Lyle yawned, slouching in his seat over the cup of tea Lorna had fixed for him. He looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink, despite it being near ten of the morning now.
“I must beg your forgiveness for the way I parted with you yesterday.” Except for you, Katherine thought in Wayland’s direction. He stood by the window again, more interested in the street than in the information being imparted in the room. How early did she have to call a meeting in order to ensure that he did not attend? Did he live with Annandale now?
Pru squeezed into the chair next to her fiancé, leaving the last free for Katherine, though she continued to stand. Annandale’s valet, as always, stood by his elbow, far more interested in this investigation than she would have expected.
“I recognized the earring at once and went to chase down its owner and learn the truth of the matter.”
Pru’s mouth dropped open. She squeezed her eyebrows together as she asked in a small voice, “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Lyle sat straighter. “Yes, why? We’re your friends. You can trust us.”
Katherine gave Wayland a lingering look, which he ignored. She glanced only briefly at McTavish and Annandale, newcomers to their circle. Although Pru trusted them with the details of the investigation, when it came to Katherine’s own family, she preferred to handle the matter herself. If it had only been her, Pru, and Lyle… She might not have said a word in any case. She still felt overwhelmed by the turn of the investigation.
With Susanna’s explanation, she was confident that her stepmother hadn’t committed the crime. She would be able to corroborate it with Lord Bath, but also Susanna would not risk harm to the baby that a struggle in pushing someone off a balcony would certainly entail.
However, that brought her no closer to solving the murder unless she was able to find Lady Rochford’s lover. That, as it had nothing to do with her stepmother, she vowed to do with her friends in tow. After all, they were something of a team, now.
“I am confident that the owner of the earring did not murder Lady Rochford. I have promised to hold her confidences, and therefore I must keep her identity to myself. However, she did impart some other pieces of information that might prove helpful.”
Wayland turned away from the window for a moment. He raised one eyebrow askance. “You’re withholding information?” His voice dripped with disapproval.
Katherine straightened her spine. “What do you care? You aren’t a part of this investigation. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind on that subject?” It wasn’t an invitation, precisely. Her words were more of a challenge.
He didn’t rise to the bait. He shrugged. “Hardly. I’m only here because I have nothing better to do.”
He was infuriating. Their investigation would be better off if he would only stop hanging about and do something.
Gritting her teeth, she turned back to the others and attempted to ignore him. “I’ve learned that Lord Bath did not know Lady Rochford prior to Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball. He has been selling vials of healing waters to pregnant women, and that is why he was seen following our victim.”
Lyle shifted in his seat, his expression one of bald interest as he set down his cup and saucer. He looked as though he might have guessed who the owner of the earring was, but he kept the information to himself. Let the others puzzle out the truth if they could.
Katherine continued, “Lady Rochford was seen on Charles Street near the corner where it meets St. James’s Square near Norfolk House. From her suspicious demeanor and disheveled appearance, we can assume that her lover lives somewhere nearby.”
“St. James’s Square is nae far from here,” Lord Annandale volunteered. “The day’s a mite cold, but I reckon we’ll warm up before long if we take the walk.”
“And do what?” Pru asked with a laugh. “Knock on every door on Charles Street until a handsome man answers?”
“I think not,” Annandale answered darkly.
Katherine bit back a laugh. “We can ask if anyone has seen Lady Rochford. It might be better than doing nothing.”
“Try Lord Conyers’s residence,” Wayland advised from the window in a bored voice.
Lyle rolled his shoulders as he stood. “Lord Conyers? I didn’t know he lived in St. James’s Square.”
Katherine gave Lyle a curious look. Did he presume to know where all the peers in London lived? Perhaps it was part of his job to know, as they likely didn’t care to have Bow Street Runners near their residences, for all that men of Lyle’s caliber made the streets of London far safer.
Wayland answered, “He purchased a house on Charles Street some months back to conduct his trysts. You ought to know that being an engaged man wouldn’t stop someone of Conyers’s reputation.”
“That’s deplorable,” Pru exclaimed. She looked at Lord Annandale as if for confirmation.
“I have eyes only for you, love,” he answered her softly.
Katherine tucked away a smile.
Wayland shrugged as if he didn’t notice the brief heartfelt exchange. “If you ask me, Conyers is your best bet in that area. But if you don’t know it, perhaps I’d better come along to point out the house.”
Katherine crossed her arms. “How do you know where Lord Conyers’s trysting house is? Has he invited you?”
Wayland smirked. “He does throw parties there from time to time, but no. My interest in his doings extends no farther than eavesdropping. He’s particularly loud about his exploits while in the club.” He paused. “I expect that’s why I don’t foresee him remaining engaged for much longer. Last I heard, his future father-in-law caught wind of his doings and challenged him to a duel if he didn’t give them up. More gossip, of course.”
Apparently, the men in London gossiped as much in their clubs as the women did at afternoon tea.
“Very well,” Katherine said reluctantly. “Where does Lord Conyers keep his trysting house?
Fifteen minutes later, Katherine strolled behind Wayland’s tall form, whose shadow fell over her and chilled her further as he led them to Lord Conyers’s house on Charles Street. Lord Annandale strode beside him reluctantly, given the looks he shot over his shoulder at Pru. Katherine tightened her hold on Pru’s arm, unwilling to give up her walking companion. She lowered her voice so only she and Lyle, on her other side, could hear her.
“He might have told us the address rather than leading us all the way here.”
Pru smiled slyly as she studied Katherine’s expression. “If you’re so adamant to be in the lead, you could have accepted Wayland’s offer of escort.”
“I’d rather walk with you.”
“And admire his form?”
Katherine choked on her tongue. “No.”
Lyle pretended not to hear the exchange, but the color flushing his cheeks gave him away. He walked with his head down, the brim of his hat pulled low, and his hands thrust into the pockets of his greatcoat.
Pru, satisfied, shrugged. “If you say so. I know I’m admiring the view.”
Katherine looked anywhere other than at Wayland. Even without directly looking at him, she was far too aware of the way his greatcoat stretched across his broad shoulders and fell to brush the backs of his calves. He moved with a lethal grace that must have been learned while in the military.
“I never knew you so admired Captain Wayland,” she teased.
A mistake. Pru’s happy mood, it seemed, could not be shaken. “Then you admit he’s worthy of admiration,” her friend countered, her eyes dancing with delight.
Katherine certainly did not. Fortunately, she was saved from having to answer when a carriage hurried past. Wayland waited for it to depart before he gestured at the house opposite them.
“There it is, Conyers’s house of debauchery.”
“Is that what he called it?” Lyle drawled.
Wayland took a step back alongside them and grinned. “Likely not, but it seemed as good a name as any.”
Katherine gaped at the huge house on the corner of Charles Street and St. James’s Square. Why, it could rival Dorchester House. “If he’s hoping to be discreet, I believe he fell short of the mark.”
With a laugh, Wayland pointed out the far smaller house, which was at least half the size, if not more, that shared a wall with the one on the corner. “His is Number 2 Charles Street. The livery is just behind us, if you’ve ever a need to stable your horses.”
Did he know that Katherine was searching for a house near here? She didn’t answer him. In fact, she avoided looking at him altogether. Number 2 Charles Street was a modest dwelling for a lord, a mere four stories in height. The carved wooden door, unpainted, though it was thoroughly polished, was flanked by two evenly spaced windows.
More windows continued all the the way to the roof of the house, where the windows of the servants’ quarters were squat little things half the height of the others. A chimney poked up one side of the house, where a remarkably narrow path presumably led down to a servants’ entrance or the backyard. The entire edifice had been painted a cheery yellow, recently enough that Katherine didn’t notice any signs of weathering from the unseasonable cold this autumn. The shutters were dark black, most pulled shut save for two on the upper levels. In short, it was a rather charming house. Not what she would have pictured for an adulterer.
“Let’s see if he’s in,” Katherine said.
Wayland squared his shoulders. “Why don’t I? It would be rather peculiar for a pair of women to call upon a man they don’t know.”
Katherine rounded on him, arms akimbo. “Whatever do you mean by that? Don’t presume to tell me what I can and cannot do in the name of an investigation. I am every bit the detective that you are.”
Eyes widening, Wayland held up his hands in surrender. He looked past her, likely at Lyle, as he sought an ally. He would certainly not find one in Pru.
“I’ve always been open in my admiration of your detective skills, Lady Katherine. But didn’t you say that it is imperative no one become suspicious of the investigation? Two women calling upon Lord Conyers would be cause for suspicion.”
Sard it, but he had a point! Katherine bit back an expletive and motioned with her hand. “Very well. Knock on the door, but take Lyle with you. He knows every detail of the investigation.”
The side of Wayland’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Have you been keeping something from me?”
“I thought you weren’t interested in this investigation. If that’s the case, you must not have been listening as well as Lyle.” She turned to her friend. “Lyle, would you mind?”
“Of course not,” he said, suddenly alert now that he had more to do than follow along. She shot him a grateful smile. Perhaps she ought to have used Lyle more for the investigation so far, but he had duties of his own to attend to, and she hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him.
The two men strode across the street, both tall and lean, although Lyle’s shock of ginger hair drew attention to him as much as Wayland’s pronounced height—inches taller than even Lyle, who topped Katherine. Satisfied that they would accomplish their task if Lord Conyers was in residence, Katherine turned to her friend.
She stopped short as she found Pru in the circle of Lord Annandale’s embrace. She must have gravitated toward him the moment Katherine released her arm. Katherine buried a pang at the sight, a reminder that she might very well lose her newfound friend. Although she and Pru had only grown close since August, these past few months had found them to be friends and allies. Pru had the same zeal for investigation that Katherine had, albeit she hadn’t grown up at the heels of a renowned detective.
Katherine turned away as she suggested, “Perhaps we can try another door. One of the neighbors might have seen something that can help.”
“Let’s try Number 3. A woman inside has been alternately staring at us and swishing the curtains closed for the past five minutes.”
Katherine smiled at Pru’s suggestion. “That sounds like an excellent place to start.”
Trailed by Pru on Annandale’s arm, Katherine led the way across the street to Number 3 Charles Street. Built much the same as its neighbors, it shared a wall with Number 4 and stood no taller or wider than Number 2. A quaint little edifice for a well-to-do man or woman who couldn’t afford to live in the heart of Mayfair.
Straightening her shoulders, Katherine knocked on the door. To her left, she heard Wayland swear and try the knocker again. Presumably no one had answered him. Excellent. It would give her time to learn what she could from the neighbor without his interruption.
At first, no one answered. Katherine feared that perhaps Pru had been mistaken and no one was at home. However, after a prolonged minute during which Katherine stamped her feet and rubbed her gloves together to keep warm, the door creaked open by a bare inch or two to reveal the woman behind.
Her placket-front dress, a light beige in color, attested that she was likely home alone or could not afford servants. The delicate wool seemed of too great a quality for her to be the hired help. Her hair was shielded behind a colorful scarf, and in the shadowed doorway, Katherine couldn’t precisely tell her age. Older than she, by an estimate.
“Do I know you?”
Katherine clasped her hands in front of her and met the woman’s wary eyes. “I’m afraid not, but I’m hoping to have a moment of your time. You see, I’m looking to retrace my friend’s steps, and I believe she’s come to this address several times over the past few weeks.”
A lie, but perhaps it would loosen the woman’s tongue.
“Who is your friend?”
Because Katherine saw no use in lying, she informed, “Celia Rochford. You might know her by the seal on her carriage, a blue crest with a—”
“Horse rampant,” the woman completed. Clearly, she was schooled in the heraldry of high society, not entirely surprising given where she lived. If she lived in the house alone, she had access to some form of income, and that likely meant a connection with one or more lords at some point in her family tree.
The woman reached behind her, rustling as she pulled a shawl around her shoulders. As she stepped out into the cold, clad in plain house slippers without any mittens or muff, she pulled the door shut behind her.
She lifted her chin. “I won’t stand here with the door open. But I don’t see fit to invite potentially unsavory characters into my home.”
Katherine nearly laughed at the look she gave Lord Annandale.
Pru gasped. “Don’t you recognize a marquess when you see one?”
The woman narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Although she gave him a curtsey and a polite incline of her head, she summarily dismissed him and looked at Katherine. “And you, madam?”
“Forgive me. I am Katherine Irvine, and this is my friend, Prudence Burwick, on Lord Annandale’s arm. And your name?”
“Vera Ramsey.”
“Mrs. Ramsey, I know it’s cold, and I beg your forgiveness for intruding, but we noticed you watching us just now, and we thought perhaps a woman as astute as yourself might have seen our friend, Lady Rochford.”
“I’ve seen the carriage a few times,” the woman said slowly. In the light of day, she was prettier than Katherine would have expected from the spinster cut of her clothing, high necked and long sleeved, not to mention plain in color. She looked no older than ten or fifteen years Katherine’s senior, if that.
“When did you last see the carriage?” Katherine asked. With luck, she would be able to place Lady Rochford in the vicinity of Lord Conyers’s trysting house shortly before her death.
The busybody drew her shawl closer around her shoulders and shivered. “Last week, but she isn’t the only woman to visit. Lord Conyers, next door, has quite the array of female companionship at his beck and call. I’ve even seen them peering in the windows, they are so anxious to get in.”
Her eyes, a light blue like the summer sky, twinkled with mischief. She leaned forward, as if waiting for Katherine to ask precisely whom she had seen here other than Lady Rochford. Although Katherine was mildly curious, she didn’t have long before Wayland quit his efforts to bring someone to the door of the neighboring house and looked in on them.
Katherine asked, “Would that have been Monday or Tuesday of last week?” It would have been a mere day before Lady Rochford was killed. If she had delivered the news of her forthcoming child to her lover, possibly the father, she might have sparked a murderous intent in Lord Conyers then.
Mrs. Ramsey thought a moment. A furrow formed between her eyebrows, one of disappointment. After a moment, she said, “Perhaps Monday, but I certainly saw it on Wednesday or Thursday. I go out to do my charity work on those days, you see, helping out young women in need.”
That couldn’t possibly be true.
“Are you certain?” Katherine asked. “The exact date would be helpful.” When Mrs. Ramsey turned a shrewd eye on Katherine, she hastily added, “You see, Lady Rochford was due to take tea with me, and she didn’t show up. I wondered if it might have been something illicit.”
To Katherine, it was a shabby excuse, but a gossip like Mrs. Ramsey seemed to accept the explanation readily enough. “It was certainly Wednesday or Thursday when I saw the carriage last. As I said, I go out on those days, and I saw it when I returned. If I had to say which day for certain, I might think… Thursday. Yes, Thursday. But it is possible that she also was here on Monday. Given the frequency with which I’ve seen that carriage the past few months, she and Lord Conyers were very familiar with each other, if you understand me.”
Katherine couldn’t possibly mistake her. But given that they were searching for Lady Rochford’s lover, she had expected such speculation. It seemed they had the right address.
Even if they couldn’t be certain of the date. Mrs. Ramsey seemed to be confused or perhaps fabricating a good story. Katherine tried to keep her opinion from her expression as she thanked the woman for her information and bade her adieu.
There was no possible way that Lady Rochford could have been on Charles Street last Thursday. She had died on Tuesday. Which begged the question—was Mrs. Ramsey’s information unreliable, or was there something going on that Katherine had not yet considered?