Katherine did not have time to visit Mrs. Ramsey or Mrs. Dillinger that afternoon. Getting ready for the ball that evening took precedence, since she’d be able to accomplish two tasks in one evening—convince Wayland to feign interest in Elizabeth and corner Lady Dalhousie to see if she’d gleaned more gossip.
She found Wayland on the edge of the ballroom, swathed in the shadows of a neoclassical pillar that was more decorative than practical. The balcony above was wide enough only to hold the myriad pots the hostess had set up to provide some greenery to the room. Squaring her shoulders, Katherine took a deep breath as the orchestra set their bows to their instruments in a long, ravenous note meant to beckon dance partners to the floor.
“Are you free for this set?” Katherine asked.
Wayland’s jaw dropped, and he looked caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Are you asking me to dance?”
“I am.” It would be less conspicuous if they conducted this distasteful conversation on the dance floor.
“I believe that’s my job.”
“Then ask, if you’re so offended.”
He crossed his arms, stalwart. “You hate dancing.”
“I don’t hate it.” Katherine grimaced. “I simply… have better things to do. But at the moment, it is the best place for a somewhat private conversation, unless you’d prefer to find a quiet spot along the corridor?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Apparently you’ve forgotten what happened the last time you dragged me into a secluded corridor. No.”
Katherine let out an exasperated breath. “Those rumors abated soon enough once I let everyone know it was business we were after.”
“And I nearly lost my closest friend because he thought I was courting his future wife!”
Stepping closer, she lowered her voice. “Actually, I believe it was that falsehood that spurred Lord Annandale to propose, and I need you to do it again.”
“You want me to flirt with Miss Burwick?”
“What? No. Don’t be absurd.”
Wayland pierced her with a look that told her he thought her the absurd one. Perhaps she wasn’t being clear.
“I’m trying to match Miss Verne with Lord Bath, but he’s been dragging his heels. All I need you to do is to be as attentive to Miss Verne tonight as you were last night, and I’ll have them matched by the end of the week. If he thinks someone else is interested in Miss Verne, he might propose sooner so he doesn’t lose her.”
Wayland stared at her, far too quiet for comfort.
“What is it?” she asked. She turned, looking behind her, but no one seemed to be paying them any mind.
He still seemed unusually solemn. “Are you certain you want me to flirt with Miss Verne and make a good show of courting her?”
“Yes, of course. I told you, Lord Bath—” The look on his face stilled her tongue. “You aren’t interested in her for yourself, are you?” She hadn’t thought of that.
He didn’t answer.
Katherine cleared her throat. In a falsely light tone, she added, “I suppose it doesn’t matter one way or another. At least Miss Verne will be well settled as she deserves. Either you or Lord Bath propose to her.”
“I thought he was your client, not her.” Wayland’s voice was stiff.
“She isn’t, but she’s become a friend. I want the best for her.”
“And the best is for me to get down on bended knee?”
“No.” Katherine choked on the word. As Wayland’s expression grew smug, she added, “The best is for Lord Bath to offer first. He is my client, as you’ve said.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Katherine dropped her gaze from his intense hazel eyes to his knotted cravat. She couldn’t answer that question. For some reason, the thought of Wayland getting down on bended knee for anyone rankled. And it had nothing to do with what had happened in Bath, she told herself resolutely. She swallowed against the lump in her throat.
“Just do it, and we’ll see who comes out the triumphant man.”
Wayland made no answer, but his jaw tightened. He nodded tersely in what she hoped was an agreement, and they parted ways. As Katherine stalked across the ballroom in search of Lady Dalhousie, her stomach knotted.
Wayland wouldn’t offer for Elizabeth first. Her plan was sound. The moment he started flirting with her in earnest, he would drive her into Lord Bath’s arms.
But… Wayland was an attractive man, even if he didn’t have a title. And he was closer to Elizabeth’s age too. But tarnation, she and Lord Bath were so well matched! The thought of losing the match because Wayland had formed some kind of tendre for Elizabeth after keeping her company for one night burned the back of her throat.
Perhaps she ought to do as Mrs. Fairchild suggested and whisper to Lord Bath of the frailty of life and how he ought to hold onto the love he’d found.
Oh, with her luck, Lord Bath would propose to her if she tried! She was stretched too thin, her head throbbing with vigor, as she stopped along the wall and dropped into a vacant seat. Most of the debutantes in attendance were dancing.
“Lady Katherine, are you feeling quite the thing?”
Her luck was turning! It was Lady Dalhousie, and to Katherine’s surprise, she sounded genuinely concerned. When she sat next to Katherine, Katherine smiled wanly at her. “Lady Dalhousie, you’re just the person I wanted to see. I was hoping we could continue our conversation from last night about the person seen with Lady Rochford.”
Lady Dalhousie laughed, a throaty chuckle. “You’re as hungry for gossip as I am! But I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. I don’t have any further information other than a shadowy figure.”
“Could it have been Lord Rochford? Perhaps he wanted to speak to his wife alone.”
Lady Dalhousie pressed her lips together. “Are you implying he might have killed his own wife?”
Katherine tried to look aghast. That was exactly what she was implying, but she didn’t want Lady Dalhousie to know that. “Of course not! I simply meant that perhaps they stepped aside at some point for a moment alone, and that is what your servant saw. Before she fell over. Perhaps they had words and she went out for a breath of fresh air. I believe the common thinking is that it was an accident.”
Lady Dalhousie pressed her lips together. “Perhaps. I don’t recall where Lord Rochford was at the time she fell.” She leaned toward Katherine. “Of course, I wasn’t in the ballroom at the time, either. I had to help Lord Conyers with his friend who had had too much champagne. Poor chap is visiting from Italy, I believe. And here I thought they could hold their liquor.”
Katherine turned to gape at the old biddy. “You were with Lord Conyers when Lady Rochford fell?”
“Yes, that’s what I said. Helping his friend. The rascal was in no fit state to walk, so Lord Conyers, Mr. Erikson, and I piled him into his carriage. Lord Conyers wasn’t in much better shape, but at least he was walking upright.”
Although Katherine hadn’t answered, the gossip added, “Lord Conyers and I had just returned inside when a shout rang out, and there she was, in the garden.”
Lord Conyers was not the murderer. Katherine’s ears rang. Lord Conyers hadn’t been lying. Someone must have planted the ring in his planter. Mrs. Ramsey had seen the Rockford coach there the day after Lady Rochford died. That left only one suspect.
She had to tell Pru about this break in the case! She extracted herself from Lady Dalhousie and went in search of her friend.
As she made her way around a large pillar, she spotted Lord Bath’s flapping cuffs as he led Elizabeth into the shadow cast by two of the pillars. With the ball in full swing, no one appeared to notice that he’d taken her aside. Katherine, also shaded beneath that overhang, paused in her step, not daring to breathe lest she interrupt an important moment.
Lord Bath pressed Elizabeth’s hand to his heart and sank down onto one knee.
He was proposing already! Katherine stifled a gasp and hastily stepped back, hiding herself behind the pillar to give them a private moment.
Mrs. Fairchild found her there. “See? Child’s play. It only took Captain Wayland asking to fill her dance card later this evening and a whisper in his ear about the seriousness of the captain’s suit.”
So Wayland had done as she asked.
“You’re right. This match couldn’t have been made without you.”
Mrs. Fairchild smiled and inclined her head at the compliment. “Nor without you.”
At Katherine’s startled look, she continued. “And I do say your matches end in love. Like Miss Burwick and Annandale.” She inclined her head toward the dance floor, where Pru and Annandale were whirling around, joyous smiles on their faces, apparently oblivious to everyone else.
Katherine’s thoughts turned to the case. She was bursting to tell Pru that Lord Conyers had been occupied at the time of Lady Rochford’s death. They needed to make a new plan. Perhaps Harriett could talk to one of Lord Rochford’s staff and see if he really was indisposed the next day or if he could have gone to Conyers’s townhouse and planted the ring. If only the dance would end so she could discuss this with Pru and Annandale.
Miss Fairchild’s words interrupted her thoughts. “...though Miss Burwick is a bit eccentric. The two seem to fit. I daresay they will make a handsome wedding couple. I hear she has engaged the most expensive seamstress money can buy.”
“Mrs. Burwick will hear of nothing but the best for her daughter,” Katherine said with one eye on the dance floor. When would Mrs. Fairchild stop blathering on so she could catch Pru’s attention?
Mrs. Fairchild nodded. “It’s true, that seamstress is in high demand. There is a waiting list for her concoctions. I’m surprised Miss Burwick could get in.”
“Perhaps she took advantage of a cancellation,” Katherine answered absently. However, the moment the words left her lips, she recalled her visit to the shop the day after Lady Rochford’s murder, when the lady and her stepdaughter had missed the appointment in the morning.
Zeus! She did not have just one suspect left. She had two... and if her suspicions were correct, one of them might be unhinged enough to do something drastic. They had to talk to Mrs. Dillinger right away.
Glancing back at the crowd, she saw Pru swept up in Lord Annandale’s embrace, oblivious to the world.
Zounds! They were so wrapped up in each other that she didn’t have the heart to interrupt, not that Pru would notice even if she jumped up and down to catch her attention. Who else could she enlist? Lyle was at Bow Street. Wayland, perhaps? He’d done as she asked before, so maybe they could work together just this once.
She bade Mrs. Fairchild adieu and made a quick circuit of the ballroom. Wayland was nowhere to be found. Very well, she would follow the lead herself. After all, she needed to learn how to handle her investigations on her own, and there was no time like the present.
Still, as she paused on the threshold of the street, she left instructions for the butler to tell Pru where she had gone should she ask. For now, she was on her own.