marquess, but Captain Dorian Wayland, a close friend of Lord Annandale’s. An obscenely tall man with a military build, Wayland was easy to pick out of any crowd. Although the sight of him usually left her with a sense of annoyance, today an uncharacteristic relief washed through her.

  Whatever else Wayland was, he was a skilled detective. And, given the spiral of her thoughts, she could use another perspective before she plunged headlong into chaos—or an unexpected murder investigation.

  Chapter Three

  Prudence Burwick, a woman nearly as tall as Katherine and built solidly, made no attempt to hide her curiosity. As she descended from the carriage, she craned her neck to peer between the two gargantuan men flanking her. “What’s happening down the street? Is there a fire?”

  Katherine shook her head. Her teeth chattered, and she couldn’t seem to force out a word. Lord Annandale had taken his fiancée’s lead and frowned, peering in the direction of the raucous gathering. Wayland, positioned closer to Katherine, noticed her state first.

  “You aren’t dressed to be out of doors. Katherine, where are your gloves?”

  When he gathered her hands in his, cupping them between his leather gloves, she should have pulled away. But the heat of his body seeped through and into her quivering flesh. The tips of her fingers tingled, far from a good omen, and the shells of her ears burned.

  Pru turned to her then, her frown emphasizing the sharpness of her nose and chin. “Katherine, where is your cloak?”

  Katherine didn’t have an answer for that, either. A moment later, she found herself swept by all three of her friends into the house.

  Wayland dropped his hold on her to open the door, throwing his head back and hollering, “Harriet!” Apparently, in the face of near frostbite, he wasn’t about to stand on ceremony.

  Harriet bustled out of the front parlor with Emma wriggling in her arms. The dog barked happily, tail wagging as she strained toward Wayland, who always seemed to be her favorite person in the room. Harriet deposited her unceremoniously into Wayland’s arms.

  “There’s a fire in the hearth.” She took one look at Katherine, lips thinning, then added, “I’ll put on some tea.”

  Her gaze lingered, traveling past Katherine’s shoulder to the soon-to-be-married couple who entered after her and shut the door. After a heartbeat, Harriet turned on her heel and bustled down the corridor toward the kitchen.

  With his arms full of Emma and the battle to avoid having his chin washed, Wayland didn’t have the attention to usher Katherine farther into the house. That pleasure fell to Lord Annandale, the great, jovial, bearded bear of a man who had given his heart to her dearest friend. “Och now, lass, go on in and warm yourself before ye catch a chill.”

  Katherine barely felt the cold or the numbness receding as she moved closer to the hearth. As with the rest of the house, the furniture in this room was supremely sparse. In fact, the parlor contained only three seats—the pink armchair that had once resided in Katherine’s room and a short paisley loveseat that had seen finer days. Between them was an oval table with a spindly potted plant.

  The loveseat was closest to the hearth, which nursed a small crackling flame. But Katherine couldn’t sit there. Thus far, Pru and Annandale had always claimed that spot when visiting. This was the first time they had brought Wayland with them. Katherine stood in front of the fire, staring and wrapping her arms around herself as she struggled to stop shaking. It wasn’t cold in here. Why am I still trembling?

  “Katherine.” Pru’s sharp tone captured her attention.

  When Katherine turned, she found Lord Annandale impotently holding his greatcoat and Pru’s pelisse over his arm, watching her with a frown. Pru had moved close enough to claim one end of the loveseat, but she hesitated, her attention rapt on Katherine.

  “What’s gotten into you this morning? Are you ill?”

  Katherine shook her head. “No.”

  Harriet trotted back into the room. Absently, she informed, “The tea will be a moment. I’ll take those.” She plucked at the garments on Lord Annandale’s sleeve, but didn’t take her eyes off Katherine. “Who screamed?”

  All eyes impaled Katherine with a single-mindedness. She swallowed against her dry mouth, but when she answered, her voice emerged as a croak. “Mrs. Campbell.” She cleared her throat, gathering her wits. She had frequented far more murder scenes than any other person in the room, save perhaps for Wayland. She ought to be inured to the sight. In fact, if she hoped to find the answers, she must be impartial. Emotionless.

  She must not think of Dr. Gammon as her friend in this moment, but as the victim of a suspicious death, perhaps even a murder. When she drew herself up, taking a deep breath, her shivers abated. From a position in Wayland’s arms, Emma cocked her head and whined. Katherine spared a slim smile for her dog, all the reassurance she could manage.

  She announced, “Dr. Gammon is dead.”

  Harriet’s brown eyes widened. She crossed herself. “How? Is it murder?”

  Looking down at her tightly clasped hands, Katherine bit her lower lip. “It must be. While I visited last night for Emma’s sake, he confessed that he was worried, though he wouldn’t confess the details. Now he’s dead.” She shook her head, locks of her hair falling into her face from her ill-made braid. “That is awfully conspicuous timing.”

  “Have I missed something?” Lord Annandale asked. “Who is this Dr. Gammon?”

  Katherine raised her gaze to the marquess. Over the past several months she’d known him, Lord Annandale had developed a taste for investigating along with his wife-to-be. He nurtured a deep curiosity, not to mention a devilish competitive streak.

  “He’s my neighbor, two doors down. A retired physician—he no longer treats human patients, but he treats animals, like Emma.”

  Pru’s lips parted, and she glanced at the dog, who happily showed Wayland her belly. “Did something happen to Emma?”

  Katherine managed a wan smile. “She ate something she ought to have avoided. Dr. Gammon fixed her right up; she’s as good as new this morning.” Her voice threatened to break on her friend’s name. She pressed her lips together instead. She must hold herself together.

  “I think I’ve seen him,” Pru said slowly. “Wasn’t he quite old?”

  Katherine nodded. “In his sixties, at my guess.”

  Lord Annandale raised his eyebrows. “A man that old might have cocked up his toes of natural means. It happens, lass.”

  As gentle as his voice happened to be, Katherine averted her gaze, her mouth settling in a mulish line. Her gaze fell upon Wayland, who stood next to the pink armchair. He gestured toward it with his chin.

  She turned away from him too. “When I entered and found the body, he was in his study with the remnants of a glass of brandy next to him and crumbs on his shirt and face. But there was no plate. Where was the plate?”

  Pru’s eyes turned limpid, her mouth softening as she reached out for Katherine’s hand. “He might’ve put it away, Katherine.”

  “I know where he leaves his dishes. They weren’t there.”

  “Then it might be that this Mrs. Campbell—that’s his servant, yes?” She glanced to Harriet for confirmation. Harriet nodded. “Then perhaps Mrs. Campbell washed it and put it away before alerting everyone to his demise.”

  Katherine snatched her hand away. “She was screaming her bloody head off! She wouldn’t wait until after she washed the dish in order to fall apart.”

  Lord Annandale strode forward to lay his hand on Pru’s shoulder, granting her his full support. They struck quite the pair, both tall and broad, though Annandale had a good deal more red in his unfashionable beard than Pru had in her brown hair. Both were dressed plainly, in functional clothes not meant to impress.

  “Och now, it might well be that this Mrs. Campbell washed the dish before she found him.”

  Katherine sat heavily in the pink
armchair, still vacant. A quick glance at Wayland found that he had lowered Emma to the floor and was now playing with her, coaxing her into chasing his pocket watch in circles. He didn’t appear to be paying the least bit of attention to the conversation.

  With the oval table between them, Pru lowered herself onto the end of the loveseat closest to the fire. Her fiancé squeezed onto the space next to her, stretching his arm over the back and crossing his legs at the ankle.

  “I know you’re restless. It’s the middle of winter, and I don’t think I’ve seen so much snow in my entire life, not even when the Thames froze over. Not to mention you’ve been closeted in this house for over a month, settling in.” Pru shook her head, chagrined. “I understand why you want this to be a matter worthy of investigation, but wishes alone will not make it so. Chances are, Dr. Gammon moved peacefully to the next life. Whatever the case, please leave it for the Runners to decide.”

  When Katherine opened her mouth to protest, Pru waved her hand in dismissal. “I know, I know. They don’t like to be called Runners. Promise me you’ll leave the matter for Lyle and his ilk. It’s for them to determine.”

  Never before had Pru suggested they avoid an investigation. Ever since their initial meeting, while simultaneously searching for the Pink Ribbon Murderer, they had been of like mind. But now… Would marrying Lord Annandale so change her perspective?

  Katherine turned in her seat to look at Wayland, who smirked as he played with Emma. Surely, he would support her cause. “What of…”

  The faint whistle pierced the air from deeper in the house.

  “That will be the tea. I’ll return the moment.” Harriet bustled out of the room.

  Pru laid a hand on Lord Annandale’s knee and offered a bright smile. “We came to you today because we have an important matter to ask.” Her gaze slid to Wayland. “To ask of you both.” Once more, she beseeched Katherine with her gaze. “May we discuss investigations later?”

  A man has been murdered! Katherine bit her lower lip, sensing that her friend was practically bursting to ask her something and that matters of murder were not foremost on her mind. Thoughts of an investigation could wait.

  Beaming, Pru met her fiancé’s gaze before they both turned their attentions to the other people in the room. Lord Annandale puffed out his chest, his grin spreading across his face. “Wayland, I want you to be my best man.”

  Pru laughed, the sound tumbling out of her mouth with music. She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and added with as equally infectious a smile, “And, Katherine, I want you to be my best bridesmaid.”

  Katherine’s mouth dropped open. “Your… what?”

  “My best bridesmaid.” Pru colored up and fiddled with the drape of her skirt. “If he’s to have a best man, I must have one, too. And I can’t think of anyone I would want to play as important a role in my wedding as you, Katherine.”

  Lord Annandale glanced at his wife-to-be with a smirk. “Ye ken a best man dates back to when we kidnapped the bride.” He winked. “Back then, the groom needed his best fighting man around to do it.”

  Katherine gaped at the pair incredulously. “What would you have me do, fight off Wayland with a sword?”

  The tension building in the room dissipated as everyone laughed. Emma, abandoned as Wayland straightened to his full height, tottered over to the happy couple and begged for attention.

  Her eyes dancing, Pru assured, “You won’t have to wrestle with Wayland. All I want is for you to help in a more official capacity.” The mischief in her eyes dulled to an intent, serious expression. “Katherine, you’re very important to me. Since Mary…” A shadow fell across her gaze, but she swallowed audibly and continued. “Mary isn’t here, but you are. And you’ve become as dear to me. I’m going to need your help, Katherine. After all, this isn’t precisely how I expected to be married.”

  At that, Annandale arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t this, lass?”

  Pru gave a delicate little humph. “I’ll have you know my mother has had her heart set on a hasty wedding in the middle of her drawing room by special license. You know, the kind of whirlwind, scandalous wedding that is the talk of the ton.”

  He laughed heartily. “Sorry to disappoint you, lass, but I’m the laird of the manor. I can nae have my wedding anywhere except for Annandale Castle. Once ye meet the lot of them, you’ll see.”

  Pru offered Katherine a hopeful smile. “A wedding that includes the entire town and castle requires a lot of organization. I cannot let my mother have any part of that. Can you imagine?”

  The last choice Mrs. Burwick had foisted upon her daughter had been buttons so large, floral, and hideous that Pru had worn them simply to try to fend off Lord Annandale’s attentions. It hadn’t worked in the least.

  “So, Katherine? Will you be my best bridesmaid?”

  Katherine swallowed thickly. Did Pru truly consider her the equal of the late bosom friend she’d known since birth? They’d grown close these past months since Katherine’s twenty-fifth birthday in September. Sometimes, she considered Pru akin to one of her sisters. Katherine blinked away tears. “Of course. I’m happy to help; you know that.”

  Lord Annandale unfolded himself from the loveseat to face his friend with a quizzical expression. “And you, old friend?”

  A broad grin split Wayland’s face as he pumped Annandale’s forearm. “My acceptance was never in question. Whatever you need.” Leaning forward, he added in a loud whisper, “Are you certain you won’t need my kidnapping expertise?”

  Katherine glared at him, but it was probably watery. Judging from his devious smile, it had no effect at all.

  Harriet arrived a moment later with the tea tray and several slices of seedcake. As they passed them around, the conversation devolved into other wedding minutiae. Katherine tried to be attentive, but the longer the wedding discussion prevailed, the more her mind wandered. By the time Harriet left to fetch further vittles for tea several hours later, Katherine had abandoned the conversation in favor of sneaking looks at the window to watch those passing by. Every time Emma jumped up and yipped, Katherine held her breath and hoped that Lyle was about to knock on her door.

  She wasn’t as lucky. Nor did mulling over the scene she’d found at Dr. Gammon’s house bring her any peace. In fact, it only made her reject the thought of further food despite how little she’d eaten today.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something more? You’ve barely touched your seedcake.”

  Katherine returned to the present with a frown. Had Harriet baked the seedcake herself?

  Pru laid her hand over her stomach, turning a bit green. She waved her hand. “Oh, I couldn’t. We came from the townhouse, where Lorna was making… scones. Yes, scones. A dreadful amount.” Her gaze darkened, quickening along with her words. “We’re trying different flavors to see which one we should have at the wedding breakfast. You know, maybe we should bring some here so Katherine can give her opinion on the flavor.”

  Lord Annandale shrugged and helped himself to the last corner of his seedcake. He took an extraordinarily long time to chew, nodding as he did so.

  Brightly, Pru met Katherine’s gaze with a wooden smile. “There you go. We’ll bring over a few scones. But now… I think we ought to leave. After all, I still have to relay these plans to my mother before tonight’s event. You’re still coming to Lady Dalhousie’s musicale tonight, aren’t you, Katherine?”

  Katherine grimaced. The last thing she wanted to do was find herself in the company of the most notorious gossip in London while still reeling from the death of a friend.

  “Lady Dalhousie’s niece is performing. This is the first event she’s had since her fateful ice ball. Be sure to wear something flattering, not…” Pru wrinkled her nose as she waved a hand toward Katherine’s attire this morning. “Nothing gray or—heaven forbid—green. It doesn’t suit your complexion.”

  Katherine managed a thin smile, but this time, she didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t as though a
nything she said would change Pru’s mind, anyway.

  She stood to escort her guests out of the house. Wrapped in the pelisse Harriet produced, Pru sailed out the door first, followed closely by her future husband as he escorted her along the shoveled path toward the waiting carriage. The last to leave, Wayland stuffed his hands in the pockets of his greatcoat and turned to face her in the threshold. His breath misted in front of his face as fingers of the winter chill crept inside.

  “I know it isn’t your first choice of entertainment, but think of it this way: if anyone will know the secret your Dr. Gammon was hiding, it will be Lady Dalhousie.” Donning his topper, he nodded to Katherine and followed in his friends’ wake.

  As Katherine watched him go, her hand still on the latch of the open door, a tingle of enthusiasm swept through her. Apparently, Wayland hadn’t been as indifferent to the investigation as he appeared. If he thought the matter was worth investigating, that must mean her instincts were correct. There was murder afoot, and she would get to the bottom of it as soon as possible, starting with what she would glean at Lady Dalhousie’s musicale. Wayland was certainly correct about that—if there was any secret to be had, the old gossip would know it.

  Chapter Four

  As Katherine shut the door, she noticed a familiar lanky figure striding down the street. He had the collar of his greatcoat turned up against his neck, his ginger locks brushing against the top. Head down, he didn’t glance in her direction as he made his way to Number Four Charles Street. The door swung open again as Katherine stepped out after him. The sole of her slipper slid across the slick step. Belatedly, she recalled that she still wore her house clothes.

  Another moment wouldn’t hinder her, would it? Hoping not to repeat her earlier brush with frostbite, she staggered back into the house only long enough to exchange her shoes for a pair of boots and pull on her cloak and gloves. Emma danced around her shins, shamelessly begging to come along. By the time Katherine staggered outside with her pug trailing on a leash behind her, Katherine had lost sight of her friend.