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The police station stood near the middle of town, a grim, brick building with a plain facade and an air of gloom. I took the wide steps up and let myself in through the front door. The uniformed officer behind the counter glanced up and gave me a cursory look.
“May I help you, madam?” He said the last word the same way a person might say “tart.” And I’m not speaking of the pudding version.
“Lady Rample,” I corrected him haughtily. “I would like to see Maddie Crewe.”
“I’m sorry, Lady Rample, but nobody can speak to prisoners ‘cept their solicitors.”
“Very well. Has her solicitor been to see her yet?” Aunt Butty had called a friend of hers in London before our foray to the folly. He had assured her that someone would be sent post haste.
“Yes, madam.”
I gritted my teeth. “I would like to speak to Detective Inspector Willis.”
“He’s out, madam.” The officer looked down his misshapen nose. It looked like it had been broken in a bar fight. Or perhaps he’d irked his wife one time too many. “Might I take a message?”
“No. Thank you.”
I turned around and marched out, practically quivering with annoyance. It’s not that I minded people mangling my title. It was his attitude. And the fact he wouldn’t allow me to see my maid. Poor Maddie must be terrified. But at least the solicitor had been to see her, so that was something. Still, I couldn’t rest easy until I’d seen her with my own eyes. What to do?
I knew of only one person who the police might actually listen to. He’d helped me before. Perhaps he would again.
I climbed into my car, revved the engine, and pointed the bonnet in the direction of Fair Woods.
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FAIR WOODS HAD BEEN in the Varant family since the Norman invasion of England. One of Varant’s ancestors had done something noble and been awarded with the land. No doubt the first Varant had built a lovely castle, but what now stood there was a massive Georgian structure, deceptively simple, but brimming with history and wealth.
It was in a marginally better state than Varant’s London home, which was a study in shabby gentility. It wasn’t that Varant didn’t have the money to update things, but rather that he chose to pour his money into his land and businesses. Which made a great deal more sense than dumping a fortune into new carpeting if you ask me.
His butler, Kenworth, greeted me with all the aplomb due my station. I held back a smirk and let him get on about his business. Carrying my card on a silver salver was so last century.
Within minutes Varant had joined me in the parlor and was bending over my hand in a suave and gentlemanly manner. He was handsomely dressed in a simple but elegant gray morning suit that set of his physique nicely. I couldn’t help but compare him to Hale.
Both men were equally handsome and well-built. But where Hale was himself without pretense, Varant had a smooth veneer of sophistication that was difficult to penetrate. When it came to women’s rights, I’d no idea where Hale stood, but knew that Varant had supported me in my recent endeavors. But would he continue to do so? And did he truly support the equality of women? Or was it just Varant being...polite? Trying to impress me? I’d a feeling there was much about the man I didn’t know. May never know.
As for which man was the more proper of the two? Well, that went without saying. Society would always choose Varant. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to. Although I did find him decidedly attractive. Not that any of it mattered anyway. As I’d told Hale, I’d no intention of marrying again. And I didn’t need to, thanks to dear Felix.
“My lady. What a surprise. Welcome.”
“Lord Varant,” I said with a smile. “Thank you for seeing me. I know it’s rather cheeky popping in like this.”
“Peter, please. I am always available for you, Ophelia.” The way he said my name sent shivers to intimate places and made me think of very naughty things indeed. Perhaps I wasn’t as unaffected by him as I’d like to think.
I cleared my throat. “I could use your help, Peter.” It felt strange. I was so used to thinking of him by his title. “I’m in a bit of a sticky wicket, as they say.”
“Oh, do tell.” He sat down in an armchair across from me and neatly crossed one leg over the other. Before I could so much as open my mouth, Kenworth reappeared with tea and biscuits which he left next to me.
While I poured, I told Varant of the break-in—something he already knew, having received a call from Harry—and the dead man in the study—which he did not. “They’ve arrested my maid. Ridiculous nonsense.”
Varant took a sip of tea. “Why ever would they arrest a maid?”
“She’s the one who found the body. I think Willis is cooking up some nonsense about a lover scorned or something. Maddie has no lovers. Certainly not out in the wilderness of Devon.”
He gazed at me thoughtfully, expression revealing nothing. “I’m not certain what you want me to do about it.”
I bit into a biscuit, hoping I didn’t get crumbs down my front. “The police won’t let me see her. Maddie. I want you to get me in, so I can talk to her. Make sure she’s alright.”
“I can probably arrange that.” He eyed me carefully. “But there’s more to this, isn’t there? There’s got to be a reason Willis suspects Maddie other than that she found the body.”
I cleared my throat. “There would be if he knew about it.”
Varant lifted an eyebrow. I noticed he ignored the cookies. Probably why he was so fit.
I sighed. “Maddie was born in Germany.”
“And you think with the break in...”
I nodded. “He might think she’s a spy, or some ridiculous nonsense. She’s not, of course. She’s Jewish.”
His other brow went up. “Indeed?”
“Her parents left Germany when she was but a babe. She grew up here. She’s nearly as English as you or I.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that, but she would certainly have no cause to spy for Germany.”
“So, there is a German spy running amok,” I said eagerly. “But why here? Why in Devon?”
He didn’t respond, but instead took another sip of tea while looking enigmatic. “I’ll have a chat with Willis.”
“Thank you.” I wanted to prod him more about this spy thing and Neville Chamberlain and his visit to Harry deVane, but the minute I opened my mouth to ask, he interrupted. Unusual for Varant who was a perfect gentleman at all times.
“Thank you for coming, Ophelia, but I must be off. Got to keep this place running.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’ll have Kenworth give you a ring when I’ve arranged things with the police.”
“Thank you, Varant. Peter. I truly appreciate it.” There was nothing I could do but allow him to help me to my feet and show me to the door. But as I walked down the gravel drive toward my car, I was more confused than ever. I had a feeling Varant was hiding something. Something to do with spies.