Katherine was worried. She wanted whatever information McTavish might be able to glean from Lord Rochford’s womanizing driver but was concerned about exactly how he was going to go about getting it. It consumed her during the night as she tossed and turned to such an extent that Emma had opted to sleep on the floor. It had distracted her during church, and even after, when Susanna had imparted her happy news to the family. Katherine so rarely sat down with the whole family that she should have been solely focused on them, not consumed with doubt and guilt over her decision to employ McTavish’s methods, whatever they might be.
The happy exclamations resounded as her grown sisters, Elise and Lydia, embraced their stepmother and tendered their congratulations. Elise, a round five-foot-two and almost never found without her twin sons on either hip, resembled Papa strongly in the cut of her chin and the blue-gray color of her eyes. Lydia, three inches taller and willowy in build, more closely resembled the mother Katherine remembered less and less as years wore on. If she were to recall the image of her mother now, she would think only of Lydia, with her oval-shaped face and sly green eyes.
Susanna wept openly as she embraced her stepdaughters. They knew the struggle their stepmother had endured in order to conceive. She had been trying for an heir since before Elise had married, yet three years ago after several years of marriage, Elise had shared the happy news of her pregnancy. Susanna had celebrated with her, and it warmed Katherine’s chest to see the favor so warmly returned.
Katherine had never seen the family so happy. It formed a counterpoint to the sour mood Katherine couldn’t seem to shake. Had she erred?
Not wanting to diminish the moment, she slipped away, hoping to escape alone to compose herself. However, as she entered the dim, cool corridor, footsteps clicked behind her. She released a breath and turned with a feigned smile.
Papa. Her smile fell away at his look of concern.
“Shouldn’t you be celebrating, Papa? I’m certain your sons-in-law would like to tender their congratulations.”
He raised his bushy eyebrows. “They’ll still be waiting in the drawing room in a moment. I’m more concerned about you. Is everything all right, kitten? You haven’t been acting like yourself today.”
Kitten was a term of endearment he’d used for her far more often when she was young, particularly when she fell ill. She wasn’t a child anymore.
“I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.” It was the truth, although not all of it.
Papa had been an investigator for far more years than she cared to contemplate. No doubt he saw through the partial truth with ease. He laid his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. “Come. Let’s sit in the study a while, just the two of us.”
Although she wanted to protest further, what she craved more was his good opinion. Had she made a terrible mistake? If she divulged it to him, would he think less of her? She didn’t think it was possible for him to wrest her dowry from her now that he’d put it in a trust with her as the sole person with the power to touch the funds, but money meant far less to her than her father’s approval. She brooded, trying not to show it in her posture as she preceded him to his study.
The room was dark and cold, no one having anticipated its use today. Papa lit a candle from the tinderbox but didn’t bother to yank the bellpull to summon a servant to stoke the hearth. Instead, he brought the candle to the table between their favorite chairs, where they sometimes sat in the evenings and played chess. Once she found a residence of her own, that would occur far less, but then, he would have a new baby to occupy him. Katherine took her customary chair, trying to compose herself.
“I can tell you’re out of sorts. You seemed happy for me and Susanna when we broke the news to you earlier. Perhaps now it is finally sinking in.”
Katherine sat straighter, frowning. “Whatever can you mean?”
“Don’t bluff, dear girl. You aren’t as skilled at it as you think.”
Katherine had no idea what she was supposed to make of that. When Papa reached out to take her hand, she made no effort to draw away. She waited for him to speak.
Furrows formed in his forehead as he stared at her over the lit candle. “Are you feeling left out now that the focus is on Susanna and the pregnancy?”
“No, of course n—”
“Do you fear the child will be male?”
Katherine clasped his hand tightly. “I hope he will be. For both your and Susanna’s sake. Papa, whatever are you asking of me?”
“If you harbor ill will toward Susanna, I think it would be better to let it into the open so we can discuss it. I won’t begrudge you your emotions, but please don’t hide your discontent from me.”
Katherine shut her eyes for a moment. With all the excitement surrounding the murder, she’d scarcely had any time at all to contemplate the child on the way. First, she had to make certain that Susanna carried the child to term, and a shock like the death of her dear friend hadn’t helped. But she’d been in good spirits today. Being surrounded by family made all the difference.
“I’m not hiding any discontent.” She hesitated then shook her head. “Though it is peculiar how I’m faced with that very possibility in my current investigation.”
“How so?” Papa asked. He retracted his hand and stroked his chin.
“Lady Rochford was pregnant, and her stepdaughter didn’t seem the least bit pleased at the notion. Neither did the Rochfords’ housekeeper. Both seemed not to accept Lady Rochford as the rightful baroness, never mind that the last is long dead. The feelings you describe—it wouldn’t surprise me if that had been Mrs. Dillinger’s reaction to the news.”
“And you believe she might have harmed her stepmother because of them.”
Katherine propped her chin on her fist as she leaned forward, thinking. “I have other leads yet to pursue, as well. I haven’t discounted her.”
She had found Mrs. Dillinger’s apparent animosity to be peculiar. Stepmother and daughter were meant to attend a dress fitting together, which bespoke a certain closeness. Could Mrs. Dillinger’s method of grieving be to remain angry with the deceased so it hurt her less? Or was her animosity really worry about her father being the killer, or maybe just grief? Papa had taught Katherine over the years that everyone grieved differently. No one way was invalid, but some ways were healthier than others.
This had been especially poignant when Katherine had been mourning the loss of her mother.
“Is that what troubles you?”
“Not precisely.” Katherine lowered her gaze to her lap and smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. “Lady Rochford’s driver was seen in the house during the ball, near to where she fell. However, he denies being there.”
“Is your witness reliable?”
Katherine hesitated. She recalled the young woman, frightened to speak out for fear of the ramifications. She also recalled the fear and distaste upon confessing how Rayner would accost any maid in his vicinity. A woman who so detested a man like that certainly wouldn’t be mistaken about his identity.
Unless she’d hoped to use Katherine’s investigation as a means to remove such a man from being dangerous to the women he accosted. Tarnation! Katherine hadn’t considered that. She fought back a cringe as she admitted, “I thought my witness to be reliable and the driver to be lying. So much so that I accepted an offer for a man to pry the information from the driver’s lips… by means left unspoken.”
Her stomach tightened as she spoke the words. She shouldn’t have given McTavish permission. If she’d only thought that the maid, however innocent seeming, might have had an ulterior motive…
Papa would tell her to consider the information from all angles and jump to no conclusions. She braced herself for his chastising words.
She wasn’t disappointed. A shadow falling across his face, Lord Dorchester admonished, “Violence is never a valid method of uncovering the truth. Weak men will tell any lie in order for the pain to stop. They are unreliable, at best.”
Although she’d braced herself for the look in his eye, Katherine couldn’t contain the tears that gathered along her lower eyelashes. Shame swept through her, so overwhelming that she could feel nothing but the heat in her face and hear nothing but the ringing in her ears. She picked at the edge of her fingernails as she tried to compose herself.
Violence wasn’t the answer. He’d taught her that from the start, which was why she’d been so reticent to allow McTavish to perform his interrogation, even if he hadn’t specified his methods. But she’d thought herself desperate, for Susanna’s sake, to solve the case as quickly as possible.
Katherine frowned. She raised her head. “Are those the methods you so despise Captain Wayland for using? You’ve never been specific.”
In this case, Wayland hadn’t seemed interested in joining, but in the past, she hadn’t been able to tear herself free of his influence. Presumably, in another investigation, he would be nipping at her heels again in an attempt to siphon information.
Or would he? His demeanor had changed since he had returned from Scotland. In Bath, he had been warm, friendly, even… amorous. No, that near-kiss had to have been her imagination, after all. If he had made an overture then, he would have done the same thing upon returning to London. He hadn’t.
She was better off without his confusing presence distracting her from her investigations. So she told herself, but she couldn’t stifle her curiosity. Why did Papa abhor him so?
Papa donned a cool, aloof expression, as if they spoke of an offensive piece of furniture that needed to be removed. “Why do you ask? Has he been violent toward you?”
“Toward me? Never, Papa!”
The words escaped Katherine’s mouth without her permission. She winced, heat scalding her cheeks as she awaited a reprimand.
Papa’s blue-gray eyes sharpened. “Then you’ve been spending time with him?”
“Of c-course not.” Sard it, why couldn’t she control her sudden stutter? She swallowed and tried again. “Our paths have crossed once or twice, but I haven’t encouraged the association. I would certainly never deign to work with him. But I am curious.”
“Your curiosity will get the better of you, Katherine,” Papa said as he moved to stand. His expression was impassive, though she thought she caught a slight upward quirk of his lips.
“My curiosity is the very quality you’ve praised all these years. It is the very thing that makes me an adept investigator.” She took a deep breath and serenely stood despite the tremor in her knees. “And you haven’t answered my question. Why is Wayland so terrible?”
Papa studied her for a moment. Whatever he found in her expression, it didn’t loosen his tongue. “Trust me, kitten, you aren’t ready to hear my opinion of Captain Wayland.”
Katherine pressed her lips together. His answer was confirmation in itself of her worst suspicions. Wayland was using her—as perhaps he had done with Papa without her learning of it. Whatever his crimes, they were grave indeed. And she had best cut her association with him.
Even if she couldn’t quite conceive of what Wayland might have to gain from his behavior thus far.