When in London, Lord Annandale lived in an understated townhouse remarkably close to St. James’s Square. Although the area was home to multiple respectable edifices, Katherine would not have allotted any to the use of a marquess. One more way in which Lord Annandale’s tastes continued to shock and scandalize those of polite society.
Upon consideration, the stucco-sided townhouse likely made the perfect second home to a lord not often in London. It was no secret that Lord Annandale preferred his estates in Scotland. As Katherine craned her neck back to take in the plain five-story townhouse, no different from any of his neighbors in the row, she felt a pang at the thought that Pru might be whisked off to Scotland for the rest of her days. What of their friendship, their investigations?
“Katherine?”
Shaken from her reverie, Katherine feigned a smile and turned to her friend. Behind Pru, the driver shut the door on the coach, the Dorchester crest prominent against the glossy black siding. As he returned to the high seat and urged the horses to lumber away, presumably to find the nearest livery to rest out of the unseasonable winter chill, Katherine focused her attention on her friend.
“Yes, Pru. Are you concerned about calling on Annandale here?”
Pru gave Katherine a peculiar look. Although it wasn’t polite to call upon a gentleman in his home, Pru had never had qualms about tarnishing her reputation. Besides, she and the gentleman in question were to be married. Katherine was a chaperone. Apparently Katherine must be more rattled than Pru had thought by the notion of losing her friend so soon after building a camaraderie with her.
“We have business to discuss with him,” Pru pointed out.
Not that anyone outside of their circle knew that. Upon hearing at the opera the previous evening that Pru had entangled herself with a murder investigation, Lord Annandale had insisted upon learning the particulars. Pru trusted him, and Katherine trusted her friend’s judgment.
Trying to hide her trepidation, Katherine indicated the neat steps to the plain wooden door. “Let’s not tarry out in the cold, shall we?”
Pru hesitated. “Do you not think we should share the details with him?”
At times, her friend had an uncanny ability to guess her thoughts. “If you’re confident in revealing your investigative nature to him, then I have no qualms in sharing what we know. He might have some insight we hadn’t considered.”
Pru smiled, looking radiant. Katherine would much rather that than worrying her friend over their impending separation.
Despite the difference in their social statuses, Pru took the lead in mounting the steps and rapped smartly on the door. After a moment, it was opened from within by a large, shaggy man who Katherine recognized.
McTavish, Lord Annandale’s personal valet, grinned from ear to ear. “Och, lass, you’re a sight fer me poor, deprived eyes. His lordship is some surly without ye near.”
For a confusing moment, Katherine thought that McTavish might embrace Pru in the middle of the doorway, never mind that she was destined to marry his employer. His blue eyes twinkled with good humor, and his voice was thick with warmth.
He brushed aside a wayward lock of his ginger mane and beckoned them inside. “Come on in, lass, before you freeze yer peaches off.”
Katherine decided that she didn’t care to know what part of her anatomy he referred to as her peaches. She found herself greeted with as much warmth as Pru as McTavish shut the door and collected their outerwear.
“His lordship has near about worn the carpet thin in the drawing room,” McTavish confessed. “Ye’d best join him before he gets it into his mind that I’ll steal away his fine lass.” The valet winked, making Pru blush. He turned his attention to Katherine. “Doona worry, yer lad is beside himself waiting for ye as well.”
What in heaven could he mean by that?
If he noticed her confusion, McTavish took it in stride. “Can I offer ye a wee mite to wet yer whistle, milady?”
“Tea will suffice,” Katherine answered with a polite nod. “Thank you.”
McTavish ushered them toward the nearby stairs leading to the first floor. As she and Pru reached the bottom step, he craned his neck back and hollered, “Lorna! Bring a wee dram for the ladies.”
Katherine winced from the strength of his voice.
No less loud, a woman’s Scottish burr echoed from farther in the house. “Stop yer flirting and do it yourself, you overgrown louse. I’ve work to be done!”
Katherine should have suspected that a man as eccentric as Lord Annandale would keep an unconventional staff. Nevertheless, she couldn’t hide her shock at the open animosity between the two servants.
When McTavish caught her looking, he winked. “She gets a wee bit jealous when I find a new flower to praise.”
Baffled, Katherine asked hopefully, “Your wife?”
McTavish roared with laughter. “A lone wolf like me? I’ve more flowers to pluck yet, lass. Run along up, lasses. I’ll be up before long with yer tea.”
Katherine sincerely hoped that no dram of spirits would find its way into her cup. With McTavish as its server, she didn’t dare predict the outcome.
As he loped down the corridor, whistling a jaunty tune, Katherine turned to the staircase once more. Were they expected to peek into every room on the first floor until they came across Lord Annandale?
Pru giggled. “You’ll get used to him.”
Katherine wasn’t so sure about that, so she simply said, “Why don’t we find your betrothed?”
Pru gathered up her skirts and took the steps two at a time.
At the top of the stairs, a short, undecorated corridor ran the length of the townhouse, punctuated by open doors. Pru paused for only a moment before she started down the corridor in search of the drawing room. “Love?” she called, blushing as she glanced over her shoulder toward Katherine.
Katherine smirked but didn’t comment.
“In here,” Lord Annandale boomed, his voice only slightly muffled by the walls and distance.
Pru followed the sound to the room facing the street, a smile spreading over her face. She crossed the threshold without hesitation. Katherine followed, only to stop short in the doorway.
The drawing room, as expected, was a cozy affair with several overstuffed armchairs punctuated with tables, a plush carpet underfoot, and an unwelcome man at the window. Katherine gritted her teeth. Now McTavish’s quip made sense. Wayland stood gazing out the window at the street below.
What in tarnation was he doing here?
Despite the accusatory glare Katherine leveled at Pru’s back, her friend didn’t appear to notice her displeasure. Instead, she and Lord Annandale gravitated toward one another, shutting the rest of the world away as they greeted each other. Never mind that they had parted mere hours before, after midnight. Frankly, Katherine was surprised to see both men out of bed at such an early hour. Emma might not be inclined to let Katherine sleep in the mornings, but given their late night, for both men to be so fresh at ten of the morning was nothing short of a miracle.
As Lord Annandale bestowed a kiss on Pru’s knuckles and asked after the quality of her sleep, Katherine gave them a moment’s privacy by vacating the doorway and choosing the chair farthest from them. Unfortunately, it was also the chair closest to the window, where Wayland stood. Despite his curiosity the evening before, this morning he acknowledged her only with a reserved nod before turning to look out the window again.
Should she be insulted? Katherine rearranged her skirts. She’d worn green, though certainly not because she thought he would be in attendance.
“I hadn’t known you were invited,” she said softly, knowing he would hear. She didn’t turn to look at him.
The rustle of his movement was overly loud in her ears. Once again, Wayland had found a way to insert himself into one of her investigations, and this time, she didn’t even have the luxury of hiding information from him. Her only solace was that, with everyone believing this was an accident rather than a murder, there would be no reward. Since, as far as she knew, Wayland only solved murders so he could gain the reward money, he had no incentive to take the information she’d gathered and use it to solve the murder himself. She wouldn’t have to suffer his company for long.
“If it makes you feel better, pretend I’m not here. I have business with Annandale after this is concluded.”
Katherine turned, frowning. Wayland’s expression as he continued to peer out the window was every bit as aloof as his voice. What was he waiting to see happen on the street below? Were they due to be interrupted by someone else?
Katherine opened her mouth to ask, but at that moment, McTavish arrived bearing a silver tea tray. “Here we are,” he said, not out of sorts at all for the fact that he had had to fetch it himself. Serving tea to guests was not typically the job of a valet.
Then again, nothing about the man seemed typical.
Pru turned away from her betrothed, wearing a bright smile. “Now that we’re all here, perhaps you’d like to hear of the investigation thus far?”
Reflexively, Katherine checked Wayland’s reaction. Not a hint of curiosity penetrated his impassive expression. They might have been discussing the weather, for all the interest he showed.
She turned back to find both Scotsmen peering at her intently. Lord Annandale rested his hands on Pru’s shoulders as he stood behind her. McTavish paid more mind to Katherine than he did to the tea service he was sloppily pouring out.
“Yes, lass, I’d be some interested to learn what ye’ve gotten yourself into.”
Her cheeks flushing with color, Pru looked up over her shoulder and into Annandale’s open expression. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” She flexed her fists, as if readying for a fight. Katherine did not envy Annandale if he thought to curb Pru’s investigative activities.
“Katherine, would you care to do the honors of explaining?”
As McTavish offered her a dainty little cup filled to the brim with what looked to be too-weak tea, Katherine frowned. “Perhaps we ought to wait until McTavish has returned to his duties. This information is of a sensitive nature.”
The man puffed out his chest as he divvied up the rest of the cups and beckoned his employer to sit. Lord Annandale chose the seat next to Pru, to no one’s surprise. His valet took up position at his elbow before he announced, “I’m nae loose of tongue, milady. Ye can trust me.”
Pru added, “If McTavish would like to be included, I trust him. You share information with Harriet all the time.”
Harriet was often vital to Katherine’s investigations. She didn’t know McTavish beyond the two times she’d interacted with him. Nevertheless, she could see that no one in the room would be budged on the subject. Even Wayland, who, after conducting investigations of his own, must know the value of discretion, didn’t leap to her defense. In fact, from his bored expression, he was still monitoring the street.
“Very well,” Katherine said reluctantly. She inclined her head to her friend. “Pru, feel free to interrupt if you think I’ve left out anything vital. I’ll be as succinct as I can in the matter.”
She sipped her tea—little better than flavored water. She set the cup down and dusted her hands on her knees before she began.
“On this past Tuesday, November the fifth, Lady Rochford was pushed from a balcony during Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball. Although it is widely believed that her fall was an accident, my friend Lyle Murphy—you may recall him from Bath, where his invention helped with our search for the jewel thief—has mathematically proven that she was pushed. This is based off positioning of the body, distance from the balcony where she fell, and so on.”
Katherine paused, looking at each person in turn. Pru appeared more interested in watching her fiancé’s expression than in contributing to the conversation herself. McTavish looked intent, and Lord Annandale appeared worried but attentive. Clearly, he waited to hear more.
To ease his mind, Katherine added, “We are investigating under the assumption that someone targeted Lady Rochford intentionally, not that there is a madman on the loose, pushing women from balconies and decrying the results to be accidents.”
Lord Annandale reached out to hold Pru’s hand, resting on her knee, but otherwise didn’t respond.
Katherine carried on. “The servants at Lady Dalhousie’s manor informed us of several rumors. As best we can piece together, a cloaked woman fled the scene by exiting the side door and then running around back.”
“A cloaked woman? Can ye not find anything as to her identity?”
“No,” Katherine admitted, “as we haven’t found the cloak. It is a dark shade and might have ermine fur around the hood.”
“Might?” Lord Annandale added, drawing out the word.
For a man who claimed to want to know the particulars, he seemed intent on interrupting her. Katherine stifled a sigh and tried to gentle her tone as she added, “If you have any experience in questioning gossips, you’ll know that the story evolves from person to person. We must take the information at its core. There was certainly a woman, and she was certainly seen at the side exit and passing the kitchen door, but we have conflicting stories as to what she wore and the timing, so it may not be relevant to the murder.”
“But using the side door is highly irregular,” Pru added. “If she meant to walk around back, why not choose a door closer to the back where she could access the street quickly?”
To Katherine’s surprise, it was not Wayland but McTavish who leaped to her defense. “If her carriage had a seal on the door, she may nae have parked it on the lit street. Better an alley, and if she did nae wish to be seen, to take the door least traveled.”
Perhaps he was more astute than she’d given him credit for. Inclining her head to him—which earned her a wide, devilish grin—Katherine acknowledged the possibility. “Which brings me to the other gossip we heard while questioning Lady Dalhousie’s servants. Her driver, Rayner, was seen on the same floor where Lady Rochford fell. Pru and I approached him—”
“Ye did what, now?” Lord Annandale interrupted, straightening in his seat.
Pru shushed him.
Katherine raised her eyebrows as she tucked her hands neatly into her lap. “We followed a lead. We are professionals, Lord Annandale.”
She thought she caught a snatch of a chuckle behind her, but when she glanced over her shoulder, Wayland looked as composed and ignorant of the conversation as ever. Why was he here? Surely, if he truly had business with Annandale, he could have returned later.
Returning her attention to the lord, who glanced dubiously at his future wife, Katherine steeled herself. Would Lord Annandale prove to be one of those narrow-minded men who didn’t trust his wife farther than he could throw her?
Still holding his fiancée’s hand, he addressed Pru, not Katherine. “I don’t like ye to put yerself in such danger.” His Scottish burr thickened nearly to match that of McTavish’s. “What would have happened had this Rayner thought to kill you next?”
Pru stiffened. She started to pull away her hand, but Lord Annandale threaded his fingers through hers, stalwart. In a soft voice that barely carried to Katherine’s ears, Pru hissed, “Is this what our marriage will be like? You telling me what I can and cannot do? I’m sensible enough to make my own decisions. I have an aptitude for investigation, and I intend to put it to good use.”
“Nay, lass,” Annandale answered, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. “I’m worried for ye is all. I’d feel a mite better if ye’d consider having me along. Fer protection, as it may be.”
With a pensive look, Pru lowered her gaze to stare at their joined hands. “I don’t need your protection, but if you’d like to help with the investigation, I certainly wouldn’t turn you away.”
Did Pru just ask Annandale to join their investigative team? Although it stung a bit that Pru was offering before so much as speaking to Katherine regarding the notion, Katherine tried to remind herself that they were in love. Better Lord Annandale was welcomed into the group than that he lurked behind them in a cloak and gaudy hat.
Katherine raised her voice to cut into the semiprivate conversation. “Please don’t mistake questioning a suspect with taking unnecessary risks. Not only am I capable of defending myself, and Pru too, if necessary—don’t make that face, Pru; Lyle has taught me some very useful tricks for fending off unwanted attacks—but we were in full view of my driver at the time, who would have intervened in a heartbeat. As I have said, we are professionals.”
“In any case,” Pru answered quickly, likely hoping to defuse the situation, “Rayner admitted nothing. The way he insisted he was in his carriage on the front street is highly suspect. We have a witness who interacted with him, not merely saw him from a distance. He must have been inside.”
“We will uncover the truth of the matter,” Katherine assured her friend. “One way or another, it always comes to light. But he is not our only suspect. Lady Rochford was with child, and we have reason to believe that she was unfaithful to her husband.”
McTavish clasped his hands behind his back. “It’s the husband who pushed her, then.”
Katherine considered her words carefully. “Of course, we cannot discount the possibility, but he seemed to be genuinely mourning the passing of his wife. He was nearly insensible.”
“Guilt could render a man in such a way,” Pru muttered under her breath, bringing up that same opinion she had voiced earlier.
The only acknowledgment Katherine gave to its merit was a curt nod. She addressed McTavish again with a more likely theory. “If Lady Rochford was indeed carrying another man’s child, it is possible that she chose that evening to end her association with her paramour or bring her condition to his attention.”
“You think Lord Bath is the father?”
Aha! Wayland was listening, after all. Of course, he’d heard Lady Dalhousie mention that Lord Bath had followed Lady Rochford up the stairs shortly before she fell.
Katherine rounded on him, meeting the sardonic raise of his eyebrow with an expression of equal disbelief. “Of course not. The marquess doesn’t leave Bath except when Parliament is in session, and Lady Rochford would have had to be several weeks along in order to know of her condition.” When he opened his mouth, no doubt to ask how she would know of such a thing, she jabbed her finger in his direction. “I have sisters. And nephews.”
His mouth curved in a smirk. He turned his attention to the window once more. “Forget I said anything.”
If only it were so easy. Now that she knew he was listening, the hairs on the back of her neck rose in awareness when she turned around, as though he were also watching her. Why was he interested in this case? He couldn’t be. Perhaps he had tired of watching the street.
Lord Annandale, a smirk almost hidden by his beard, asked, “Lady Dalhousie seemed certain she saw Lord Bath with the victim shortly before she died. Are ye sure it mightn’t be him?”
“As the father of her child, yes, I am certain.” Katherine released her breath slowly, trying not to show how beleaguered she was that a man of Lord Bath’s caliber was a suspect at all. She knew him to have his heart in the right place, so what could have moved him to commit murder?
Nothing, she hoped. But she couldn’t prove it, so she couldn’t discount him. “Unfortunately, at the moment, I cannot discount him as a suspect. He informed me he had no association with Lady Rochford; why then would he be seen following her? I couldn’t find him in the ballroom shortly before she plummeted from the balcony.” Katherine grimaced. “He might have been going up the stairs after her, but perhaps it was for some other reason. But he’s a good man, and I haven’t been able to find a motive for him to have wanted her dead.”
“What of this Rayner lad?” McTavish asked. “He was seen nearabouts too. Do ye think he might be the lover?”
“It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility,” Katherine said with a shrug. “He was close-lipped when we spoke with him. As I said, he denied being in the house.”
“And yer certain he’s lying?”
Pru interjected, “We have a witness who spoke with him. I believe she knows a womanizer she had best keep her distance from when she sees one.”
The valet seemed eager to take this witness at her word too. With a grin, he cracked his knuckles against the opposite palm, one hand at a time. “Why don’t ye give me this Rayner’s direction? I’ll find the truth for ye.”
“How?” Katherine asked, full of trepidation. He looked a tad too eager, in her opinion. However, no one—not even Wayland, still standing impassive by the window—seemed to have any qualms about his going.
McTavish winked. “I have ways to loosen the tongues of men. Don’t worry your wee pretty head.”