Harriet squarely blocked the front doorway of Dorchester House, her arms splayed to reach from one side of the frame to the other. Upon seeing her determination, the butler muttered under his breath about finding Katherine a warmer pair of mittens and made himself scarce. The servants might be daunted by Harriet’s behavior, but Katherine certainly was not.
“I need to return to Charles Street and question Lord Conyers. If you won’t move and call for the carriage, I’ll trounce through the snow myself and pay a call to the livery. Tarnation, I’ll walk all the way to St. James’s Square if I must!”
Positioned between Katherine and Harriet with some vain hope of being let outdoors, Emma whined. The wrinkles on her face deepened as she glanced from one woman to the other. Katherine and Harriet weren’t often at odds, not the least because Katherine employed the latter.
“You’ve gone mad. First I hear you nearly walk home at night, alone, in the freezing cold—”
“When have you been talking to Wayland?” No one else could possibly have given her that information. Come to think of it, why was Captain Wayland speaking with Katherine’s servants? That couldn’t bode well at all.
As if she hadn’t heard the question, Harriet continued overtop, “And now you want to call upon a gentleman, alone, before half of London has yet arisen!”
Katherine stifled a sigh. “You’re exaggerating. It’s half seven in the morning. Anyone who works for a living will be awake.”
“Not this lord you’re bent on rousing from his bed.”
Hopefully with his mistress, Katherine thought privately. If Lord Conyers so often brought women to his townhouse on Charles Street, it was likely that he slept there as well. Which meant if she rose and called on him early enough, she might be able to confront him before he could avoid her. Again.
Not that he could have known that she would attend a musicale organized by one of his soon-to-be relatives. But he hadn’t been there, which, if Katherine had been affianced to him, she would have found highly irregular. She didn’t have a hope of being let into a gentlemen’s club, and the thought of asking Wayland to check left a sour taste in her mouth, so she had no other recourse. She would call upon him so early that he would have no option but to meet with her.
Then when she questioned him she would be able to progress this investigation, so if nothing else, her stepmother might be able to find some peace. When Katherine had returned home from the musicale last night, she had found her stepmother curled on the settee in her father’s embrace as he rubbed her stomach. At this rate, Katherine, too, feared that her stepmother might lose the baby.
With a fierce look, Harriet added, “You’ll be turned away at the doorstep and told that the lord you seek is not in residence.”
Katherine laughed. “Lord Conyers, turn away a woman? Not judging from his reputation. He’ll let me into the house, I wager.” Not that she intended to step into the house. She would insist that the lord meet her at the door himself.
Given that no one had answered the door yesterday when they’d called, Katherine thought it likely that he didn’t keep a full staff on at that particular residence. Perhaps he sent a maid over from his official residence to clean or brought a valet with him when he stayed overnight. Had there been more servants at hand, one would have answered the door.
Therefore, Katherine likely had only the valet to convince that she was one of his master’s paramours seeking a moment alone with him. It shouldn’t be too difficult, she hoped.
“No,” Harriet answered vehemently. “I will not let you step out of this house if you’re intent on seeking your grave. You’ll have to turn me out before I’ll let you through this door.”
Emma whined again, lowering herself to the floor as if to make herself smaller.
“Be reasonable,” Katherine chided.
“I am being reasonable. If you’re so bent on speaking with this lord, you should bring someone with you. For protection.”
Katherine crossed her arms. “Are you volunteering?”
Harriet’s complexion paled. “Certainly not! I’m not entering the home of a murderer, and you shouldn’t either!”
“So he’s jumped from being a suspect to a murderer, in your estimation?”
“If the possibility exists, then you must consider the worst. Or have you forgotten the Pink Ribbon Murderer?”
Katherine’s stomach lurched. That investigation had resulted in a close brush with death for Katherine. But she’d survived. She could undoubtedly survive another.
The touch of a furry head rubbing against her skirts returned her to the present. Emma craned her neck back, her ears inquisitive as she whined again.
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“By staying home,” Harriet said firmly. “Or at the very least, sending a note to one of your friends to accompany you. Why not Captain Wayland? He’s seen war. He could protect you.”
“I can protect myself,” Katherine reminded her. Between her father and Lyle, she had learned enough tricks of her fists and elbows to deter an opponent, even a stronger or larger one. Her fear was getting the better of her again, and she couldn’t let it do that.
Given the way Wayland had been acting, Katherine was not about to ask him for help. He’d all but ignored her. Not that she cared, did she?
A strong rap sounded at the door behind her, three sharp taps of the knocker followed by silence. Emma looked from one to the other before she faced the door and barked with enthusiasm, tail wagging. Harriet remained still, blocking the path.
“Don’t you intend to answer the door?” Katherine asked.
“Who could be calling this early in the morning? It’s likely a footman here to leave his mistress’s card.”
Katherine raised an eyebrow as Emma’s barking almost overwhelmed Harriet’s disgruntled mutter. “You won’t know until you open the door.”
With a sigh, Harriet turned and bent to scoop up Emma. She thrust the pug into Katherine’s arms wordlessly. Fearing that Emma might barge into the street if she let her down, Katherine hoisted her pet onto her hip.
Harriet opened the door to reveal a weary-looking Lyle. “Thank goodness,” Harriet exclaimed with feeling. “You’re here.”
Lyle stood mutely, blinking at her as if he couldn’t comprehend her words. Harriet caught him by the hand and towed him into the house. Color rose in his cheeks as he stumbled through the door.
“You can talk some sense into Lady Katherine. She’s bent on finding herself the murderer’s next victim, and she won’t listen to me.”
Lyle blinked several more times, a whirl of snowflakes following him into the house along with a gust of wind. He stared down at his glove, which Harriet still held. “Oh. That’s why you’re relieved to see me.”
She dropped his hand and shoved the door closed, shutting out the frigid air. It had still intruded enough upon the house for her to hug her arms and rub them to warm herself. “Of course it is. You’re one of the few people who can talk sense into her. I’m not letting her go out alone to pay a call on a potential killer!”
“No,” Lyle said slowly, turning his gaze to Katherine as if seeing her there for the first time. “That would be unwise. Why are you planning on interviewing a suspect alone? You always have Miss Burwick with you now.”
Yes, and Katherine had best learn not to rely on having her friend near at hand. Once Pru married, she would be off to Scotland, only in town during the winter months, if then. No, Katherine had to find a way to conduct her investigations without relying on Pru’s canny insight or Wayland’s unpredictable aid.
Calmly, Katherine informed them, “I hoped to interview Lord Conyers at his townhouse. If I catch him early enough, he might yet be with a… lady friend and less likely to balk when I confront him.”
“Ah.” Lyle’s cheeks flushed again. He removed his hat and gloves to camouflage the reaction.
“Tell her not to go,” Harriet insisted. She stepped forward, briskly retrieved Emma, and fiddled with the bow around her neck. Harriet must not think Katherine in danger of walking out the door if Lyle was inside, never mind that she had already dressed to go out.
“Why do you believe he will be there? No one answered yesterday when Wayland and I knocked. The house is likely empty.” Lyle tucked his gloves into his pocket then rolled the brim of his hat between his palms. “Oh, that reminds me. I’d hoped to hear what the neighbor had to say. I saw you speaking with her, but you refused to say a word when we rejoined you.” He darted his gaze to the drawing room. “Perhaps we can sit someplace warm?”
He looked as though a strong wind might bowl him over. Katherine wrinkled her nose. “Did you work through the night again?”
He nodded. “I’ve been handed another investigation. I’ve only just ended my shift, and I’d dearly love to sit down.”
After depositing Emma on the ground, Harriet helped Lyle with his coat. “I’ll see if there’s some tea ready so you don’t fall asleep while she’s convincing you to let her out of the house. I trust you won’t let her run off.” Harriet pierced him with a stern look, making the color rise in his cheeks again.
He stumbled over his tongue, which she took for an answer and turned to shut away his greatcoat and hat in the closet. Katherine ushered him into the nearest sitting room.
“What’s gotten into her?” he mumbled as he all but fell into a spindly, uncomfortable chair. He didn’t appear to notice its hardness.
Katherine shrugged. “She’s convinced that Lord Conyers is the murderer, I suspect. She won’t hear of me speaking to him.”
“How will you know if he is to blame without speaking to him?”
With a triumphant smile, Katherine dropped into the chair opposite. “Exactly!” The click of Emma’s claws was muffled against the carpet as she trotted toward Katherine, who obliged her by picking her up and placing the dog in her lap.
“What makes her think Lord Conyers is the murderer?” Lyle asked as he rubbed his forehead, fatigued. “We can’t even say for certain that he is Lady Rochford’s lover.”
“Actually, we can,” Katherine corrected sheepishly. “His neighbor, Mrs. Ramsey, confirmed that she had seen the Rochford carriage several times on that street over the past week.”
“Several times?” Lyle raised his eyebrows, dubious.
Katherine’s cheeks flushed with heat. “Yes, well, the woman seemed to like gossip and might have been confused. She has seen the carriage multiple times, but she seemed certain that the last time was on Thursday, when Lady Rochford was already dead. She clearly has her days mixed.”
“Can we be certain that she wasn’t concocting the entire tale?”
Katherine scratched beneath Emma’s ribbon. The pug made a contented sound and leaned her chin against Katherine’s leg. “Mrs. Ramsey was able to recollect the Rochford crest in detail. How else would she have been able to do so if not by having seen the carriage often enough to recognize it?”
“Debrett’s?” Lyle asked, naming a popular genealogy record for titled families.
Katherine had to concede the point to him, even if she added, “Why would she bother to say it was the Rochford crest if she was not sure? I’m inclined to believe her, at least until I can confront Lord Conyers and ask him myself how intimately he knew Lady Rochford.”
“You don’t need to call upon him at his trysting house in order to do so—”
Whatever Lyle was about to suggest, he was interrupted by Harriet as she carried a silver tray in through the doorway, struggling to angle it so that she didn’t nip her fingers as she walked through. As the tray tipped, laden with teacups, a teapot, plates and saucers, and a slab of seedcake, Lyle jumped to his feet and hurried to help her steady it.
“I have it,” she said, sounding a bit out of breath from her run to the kitchen. “You should sit before you fall down.”
He didn’t protest. As he returned to his seat, Harriet crossed to the nearest table and set down her tray. She poured out a cup of tea, fixed it the way Lyle liked it, and added a thick slice of seedcake to the dish before handing him both. She made no move to offer the same to Katherine.
“Thank you,” Lyle said, his gratitude tentative as he eyed the space between the two women.
Harriet straightened but didn’t look at Katherine. Primly, she said, “I only serve people who are not dressed to go out.”
Katherine was still wearing her pelisse and hat. With a sigh, she tugged the latter off and shifted Emma to the floor in order to unbutton the thick garment ending at her calves. “Very well. Consider this your victory—for now. I still intend to speak with Lord Conyers. If he happens to have Lady Rochford’s ring…”
“Ahhh, the ring. That is what Lord Rochford said was missing.” Lyle returned his teacup to its saucer with a clink.
Katherine supplied, “Lady Dalhousie was blathering on about how Lady Rochford had been robbed before she had been killed. I think the scrape on her finger and blood on her knuckles is because the killer ripped the ring off her finger.”
“See?” Harriet said, shaking her head. She arranged the seedcake on Katherine’s plate. “The killer is dangerous. Lady Katherine has more ambition than sense this morning.”
“If you ask me, Lord Rochford is protesting too much about the ring. He was at the ball that night with his wife.” Lyle ate a piece of seedcake.
Katherine paused with the teacup halfway to her lips. “Are you saying Lord Rockford took the ring and then pushed his wife over the balcony? Why? He would get the ring back with her things.”
“Maybe he was angry. It was his family ring, and if he discovered her affair, it would be an insult to his family.” Lyle pressed his lips together. “Or maybe he had a more nefarious reason. He might have been intending to use the ring to frame the lover for her death.”
Katherine frowned as she slowly sipped at her tea. It could have used a minute longer in the pot, but she didn’t say as much aloud, as she had more important things on her mind. “I recall when I paid a visit to Lord Rochford on Thursday, his housekeeper was lamenting that the day before, he had been too deep in his cups to tell his daughter the terrible news. If that is true, then he would have been in no shape to plant a ring anywhere. No matter what, it seems we must speak with Lord Conyers.”
Lyle nodded slowly. He picked at his seedcake, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. “If you’re set on talking to Lord Conyers, then there is one location we’ll be sure to find him today.”
“Yes,” Katherine answered, stalwart. “At his townhouse.”
Harriet made a noise of dismay and took Katherine’s half-finished teacup. She bustled, arranging everything on the tray. Her movements were jerky and tight with disapproval.
“As luck would have it, you’re better off waiting and trying to find him at Hyde Park later today.”
Katherine frowned. “Hyde Park?” It was the middle of winter; hardly anyone went for a ride or walk in knee- or hip-deep snow if they could avoid it. “Why would I find him there?”
Smirking, Lyle shook his head. “How is it that I manage to hear of social events before you do? There’s to be a miniature Frost Fair like the one on the Thames two years ago.”
“It was colder then. I can’t imagine that the Thames has frozen solid enough to walk an elephant across.” Katherine had barely been able to see the beast, the crowds flocking to the Thames had been so thick.
“It isn’t to be held on the Thames. Some vendors have decided to set up their stalls on the Serpentine in Hyde Park, since it has been frozen solid for the past two days at least.” Lyle shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll recall the last Frost Fair. Even if this one will cater only to residents of Mayfair, Bow Street expects it to be every bit as rowdy as the first and has asked for volunteers to patrol Hyde Park and keep the peace.”
Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Are you calling the demure sea of debutantes and chaperones rowdy?”
“Not precisely,” he answered with a shrug of one shoulder. “But their presence begs the presence of male escorts, which breeds more vendors, more money at hand, and let’s face it — pickpockets. You know how lords and ladies behave if they believe they’ve been robbed.”
“Are you one of those who will be patrolling the park?”
“I am,” he confirmed. He rose, stretching as he offered his plate and teacup to Harriet with a smile. “Thank you for the tea and cake, but I fear I must get some sleep before I take patrol. I’ll keep my eye out for Lord Conyers and let you know if I see him,” Lyle promised Katherine.
She nodded. “Very well. Your way might be best after all, but if I don’t find him, I’m going to call on him tomorrow morning at Charles Street.”
Harriet sighed as she escorted Lyle out of the room to fetch his greatcoat. She didn’t quite lower her voice enough not to carry as she murmured, “Thank you for trying. At least you postponed the inevitable.”
“If we don’t find Conyers at the Frost Fair, I’ll make certain I accompany her to the townhouse.”
“I’d rest easier,” Harriet answered in relief, her voice fading as they stepped out of earshot.
Katherine leaned forward and plucked her teacup from the tray, finishing it in two sips. “I’m not helpless,” she muttered under her breath. “And I’m not reliant on my friends.”
Stating the matter aloud didn’t help her to gain confidence in the subject. She feared that she had become altogether too reliant on solving her investigations with help. Lyle was overworked, and Pru was shortly to depart. Oh well, Katherine was perfectly capable of doing her detective work on her own.