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Why did he ever think he could have a holiday away from murder?
As Gabriel stared at the very dead body of the family butler, Mr. Alderson, he placed his hands on his hips and frowned. It was deuced cold in the icehouse by its very nature, and while he agreed it was the best possible choice to store the corpse, he couldn’t help but feel a variety of emotions.
Obviously, he’d known the deceased, for Alderson had been employed by the Bright family for as long as he could remember However, that didn’t mean he liked or even particularly enjoyed interacting with the man. The butler has always affected strong opinions, and he wasn’t shy about passing judgment onto anyone he felt made wrong decisions. To say nothing of the fact that he treated the rest of the staff as if they were so well beneath him they deserved horrid treatment.
Blocks of ice lined the walls since it was cold enough to support not melting. Crowded into the small space along with him were his brother, his sister-in-law, as well as Mrs. Tomlinson. He’d sent his son to his room until such time he could begin a proper investigation. The maid who’d found the body was also sent to her room for the same reasons, as well as her being overwrought. The remainder of the guests were distributed to the ballroom, where the staff had been instructed to set up tables and chairs where dinner would be served.
Above all, no one was allowed to leave the manor house, and certainly no one was allowed to leave the property.
“Surely you cannot expect to interrupt my house party by running an investigation.” Incredulity rang in his brother’s voice as Francis scowled at him. “This is highly irregular.”
“So is murder.” The butler’s body had been placed on a plank of wood that rested on blocks of ice the footmen had fashioned into a makeshift table. Currently, a bedsheet had been thrown over his body so that it was hidden from view. “And yes, until a county magistrate can arrive—the housekeeper informed me he lives on the other side of the county and that his schedule is quite busy—I will be conducting an investigation into the unlawful murder of Mr. Alderson. If you think to berate my qualifications, you can think again. I did not reach the level of inspector with Bow Street for lack of skill.”
“This is quite unsettling,” the viscountess murmured as she wrung her hands. “Whatever will we tell the neighbors?”
“That is not my concern just now,” Gabriel said, and no matter that he didn’t wish to appear or sound uncaring, the words in such an instance always sounded that way. “My first and foremost obligation is to the deceased, to determine who killed him, and to suggest to the magistrate that he or she be brought to justice.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you to have planned all of this just to spite me, Gabe.” His brother crossed his arms at his chest. “You were always jealous of me.”
Now was not the time to air the family’s dirty linens. “Let me disabuse you of that straight away. I have never been jealous of you. Your life and your decisions were never mine, and for that I’m exceedingly grateful. Second, murder is well within my purview, so unless you can provide me with the name of the person who murdered your butler, I will kindly ask that you and Lady Stanwick return to your guests.”
Francis huffed out a breath of apparent frustration. “Then you won’t be questioning either of us?”
“I didn’t say that.” Acutely aware of Mrs. Tomlinson’s presence as she stood quietly off to one side, he shook his head. “Everyone is considered a suspect until I can interview each and every person currently residing on this property.”
With her blonde hair pulled back into a simple chignon and an equally simple gown of navy taffeta that was devoid of any ornamentation, she had the look of a companion. But it was her cornflower blue eyes that caused a man to arrest their attention. Well, the eyes and her nearly full lips. The top one was slightly smaller than the lower, and he wouldn’t mind tasting them once more.
For long moments, silence reigned as their breath clouded about their heads in the frigid atmosphere. Finally, Francis nodded. “What of Mrs. Tomlinson? Why are you allowing her to remain here? Who is to say she won’t molest the body or remove clues that would damn her?”
A gasp of outrage escaped the widow, but to her credit, she said nothing. Instead, she stood there, her petite height of perhaps a couple of inches past five feet quivering with indignation, and he didn’t blame her. Francis had gone out of his way to be rude.
Why?
This was outside of enough. “Quite frankly, Mrs. Tomlinson is the first intelligent woman I have met during this house party, and since she hasn’t fallen into hysterics at the sight of blood or death, that is a good indication she has much common sense. I’ll require an assistant, so I shall ask that of her.” He held up a hand when his brother would have protested. “Is she a suspect? Yes, of course. The only person I can guarantee that didn’t do this crime is myself.”
His brother scoffed. “That is exactly what a guilty man would say.”
Gabriel clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “I’m sworn to uphold the law, so I wouldn’t lie about something like this.” He blew out a breath. “Having people in and out of the drawing room is a fluid situation in which someone could have easily slipped away to do the deed. Will I question her during the night? Of course. Now, return to your guests and I would advise you to appear calm and collected so as to not incite a panic.”
Francis’ gaze roved to the widow, and there was a certain familiarity and hunger in his eyes that puzzled Gabriel. Had they known each other prior to this event? “You won’t interrupt my schedule?”
“Not as much as I can help. I will set up my base of operations in your study and will call various guests and staff in for interviews until I can solve the case.” Oddly enough, knowing he had work to occupy his time during the house party cheered him. But then, he was well accustomed to the subject of murder.
Then the viscount delivered his parting shot. “Your son was standing over the body with a bloody knife in his hand. One would think that is damning enough evidence that you won’t need an investigation.”
Heat went up the back of Gabriel’s neck. “While that is true, what we see is often not enough to tell the correct story.”
“I don’t have much expectation of your talents, Gabe, for we both remember how you failed Penny.”
Well, damn. He’d wondered when his brother would mention their dead sister. “She has no bearing on this case, and you know it.” That time in his life had nearly broken him, but it had also put him on the path he currently walked. Firmly, he escorted Francis and his wife to the door. “Now, if you will excuse me? I shall begin.”
Once the door was closed behind them, Gabriel turned to the widow. “Mrs. Tomlinson, what I told the viscount of your character is true.” He crossed his arms at his chest. “I also do require an assistant. However, that being said, murder is no place for a genteel lady, so if you truly don’t have the fortitude or stomach for what the investigation will entail, tell me now.”
She gave in to a shiver, and belatedly he realized she had no protection from the cold. “Even though you managed to flatter me and then consign me to the helpless multitudes of feathers-for-brains females, I will indeed help you.”
“Thank you.” His grin of thanks only lifted one corner of his mouth.
As she came toward the body, she glanced between the sheet-covered corpse and him. “How is your son?”
“He’s upset, of course. I’ve confined him to his bedchamber until I can question him.”
“Perhaps that is for the best. I’ll speak with Mrs. Harley and ask that she send up regular trays for him. No doubt he’ll be hungry.”
“He will be if he indeed didn’t do the crime. Thank you for the kindness.” While he spoke, Gabriel removed the knife from the interior pocket of his jacket. He laid it atop the body and then carefully unfolded the handkerchief from around it. “This antique was brought back by my father from one of his multiple travels around the world.”
“It’s pretty.” She came closer, and as she rubbed her arms with her hands, he continued.
“When it rested in the curio cabinet on the left-hand side of the drawing room, the blade lay in a matching jewel-encrusted scabbard.”
“Yet when we saw Henry, he only held the knife.” The widow peered at the knife and the stain of blood on the blade. “Shortly before the maid screamed, I could have sworn Henry was in the drawing room talking with my niece and others of their age.”
“But were you watching them the whole time?” One of his eyebrows quirked. “There was much going on in the drawing room. Crowds constantly shifted and everyone moved throughout the room. Henry could have been there, or he could have slipped away.” Though it pained him to admit that his son could be caught up in this murder, he had to consider all angles.
“While that is true, to what end, though? Did your son not get along with Mr. Alderson?”
“I would have no idea. It wasn’t something I thought about, and from all I knew, they only dealt with each other in passing.”
“Yes, but consider this. There is no blood splatter on his clothing, so it’s unlikely he stabbed Mr. Alderson.”
“There is that.” He relaxed his posture slightly. “The butler has always been... intrusive.”
“Sometimes that is the nature of such positions.” Mrs. Tomlinson put her face closer to the blade and then frowned. “Are you aware there are no teeth on this knife?”
“What difference does that make? If it was plunged into the man’s chest with enough force, not only would it have pierced the skin but would have done damage to internal organs.” He appreciated where her mind was going.
“Not necessarily. May I?” She looked between the knife and his face. When he nodded, she picked up the knife with the handkerchief. With a gloved fingertip, she touched the tip of the knife. “See? It is quite dull.” Again and again, she poked her fingertip, but the blade neither pierced the kid nor did it draw blood. “I’ll wager it is nothing but a ceremonial dagger used in social customs or at dinners and affairs of state.”
Despite the circumstances, relief twisted down Gabriel’s spine. “Henry couldn’t have stabbed Alderson, even in a fit of pique.” It wasn’t a question.
“One wonders how much force it would take to drive a blunt blade into a man’s body, through several layers of clothing, as well.” Carefully, she wrapped the handkerchief around the knife and then gave it back to him. “Was Henry given to fits of rage?”
“Not recently, and certainly not from something the butler might have said to him.” He tucked the knife back into his interior jacket pocket. “Yet how did the blood come to be on this blade?”
The widow shrugged. “It would be easy enough to dip the blade in the puddle of blood. There were certainly copious amounts.” With the flick of her wrist, she edged the sheet down the butler’s body. Though she paled slightly, she bent down to examine the wound. “Ah, see how the edges here are ragged as if ripped by a serrated blade?” She pointed to the gaping wound in Alderson’s chest. “The fabric has also been similarly treated, as if someone had seconds of opportunity and rammed a blade through his chest, straight into his heart.”
His admiration and respect for this woman rose. “And possibly a knowledge of anatomy.”
“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean anything, for if this was an emotion-based killing, the murderer could have been stabbing blindly.”
Why did she know so much about crime? “Where did your knowledge come from?”
A faint blush spread over her cheeks, and he found it fascinating. “I am well read.”
“Ah.” His imagination caught fire, for he adored books too, and he suddenly wished to know what her reading appetite included. Then his gaze fell to the butler’s clothing. The buttons of his frontfalls had been done up haphazardly. One was mismatched with its corresponding hole. “That’s odd.”
“What?”
He indicated the buttons. “Why would he have been in the drawing room in such a state? Surely a man who had gained the butler’s position would pay more attention to his own presentation.”
“I’ll admit, it is strange, but perhaps we shall discover why as the investigation goes on.” When she shivered again, he replaced the sheet over the butler’s body.
“Come. You are freezing. Let us return to the house and get settled into my brother’s study.”
“Thank you. Remind me next time to bring a shawl or pelisse.”
As he escorted her from the icehouse, he made certain to lock the door and then he pocketed the key. He wouldn’t put it past anyone to come in and steal the body for some perverted reason.
“What’s next with this investigation? Do we begin tomorrow morning?” Interest wove through her tones.
Gabriel grunted. “We will begin immediately, as soon as we gain the study.” Deuced snow and cold! He shivered, braced himself against the driving snow, slipped twice for the precipitation had blanketed the pathway between the outbuildings and the manor house, and he wasn’t wearing his boots.
“That is quite ambitious of you.” The wind clawed at the widow’s skirting as they slowly made their way to the rear door.
“Murder doesn’t wait.”
“Why are you so driven, I wonder?” she asked as they entered the manor and then brushed the snow from their persons. “Does it have anything to do with what your brother said about a sister?”
Bloody hell.
He hadn’t spoken about that incident in a long time. “That is not a subject up for discussion.” Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, he quickly marched her through the corridors and then up the grand staircase to the second level. The low buzz of conversation and laughter reached his ears from the direction of the ballroom, but he ignored it, for he didn’t need a thousand questions from members of the house party.
Finally, they arrived at the study. He pushed open the door and then shivered again, for the room held an air of disuse about it. Where the devil did his brother’s man-of-affairs work on the ledgers? For that matter, where did Francis reply to his correspondence or any other sort of paperwork? “Let me start a fire.”
“I’ll light some candles.” As she busied herself searching through the desk drawers in the hunt of candles for the empty brass holders, she asked, “So, you wish to present yourself as the aloof man of mystery, hmm?”
“What do you mean?” Gabriel made short work of coaxing a fire into the grate. Once it was roaring, he replaced the ornate metal grate.
“Since you didn’t answer me when I asked why you were so determined, I’m going to hazard a guess.” A match flared in the semi-darkness, and when she lit a couple of candles, the golden light illuminated her face while the flames danced in her eyes. “Somewhere deep in your past someone you cared about, nay loved, died, and if I further my guess, quite violently.” She came around the side of the desk to join him in front of the fireplace.
“Is that all?” He cocked one of his eyebrows, curious as to how she’d end the speech.
“I also think since that time, you haven’t been able to forgive yourself for whatever happened, even if it wasn’t your fault.” The widow held out her hands to the fire. “Due to that time in your life, you set out with every case to make sure you solve it in honor of the victim... because you couldn’t save that one person—your sister.”
Shock roiled through his chest. Gabriel stared at her in both awe and a little fear. They would either rub along famously during the course of this investigation or they would argue toe-to-toe the entire time. Either way, various portions of his anatomy were entirely too interested, and he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by her.
Perhaps he needed to have this out of the way so it wouldn’t hamper their investigation. “Twenty years ago, my sister Penelope was snatched by a criminal in London while shopping with her maid. I’d been recently married, so my attention wasn’t on anything except my wife at the time. Though we called in Bow Street and even hired a man to privately investigate her disappearance, there were simply no leads.” A muscle in his cheek ticced from the memory, and the loss of his sister still had the power to tear up his chest.
“Yet you eventually discovered the truth.”
“Yes, unfortunately.” His throat constricted. “Late one night, a constable called at my father’s townhouse with the news that they’d found Penny’s body, dumped into the Thames, with obvious signs of strangulation and rape.”
“Oh, Inspector, I am so sorry.” When she briefly touched his arm, heat twined up to his elbow. “Did they ever find the perpetrator?”
“They did not. She was lost to the hundreds of women killed in London for the same reasons.” He shook his head. “It was a terrible time in my life—in my family’s life—and my brother always blamed me, especially once I changed the whole course of my thinking in order to join Bow Street.”
“And solving that case was your motivation to climbing the ranks of Bow Street.” Admiration reflected in her eyes. “With each case you are handed, you wish to alter the results of what happened to your sister.”
“Yes.” How could she know that about him? “You are quite something, aren’t you Mrs. Tomlinson? Losing Penny became my motivator, and I try to honor her memory with every case I take, but perhaps we should return to the task at hand.” He removed the bloody knife from the interior pocket of his tailcoat and then laid it on the desk, still wrapped in the linen.
When she flashed him a smile, need ricocheted down his spine. “If we are to investigate this murder, I assume we will spend copious amounts of time together. Please, call me Mary when we’re alone like this.”
“Very well.” He nodded. “If you have further questions regarding my sister, you may ask them when we are not engaged in searching for clues.”
“What a wonderful boon.” This second grin entirely transformed her face, and he stared again but for a different reason, for she was no longer a plain-looking widow, and those eyes of hers were enough to make a man hit his knees before her. “I will certainly make the time, Inspector Bright.”
“Gabriel.” He put a hand to his chest. “After all, we are alone.”
“True.” She glanced at the open door. “Perhaps you should tell me your story now.”
“Oh, no.” Though he wanted nothing more than to hole up here and sit next to her on the leather sofa, he had a job to do. “For the moment, you will be the first party guest I interview, and you can start with how you seem to know my brother.”
“What?” A gasp escaped her, and she sat swiftly down on the sofa as if the strength had left her knees. Some of the color leeched from her face. “What makes you think I know the viscount?”
“Don’t play coy, Mary.” More intrigued than he cared to admit, Gabriel settled into a matching chair near to her location. “I observed enough looks shot your way from my brother to realize there is a familiarity there. Additionally, he went out of his way to be nasty toward you in the icehouse, while you act as if you wish to run from whatever room he enters that you happen to be in. There is an awkward tension between the two of you that speaks of personal involvement.”
For several long moments, she stared at him with stony silence as their only companion. Uncertainty clouded her eyes, then her chin edged up a notch in a move he was beginning to know signaled stubbornness on her part. “What you first need to understand is the fact I was quite young and naïve. Much like my niece and your son are now.”
Hell’s bells. That didn’t bode well. “I’ll keep that in mind.” So saying, he removed a small, leatherbound notebook from his pocket as well as the nub of a pencil. Once he’d flipped to a fresh page, he inclined an eyebrow. “Feel free to begin any time.”
