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“Good gosh, I’d have never imagined one of the Kettington sisters as a spy and murderer,” Chaz said over a glass of champagne.
It was the Saturday after Amelia Kettington had been arrested and we were all gathered in the ballroom at Wit’s End. Harry had decided to go ahead with the party and it was no astonishment that several invitees who’d previously made excuses suddenly found themselves able to attend. Scandal does draw a crowd.
“Poor Ethel,” Aunty Butty said, “she must be simply aghast.”
“But why did she do it? Amelia, I mean,” Miss Semple asked. She had been right behind Aunt Butty on her charge down the lawn and had seen everything, so we’d had to clue her in.
“Amelia always played the sweet innocent sister,” I said. “That was her role, if you will. Ethel was always so vocal about her dissatisfaction in life that Amelia felt she’d nothing to say. I think early on, she was probably just fine with the way things were. They’d a cozy home, enough money they could live—albeit simply—without too much worry, and they didn’t have to prance around the village and make appearances. No one expected anything of them. She could do what she liked, which was to sit at home knitting or reading.”
“Well, something must have changed that,” Chaz said, downing his champagne and snagging a glass off the tray of a passing waiter. In the background, couples whirled around the ballroom as Hale and his band, newly arrived from Paris via London, played a lively jazz tune.
“That something was Ethel,” I said. “All that dissatisfaction eventually rubbed off and Amelia started wondering what life would have been like if they still had their money, their home. She was especially upset that her sister was so unhappy. I don’t think she ever really understood that Ethel is the sort of person that derives pleasure from being unhappy.”
“Known a few of those in my lifetime,” Aunt Butty muttered.
“I’ve an aunt like that,” Miss Semple agreed. “Ghastly. But go on, Ophelia.”
“Well,” I took a sip of my own champagne. I’d have preferred a cocktail. “Ethel admitted she was approached several months ago by a man calling himself Barker and purporting to be from some big manufacturing firm in America who wanted to spy on one of Harry deVane’s businesses. He promised to pay a good deal of money, but she found the idea of spying distasteful and turned him down. Amelia decided then and there that since her sister was so unhappy with their circumstances, yet refused to do anything about it, she would. So she went after Barker and volunteered.”
“Was there ever a German spy?” Chaz asked.
I laughed. “Actually, no. It really was just a case of industrial espionage. One of Harry’s American competitors wanted information on his businesses. Simple as that.”
“That explains the break-in,” Miss Semple said. I hadn’t told them the truth about that.
“American. Don’t suppose that Mathew Breverman had anything to do with it? I see he’s not here tonight,” Chaz said.
“Actually, yes,” I said. “Harry finally admitted to Detective Inspector Willis that he had invited Breverman because he planned to try and get information about Breverman’s business from him. When the company documents went missing, he didn’t want Breverman to know, so he lied about it. He had no idea Breverman was behind the theft. Willis dragged Breverman off to jail this afternoon.”
“Banner day for him,” Aunt Butty said dryly.
“What about Chamberlain’s visit?” Chaz asked. “And the papers you found burned in the grate?”
“Apparently, it really was a total coincidence and nothing whatsoever to do with the theft.” I had promised Harry I wouldn’t tell anyone that he’d burned the documents Neville Chamberlain had brought just to be safe. He wouldn’t tell me what was in the documents, and I was guessing maybe it really did have something to do with Germany.
“But why did Amelia Kettington murder that man?” Miss Semple asked.
“Her handler, Barker? Because she was angry. He refused to pay her.” Because Binky had got there first and swiped the documents. “So she lured him to the house, claiming she had found further information, and killed him.”
“And, like you said, she thought you were close to discovering the truth, so she tried to kill you,” Chaz said. “Surprisingly strong, that woman. Hale said he had a devil of a time restraining her, even with Ethel’s help.”
“What will happen to her now?” Miss Semple asked.
“I imagine she’ll go to prison where she belongs,” Aunt Butty said tartly. “They may hang her.”
“Or lock her up in Bedlam,” I murmured. She had seemed rather deranged at the end.
“I, for one, am relieved it’s over,” Chaz said.
“Agreed. Shall we dance?” Miss Semple asked, threading her arm through Chaz’s.
“Sounds delightful,” he said gallantly, draining his glass before escorting her on to the dance floor.
“Ophelia, there you are.” Varant appeared at my side. “I wanted to let you know, Maddie was released and she’s upstairs getting some rest.”
“Thank goodness. Thank you, Var—Peter. It means a great deal to me that you helped her.”
He gave me a meaningful look. “I’m glad.”
“Speaking of rest,” Aunt Butty said, “I think we should get away for a bit, don’t you, Ophelia?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m getting itchy feet. I think we need an adventure.”
I stared at her aghast. “This wasn’t an adventure?”
“No, dear. This is Devon.” She patted my cheek. “Think about it.” She sauntered away to rope Harry into a dance.
“Care to dance, Ophelia?” Varant’s eyes were dark and alluring as he led me to the dance floor, but it was Hale who I watched as the clock ticked toward midnight.
––––––––
IT WAS LATE, THE PARTY winding down, many of the locals having taken their leave to find their own beds. The musicians were done for the night, but someone had put on the gramophone and Al Bowlly crooned “Love Is the Sweetest Thing.”
Moonlight beckoned so I stepped onto the veranda, inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. Above, the stars twinkled, and a night bird called, its haunting song echoing across the lawn.
“I was waiting for you.” A shadow detached from other shadows and Hale stepped toward me.
I moved out of the sightline of anyone watching from within the house. “I wondered where you’d got to.”
He reached out and pulled me against him, wrapping me close and leaning down to kiss me. His kiss was everything.
He finally pulled away. “For a moment, I thought I’d lost you. That woman—”
“Pish posh,” I said airily. “I had everything under control.” More or less.
He gave me a look that spoke volumes.
“All right, perhaps not that under control. Thank you for playing the gallant knight.”
He grinned. “Any time. Just perhaps keep your duels with old ladies to a minimum.”
“Not promising anything, but I’ll try.” I sighed and leaned against him. I’d no idea where this was going, but for now I was in the moment. And I meant to enjoy every bit of it. “Where are you off to next?” Because I’d no doubt he would be off. He was a musician. It was what he did.
“Back to Paris for a bit. The Hot Club de France has asked us to play for them. Then down to Nice. There’s a club there run by an American ex-pat. We’ll be there for a least a couple months.”
“Sounds marvelous. I do hope you have a wonderful time.”
“I’d have a better time if you were with me.”
That he felt that way, and was willing to admit it, warmed the very cockles of my heart. “Well, you never know. Mayhap Father Christmas will come early.”
Later that night I barged into Aunt Butty’s room, startling her half to death. “Aunt, you’re right. Let’s go on an adventure.”
She lifted a brow as she set aside her novel. “Do you have a particular place in mind?”
I grinned. “I might...”
The End
Coming in Summer of 2018
Lady Rample and the Silver Screen
Lady Rample Mysteries - Book Three
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