A Fiancée's Guide to First Wives and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  I decided to keep the thought to myself for the moment. While it seemed Hetty had become familiar with his background, there was still one more objection—Gilliam may have murdered his partner. My suspicion of his guilt was waning, but I feared that was simply because I was coming to like him—not a good reason to remove a suspect from the list.

  I tilted my head to steal another glance at her in the mirror and made one more attempt to change her mind about her dinner plans. “Perhaps black is a good idea, after all, considering all the smoke and debris a motorcar spews.”

  She smiled. “You can’t frighten me, dear. Gilliam is bringing me a motoring coat and goggles. I’m looking forward to a thrilling ride.”

  “Not too thrilling, I hope.”

  * * *

  “Do you think it wise for your aunt to be alone with that man?”

  George and I were in his carriage, wending our way to the Stoke-Whitney home in Mayfair.

  “I tried to talk her into canceling, but to no avail. Besides, I thought you agreed with Delaney that Gilliam was an unlikely suspect.”

  “He’s not a very good suspect, but I thought you weren’t convinced of that.”

  “I’m not completely convinced, but Aunt Hetty is a grown woman and entitled to do as she pleases.” I released a weary sigh. “She’s not willing to admit it, but she and Gilliam are in the midst of a budding romance.”

  George laughed. “I could hardly help but notice that yesterday.”

  “The more I see of him, the more I come to like him.” I tipped my head toward George, giving him a pleading look. “Therefore, I want to believe him innocent of any wrongdoing. I could use some convincing.”

  “All right, then. How could he have known where Irena was staying?”

  “You’ll have to do better than that. If he’s the man who was following Miss Teskey, he would know she ended up at my house.”

  “Both Irena and Petrov identified the man as older. Gilliam is somewhere around forty. That hardly counts as old.”

  “He has an entire theater at his disposal. He could easily have donned a costume.”

  George drummed his fingers on his knee. “Do you really think he’s a danger to your aunt?”

  “I don’t. No matter what he may have done, he has no motive to harm Hetty. I’m more worried about them driving around town in his motorcar.”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “As you said, she’s a grown woman.”

  “Well, then, to take my mind off my aunt’s potential death by motorcar, let’s consider our other suspects. Mr. Petrov, for example.”

  “There are several things about Petrov that make me wonder. He’d been with Irena for years. He was used to finding her, so there’s a good chance he was lying when he said he didn’t know where she was. However, I must ask myself what he would gain if she were dead.” He looked to me for the answer.

  “Maybe he was tired of guarding her.”

  “It’s possible. I’d like to ask him some questions. With both Petrov and Gilliam in the room yesterday, I couldn’t question either of them as much as I’d have liked.”

  I raised a brow. “So, Gilliam remains on your list of suspects.”

  “Well toward the bottom.”

  “Who is at the top?”

  “As much as I hate to say it, Bradmore is still the most likely. He had a reason to want Irena out of the picture. He had an opportunity to meet with her in your garden. And now he’s disappeared.”

  “If he didn’t murder her, it was certainly a mistake for him to run.”

  George took my gloved hand and laced his fingers with mine. “I love these romantic conversations with you.”

  “I’m afraid it’s imperative we have this one.”

  “All right, then, who is at the top of your list?”

  “My list? If the man who sent the threatening letters is also the man who was following her, then he is at the top of my list.”

  “I take it you don’t think Bradmore sent her the letters.”

  “Not if someone was really following her.”

  “That could be Bradmore.”

  “He’s not an old man. Yes, he could have donned a disguise, but he could hardly make himself appear lean. He doesn’t fit the description.”

  “You make a good point, but considering the description we’ve been given, I don’t know how we’d ever find this man. Although another conversation with Petrov might help.”

  “He probably knows her better than anyone else.” I told him about my theory that if we had a better understanding of Miss Teskey’s life over the past few years, it might give us some insight into the threatening letters and who sent them.

  George brightened. “That’s a good idea. Due to the nature of the threats, I tend to believe the man is someone she knows, or at least someone who knows her.”

  “Someone who doesn’t want her in London. The letters were telling her to leave. Someone also tried to jeopardize her position in the theater by telling the owner she was a liability to his production. I still wonder about her mother’s family. If she was looking for them, perhaps she mentioned something to Petrov.”

  “An excellent notion, but one we’ll have to consider later.” He brought my fingers to his lips and gave them a gentle kiss. “We’ve arrived, and right now, we must attend a reception. Unless, of course, Stoke-Whitney turns us away at the door.”

  “He’s far too diplomatic for that. In fact, he’s probably delighted with us. The more people talk about us, the less they’ll talk about his wife.”

  George stared a moment, until he realized what I referred to. “I’d forgotten all about Mrs. Stoke-Whitney’s scandalous affair.”

  “And I’m sure Mr. Stoke-Whitney hopes you won’t be the only one to do so. Thus, I believe we’ve done him a favor and he should welcome us with open arms.”

  “I won’t hold my breath for that.”

  “We’ll never know if we stay in this carriage. And we should not keep our hosts waiting. Are you ready?”

  He grinned. “With you by my side, how could I not be?”

  * * *

  The reception in honor of Grand Duke Michael Mikhailovich and Sophie, Countess de Torby, was something of a crush, at least for November. Though they were exiles, and of little use politically, the Prince of Wales wanted some sort of fuss made for his friends. Other politicians might not have troubled themselves, but only one person understood the currying of favor better than Alicia Stoke-Whitney, and that was her husband. He would make sure the prince felt indebted to him for this grand gesture.

  We ascended the stairs to the ballroom, and George handed our invitations to the butler. While we waited to be announced, I focused on the room rather than the occupants. Alicia had chosen a single color for her decorations again. This time everything was pink: the flowers, the draperies, and possibly even the glass globes on the chandeliers, as the high coffered ceiling seemed to have a rosy glow. When the butler intoned our names, I forced myself to lower my eyes and take in the crowd.

  Every species has a way of culling the herd. In the British aristocracy that method was scandal. Anyone not rich, powerful, or clever enough to survive a scandal would be discarded, left behind, culled. It happened all the time. I wasn’t rich or powerful, but I’d like to think I was clever. At least clever enough to find powerful allies. As I looked out at the cream of society gathered in this glittering ballroom, I knew just our appearance here was a dare, and if I didn’t play my hand carefully, George and I would find ourselves culled.

  Arthur Stoke-Whitney stepped away from a group near the doorway upon hearing our names. Though he approached us with a smile, George bent to whisper in my ear, “He’s going to throw us out.”

  Instead, he greeted us both pleasantly, then lowered his voice. “Have you had any success in finding that woman’s killer?”

  “Not as of yet,” George replied.

  “He’s still investigating,” I added. Though I’d been sure Stoke-Whitney would be happy t
o see us, I had not expected to receive any particular attention from him. This was going better than I’d hoped. “The fact that we know almost nothing about Miss Teskey is proving to be a problem. It’s difficult to know if someone from her past is involved, when we know nothing about that past.”

  “What of her present? Do you know why she was in London?”

  Stoke-Whitney did have a tangential interest in clearing George’s name, and thereby mine, but his questions were a bit annoying.

  While I debated what to tell him, George spoke up. “She was part of the new management at the Hanover Theater. And an actress, I understand.”

  Stoke-Whitney curled his lip. “Theater people. A bad lot. That’s where you’ll find the culprit, I’d wager.”

  Since my aunt was currently alone with one of them, I hoped he was wrong, but I conceded the possibility.

  “You must do something quickly,” he continued. “Put an end to the rumors. My offer still stands. If you need assistance, I’d be happy to make some inquiries.”

  “Thank you. I may take you up on that.”

  With a nod to both of us, he moved on. I led George in the opposite direction.

  “Would you really let Stoke-Whitney assist us?”

  He grinned. “Probably not. I was just dazzled by the fact he was willing to be seen with us. It appears you understand the workings of society better than I.”

  “I don’t for a moment believe everyone will be so obliging, but here are two more friends now.” Fiona and Robert Nash approached through the crowd. Bless them.

  Fiona bussed my cheek and drew me aside. “Nash, dear, why don’t you and George find us some refreshments. Frances and I need to catch up.”

  Nash, looking bemused, gestured to the footman, not two feet away from him, and soon had us supplied with champagne.

  Fiona flashed him a smile. “Thank you, dear, but we still need to catch up.”

  Not really wanting to lose track of George until we had tested our reception with the rest of the room, I allowed her to lead me only a few steps away. “How bad is it?” I whispered.

  “We’ve been here only a short time, but so far, two people have asked me if it was true George was married. I set them straight, of course.”

  “It’s to be expected, I suppose, though I had hoped the report in the Observer today would put an end to some of the speculations. Have you seen my brother-in-law?”

  She blinked. “Yes, I have. He gave me a message for you. Just what is going on between you two?”

  “He’s part of the plan I devised today. What did he say?”

  “He said to tell you everything is set. What does that mean?”

  “You’ll find out soon. In the meantime, George and I must simply brazen it out and hope for the best.”

  George and Nash stepped closer.

  “If that’s our plan,” George said, “shall we put it into action now? Let’s make a circuit of the room. We might as well find out who is with us and who is against us.”

  The four of us strolled through the glittering crowd, pausing here and there to sip our drinks and speak with anyone who appeared willing to be seen with us. No one deliberately cut us, but many seemed on the verge of approaching Fiona or Nash, then nearly injured themselves in their haste to back away once they caught sight of George and me.

  “You’d think we had some sort of contagious disease,” I said. I didn’t count any of these people as my particular friends, but it hurt, nonetheless.

  “We do,” George whispered. “It’s called scandal, and they want no part of it.”

  As we reached the far side of the ballroom, about halfway through our circuit, the gentlemen became caught up in a side conversation, and Fiona and I stood alone. The exchange with Arthur Stoke-Whitney had fortified my confidence somewhat, but it was not to last.

  “What is he doing here?” The question came from behind me, delivered by a female voice I couldn’t quite place. It was followed by a nasty laugh. “I can’t imagine Stoke-Whitney invited him. Must be Alicia’s doing. She likes to take risks. Perhaps she has her eye on the wife killer.”

  “I know Alicia’s reckless in her affairs, but what of Lady Harleigh? What makes her think he’ll stop at murdering one wife?”

  Fiona clutched my arm before I could turn around. “Don’t do it,” she whispered in my ear. “It’s just a silly girl trying to act grown up. Let it pass.” She gave me a little shove when I hesitated. “Most of the people in this room are on your side, even Stoke-Whitney, but they won’t be if you cause an embarrassing scene. Let’s move on.”

  I saw the wisdom in her counsel and did as she instructed. Thank goodness George hadn’t been close enough to hear. So it went for the remainder of our promenade. Some people turned sharply away upon seeing us, a few greeted us warmly, but the rest were the ones who had me on edge—the ones I couldn’t read. If I chose not to speak, would I appear to snub them? If I did approach them, would they snub me? The anxiety was nearly paralyzing.

  Within an hour of our arrival, Michael and Sophie opened the dancing, and the focus of attention moved to them. It might well have been my imagination that it was ever focused on us, but even so, I managed to relax a bit. George and I danced together first then he took the floor with his sister, and I danced with Nash. When the dance ended and he brought me back to the side of the room, I noticed Graham standing nearby. He was in conversation with Mrs. Chiswick and Lady Pettipiece. He caught my eye and made a discreet gesture for me to join them.

  So, he planned to tackle the highest sticklers first, did he? I’d have preferred an easier audience.

  “Frances,” he called.

  Taking a deep breath, I made my way to his side, where he reached for my hand and smiled in a way I had never seen before. My staid, often contrary, and frequently grumpy brother-in-law looked positively delighted. “Frances, my dear sister.”

  It was likely I looked every bit as shocked as the matrons beside him. I had had no idea Graham was such a good actor.

  Lady Pettipiece shrank back and clutched Mrs. Chiswick’s arm. “Is this the creature you were telling me about? One would think he’d cease to claim her.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve never been more proud to have her in the family.”

  I had no idea what their reaction was, as Graham swept me out to the dance floor and into a waltz.

  “The old cows,” he muttered.

  “Well done, Graham. I’ve never seen you willing to offend anyone, and certainly not a grande dame such as Lady Pettipiece.”

  “She’s a small-minded, stupid old cow,” he repeated. “Mrs. Chiswick’s been making snide comments about you and Hazelton, and Lady Pettipiece was happy to lend her an obliging ear, the useless article.”

  “I never expected everyone here to approve of me.”

  He smiled at a nearby couple who’d been staring at us.

  “I must thank you for agreeing to my plan. Knowing my family stands beside me will make everyone think twice before condemning George.”

  “You needn’t thank me at all. I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it myself.”

  “What exactly did Mrs. Chiswick say to you—to everyone?”

  Graham pursed his lips, as if the topic wasn’t suitable for a woman.

  I let out a tsk. “It pertains to me. Don’t you think I have a right to know what a large portion of the room has been told?”

  “It’s not so much what she said, but that she claims it’s firsthand knowledge.” He huffed. “A woman who spends all her time in Chelmsford.”

  “She currently resides in Colonel Perkins’s home, just opposite mine.” I responded to his obvious surprise with a grim smile. “She and her butler spend the day watching out the window.”

  “That’s neither here nor there, because she claims someone here this evening gave her the details firsthand.” He frowned. “I suppose that makes her information secondhand.”

  I noticed he managed to avoid providing the actual information. “W
as she told that George was married to Miss Teskey or that he killed her?”

  “Both.”

  “Who was her source?”

  “She wouldn’t say, which makes me wonder if she simply made it up.” He made an abrupt turn. “Ah, here is the countess, and it looks as though she’s ready.”

  He drew me out of the flow of dancers and pulled me up next to the Countess de Torby, whose smile glittered almost as much as the diamonds about her neck. “Is it time?” she asked. At his nod, she linked her arm with mine. “I will take custody of Lady Harleigh while you find her partner. I think he is smoking in the cardroom.”

  Graham departed, and Sophie gave my arm a tug. “Smile,” she said. “As if you have no care in the world. You are supposed to be enjoying yourself.” She glanced around the room. “Now, where is that fiancé of yours?”

  I pasted on a smile and fell in beside her. “Do you mean Hazelton?”

  She raised a brow. “Do you have more than one fiancé? That would be a scandal, indeed.”

  I gave her a genuine smile. “It’s very kind of you to help us.”

  “Nonsense. I am no stranger to scandal myself. But you are clever to seek out allies before you do battle.” She patted my hand. “After all, you could say it was our family who started all your problems. Irena was family, after all. It seems only right we should come to your defense.”

  She stopped and nodded to her left. “Here comes Hazelton now, and your partner is with him. How convenient.”

  I turned to see George strolling toward us with the Prince of Wales at his side. “My goodness, I thought your husband was to dance with me.”

  She raised a brow. “It seemed best to go straight to the top.”

  I instantly regretted everything I’d ever said about her high-handedness. She’d fallen in with my plan graciously. If my family, a guest of honor, and now the Prince of Wales approved of George and me, how could anyone else question our behavior?

  Their actions would go a long way toward bolstering our sagging reputations, but if we didn’t find Irena’s killer soon, that cloud of suspicion would come back to haunt us.