The carriage came to a stop, and Eris braced herself for the unpleasant conversation she was about to have with her brother. She had to speak with him about last evening. She couldn’t let this happen again. Charles was her husband, and he deserved to be treated with respect.
As she walked up to the middle-class home her brother rented, she worked through how she would begin their conversation. She had to find the perfect balance between being kind and being firm.
Before she reached the front door, her brother opened it. In the past, she had joked that he should be a footman since he had the uncanny ability to tell when someone was coming by to see him. All he’d said was that he was a Runner, and it was a Runner’s duty to be aware of everything that was happening.
“I’m glad you came here,” Byron said. “I wanted to talk to you without your husband around.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “You did?”
He nodded and waved for her to enter his home. “I was going to have a word with you at the dinner party after we ate, but I didn’t get the chance since you ended up not feeling well.”
“Yes, I want to talk to you about that.” She passed him and waited for him to shut the door before adding, “I wasn’t pleased with the way things went yesterday.”
“Good. Then you’re aware of the problem.”
Surprised, her eyes grew wide. “Problem?”
“With Charles.” He took her by the arm and led her to the sitting room.
“Yes, I figured you didn’t like him.”
He stopped her in front of the settee. “Have a seat, Eris. I’ll get you something to drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
Despite her protest, he went to the pitcher on a nearby table and poured water into two glasses.
With a sigh, she got as comfortable as she could on the settee and waited for him to tell her what it was, specifically, that he didn’t like about Charles.
Byron came over to her and gave her one of the glasses of water. “I wasn’t sure if Charles was going to let you come here alone.”
“Why not?”
“I’m sure he suspects that I’ve figured out why he married you,” he said as he sat next to her.
“He married me because he loves me.”
“I realize he made you believe he loves you, but I happen to know that’s not the case.”
Not in the mood for something to drink, Eris set the glass on the table. “Why do you think he married me?”
“Money,” Byron replied. “It’s why most gentlemen marry ladies who are wealthy.”
“That’s absurd. Charles has plenty of money.”
“Jonathan had more. With some gentlemen, the more they get, the more they want, and sadly, no amount they acquire ever satisfies them. I think Charles saw a naïve widow who just came into a lot of money and decided to use that to his advantage.”
“It didn’t happen that way. Money isn’t why he married me.”
“You don’t see things the way they really are because you’ve fallen in love with him.” He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This is partly my fault. If I had any idea Charles was going to convince you to run off to Gretna Green to marry him, I wouldn’t have taken the job that took me out of London for those weeks following the funeral. It’s just that you’ve never done anything so foolhardy in the past. It took me by surprise.”
She shrugged his hand away. “I’m thirty-five, Byron. What was I supposed to do? Wait a full year and then go through a courtship and have all the banns read again? Unlike gentlemen, ladies aren’t able to have children whenever they want. As it is, I’ll be lucky to have children at my age.”
“Is that why you married him? You wanted children?”
“No. Yes. Well, it was part of it. I do want to have children, but that wasn’t the reason I married him. He wanted to be with me.” She pointed to herself. “Me, Byron. For the first time in my life, a gentleman actually cared about me.” When her brother gave her a look that expressed how sorry he was she believed what she was saying, she added, “Charles only came by to ask if he could have something that belonged to Jonathan. That’s how we started talking. There was nothing romantic in that first conversation we had. I didn’t even think I was going to see him again. Then when I took Reina to the market, he happened to be there, and we talked again. And from there, we talked some more, and we just fell in love. I admit I struggled with whether it was wise to marry so soon after Jonathan’s death, but when a lady gets to be my age, she doesn’t feel like waiting when there’s a gentleman who already loves her and wants to get married.”
Byron let out a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, Eris. The last thing I ever wanted was for you to be hurt.”
Heat rose up to her cheeks. “I don’t want your pity. Charles is sincere in how he feels about me. I’m sure of it.”
“My job is to know when someone is lying, and Charles is hiding something.” He took a drink of his water then paused as he searched for the right words to say next. “You know I keep quiet about the reasons people hire me. Well, I’m going to break that rule because you need to know this. Someone was threatening Jonathan. I saw the missives for myself, Eris. The person seemed convinced that Jonathan owed him money. Jonathan was baffled by it. He didn’t owe anyone any debts. I checked into Jonathan’s life to verify he was telling the truth, and he was. Jonathan’s history was impeccable. Whoever sent those missives wanted Jonathan to leave him money at secluded spots in London where the person would collect it, discreetly, of course, so no one would know about it. Jonathan refused to do it. My job was to find out who the person was.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t able to track the person down before Jonathan died. I think this person killed him.”
Eris’ eyes grew wide. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“There was no proof. Without proof, I can’t convict someone of a crime. I still don’t have proof.” He set his glass next to hers then took her hands in his. “Eris, I think Charles murdered Jonathan. I think that’s the secret he’s hiding.”
She gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing! “Charles and Jonathan were close friends. They’d known each other for a long time. Charles was devastated by his death. Whenever Charles talks about him, I can see the pain on his face. He never would have killed Jonathan.”
“Most of the time it’s the person who’s close to a person who ends up being the murderer. The person can be a family member or a friend. Murderers aren’t always acquaintances or strangers.”
She rose to her feet. She couldn’t stay here and listen to this. She just couldn’t! “You’re wrong, Byron. Charles doesn’t have it in him to kill someone. He’s a good and honorable person.”
Byron stood up and stopped her before she could leave the room. “He’s a good actor, Eris. He didn’t marry you for love. Of that, I am certain. You need to listen to me. I don’t think your life is in any danger, but I am continuing my investigation into this situation, and I don’t want you to be devastated if it turns out I’m right.”
“You’re not right. If Jonathan was murdered, someone else did it.”
When he shook his head, she pushed past him and hurried to get out of the house. She had known that talking to her brother was going to be uncomfortable, but she hadn’t thought it was going to be this horrible. Imagine him accusing Charles of murdering Jonathan! There was no way she could tell Charles this. Jonathan’s death had been so painful for him. This would only make things worse.
Byron followed her as she left the house.
“Eris, this is important,” he said as she climbed into the carriage. He told the coachman not to leave then hopped into the carriage and closed the door. He sat next to her. Ignoring her irritated groan, he said, “It’s possible Charles isn’t guilty. I’ll grant you that. The doctor might be right. It’s possible Jonathan did die from heart failure. But it’s also possible someone murdered him. In order to figure out what happened, I need you to get something for me.”
Since he was willing to accept the possibility of Charles’ innocence, she asked, “What do you want?”
“I told Jonathan to keep track of the places he went and the people he talked to. I asked him to get a small book to write in. This book would be small enough to fit into his pocket so he could take it with him when he left the townhouse. No one but me was supposed to know about the book. Even if the person threatening him didn’t kill him, he probably came across this person without realizing it. I need to see the names of everyone in that book.”
“If this book was so important, why didn’t you take it when you were in his bedchamber with the doctor on the morning of Jonathan’s death?”
“I couldn’t find it in the bedchamber. I’m not even sure he kept a record of where he went and who he spoke to. Just in case he did, will you search for a book with those things in it and bring it to me?”
If it was going to stop Byron from blaming Charles of something he never did, she would gladly do it. “All right, I’ll do that.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Charles.”
She glared at him. And to think she believed he was going to open himself up to the possibility that Charles was innocent!
“If a killer suspects they’ve been figured out, they might panic. If they panic, they’re likely to kill again to get rid of the person who suspects them of the crime. If it is Charles, and I’m not saying it is for sure, Charles might kill you. That’s why you can’t tell him anything. Also, you need to make sure that no one, not even a servant, sees you take the book if you happen to find it.”
“I’ll look for the book and bring it to you, but I’m not doing it because I believe Charles killed Jonathan. I’m doing it because I believe he didn’t. I want you to investigate the situation and realize you’re wrong.”
“For your sake, I hope I am wrong,” he said. He opened the door. “Be careful. This might be a dangerous situation.”
“I’ll be careful.”
He gave her a nod before he left the carriage.
***
Charles walked down the street toward the market. The pearl button and Jonathan’s small book were discreetly tucked away into the pocket of his coat.
He didn’t know what to make of the entries Jonathan had made in the book, but there had to be something important about them. A gentleman didn’t make such a meticulous record unless there was a good reason for it. Maybe Jonathan knew someone wanted to kill him.
The thought that Jonathan knew something this important but didn’t bother telling him about it hurt. He thought Jonathan had trusted him with everything. There wasn’t a single thing Charles ever kept from his friend.
It had nothing to do with your friendship. Jonathan was probably too scared to say anything.
Maybe Jonathan was afraid if he said anything to Charles, the killer would come after him, too.
But why would anyone want to kill Jonathan?
Charles hoped the answer would start with the identity of the person who owned the button he’d found that morning.
His steps slowed as he approached the only shop in London he knew that made buttons as elegant as the one he currently carried in his pocket. So much hinged on what the shop owner would tell him. He didn’t have the faintest idea who killed Jonathan. He’d been wrong about Eris and Byron. That didn’t leave him with many options left. If the answer wasn’t here, he wasn’t ever going to find out who murdered his friend.
He gripped the cane in his hand. He couldn’t fail his friend. The answer had to be here. The button had to be the proof he’d been looking for.
He released his breath and headed into the shop. The shop contained luxuries that enhanced a gentleman’s wardrobe. In addition to buttons, there were tie pins, jabots, premium gloves, and canes.
At the moment, the owner was speaking with a customer, so Charles chose to scan the collection of buttons. There was a surprising variety of them. Jonathan hadn’t had anything like these on his clothes. Charles took the button out of his pocket and, fortunately, the elaborate work done on some of the other buttons in front of him matched the quality of work done on the one he was holding.
Charles glanced over at the gentleman who was speaking with the owner. Charles didn’t recognize him. He was a younger gentleman. The gentleman made a comment about wanting to purchase an accessory that would best attract ladies. “I want to let them know I have sufficient money but not too much,” the gentleman said. “My father warned me it would be best to let my outfits express my wealth rather than coming out and saying I have money.”
“Your father is a wise gentleman,” the owner replied. “Most of the time, how we present ourselves is more important than what we say.” The owner glanced at Charles. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Charles indicated he could wait then turned his attention back to the buttons. He was certain the pearl button he was holding had been made here. There was no other shop in London that made anything so fine. Or expensive.
Who did Jonathan know that had so much money he could waste it on buttons? Charles considered himself to be well off. Jonathan had been more so. But neither he nor Jonathan had the kind of money to waste on buttons. This was a shop that only the richest in London could afford. It catered to the likes of Lord Edon and Lord Valentine.
Who else in London had this kind of wealth who would be capable of murder? Just as he was about to pull the book out of his pocket, the owner came over to him.
“I’m sorry for making you wait,” the owner said. “How may I help you?”
“I was wondering if you made this button.” Charles held the button out to him.
The owner took it and nodded. “Yes, I made a set of these.”
Encouraged, Charles straightened up. “Do you remember the gentleman who bought it? I found it while I was taking a walk, and since it’s such an exquisite button, I wanted to give it to the gentleman it belongs to.”
“It fell off his waistcoat? I assured him that when I sewed my buttons on clothing, they never come off. Oh dear.” He went over to the counter and pulled out a hardbound ledger. “I feel terrible about this. I really do my best to secure my buttons so this kind of thing doesn’t happen.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but it is.” He turned the pages of the ledger until he came to the one he was looking for. “I sold this button to Lord Hemmington.”
Charles’ ears perked up. He was sure he saw that name in the book, but he had to look at it again to be sure.
The owner reached for a piece of parchment and wrote on it. “When you see Lord Hemmington, would you please express my apologies? I want to make up for this incident. Tell him I’ll gift him another set of buttons, and I’ll make sure those are secure.”
“I’ll give him the message.”
“Thank you. Here is his address. He can stop in at any time for the new buttons.”
Relieved it was going to be this easy, Charles took the parchment and button then left the shop.
He waited until he was a couple of blocks from the shop before he sat on a bench. He put the cane next to him then took the book out of his pocket. He tucked the button into another pocket and then opened the book. He scanned through all of the entries, and on the third page, he found what he was looking for: Lord Hemmington. So he was right. Jonathan had talked with him.
He turned the pages. It looked like Jonathan had spoken with him a total of three times. One of them had been the day before he died. Charles forced down the lump in his throat. Now wasn’t the time to think of that final day, or the last time he had spoken with Jonathan himself. He had plenty of time to do that later.
He took a look at the parchment and noted the location of Lord Hemmington’s townhouse. It wasn’t in the same place Jonathan had met him. Jonathan had talked to him at Aldercy’s Club. Charles didn’t know much about the gentleman’s establishment except that it wasn’t like White’s which was exclusive. Anyone could go to Aldercy’s as long as they had a certain amount of wealth. If Charles remembered right, he hadn’t had enough two years ago when Jonathan tried to talk him into giving it a try. But his marriage to Eris might have changed that.
Charles glanced at the parchment. Which would be a better place to go? Should he try the townhouse or Aldercy’s first?
He tapped the parchment on the book. He should try the club first. Charles needed to be careful. The store owner believed he had found the button while walking in London, but Lord Hemmington would probably know differently. He’d been wearing the waistcoat the night he killed Jonathan. There was no way to know if he realized that button had come off while in the bedchamber or not.
Charles’ guess was that he hadn’t. He’d probably been too worried about placing Jonathan’s body on the bed so it looked as if he’d suffered a heart attack. The room had been neat and in order. Even Eris hadn’t heard anything from her bedchamber. Lord Hemmington had been careful to be quiet, and he’d made it look like he hadn’t been there. No one suspected the truth. Not the doctor. Not the Runner. Not the constable when Charles went to him about his concerns.
It was the perfect crime.
Charles folded the parchment and put it in his pocket. He couldn’t go to Lord Hemmington with the story about finding the button. That had worked for the shop owner, but it wouldn’t work for him. Charles had to come up with a different strategy.
He tucked the book into his pocket and went through his options.
Aldercy’s was a public place. If Lord Hemmington was there, Charles could go up to him and start a conversation. He had to figure out how Lord Hemmington knew Jonathan. He would have to be subtle.
Maybe he’d just start with a question about buttons. Then he would take it from there. Maybe he’d find a way to work Jonathan into the conversation, and maybe Lord Hemmington would say something that would give Charles the reason why Lord Hemmington had killed him. Then Charles could go to the constable with the reason and the evidence, and finally, at long last, the murderer would be held accountable for what he’d done.
Excited, Charles took the cane that was resting next to him and headed for Aldercy’s.