Katherine only half-expected Lord Conyers to attend the musicale at Lady Edgerton’s that evening, even if he was engaged to her niece. He seemed the type to prefer more titillating entertainments than a few young women barely out of the schoolroom as they demonstrated their musical prowess.
Fortunately, Katherine had another aim in attending the musicale tonight. Now that she knew that Lord Bath hadn’t been responsible for Lady Rochford’s death, she could match him with Elizabeth Verne with a clear conscience. If Elizabeth heeded her note and attended tonight. Katherine’s note had been rather hasty, and she had only the vain hope that Mrs. Fairchild could arrange an invitation to attend tonight’s event. Katherine didn’t know the hostess well enough to wrangle one for Elizabeth herself.
As another pair of women entered through the door, Katherine sighed in relief. She recognized Mrs. Fairchild’s brown hair and round figure instantly next to Elizabeth. Of course, she had expected for Elizabeth to bring her matchmaker to the event, but it added a layer of difficulty to the arrangement. Fortunately, if Elizabeth had attended, then she had decided to give Katherine’s idea a try.
A try was all she needed. Lord Bath could be overprotective of the women in his life—or so Grandma Bath continually complained—but he had a good heart, deep pockets, and a title that dated back to the Norman invasion. In the world of lords and ladies, it was an aberration that a man such as him wasn’t yet married. A testament to his stubbornness, if his grandmother was to be believed.
Raising her glass of lemonade slightly, Katherine caught Elizabeth’s eye. She was rewarded with the briefest of nods, an acknowledgment that Elizabeth would deign to be introduced to Lord Bath. With that assurance in place, Katherine waited for her to slip her chaperone and venture nearer.
With luck, that wouldn’t be too long. The three young women, each between the ages of sixteen and twenty, were sitting at their instruments and awaiting their mother to quiet the gathering so they might perform. Grandma Bath had already been led to her seat, though Lord Bath must have departed to fetch her another glass of lemonade or champagne, for Katherine didn’t espy him with her. She joined the old woman instead, bracing herself for what was to come.
Laughingly, Pru had abandoned her on the pretense of searching for Lord Conyers the moment they had arrived at the party. Katherine had no one to distract from Grandma Bath’s insistence that she marry Lord Bath.
Battling for serenity, Katherine slipped into the seat next to Grandma Bath. Although she cringed at the question, she had to ask, “Where is your grandson?” After all, if Lord Bath were not present, Katherine couldn’t introduce him to his future wife.
Grandma Bath turned an assessing eye on Katherine. “Missing his company, are you, Lady Katherine?” The old woman waved her hand through the air. A jewel on her ring finger winked in the light shed by candles around the room. “Ernest has gone to fetch me a bit of champagne to wet my throat. I hoped he might meet you along the way.”
“Why? Did he have something important to tell me?” Perhaps Lord Bath had been overwhelmed with guilt for lying to her and wished to confess the truth.
“No, no. I just hoped he might find the company of a young woman more scintillating than an old biddy like me.” She winked.
Katherine bit the inside of her cheek to hide her frustration. “I’m afraid he’ll have to find some other young woman instead.”
“You are supposed to arrange that, aren’t you? Where are your candidates? I’d like to meet them.”
“In due time,” Katherine answered, distracting from the fact that she had but one candidate and that particular woman was not convinced. “For now, why don’t we enjoy the evening?”
Movement caught her eye, a flash of periwinkle skirts and burnished gold hair as Elizabeth wove through the throng of what must be near fifty guests all crammed into Lady Edgerton’s large drawing room. Chairs faced the corner pianoforte, where the girls had arranged their instruments, in rows, leaving only a narrow path along the perimeter for the woman to navigate.
As Grandma Bath harrumphed, Katherine added, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked a friend to sit with us tonight.”
“That Burwick girl?” the old woman asked with genuine interest. She must approve of Pru. “She has a sensible head on her shoulders.”
Now Katherine wished that she had asked Pru to accompany her after all. “No, this is a friend you haven’t met. Her name is Miss Elizabeth Verne, and I assure you she has as sensible a head on her shoulders as either Pru or I.”
Grandma Bath narrowed her eyes. For a moment, Katherine thought she would ask the golden question of whether this woman was a candidate for marriage. However, instead, Grandma Bath merely nodded and said, “Very well.”
Those two words rendered Katherine speechless for a moment. However, when the back of her neck prickled from the nearness of a body, she realized why Grandma Bath had cut the inquiry short.
“Here you are, Grandmama,” Lord Bath said. He leaned forward to hand a flute of champagne to his grandmother. “Katherine, I hadn’t realized you would be sitting with us as well tonight, or I would have brought you one too. I can fetch you a glass, if you’re thirsty.”
Katherine hefted her lemonade as she turned in her seat to view Lord Bath. Tonight, he wore those wide, ridiculous sleeves, as always. However, the cut of the rest of his clothes was fashionable, the color a dark maroon that suited him well. His smile, as always, was genuine.
“How is your father?” he asked. “He’s been too busy for me to pin down since I’ve arrived in town.”
“Papa is well. I’ll remember him to you,” Katherine answered politely.
Behind him, Elizabeth slipped between two people to stand at the edge of the chairs. She looked a bit frazzled but took a moment to pat herself down. As Katherine stood, the smile on her new friend’s face was as serene as if she hadn’t just escaped her chaperone by the skin of her teeth.
Katherine held out her hand to Elizabeth, gesturing her forward. “Lord Bath, may I present my friend Miss Elizabeth Verne. You might have crossed paths with her at Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball.”
At the mention of the murderous event, the marquess stiffened. He recovered marginally, smiling, but the expression did not meet his eyes. He’d scarcely inclined his head and murmured his polite delight upon meeting one of Katherine’s friends when the hostess rang a spoon against her glass to call the room into order. As the clear peals of sound faded, everyone hurried to find their seats.
Somehow, in the mad scramble, Katherine found herself wedged between Lord Bath and his grandmother. Elizabeth was on Grandma Bath’s far side. How had that happened? The pair would never fall in love if they weren’t allowed to sit with one another.
As the girls in the corner of the room were introduced and each took a bow, their cheeks rosy with the admiration, the violinist pronouncedly shaky in her hands as she picked up her violin, Lord Bath leaned closer. “Katherine, my dear, I hope this is not an extension of your queries into my unmarried state. Your friend is lovely, but I haven’t the time to devote to a wife.”
Thankfully, his voice didn’t carry. Katherine kept her expression even. “Of course not,” she lied through her teeth. Thus far, her schemes to match two people together had always worked better once they decided for themselves that marriage was what they wanted. Forcing either party wouldn’t make for a happy marriage.
The performers began their musicale to eddied whispers in the crowd gathered. The fact that they didn’t seem to have the full attention of the guests seemed to frazzle the violinist even more. She continually darted her gaze toward the pianist. When it was her turn to join in, her first draw of the bow across the strings was jolting and discordant. She cringed, her face filling with color as she froze upon making the mistake. Her mother jumped to her feet. “Felicia. Play. I know you know how. We pay enough for lessons.”
The cheeks of the other two girls turned pink with sympathy at their sister’s embarrassment. They bowed over their instruments, prepared to start again.
Two chairs down, Elizabeth tsked under her breath. “That isn’t how you handle a child’s mistake. You have to nurture talent, not command it.”
“Oh?” asked Grandma Bath in a loud whisper. “How would you have handled it?”
“Better to encourage her to continue and carry on as if the mistake had never been made. Everyone makes mistakes, and she seems particularly skittish of performing. After this, I doubt she ever will again.”
Katherine smiled to herself at the conversation. Elizabeth would be able to handle Grandma Bath with aplomb, and perhaps she’d bring up the possibility of a school in Bath while she was at it. Now, Katherine had only to seat Lord Bath a touch closer so he, too, could hear.
She leaned closer to him. “Would you mind switching chairs? It’s stifling in the middle.”
“Certainly,” he answered without question.
After they had made the move, the girls were ready to play again, and they began the song anew, from the beginning. Although the violinist was almost in tears and played so softly that Katherine barely even heard the instrument, when she joined in, she made no mistakes. The onset of their musical performance limited Elizabeth’s conversation as she gave them her rapt attention. Hopefully, Grandma Bath would engage her in conversation again, and Lord Bath would have the opportunity to admire her intelligence and gracious conversational skills.
Katherine turned in her seat, searching the crowd for Lord Conyers. As expected, she didn’t find him, but Pru and Annandale were seated near the back next to Wayland. Katherine stifled a sigh. Apparently, he went everywhere with Annandale, so she was going to have to get used to having him around.
Avoiding Wayland’s gaze, she attempted to put him from her mind and continue her attempt to find Lady Rochford’s lover. Presumably all the guests were now in the drawing room, no one at a card table set up elsewhere. If Lord Conyers wasn’t in this room, he hadn’t attended the event. Unfortunate but far from surprising.
The violin’s notes became shaky as her stage fright overwhelmed the violinist. When her mother stood to chide her again, this time the poor girl turned her back and rushed from the room, likely to lose her lunch. Katherine winced in sympathy.
As did Elizabeth. “If she doesn’t like to play, her mother shouldn’t force her to. It’s cruel. I’m sure the girl has other talents.”
Grandma Bath harrumphed. “How do you expect her to find a husband if she’s too shy to show her talents?”
Elizabeth scoffed. “We women are good for more than finding a husband, as you ought to know. She could teach or compose or find any number of other ways to pass her time.”
Katherine opened her mouth to contribute to the conversation, but in the disorder of the room, she lost her voice. At the back of the room, Mrs. Fairchild had finally located her charge, if the glower on her face was any indication. And she certainly thought Katherine was poaching Miss Verne.
Hastily, Katherine muttered her excuses to Lord Bath and got to her feet. She had to have a word with the fellow matchmaker before Mrs. Fairchild ruined what had the potential to be a great match. She sidestepped a couple rising from their chairs to circle the perimeter as the hostess hastened to create order among her daughters before the night was proclaimed a disaster. It was likely too late, especially in the eyes of the poor violinist.
The moment they met halfway down the line, Mrs. Fairchild glared daggers at Katherine. “You have no honor,” she spat. “Stealing my client—”
Katherine held up her hands. “I am not stealing your client. Lord Bath is my client. If you’ll only listen to me a moment, you’ll see—”
“Lady Katherine!”
Tarnation! Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone?
Lady Dalhousie, dressed in a peacock-bright gown that shimmered in the light with silver embroidery, laid her hand on her prized necklace as she stepped between the pair of matchmakers and their respective clients. The gossip smiled coyly. “Was that the Marquess of Bath I saw you sitting with?”
“Along with his grandmother and Miss Verne, yes.” The last thing she wanted circulating were rumors that would feed Grandma Bath’s delusion that Katherine should marry her grandson.
“How brave of you,” Lady Dalhousie said, drawing out the statement. She stepped closer to them as others jostled their way to the perimeter of the room to mingle while the hostess called order.
Katherine felt a headache begin in her right temple, but she asked nonetheless, “Why is it brave of me to sit with a friend of my father’s?”
“Why, because of the theft, of course!”
Theft?
Mrs. Fairchild asked, “What theft?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Lady Dalhousie’s eyes gleamed with perverse pleasure as she leaned in to share the latest on-dit. “Lady Rochford was missing a ring—a family heirloom—when her body was found. Do you think the theft had something to do with her death?”
Katherine’s mind reeled with the news of the allegedly missing ring. Images of Lady Rochford’s scraped finger and bloody knuckle surfaced. The killer had taken the ring. But why?
However, before she could puzzle that out, she urgently needed to stop Lady Dalhousie from spreading rumors about the Burglar of Bath or that Lady Rochford’s death was not an accident. If the killer learned there was an investigation, they might take more care to cover their tracks.
She gazed into the crowd, searching for an ally. Pru and Annandale’s backs were turned, but at that moment, Wayland, standing with them, glanced sideways. Their gazes locked. Katherine pressed her lips together, silently pleading for his help. He had come to her aid in Bath, after all.
Despite the desperation sure to be in her gaze, he turned away.
“How do you know the ring was missing?” Mrs. Fairchild asked.
“I heard Lord Rochford demanded his wife’s belongings from the police. He claims she always wore the ring, but it was missing. I’m not sure why they were holding her belongings.” Lady Dalhousie leaned in and lowered her voice. “Perhaps they had suspicions about the circumstances around her death.”
“I thought Lady Rochford’s death was ruled a terrible accident.”
“Exactly so,” Katherine said, reinforcing Mrs. Fairchild’s words even if they were wrong. At all costs, she had to find a way to stop Lady Dalhousie from repeating her fanciful tales before she created a panic and caused the murderer to flee. Especially since—
“Do you think it might be the Burglar of Bath?” Lady Dalhousie asked, her voice not quite pitched at as low a whisper as Katherine would have preferred.
She swallowed a groan.
Lady Dalhousie, unfortunately, took the matter one step further and glanced toward the chairs. Thankfully, she lowered her voice further before she added, “You know, the name of the burglar was never announced. You don’t think it might be Lord Bath, do you? He was in both places, and I saw him following Lady Rochford upstairs mere minutes before she—”
“Och now, Lady Dalhousie,” boomed a Scottish burr. Lord Annandale insinuated himself into the conversation with more confidence than tact. He gave both Lady Dalhousie and Mrs. Fairchild a dazzling grin.
Katherine had thought he hadn’t seen her plight from his position, but he must have been wrong. Her knees weakened. At least Pru had chosen her future husband well. He knew when to come to a lady’s rescue, for instance.
Loudly, Lord Annandale proclaimed, “What’s that story yer telling? Might it be how ye found those pretty wee gems around yer throat, back in Bath?”
Lady Dalhousie flushed with color. She clasped her hand to her throat, as if to cover the necklace she never let out of her sight. “I— no, I was merely discussing the evening’s entertainments.”
Lord Annandale scoffed. Judging by the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, a sign of mirth, he didn’t believe her. “Och now, there’s little to talk about. I hear there’s a fine tale about the origin of that wee pendant. Something about the war?”
Although hot color continued to drench Lady Dalhousie’s cheeks, she welcomed the topic and offered a tentative smile. “Why yes, my lord. Haven’t you heard? This necklace once belonged to Josephine when she was empress…”
Relieved to find Lady Dalhousie so occupied, even if she couldn’t stand to hear the embellished and ever-changing tale even one more time, Katherine mouthed her gratitude at Lord Annandale. He nodded once, indicating his acceptance, and pretended to pay rapt attention to Lady Dalhousie, even though he must have heard the story as many times as she. In Bath a couple months ago, the old biddy hadn’t been shy about letting everyone know the highly unlikely tale of her distinctive necklace.
Taking the opportunity to break away from the group, Katherine checked over her shoulder to ensure that Elizabeth was still well situated with Lord Bath and his grandmother. Sometime soon, she would have to find a private moment with Mrs. Fairchild in order to explain her motives, but for now, she satisfied herself in the conversation that appeared from this distance to be flowing freely.
Then, walking along the perimeter of the room in search of Pru, Katherine mulled over Lady Dalhousie’s latest fixation. She thought Lord Bath was the murderer, a possibility that Katherine had already disproven upon discovering the reason why Lord Bath had been absent from the ballroom preceding Lady Rochford’s murder.
Katherine figured he must have lied to protect his clients. It was likely that Susanna had begged him not to tell anyone lest Katherine’s father learn of the healing waters and become worried about the pregnancy. Probably Lady Rochford felt the same way.
Now that Katherine had a moment to think, she wondered about this new development with Lady Rochford’s ring. If, indeed, that detail wasn’t a concoction of Lady Dalhousie’s penchant for dramatics, it might be another clue.
“You look worried. Has something happened?”
At Pru’s voice, Katherine glanced up. She was less than ten feet from Lord Annandale’s continued conversation, having stopped in her tracks while she thought. She had to get better control over herself, lest all her thoughts show on her face.
Fortunately, Pru was her ally, and she felt free enough to whisper, “Lady Dalhousie mentioned that Lady Rochford had been wearing a ring, but it was absent from her finger when she fell.”
“A ring?” Pru glanced around the room, studying those around them before she stepped closer and lowered her voice. She fiddled with the sleeves of her delicate muslin gown. It looked pretty on her. “Did she say what the ring looked like? Perhaps if we find it…”
Katherine pressed her lips together grimly as she completed the sentence in her head. If they located the ring, they might locate Lady Rochford’s killer. “It was a family ring that she always wore. Should be easy to get a description of. Perhaps, if I find a moment, I’ll ask her in private.”
Although if Katherine did that, she would only encourage the old biddy to continue spreading her gossip.
Pru frowned, tapping her chin. “Could it have been lost during the struggle?”
“We didn’t find it.”
“But we weren’t looking for a ring.” Pru jabbed her finger at Katherine. “Maybe Rayner picked up more than an earring that night.”
“Do you think the killer stole the ring as some sort of keepsake?”
Katherine nibbled on her lower lip as she thought. “If it were her jilted lover, he might have taken it to remember her by.”
Pru nodded. “If Lord Rochford were the killer, he would have no cause to rip it off her finger, as he would get the ring in her belongings anyway, so it seems we’re back to her lover once more.”
“Until we find and question Lord Conyers to learn where he was during the time of the murder, I don’t see how we can move past him to another suspect.”
At the front of the room, the hostess once more called for order as her daughters—minus the violinist—prepared to continue the performance. Katherine parted from her friend to return to her seat, but she couldn’t help but scan the room one last time as she went.
If she wanted to solve this murder, she had to find Lord Conyers and the sooner, the better.