Katherine should have gone to Charles Street. For one thing, it would have taken less time even though St. James’s Square was farther from Dorchester House than Hyde Park. She’d sent a footman with a note to Pru with the idea the moment Lyle left. Of course, Pru had insisted upon waiting for Lord Annandale. While in London, it seemed that Lord Annandale was attached to Wayland. Or perhaps the latter was attached to the marquess. Either way, the pair were inseparable, and by the time the soon-to-be-married couple called upon Katherine, Wayland was in tow.
On her doorstep. In plain daylight! Katherine’s heart jumped into her throat. She accepted her winter wear hastily, not even noting which pelisse, hat, and gloves the butler handed to her before she stepped out and shut the door behind her. Had he recognized Captain Wayland? With his height and broad shoulders, Wayland wasn’t easy to mistake. If word carried to Papa’s ear that she was keeping company with him, it would not be good.
Katherine scurried down the stairs and attached herself to his elbow without complaint. “What are you doing here?” She hissed the question under her breath as she tried to stuff her hair beneath her hat using only one hand.
Wayland, a gentleman even if he was also a scoundrel, paused to help her with the task. His expression was even, giving away no satisfaction or unease or any other emotion Katherine might ascribe to him.
“Annandale invited me to the Hyde Park Frost Fair. It sounds like it will make for a diverting afternoon.”
“You plan on skating and drinking hot chocolate and eating gingerbread, do you?”
He shrugged. “If I’m in good company, why not?”
“You haven’t brought any skates.”
“Neither have you.”
Katherine didn’t plan on skating if she could help herself. She had a reputation for clumsiness after the past two investigations—unearned, she might add. However, if anyone ever witnessed her on skates, she would be confirmed as the clumsiest woman in all England. Since she spent nearly all her time in London, she rarely had the opportunity to practice.
With an air of friendliness and an easy lope, Lord Annandale strode abreast of them with Pru on his arm. Her cheeks were pink, perhaps from the exertion of keeping up with his stride. Clearly eavesdropping, he interrupted. “I’ve McTavish waiting near the park with blades. I was nae sure if ye Londoners had skates, so he brought ye some extra.”
Tarnation! Somehow, she would have to find an excuse not to use them.
“I’m not attending to socialize. We must find Lord Conyers at once.”
“Aye, and I’ll keep watch, ne’er ye fear.”
Did Lord Annandale even know what Lord Conyers looked like? Katherine opened her mouth to ask, but Wayland spoke overtop her.
“As will I.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you weren’t helping this investigation.”
He shrugged, his muscles bunching beneath her hand on his sleeve. “I’m not. I’m helping a friend. Annandale doesn’t remember meeting Conyers, so I’ll point him out.”
That answered that question. Wayland was helping Lord Annandale, not Katherine. If it benefitted her, did she have the right to complain?
Perhaps he, too, was only content in conducting his own investigations.
But did that explain his change in behavior toward her? Since he’d returned, he hadn’t complimented her, hadn’t cajoled information from her or gone out of his way to find himself alone with her. He certainly hadn’t stood as close to her as he had in the alley in Bath, when they had been evading the city watch and pressed up behind a set of crates to shield themselves…
She didn’t want him to stand so close to her or pay her so much attention. She needed no man in her life to do those things, him above all. But a small part of her seemed stuck in the past, in Bath, when she must have imagined the amorous look in his eye now absent.
“Katherine?”
She blinked hard as she returned to the present. They’d reached the grand gates of Hyde Park, open for all to venture inside. She turned her head to meet her friend’s inquisitive gaze. “Yes, Pru? I’m sorry, did you say something?”
A sly smile passed across Pru’s face. “Nothing of import. Where do you propose we search for Lord Conyers? Perhaps we should split up, to better cover more ground.”
“The vendors and skating are all set up on the Serpentine. It would be counterintuitive to look elsewhere.”
“If you insist,” Pru answered, adjusting her hood. “I thought you might want a bit more time alone… with your thoughts.”
How long had Katherine been brooding? Heat flushed her cheeks, and she snatched her hand from Wayland’s arm in order to adjust her hat. “I’m here to find Lord Conyers and question him regarding Lady Rochford’s murder. The sooner we do that, the better.”
“There’s no reason you can’t mix business and pleasure. We are attending the Hyde Park Frost Fair.” Although Wayland didn’t look at her while he made the suggestion, his words were clearly aimed at her.
“Said by a man who has no business to attend to at present.” And who likely was steady on his feet on the ice. Where did Wayland’s family keep their country estate? He might have grown up skating around frozen ponds in the north, for all Katherine knew.
Softly, he countered, “Simply because I choose not to involve you in my business doesn’t mean I have none.” He offered his arm, stiff. “Shall we?”
She’d offended him. He, like her, was a detective. Unlike her, the son of a viscount and a decorated war hero attained far more respect in the profession. To her knowledge, he’d even been asked to consult by Bow Street, much like her father. Katherine, on the other hand, had to sneak about in order to conduct her investigations so she wasn’t given the cut direct by high society. Eccentric earls’ daughters or not, gently bred young women did not conduct investigations. At least, not in the eyes of polite society.
Her views on the matter were very different, hence why she had taken Pru under her wing so readily.
“It looks as though we aren’t the first to arrive.”
Her thoughts had consumed her once again. When she glanced up, they had rounded the bend in front of the Serpentine. Here, the ground gently rolled toward the bank of the manmade lake in the middle of the park. Now iced over, the scene was precisely as Lyle had described: vendors had set up their stalls in a long row down the middle of the ice. They hawked their wares, steam rising from vats of coffee and chocolate to drink, roasted chestnuts, steamed oysters, and more. Young girls skated with trays hanging from their necks, laden with pies and warm gingerbread. On the banks, officers of Bow Street stood guard, keeping a watch on the festivities. Music lilted into the air from bagpipes more suited to the north and flutes deftly played. These street musicians had hats upturned at their feet for coin.
In between, everyone still in London appeared to have turned up to skate and mingle. Katherine recognized debutantes gliding on the gallant arms of their suitors, their chaperones waiting on the banks or skating slowly behind them. Families had brought out young children, hoisting them between adults so they wouldn’t fall on unsteady legs. Young girls not yet out in society skated in figure eights while casting eyes at men who pretended not to take notice. Their skirts were held up with sashes to avoid their tripping over them with the skates, displaying their stocking-clad ankles.
In the whirl of bodies, Katherine couldn’t pick out those she knew from those she had only been introduced to once or twice or even guests from the country who didn’t typically winter in Town. Faces blurred into one another, gentlemen with hawkers, ladies with pie girls. People skated along the narrow Serpentine, and more still strolled along the banks, the snow having been stamped down to make for even footing.
“Do you see him?” Katherine whispered as she clutched Wayland’s arm.
“Not yet.”
With a sigh, she slipped free. Lord Annandale raised his arm to hail the distinctive ginger head of his valet, standing head and shoulders above most of the crowd. Beaming, McTavish winked at the young woman offering him chestnuts along the shore and navigated the crowd, nodding in deference as he passed peers. He wasn’t the only manservant or lady’s maid in the throng today.
Katherine followed Pru and Annandale to meet the valet midway, in an open patch of snow. He held up four long blades to be attached to their boots. “There ye are, milord. I’ve yer blades sharpened and ready.”
With a shudder, Katherine stepped back, hoping to be excluded from the procession. McTavish was already fawning over Pru and coaxing her to the side of the Serpentine, where it would be easier to access the ice. Perhaps splitting up wasn’t the worst idea if they hoped to search the crowd.
Wayland, unfortunately, attached himself to her side. “Where are you going?”
“Pru had the right of it. There are so many people here that we can’t hope to catch sight of Lord Conyers if we don’t take separate paths. I’ll walk along the shore and see if I can find him.”
“There are only servants, chaperones, and watchmen along the shores that I can see.”
Katherine took another wary step or two backward. “He might have hidden himself among them. In plain view, so to speak.”
“Why would he?” Wayland raised his eyebrows. “If he’s attended the fair, it’s to woo a ladylove or perhaps curry favor with his rich fiancée.”
“I thought you said her father had rescinded the engagement.”
Wayland shrugged. “I would if I were him, but I haven’t heard definitive news on the subject. It might be that Conyers has decided to wait out the gossip before he returns to polite society.”
With a scoff, Katherine shook her head. “Why would he care? He already has a reputation for being a rake.”
“Perhaps… but his future father-in-law is a very rich man, if not from an old family. Half the peerage is in debt up to their eyeballs. They need business arrangements with such men if they’re to keep their ancestral estates in one piece.”
Katherine pursed her lips. “Are you speaking from experience?”
Scowling, Wayland snapped, “Hardly. I work for a living. A cardinal sin in the eyes of my father, so I’ll thank you to keep that information to yourself before I’m disowned.”
“You take money for your services?” Katherine made a face as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Directly, I mean. I employ a solicitor to collect the fees. It keeps my name from getting tarnished from my matchmaking endeavors.” She laughed. “I doubt I’d ever be invited into another elite event without a client if I took the money directly.”
His disapproving expression eased, the corners of his mouth tipping up slightly. “I think you underestimate yourself. But no, I don’t see the reason to waste money on such a ridiculous expenditure. My family speaks for itself. I would only think less of myself if I laid about all day and exploited my tenants.”
From the amount of paperwork Papa had to look after regarding his estates—employees, tenants, upkeep, and keeping the peace when squabbles arose—Katherine knew there was far more to managing an estate or even a household. However, she couldn’t disagree with his opinion of high society in general. It was fashionable not to lift a finger to work, not even to brush one’s hair. Katherine liked to think she was more sensible than to be coddled all the time.
In an attempt to maintain civility, Katherine murmured, “I doubt a man like you would take well to sitting back while others did all the work. What would you do with your time? Read the latest novels?”
“Or write them,” he said with a wink.
She laughed. “You ought to meet Lady Brackley. She always has an idea for a novel on the go, if not several. She was at the latest Society meeting.”
“I’m sorry to have missed it,” Wayland said, his eyes crinkling in the corners with mirth. “Our friends are getting away from us. Shall we?”
Katherine, pained, looked out over the shore once more. Perhaps she could use Lyle as an excuse to avoid those wretched blades.
“You know how to skate, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she said hastily. “I attended the last Frost Fair.” Even if it had been the first time she’d ever set foot—or blade—upon the ice.
“Good. It won’t take long for you to adjust, then. All it takes is a moment to catch your balance.”
Or fall flat on her face.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t deny his enthusiasm. For all that she would have preferred to remain on solid ground, he was right. The only people waiting on the shoreline were those of the working class or older matrons who watched their charges from afar. If she wanted to find Lord Conyers, it appeared as though she would have to meet him on the ice.
She swore under her breath, but Wayland seemed not to hear.
McTavish waited with a grin to hand them their blades. As he bent to tie Katherine’s to the bottoms of her boots, she leaned heavily on Wayland for balance. Even once McTavish stood, she couldn’t seem to find her balance—and she hadn’t yet stepped onto the ice!
“Easy, now,” Wayland whispered in her ear. “If you can’t manage to walk, I can carry you to the ice. Mind the bumps near the edge. That’s where the ice is thinnest and liable to crack.”
Katherine swallowed the urge to renege on her decision to skate. However, between the two men, she soon found herself deposited on the ice. McTavish retracted his arm first.
“Are you ready?” Wayland asked. “I have to put on my skates. If you stand on your own for a moment, I’ll return shortly to help.”
“I’m perfectly able to stand on my own,” she lied.
The moment he stepped away, she regretted the decision. Even hoisted up, her skirts seemed to get in the way. Her skates slid in opposite directions, and she flung out her arms in a desperate bid to keep herself upright. She bit her lower lip hard as she careened backward despite her efforts.
She impacted Wayland’s firm body with enough force to lose her breath. He grunted as he took an involuntary step backward, one foot on the ice and one on solid ground. She held tight to both his arms around her middle, her back to his chest, as she tried to angle the skates beneath her again. They had a mind of their own, intent on leaving her bereft of footing.
“You should have admitted you couldn’t skate.”
“I can,” she insisted, feeling embarrassed at their awkward position, which somehow didn’t feel so awkward. “If you’ll only tip me upright again instead of hauling me back, I’ll make do.”
“Liar,” he said, though he adjusted his position so she stood straighter.
Around them, people had stopped to gawk and giggle behind their hands. Her face flushed hot. “Release me,” she commanded, breathless.
“You’ll fall.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“Stubbornness alone will not keep you upright.”
Katherine gritted her teeth. “Neither will you. You haven’t even donned your skates.”
“You didn’t give me time,” he said, his voice thick with good humor. “Let’s get you back onto solid ground again. McTavish?”
“I don’t need your help.”
At that, he was silent. He released her into McTavish’s grip as he stepped back to don his skates. At the moment, with everyone staring, all she wanted was to remove hers and blend with the crowd on the banks. Surely Lyle was nearby.
“Lady Katherine! Come, give an old woman your arm.”
Katherine stared, agog, as Grandma Bath gracefully skated down the Serpentine and came to an elegant stop in front of her. She skated as if she had been born with blades on her feet! Weakly, Katherine answered, “I fear I’ll pull you to the ground.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’m sturdier than you make me out to be.”
Before Katherine could protest further, she found herself propped on Grandma Bath’s shoulder. As they started to move away from the bank, Katherine flung out her free arm and leaned more heavily than she intended on the elderly woman.
“It’s in your posture, not the position of your arms. You can’t skate as though you are walking down Bond Street. You have to position yourself over your skates. Keep your weight just behind the balls of your feet.” As Katherine adjusted herself, tentatively retracting her arm, Grandma Bath pushed off with her skate again, propelling them further. “There, that isn’t so bad, now is it?”
If it hadn’t been for the old lady, Katherine would have fallen on her face by now. She managed a tentative smile.
“Now, if you’d care to go faster, push with your skate on a slant, not with your toe pointed forward.”
“I don’t think I’d care to go faster at all.” Katherine’s voice emerged thin and reedy.
Grandma Bath laughed. “If you don’t push, you’ll stop.”
“That would be acceptable to me.”
“How would you get back to the bank? I’m afraid Ernest isn’t available to help you.”
And the only other option was Wayland. Grimacing, Katherine pushed with her skate. She nearly toppled onto the ice, but she clung to Grandma Bath’s stout form instead.
“Careful, now. You’re quite a bit heavier than you look.”
Precisely as Katherine had attempted to warn her. She eased her weight off, her knees shaking, and tried to use the old woman solely for balance.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to rejoin Miss Burwick. She might be more suited to holding me up.” Even if she would undoubtedly tease Katherine about it later.
“Ah, I just passed her skating after some young buck and calling for him to stop. You’d think one conquest ought to be enough for her.”
Katherine stood straighter. The miniscule change in position sent her off balance again, and she fell backward onto the ice. She hit with a crack that jolted through her. Had she splintered the ice? Her ears rang as she shifted her bruised body to look. No, it was whole. Perhaps it was her bones that had cracked.
Grinning, Grandma Bath skated a circle around her and stopped in front of her. “You must get up and continue skating when you fall. Elsewise, you’ll let your fear rule you and keep you from trying again.”
“You’re thinking of horseback riding.” Katherine grimaced as she twisted, wondering how she was going to get her feet under her once more without reintroducing herself to the ice. The cold assaulted her through her dress and pelisse.
“It applies to skating as well,” the old woman said cheerfully. “Come on, now. You’re a sensible girl. Up you get.”
Katherine braced her mittens against the ice, but the blades on her skates slipped out from under her when she tried to stand. As her bottom made contact with the cold ice again, someone slipped their hands beneath her arms and hoisted her to her feet as easily as if she were a kitten.
“I see Conyers,” Wayland whispered in her ear.
“What was that?” Grandma Bath asked, overly loud. “You aren’t keeping secrets, are you?”
As if she wasn’t embarrassed enough to be on the ice or to be at the mercy of Wayland’s goodwill, Katherine’s cheeks flushed further. The snowflakes that impacted them all but sizzled from the force of her mortification.
“We’re looking for a friend, Lord Conyers,” Wayland answered. He released Katherine but hovered his hands near her shoulders, braced in case she fell again. Thanks to the trick that Grandma Bath had taught her, she did not.
Though she undoubtedly would if she tried to move.
“Ah, is that what Miss Burwick is off doing, making friends? He’s the fellow I saw her chasing.”
If Pru had found Conyers, there was no telling what questions she would ask. She didn’t have Katherine’s experience investigating—not to mention, she didn’t seem to agree with the tactful way Katherine was conducting the investigation to avoid arousing suspicion.
“We shouldn’t tarry. Where did you see her?”
“Over by that gingerbread stand, but he seemed adept at eluding her.”
“Lend me your arm,” Wayland instructed. “If you can keep your feet, I’ll guide us through the crowd to reach them quickly.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Grandma Bath announced. “With the two of us on either side, she won’t fall.”
Katherine opened her mouth, but the pair immediately took up positions, latching on to each of her arms. Without hesitation, they struck off against the ice, flying down the perimeter. Women yelped and stumbled aside. Men raised their voices. Katherine had no breath left to answer them. She squeezed her eyes shut, her body tensed as the wind of movement buffeted her. On her left, Grandma Bath cackled with glee.
Suddenly, Katherine was flying free, without anyone to steady her on either side. She opened her eyes just in time to register the couple in front of her breaking ranks and allowing her to glide unharmed between them. Beyond them, a trio—two men and a woman—spoke on the ice by the far bank. The taller man and a brown-haired woman cornered a lean, foppish young man with black hair.
“Now look, you’ve lowered my fiancée’s opinion of me with your incessant attention. There she goes.”
“Och, I’d say ‘twas yer wandering eye and hands that did it.”
That voice belonged to Lord Annandale, and if he didn’t move, she was going to careen into his backside. If he was there, the others must be Pru and Lord Conyers. She’d found them. Now she was about to bowl them over.
“Katherine, turn your feet! Stop!”
If she could have done that, she wouldn’t have needed Wayland’s help to begin with. His shout alerted the trio. The man and the woman slid apart, turning harmlessly away from Katherine’s path. Lord Conyers, on the other hand, froze in place, his eyes widening a moment before she crashed into him.
They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Katherine groaned. His elbow or knee had dug into her stomach, winding her.
“Get off,” he grunted, breathless.
“Och now, lass. We would have come to ye. Hold still. Stop yer squirming.”
Like she was a rag doll, Lord Annandale lifted her up and deposited her on her feet. As the blades slid against the ice once more, Katherine fumbled for Pru’s arm.
Lord Annandale grinned. “Not too steady on yer blades, are ye, lass? I did hear ye was a bit on the clumsy side, so maybe skating isn’t for yer.”
She made a face but didn’t deign to answer him.
Fuming, Lord Conyers got to his feet under his own power. The fact that she’d thrown him half into the bank made the matter easier. He glared at her as he brushed away the snow and bent to retrieve his top hat. “I have never been so mistreated in my life. A great brute like him, I understand, but an earl’s daughter?”
Now he chose to recall who she was, despite reintroducing himself on every other occasion? Katherine flushed from her crown to her toes, radiating heat. “It was an accident, Lord Conyers. I’ll take care not to repeat it.”
“See that you do.” He jammed his hat onto his head. “Good day, ladies. Annandale.”
As he moved to skate around them, Wayland appeared, blocking his path. The young lord huffed a sigh. “Is this the Spanish Inquisition? I have to attend to my fiancée.”
“She can wait,” Wayland answered, crossing his arms. “I believe the ladies have a few questions first.”
Warily, Lord Conyers eyed Pru. When he spoke, it was to Katherine with a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It looked brittle enough for him to have practiced it in the mirror. “Anything for a beautiful woman, but I do ask that you make it quick. I’m on thin ice, so to speak.”
“Because of your affair with Lady Rochford?” Katherine asked boldly.
Lord Conyers flinched. His dark hair dripped from beneath his hat and onto his forehead. “Of course not,” he answered loudly. “I would never be unfaithful to my fiancée.”
Katherine highly doubted that woman was listening—or that she would believe a known rake like him. Resolved not to show the least bit of softening toward a bounder like Lord Conyers, Katherine lifted her chin. “We aren’t about to whisper poison in your fiancée’s ear. I’m certain she knows your measure already. We only want to know the truth about Lady Rochford’s personal life. Did you venture above to see her the night of her death? Is that why she was on the balcony?”
“No,” he snapped, his charming demeanor flaking off like old paint. “I was there with my fiancée. You can ask her if you have any doubts. I never went upstairs with anyone. In fact, I never left her side. If you’ll excuse me, I should be attending to her now.”
Without another word, he shouldered between Wayland and Lord Annandale, who let him pass. Katherine watched him, frowning. “He’s hiding something. Why was he so agitated?”
“I’d say he’s feeling some pressure to do right by his fiancée,” Wayland mused.
Lord Annandale grunted. “Aye, and well he should.”
“He’s lying,” Grandma Bath said bluntly, stealing everyone’s attention. She took hold of Katherine’s arm once more, the one not clutched around Pru’s for balance.
“Yes, he is. I do believe we saw him by the ice swan, and his fiancée was nowhere in sight,” Pru said.
Grandma Bath gave them a sly smile. “Not only that, but he’s also lying about Lady Rochford. Maybe he didn’t follow her above stairs, but I saw the look in his eye when she crossed the room. He looked at her like a man besotted—much the same way my grandson is looking at young Miss Verne over there.”
With her free hand, Grandma Bath pointed to a skating couple. Lord Bath skated slowly with Elizabeth on his arm, taking dainty bites of a round of gingerbread. They appeared so deep in conversation that they didn’t seem to notice the world around them.
Grandma Bath elbowed Katherine in the ribs. “You waited too long, my dear. It looks as though Ernest has fallen for another woman. Do try not to get in the way of their union. I want great-grandbabies before I die.”
With a smirk, Wayland lifted his eyebrows and met Katherine’s gaze, amused. She stifled a groan. “I’m very pleased for them,” she assured Grandma Bath.
Unfortunately, the elderly woman didn’t seem to believe her.