Mrs. Parker lived in a modest terrace in an uninspiring street in Camden Town. There was very little to recommend it except that it seemed like a quiet place to raise a family. The thin terrace was one of dozens lined up like cigarettes in a tin. They were all built from exactly the same cream brick with two wrought iron balconies attached to the first floor windows that were barely wide enough for two people to stand on. The front doors were all painted either black or dark gray, with the same iron knockers.
Mrs. Parker answered the door herself. She was a tall woman, aged in her late twenties, with clear eyes and a square jaw that firmed when we stated we’d come to ask her questions about the Warringtons. She scowled and went to close the door.
Harry stopped it. “We’re investigating the murder of Mrs. Warrington and your name was given to us by Scotland Yard.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t kill her!”
“Then answer our questions honestly so we can eliminate you as a suspect.”
“I’ve already answered the questions of a Scotland Yard detective. I don’t have to answer yours too.”
“That was in relation to the letters,” I said. “The murder changes things.”
“Not for me, it doesn’t. I didn’t do it.” She glared pointedly at Harry but he didn’t let go of the door. “Why would I kill Mrs. Warrington?”
“It appears to be a case of mistaken identity and he was the intended target, not her,” Harry said. “Where were you last night between the hours of ten and midnight?”
“Here.”
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
“My husband, a Scotland Yard sergeant.” She crossed her arms and her glare turned smug.
“Anyone else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“No. In my experience, husbands and wives lie for one another. Even ones who work for Scotland Yard.” He gave her a smug look of his own.
Her confidence melted away, slackening her features and rigid stance.
“We know you stopped writing those letters to Mr. Warrington,” Harry pressed. “Did you change tactic? Did you go to his house in order to prevent him blocking the bill?”
“No!” She clutched her throat—on the right side, no less. “I’ve only ever been to the Warringtons’ house once, last week. Not last night. Look, I feel sorry for the wife. If she was murdered instead of him, then that’s a tragedy. But it wasn’t me that did it.”
Harry thanked her, but I wasn’t finished. “On the night you went to their house, did you notice anything?” I asked.
“Such as?”
“Anything odd, out of place? Did you overhear any conversations or see anyone come or go?”
“I saw a woman and a man sneaking off together. I say sneak because they closed the front door softly, tiptoed down the steps, and hurried off along the street. Also, the woman was dressed in men’s clothes and a cap. But it didn’t convince me. Women walk like women, if you know what I mean. Changing their clothes doesn’t change their walk.”
“Can you describe the man?”
“Taller than me, neither fat nor slim. I didn’t really see his face.”
We thanked her and Harry let the door go. She didn’t shut it immediately.
“Is that why Mrs. Warrington was killed instead of her husband?” she asked. “Because she wore men’s clothes and the killer thought she was him?”
She was certainly clever. “Good day, Mrs. Parker,” I said. “Thank you for your time.”
Harry and I walked side by side in silence until we were several houses away.
“The man she described sneaking off with Mrs. Warrington must have been her lover,” Harry said. “It’s not Warrington. He’s not tall.”
“I think I know who it is.”
He stopped to stare at me. “How can you possibly know from Mrs. Parker’s vague description? It could be anyone.”
“It wasn’t all that vague. Not when you consider that Mrs. Warrington left the house with the fellow. She didn’t meet him outside, as she would a stranger to the household. Based on that description, it can only be one man.”
“The butler.”
I nodded. “No other man except her husband would be leaving the house alongside her. Mr. Henderson was also distraught over her death and was protective of her from the start. He didn’t like helping me when I was tasked with finding out the identity of her lover.”
“How distraught was he? More than a loyal butler should be?”
“I’ve never had a butler, loyal or otherwise, but not even Miss Jennet the lady’s maid was that upset over the death of her mistress. Based on what Mrs. Parker just told us, I think Mr. Henderson and Mrs. Warrington were lovers.”
“And he accidentally killed her, thinking she was her husband.”
“Precisely.”
Harry walked off. “We need to speak to him.”
I fell into step alongside him, having to quicken my pace to keep up with his long strides. “I’ve tried. He won’t talk to me and I doubt he’ll talk to you, either. Besides, what will we ask? Did you kill your lover thinking she was her husband?”
He eyed me sideways and his pace slowed. “Do you have a better idea?”
“We need to find the photographs or the negatives to prove he was her lover. He can’t ignore definitive proof.”
“Particularly if we threaten to take the photographs to the police,” Harry said with a sly smile.
“The problem is, it’s very likely that Mrs. Warrington collected them from the studio yesterday morning, but if there’s a chance she only picked up the photographs, and the negatives are still there, we have to try to retrieve them.”
“You’re suggesting we break in tonight?”
“No! I’m suggesting we go to the studio and one of us distracts the photographer and his assistant. The other will then search the premises for the negatives.”
He scoffed. “And what sort of distraction will get them both out of the studio long enough for a search to be conducted? I do hope you’re not planning to set the premises on fire.”
“Very amusing. Of course not. Not with you inside, anyway. I’ll think of something by the time we get there.”
Harry pulled out his watch from his jacket pocket. “Not today. It’s getting late. Shall we meet at the studio first thing in the morning? Say nine o’clock?”
“Tomorrow morning suits me. That’ll give me time to think.”
We parted ways, he heading to the railway station to catch a train to his parents’ house for dinner. I returned to the hotel, planning to search for Harmony, but changed my mind when I saw Mr. Trickelbank emerging from the smoking room.
I intercepted him without a clue as to how I was going to get him to confide in me. Our gazes connected and I smiled at him. To my surprise, he did not change course. He smiled back. Perhaps his sister’s death had changed his attitude. After all, he’d admitted to Mr. Hobart that he had a sister where before he’d denied it. Perhaps he would admit even more to me.
I would be as honest as possible and use Mr. Hobart’s tactic of honey rather than a blunt instrument. “Mr. Trickelbank, what a pleasure it is to see you again. I hoped I would bump into you. I do so wish to pass on my condolences on the death of your sister.”
“Thank you, Miss Fox.” He swallowed hard. “I, uh, should apologize. Last night at dinner you asked if I had family here and I claimed I did not. As you seem to have discovered, I have—had—a sister. Half-sister, to be precise. I can only explain my little lie by admitting that I felt some shame in my own circumstance. Since you know Isobel was my sister, you probably know how we are connected and that my father was not married to my mother.”
I put up my hands. “Speak no more about it. I completely understand.” This was going rather well. My hopes rose. “Mr. Trickelbank, may I ask you a few questions about her? You see, I am something of a private detective.” Harmony’s voice popped into my head, telling me to be more confident. “I mean, I am a private detective, and have been tasked with finding out who killed Mrs. Warrington.”
He rocked back as if he’d been pushed. “The police have arrested someone, I believe. Do you mean to say he didn’t do it?”
“The police think he did, but others believe not.”
“Who?”
“That information is confidential.”
He frowned. “I see. And you think I can help with your investigation?”
“You might be in possession of important information without knowing it.” I glanced back towards the foyer where a small group of guests mingled, chatting and laughing. We were at the far end, almost near the entrance to the senior staff corridor. The smoking room and billiard room were positioned side by side, out of the way so that gentlemen could enjoy their cigars and billiards in peace. “We need to find somewhere more private to talk.”
“The smoking room is empty. I just came from there.” He led the way and I did not hesitate to follow.
I was no stranger to the smoking room, having followed a suspect into it once. Although the presence of women in the gentlemen’s domain was frowned upon, we weren’t forbidden from entering. Well, I was forbidden, by my uncle. He was worried my presence there would signal that I was of loose moral character and, according to him, the reputation of the Bainbridge women was paramount. Since I had no wish to take up smoking, nor to rock the boat that he captained, I hadn’t argued the point. I didn’t plan on arguing the point now, but that was because I didn’t plan to be discovered. I checked the vicinity carefully before entering.
The small room reeked of smoke. It was so strong, I expected it would never come out, no matter how often the walls, floor and furniture were scrubbed. Mr. Trickelbank sat in one of the deep leather armchairs by the fireplace and I sat in the other. He removed a silver cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket and offered me one. I refused, and he put the case away.
“What is it you want to know?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I have to ask you a question that may make you feel uncomfortable. You see, I suspect that Mrs. Warrington had a lover.”
He arched his brows and a somewhat sly smile stretched his lips. “I see.”
“Do you know who he was?”
“I’m afraid not. I hardly knew Isobel. We didn’t grow up as brother and sister. I knew of her existence, of course, and she of mine, but we never met until our father’s funeral. Things were tense from the beginning between us. We exchanged letters, sometimes, but that was all. It was some time ago.”
“Perhaps she hinted at her life here in London in her letters. Can you think of anything? Did she mention the members of her household in passing, perhaps?” Surely he would notice if she talked about the butler in glowing terms.
He shook his head. “Nothing like that, but I do know theirs was not a happy union so that supports your theory of a lover. It wouldn’t surprise me if they both had one.”
“How do you know the state of their marriage if you were barely on speaking terms?”
“In the months after our father died, she tried to befriend me and so her letters were more honest, more open. I suppose she thought I’d be more likely to treat her as a sibling if we shared private matters, as normal siblings do.” He scoffed. “In one of those letters, she alluded to the marriage being loveless and it would never bear any fruit, by which I assume she meant heirs. She wrote that I shouldn’t feel sorry for her because she didn’t want any, and nor did he.”
“Heirs.” What an odd word to use. Most people would say children.
It suddenly clicked into place. The reason that brother and sister were estranged, the tension at the funeral, and the mention of heirs. Aunt Lilian’s friends had informed me that Mrs. Warrington was wealthy, having inherited her father’s fortune. Being the illegitimate child, Mr. Trickelbank had either inherited only part of it or none at all. It was entirely dependent on what his father left him in his will. If he’d left him nothing, or died intestate, Mr. Trickelbank might be aggrieved indeed to have been overlooked.
And with their father gone, he might take that anger out on the sister who inherited more than her fair share.
“Why are you here in London, Mr. Trickelbank?”
He looked taken aback by the question. “I have business to attend to.”
“Not to see your sister?”
“No. I haven’t seen her in years.”
I blinked innocently back at him. “Oh? But I heard you saw her on the afternoon of her death.”
“That’s a lie!”
Considering Miss Jennet had no reason to lie, I doubted it. I didn’t question him further about their meeting, however, and decided to press on. “Mr. Trickelbank, forgive me for being so crass, but did you inherit anything from your father?”
He shot to his feet. “These questions are outrageous!”
“It’s a standard question given the circumstances.”
He walked off and I saw my opportunity slipping away.
“You didn’t inherit anything, did you? That’s why you argued with your sister. That’s why you were estranged, because she didn’t give you anything and you felt you were entitled to a portion of your father’s fortune.”
He suddenly turned and stabbed his finger in my direction. His face was mottled with thick veins bulging on his forehead as he bared his teeth at me. I was glad I’d stayed near the fireplace and the fire iron but wished I was a little closer to the door.
“My father intended me to inherit half his fortune. He told me so on his deathbed. But someone made sure he never amended his will. Someone made sure she got the lot.”
“You think she coerced him?”
“Either her, or Warrington, or both of them. Politicians can’t be trusted, in my experience, and make no mistake, they might not have loved each other, but they were in that marriage together. They were a team. Her fortune was also his fortune.” He strode off, his fists closed at his sides.
I blew out a measured breath in an attempt to calm my jangling nerves. Despite the way our meeting deteriorated, I was glad I’d spoken to him. Not only was I more enlightened as to the nature of the Warringtons’ marriage, but I now had another suspect.
Mr. Trickelbank.
While there was no sibling love between Mrs. Warrington and her brother, she had reached out to him after their father’s death to try to heal the rift. But she had not offered him some of the fortune she’d inherited. Was that because her husband controlled the couple’s finances? Most husbands did, even when the fortune belonged to their wife. And if Mr. Trickelbank believed he never inherited anything because Mr. Warrington prevented his father-in-law from making a new will, then he might be very angry. Angry enough to kill him.
But why now? Mr. Trickelbank’s father died years ago. What could have triggered an anger so fierce that he decided to climb through the window and stab the person seated in the drawing room in the throat, thinking it was the man who orchestrated his misfortune?
I pondered this, as I went in search of Harmony, but came up with no answers. After word got out that I was looking for her, Victor, Peter, Goliath and Frank decided to convene an impromptu meeting in the staff parlor. The three front-of-house men had finished their shifts for the day, as had Harmony, but Victor was about to start in the kitchen. All were keen to hear an update on the investigation.
All except Goliath, who yawned between sips of his tea. He had a few hours off before he was due to resume duties as night porter.
“You ought to take this opportunity to rest,” I told him.
He squared his massive shoulders and puffed out his chest. “I don’t need rest. I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle and wide awake.”
Harmony rolled her eyes and muttered, “Men.”
I informed them of what I’d learned that day and we tossed theories around, but could not find any new angles to investigate. We agreed it was imperative to see the photographs of Mrs. Warrington with her lover to confirm if he was, in fact, Mr. Henderson the butler. My new theory about Mr. Trickelbank was harder to prove. Nobody could think of a way forward with that.
“Hopefully Harry will have some suggestions,” I said.
“Harry?” Peter asked.
“Mr. Armitage,” Harmony said with another roll of her eyes. “He made Miss Fox share the case with him.”
“That’s not fair,” Frank said.
“Mr. Warrington was his client to begin with,” I pointed out. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Two heads are better than one.”
The five of them exchanged glances.
“I mean, the extra head, on top of all of ours.” Oh dear, I’d offended them. “Tomorrow morning, Harry and I are going to retrieve the photographs or negatives from the studio, if they’re still there.”
“And if they aren’t?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“So that’s why Mr. Armitage was at the hotel earlier?” Victor asked. “He came to see you?”
I nodded. “Don’t tell anyone he was here. It’s best if my uncle doesn’t find out.”
“Are you going to tell us why Sir Ronald dismissed him?”
“It’s not my business to discuss. Speaking of the hotel and my uncle, Harry said he overheard him arguing with the chef. How are things in the kitchen?”
“Bad,” Victor said. “Chef doesn’t talk, he shouts. When he’s not shouting, it’s almost silent except for the sound of boiling and dicing. It’s like a morgue in there. Everyone’s afraid to speak.”
“And there are lots of dead things,” Goliath added with a chuckle. When Victor glared at him, Goliath swallowed heavily. “You know, fish, beef, pork…all dead…and you described it as being like a morgue…”
I rose. “You really must be tired if you’re making such dreadful jokes. Go home and get some sleep.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Goliath muttered as he stood.
Victor checked the clock then drained his tea. With a hand resting on the hilt of the largest knife in his belt, he gave a nod of farewell and left.
“Come along, Miss Fox,” Harmony said. “We’d best get started.”
I frowned. “Started on what?”
“Getting you dressed and looking your best for dinner.”
“That won’t be necessary. It’s just an informal affair with the family in the dining room.”
She frowned back. “No, it’s not. Lady Bainbridge told me you’re dining with friends tonight and I should help you to look your best.”
“Which friends? And where?”
“The Caldicotts, and here at the hotel.”
I groaned.
“You don’t like the Caldicotts?” Peter asked.
“I do like them, but everyone is trying to pair me with Edward, the youngest son, and I have no wish to marry him.”
“Or anyone,” Harmony, Peter and Goliath chimed in as one.
I narrowed my gaze. “Quite.”
Peter grinned, Goliath yawned, and Harmony shooed me out of the parlor with a flap of her hands. We parted ways and I headed to the foyer where I joined Flossy waiting at the lift door. I decided to ride it up with her instead of taking the stairs.
“Apparently we have dinner with the Caldicotts tonight,” I said. “Why was I not informed?”
“You would have been if you were here today. Where have you been anyway? And don’t say the museum. You can’t possibly have gone again. Nobody likes museums that much.”
“The British Museum’s collection is vast, and there are other museums in the city too.” It was neither a confirmation nor a denial, but I hoped that would suffice.
Flossy seemed keen to move on to other topics anyway. “So what are you wearing tonight? Something not quite so bleak, I hope.” She inspected my simple black outfit with a critical eye and a downturn of her mouth.
“Harmony will help me find something suitable. Something in gray, I think.”
She sighed. “Gray will have to do, I suppose.”
The door slid open and a couple dressed in evening wear emerged. They nodded at us and we nodded back before taking their place inside the lift. We greeted John the operator and rode the lift in silence until we reached the fourth floor.
“Is tonight’s dinner for my benefit or yours?” I asked Flossy in the corridor. “And when I say benefit, I use the term loosely.”
She giggled. “You do say the wickedest things sometimes, Cleo. I suspect it’s for both of us to spend time with the brothers, although my mother isn’t sure if the eldest is right for me.”
“Would you like the youngest? I’ll gladly direct him towards you.”
I wasn’t sure if Edward would be satisfied with someone like Flossy, however. While she was very pretty and could be a lot of fun and had a good heart, she was not all that clever, and I suspected Edward would prefer someone he could have a decent conversation with.
But men had chosen their wives based on having less in common, so a match wasn’t out of the realms of possibility.
“He won’t be any better in Mother’s eyes,” she said on a sigh. “She wants me to marry someone rich and from a distinguished family, preferably with a title.”
“Would she like him to farm flying pigs too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t want me to marry a farmer.”
I thought she was serious until she winked. We both laughed.
We stopped at the door to her suite, but she didn’t unlock it. “Mother simply wants me to marry the best man I can.”
“Shouldn’t you decide who the best man is?”
“Now you’re just being difficult on purpose, Cleo. You know how these things are.” She sighed. “The only problem is, if she insists that no one is good enough for me, I might never marry. I had my debut last year and I’m still unwed. More than half of the girls from my year are either married, engaged or on the verge of an announcement. Only the dregs from the bottom of the barrel are left.”
“That’s a little unkind.”
She gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t mean you, Cleo! You’re marvelous and if you had debuted when you were supposed to, you’d be married too, by now.”
We’d been through this. She knew I had no interest in marriage, so I felt no qualms about the glare I gave her.
She completely ignored it and rattled on as if nothing were amiss. “Speaking of your debut—”
“I must get ready,” I cut in. “Harmony will be waiting. I’ll send her to you when I’m done.” I strode off as quickly as I could without looking back.
“Tell her not to hurry. I’m having a bath first.”
Harmony was reclining on the sofa in the sitting room when I arrived, her shoes off and her feet tucked up beside her, the newspaper on her lap, about to slip off. Her eyes were closed.
The poor thing was tired. It was supposed to be her day off and she’d had to work all afternoon here after spending the morning investigating with me.
I let her sleep on and did my own hair after dressing in an off-the shoulder dove-gray dress with black lace trim on the sleeves and a twisted pattern in black beads down the front. I decided not to add any color to my lips and cheeks as I didn’t want to appear as though I were trying to be attractive to Edward Caldicott.
I delayed as long as possible before waking Harmony. “I am sorry,” I said as she sat bolt upright. “But Flossy is expecting you, and I didn’t want you to get into trouble for not showing up.”
She slipped on her shoes and stood. “Why didn’t you wake me as soon as you got in?” She adjusted her skirt and apron. “Did you get yourself ready?”
“Yes. I keep telling you I’m capable.”
She wrinkled her nose at my hair. “Let me fix it.”
“There’s no time. Flossy is expecting you.”
“But it could look better. It’s a little flat.”
“I quite like it like this. You’d better go. Then make sure you go straight home and get some rest. Between you and Goliath, it’s like a nursery around here.”
“Goliath?”
“A story for another time.” I gave her a little shove. “Off you go.”
I added some jewelry then decided to go to Flossy’s room for company while she got ready. That proved to be a mistake when Flossy took one look at my hair and asked Harmony why she’d done such a poor job.
“It’s so lifeless.” Flossy clicked her tongue as she pulled my hair free of the comb holding it in place at the back. “Do it again when you’ve finished with mine.”
“It isn’t Harmony’s fault,” I snapped. “I did it myself.”
“Why?”
“Er…Harmony had to mend this dress. I didn’t know I’d torn the hem last time I wore it. She didn’t have time to do my hair as well as the mending.” Thankfully the explanation met with Flossy’s approval, but she insisted Harmony re-do my hair.
At eight o’clock, Flossy and I ventured downstairs and joined her parents and brother in the dining room. It was good to see Aunt Lilian up and about after needing the day to recover from her headaches yesterday. She smiled at me, but her color was somewhat wan and her eyes hollow. She was not yet fully herself.
My uncle also seemed to be in a morose mood which didn’t bode well for the evening. He sat sullenly, surveying the room as it filled with his guests. He smiled at some, nodded at others, and greeted a few by name. But he lacked genuine warmth.
Aunt Lilian grew quiet. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the napkin, plucking at the seam. She constantly glanced at the door, perhaps hoping her friends would arrive soon and put an end to this awkwardness.
It could not go on. There was only one thing that would lift my uncle’s mood, but it also had the potential to sink it further if the discussion veered towards the recalcitrant chef. I would simply need to avoid mentioning him altogether.
“How are the plans coming along for the new restaurant, Uncle?”
“They’re still in the preliminary stages.” He signaled to the sommelier and indicated he’d like our wine glasses filled.
“But the Caldicotts haven’t arrived yet,” Aunt Lilian said under her breath.
“We can start without them.”
“When will we be able to view them?” I asked quickly. “The plans, that is.”
He blinked in surprise. “You want to see them?”
“Yes, very much.”
He gave Floyd a pointed look. “Then I’d be delighted to show them to you. Come past my office when I’m there, and you can look over what the architect has already sent.”
Floyd crossed his arms and sank into the chair. “I was going to ask to see them,” he muttered.
“Eventually,” Flossy added.
Floyd shot her a withering glare.
Oh dear. I’d put my foot into something I wished I hadn’t.
Thank goodness the Caldicotts arrived. Once pleasantries were over, the party divided according to topics of interest. The two sons, seated beside Flossy and me, were keen to talk about business with the other men, so they constantly talked past us. Their mother eventually noticed during the soup course and tried to steer the conversation to something more agreeable to all. Unfortunately, she put me in the firing line.
“Have you made a decision about your debut, Miss Fox?” she asked in a loud voice.
I choked as my mouthful of soup went down. “I’m not doing my debut. I’m too old.”
A round of polite rebuffs followed in which my age took center stage. It was all rather embarrassing, and I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
To my surprise, it was Edward who came to my rescue. “Leave Miss Fox alone, Mother. She doesn’t want to do her debut and that should be the end of it.”
Considering it was not up to his mother whether I did my debut or not, Aunt Lilian felt his rebuke more than Lady Caldicott. She fell silent and concentrated on her soup. Lady Caldicott scowled at Edward.
The older men returned to their discussion about the hotel’s plans for expansion while Floyd and the elder Caldicott brother discussed the motor car business. Edward leaned a little closer to me.
“I’m sorry for that,” he said quietly. “My mother has a habit of sticking her nose into things that do not concern her.”
“Thank you for diverting her attention, but I can fight my own battles.”
He smirked. “I don’t doubt it.”
“What’s this I hear about you not going on your Grand Tour?”
His smirk turned to a genuine smile. “Have you been talking about me?”
“Your mother made a point of telling me.”
His smile slipped. I think I’d disappointed him by admitting that I hadn’t been the one to initiate that conversation. “It’s true that I’ve delayed my departure.”
“Whatever for?”
“A matter here has caught my attention.” A slight blush rose to his cheeks and he could hardly meet my gaze.
I focused on my soup, finishing it amid awkward silence. If I was the matter he was referring to, I ought to tell him that we had no future together. But what if I were wrong and he meant something else? It would be positively humiliating to tell him I had no wish to pursue a relationship with him when he was referring to an investment opportunity.
“Don’t put off traveling, Edward,” I said. “Not for anything.” I paused, waiting for him to lift his gaze to meet mine. When he did, I added, “Or anyone.”
The waiters came and collected our soup bowls. Edward hardly seemed to notice as his was taken away. His fingers absently stroked the fish knife before stilling. He turned to me, and I was left in no doubt of his meaning. His gaze had turned earnest, hopeful.
I steeled myself for what was to come.
“It’s early days,” he said softly, “but I think the matter will be worth delaying my travel plans for. Perhaps even delaying them indefinitely.” He shifted in the chair, angling himself ever so slightly to me. “At the very least, I should stay in London and throw my hat into the ring.” His knee touched mine.
I jerked away. “It won’t be worth the delay.”
He swallowed hard. “I see,” he said heavily.
I regretted my bluntness, but it was a situation that required it. It wouldn’t be fair to allow him to hope.
“Flossy,” I said, perhaps a little too brightly. “Did you know Edward is going traveling soon. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Oh yes,” she gushed. She looked relieved to be included in a conversation. The poor thing had been stuck between Floyd and the other Caldicott brother, talking over her head. “Are you going to Paris?”
“I plan to spend a week there,” Edward said.
“And America?”
“I’ll be staying in Europe.”
The three of us enjoyed a pleasant conversation about European countries with no awkwardness whatsoever. When the evening came to a conclusion at midnight, Edward made a point of thanking me for my honesty.
“Very few ladies would be as frank as you, Miss Fox. You are quite remarkable in that regard.”
“Frankness is not necessarily an admirable quality. Sometimes life is easier when one is not so blunt.”
“But an easy life is a dull life, is it not?”
I smiled. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him. “If I don’t see you before you leave, I wish you safe and happy travels.”
He took my hand and bowed over it. “I’d like to tell you all about it when I get back.”
“I look forward to that.”
From the smile he gave me, I suspected I’d inadvertently given him back some hope. From the way his mother kissed my cheek in parting, I was certain she held out a great deal of hope.
I sighed. One day, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, I would be too old to be considered a suitable prospect and I could be free of matrimonial-minded mothers, and aunts. Until then, I would need to be on my guard.
It wouldn’t be easy. Being a member of the Bainbridge household was like being a warrior on a battlefield. I would have to remember to keep my head down and my shield up.
My breakfast was interrupted the following morning by a brisk knock on the door. To my surprise it was Mr. Hobart. I did not invite him in, since there were two cups and two plates on the table in the sitting room. I didn’t want to get Harmony into trouble. Fortunately he didn’t ask to come in.
He looked troubled. “Harry is downstairs in my office and wishes to speak with you urgently.”
“Is he all right?”
“He received a message early this morning. Mr. Warrington has been stabbed.”