Harry wasn’t in his office the following morning when I arrived at ten-thirty. Nor was he in Roma Café. Luigi hadn’t seen him.
“Where do you think he could be?” I said to no one in particular. “It’s not like him to be this late to the office.”
Luigi picked up a cloth and began wiping one of the cups he’d just washed. “Maybe he slept in.”
“Maybe he has a woman,” said one of the old men in a thick accent.
His companion nodded knowingly and said something in Italian. The first one chuckled. They both looked at me, smiling like naughty teenaged boys.
“Your English is better than I thought,” I muttered.
“Ignore them,” Luigi said to me. “They don’t know Harry.”
I considered asking him if Harry had ever mentioned a woman to him but decided against it. I didn’t want to know the answer. Well, I didn’t want to know if the answer was yes.
That didn’t stop my mind from wandering in that direction. Perhaps he’d been waiting outside the Druitt-Poore’s house to collect someone from the ball. A pretty widow, perhaps, or a maid finished for the evening. She would be pretty, too, of course. He might have met her when he went to the Searcys office without me. The maids and footmen must go there from time to time to collect their pay and ask about future work.
“Miss Fox?” Luigi said. “Did you hear me?”
“No. Sorry. I was miles away. What did you say?”
“Do you want me to give him a message?”
“No, thank you. I’ll come back later.”
My plan for the morning didn’t require two people. Indeed, it might be better if just one of us confronted Mr. Livingstone.
Last time Harry and I called on him, he’d sent us away with blustery anger. I’d hid my face by lowering my hat brim, but this time I kept it up. I wanted to see his reactions and that meant allowing him to see me.
He tried to have his butler send me away this time, too, but I insisted. I told the butler to tell Mr. Livingstone that I would inform Scotland Yard of his accusation from the previous night. I was shown up to his study without delay. I was very glad not to be shown into the drawing room where Amelia was more likely to walk in.
Mr. Livingstone did not invite me to sit, but I sat anyway. Some things couldn’t be discussed standing up like a soldier. I wanted to be delicate, gentle, and a picture of feminine sympathy. Honey was better at catching flies than blunt hammers.
I left the door open and could hear the butler shuffle his feet just outside.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Livingstone. I’m sorry to arrive unannounced like this.”
If my polite, ladylike manner caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. Although he was clean shaved and superbly dressed, he looked like he’d only just crawled out of bed. A gentleman who’d drunk himself into a state the night before can look immaculate of a morning thanks to an efficient valet, but he couldn’t hide the pallor of his cheeks or his bloodshot eyes.
“You again,” he snapped. “Is your superior not with you this time?”
“Mr. Armitage is my associate and no, he is not here.” Despite his hostility, I felt immeasurable relief that he didn’t recognize me from the ball. I’d deliberately worn plainer clothes today, knowing I was coming here. “Regarding last night’s outburst—”
“That’s none of your affair.”
“On the contrary. Scotland Yard are very interested in what you had to say, and as I consult for them, I was duty bound to inform them. They know I am here, speaking to you on their behalf.”
He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Who are you? I swear I know you.”
“I work for Searcys as a temporary maid. I’ve been hired by the hostesses of several balls you’ve attended, including the Druitt-Poores.”
“You don’t sound like a maid.”
Drat. The dress hadn’t been enough to fool him. I should have put on a Cockney accent. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Mr. Livingstone. To the matter at hand. Last night, you barged in on the Druitt-Poores’ ball.”
“I didn’t barge in. I was invited.”
“As was your daughter, I believe.”
“How does a temporary maid know that?”
“Miss Livingstone failed to attend, however. Did you deliberately leave her at home, knowing you would be involved in an altercation?”
He sat back heavily, all the fight having suddenly left him, as if my accusation had punched it out of him.
“Mr. Livingstone, did you mean what you said last night?”
He swallowed heavily. “Wh… What did I say?”
“You said you would have your revenge on the gossipers, and that the last person who wronged your daughter found his way to an early grave
He closed his eyes and groaned.
“Mr. Livingstone, you must see how it looks. You implied that you killed Ambrose McDonald after he spread rumors about Amelia. We know you met with him in the library just a short time before he died. Is that when you did it?”
His eyes sprang open. “It wasn’t me! I have an alibi.”
He remained seated, allowing me to relax a little. Accusing him in his own office had been a gamble, but one I’d been prepared to take. It could have gone terribly wrong, however, hence I’d left the door open.
I flexed my fingers around the knife I held inside my pocket but did not release it. “You didn’t mention an alibi last time we spoke. Nor did you deny going to the library.”
“That’s because I did go to the library to speak to McDonald. But someone saw me leave and must have also seen McDonald alive at that time. I didn’t mention the witness last time because I was hoping to keep his name out of it. We met outside the library and went to a sitting room. The room was decorated in a lot of pink.” He wagged a finger at me. “I remember seeing a large stuffed ginger cat by the sofa. Ugly looking thing. That’s why I remember it.”
“Rooms don’t make very good alibis. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me who you were with and why.”
“He’s a gentleman who wanted to negotiate terms for the marriage of Amelia to his son. A fine, noble gentleman of upstanding character; determined too. He was prepared to agree to very favorable terms. You see, there were several others vying for Amelia’s hand, so he wanted to work quickly.” A flicker of pain crossed his face and he lowered his head. He pressed his fingers into his eyes. “I cannot believe this is happening. It was all going so well. The suitors lined up to dance with her. They were captivated by her beauty, her wit and charm. And with my money, she could have had her pick of them. I managed to secure the best for her. With the deal as good as sealed, I refused to bow to McDonald’s demands for his silence. I refused to pay him.”
“You told him that when you met with him in the library?”
“Before that. At the beginning of the night. It was much later when I asked to meet him in the library. As soon as I heard the first rumor blackening Amelia’s good name, I knew I needed to do something quickly. So I met with McDonald again and promised to pay his dirty money if he stemmed the tide of his vile gossip. Then I left the library and that’s when I met my daughter’s future father-in-law.”
“You sealed the deal with him.”
He gave a nod, but it was not convincing. I suspected the terms of the agreement required Amelia to remain pure. Mr. Livingstone knew the deal had been snatched from his grasp at the last moment.
It sounded like a business arrangement because that’s precisely what it was. For people like the Livingstones, emotions rarely mattered when finding a marriage partner. Feelings counted for nothing. The best deal for both parties was all that counted. Last night’s outburst had been a result of Mr. Livingstone knowing the deal was off.
“Who was the gentleman?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I haven’t seen him since…” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen him lately. I need to speak to him before…”
“I need to speak to him to verify your alibi.”
He picked up his pen and dipped it into the ink. “No. Out of the question. I can’t have you badgering him.”
I stood. “I understand. Unfortunately I’ll have to inform Scotland Yard of your reluctance to co-operate. They’ll return shortly, at which point one of two things will happen. You will give them the name of this so-called alibi—"
“’So-called!’ But he exists!”
“And your neighbors and staff will see the uniformed policemen and wonder why they’re here. Or you will refuse to answer their questions so the police will be forced to interrogate the guests at the Bunburys’ ball and discover which gentleman you met. Again, the uniformed officers may cause a stir.”
His nostrils flared. “You know how to get your way.”
Honey be damned. Sometimes hammers were the only thing that got the job done. I waited patiently for him to write down a name and address on a notepad. He tore off the page and handed it to me.
The name came as a surprise. I knew it, although I’d never met him. I schooled my features so as not to give away to Mr. Livingstone that I was a guest at the ball, not a maid, and was familiar with the family.
I headed back to Harry’s office. I wasn’t sure I wanted to confront Mr. Livingstone’s alibi on my own. Indeed, I wasn’t sure I should confront him at all.
What if Jonathon was there? What would he do if he saw me speaking to his father?
I spotted Harry in the café through the window, chatting to Luigi at the counter and sipping coffee. They both looked around upon my entry.
“Ah, there she is,” Luigi said, as if they’d been talking about me. “Coffee, Miss Fox?”
“Yes, please.” I asked Harry to join me at one of the tables. “You’re in late today.”
“I slept in.”
“Late night, was it?”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. He showed no signs of tiredness so he must have got some sleep.
“Did your late night have something to do with the investigation?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you attend a party?”
“Nothing like that.”
“So you were at home? Or someone’s home, if not your own?”
His gaze narrowed. “No.”
“A gentlemen’s club?”
“Can I not sleep late from time to time without being subjected to an interrogation?”
“I wouldn’t be a good detective if I didn’t at least try to get some answers.”
“A good detective knows people don’t always answer truthfully. She would try to get her answers elsewhere then confront her suspect with them.”
Luigi deposited a cup of hot coffee in front of me. I waited until he left before I spoke again.
“Is that an admission that you’re going to lie if I ask you what you were doing last night outside the Druitt-Poore’s place?”
He lifted his cup to his lips and sipped, but I saw the flicker of surprise pass over him before he schooled his features.
When it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, I pressed on. Even if he remained silent, I might read something in his face. “Were you there for me?”
He laughed. “I never guessed you to be so arrogant or vain as to think a man would wait for you on the slim chance you’ll happen to pass by and see him.”
I held his gaze for a long time without speaking. He didn’t look away. At first, I was a little put-out by his teasing dismissal. Perhaps he did think me arrogant and vain. But then I realized he had said that to distract me from pursuing the truth.
“I see,” I said. “Nicely done.”
“What is?”
“You haven’t answered my question.” I picked up my cup with the fingertips of both hands. “Very well. I’ll allow you to keep your secrets.”
He smiled. “How magnanimous of you.”
“It’s none of my affair anyway.”
His smile faded.
I sipped my coffee, relishing the bitterness on my tongue. It was just what I needed after a night out.
Clearly Harry’s night had finished later than mine. Perhaps it had only really begun when he collected his companion from outside the Druitt-Poores’ house.
“Luigi tells me you were here an hour ago looking for me,” he said. “Sorry I missed you. Did you learn something at the ball?”
“I learned that Mr. Livingstone has a violent streak when he’s drunk. He also threatened anyone who gossiped about his daughter, saying the last fellow who did went to his grave. It sounded like an admission.”
“It does.”
He didn’t seem like he’d just heard about the incident for the first time. There wasn’t even so much as a ripple of his eyebrow in surprise. He must have already heard the details from the companion he met last night.
Harry drained his cup and indicated mine. “Finish up and we’ll pay a call on Livingstone.”
“I already have.”
This time his brows arched. “Without me?”
“You weren’t in yet, remember?”
He scowled. “You know where I live. You could have found me there.”
“And interrupt your…sleep?”
His scowl deepened.
My hesitation might have sounded like suggestive teasing, but I was genuinely interested in whether he’d taken a woman back to his flat after the ball. Interested and somewhat jealous, if I was being honest.
I shook off the thought. Jealousy was ugly at the best of times. It was even uglier when I’d purposely placed physical and emotional distance between us. I had no right to be jealous.
I focused on the investigation and told him about Mr. Livingstone’s alibi. “The fellow met Livingstone outside the Bunburys’ library. They had some important matters to attend to. Livingstone claims the gentleman would have seen McDonald alive then. I think we should confirm with him.”
He nodded. “Who is he?”
“Lord Cremorne.”
“Jonathon Hartly’s father?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. Hartly is a regular at the hotel, and I made it my business to know everything about everyone, even if they didn’t stay with us.”
“Even though he was just my cousin’s friend?”
“He still expected the finest service. If Hartly wanted his shoes polished at midnight, I organized it. If he liked strawberries out of season and the kitchen didn’t have any, I rang all the nearby markets and restaurants in search of hothouse fruit. If he stayed overnight in a drunken state, I made sure his family were notified and a cab collected him in the morning.”
“That was kind of you.”
“Kindness had nothing to do with it. That’s what I was employed to do.”
Talk of him working as assistant manager for the hotel had me wondering what it would have been like if he was still employed there. The situation between us might be awkward now, but it would have been doubly so if he’d never been dismissed.
We paid Luigi and left the café. It wasn’t until we were climbing into an omnibus that Harry asked me why Mr. Livingstone met with Lord Cremorne at the ball.
“Apparently they were negotiating terms for the marriage between Amelia and Jonathon.”
He stopped. I stopped too when I realized. “Hartly is marrying?” he asked.
“Not anymore. I doubt it will go ahead, considering her reputation has been smeared. I’m sure Lord Cremorne would have put it in writing that she must be above reproach.”
He indicated spare seats near the back. “I thought he was pursuing you.”
“So did I, in his own dreadful way.”
His head titled to the side to look at me as he sat beside me. “Dreadful?”
I sighed. “He seems to think his title and wealth make him irresistible to someone without those things. It sometimes makes him unbearable to be around.”
“Unbearable is putting it lightly,” he muttered. “He shouldn’t have tried to court you while his father was in negotiations with Livingstone.”
“I don’t think he knew.”
He merely grunted.
Lord Cremorne lived on Chapel Street, a stone’s throw from the grounds of Buckingham Palace. The townhouse was handsome rather than elegant, however, and not overly large compared to some I’d been in, but it would have cost a fortune to purchase. I tilted my head back to take it all in.
“They only moved in five or six years ago,” Harry said. “I recall Hartly complaining to your cousin about its size. The house they owned before it, around the corner on Grosvenor Crescent, was much larger.”
“Why did they move?”
“Why does anyone move into a smaller residence? Because they were having financial difficulties. Still are, if the rumors are true. Apparently Lord Cremorne might need to sell up and move permanently back to his estate if things don’t turn around for them soon.”
“No wonder his father was trying to marry Jonathon to the wealthy Amelia Livingstone.”
I could feel Harry watching me, but when I turned to look at him, he pretended to study the door knocker.
“Imagine if I’d encouraged Jonathon… I could have been mistress of all this.” I indicated the house. “Well, until the money disappeared entirely.” I couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of it. “Lord Cremorne would have been livid to be saddled with a poor nobody for a daughter-in-law.”
I thought it was all rather amusing, but Harry merely grunted.
He stepped up to the door and slammed the brass knocker down. Even if the butler was nearly deaf and at the back of the house, he would have heard it.
The door opened and Harry introduced us as consultants for Scotland Yard. The butler checked with his master and returned a few moments later to escort us up to Lord Cremorne’s office.
I kept my head low while trying to look out for Jonathon. It wouldn’t be a complete disaster if he saw me. He already knew that I was investigating Ambrose McDonald’s murder. Even so, I didn’t want to explain my presence to him. I didn’t want to see him at all. He was most likely still in bed, anyway. It wasn’t yet midday.
If I wanted to know what Jonathon would look like in twenty-five years’ time, I only had to look at Lord Cremorne. Their features were arranged the same, and they both possessed piercing blue eyes. His hair was mostly still blond except for two gray patches at his temples. It was thin, however, not lush like his son’s. But idleness and indulgence had caught up to Lord Cremorne, as they would one day with Jonathon if he didn’t curb his excesses. The lines across his forehead were deep, and pouches of skin sagged beneath his eyes and jowls. He sat sprawled in the chair, his girth testing his waistcoat buttons.
“This is about the murder of that fellow at the Bunburys’?” he asked, giving Harry his full attention.
“It is.” Harry introduced us without naming me. While I didn’t recognize Lord Cremorne, and he clearly didn’t know me, it was safer to keep my name out of it. I doubted he would have remembered it anyway, just as I doubted he would remember me after we left. He didn’t even look at me.
Lord Cremorne was grave. “The murder was an unfortunate occurrence, but I don’t understand why you’re here. I thought the police arrested the murderer.”
“There are still some loose ends. One of which is vouching for where all the guests were at the time of the murder.”
“Including me?” He sounded amused, as one is when a child asks a foolish question.
“Everyone.”
“When I heard the scream, I was in a sitting room having a conversation with an acquaintance. He can vouch for me. Livingstone’s his name.”
“And before that?”
“Here and there, but I can assure you, McDonald was very much alive when I went into the sitting room with Livingstone. I saw him in the library. Livingstone was just leaving him, as it happens.”
“What was your conversation with Livingstone about?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
Harry waited.
After a moment in which the men stared at one another like prize fighters in the ring, Lord Cremorne said, “Ah. I see. You’ve come from Livingstone’s and wish to test my story against his, looking for inconsistencies. Eh? Good man. You’ve clearly done this sort of thing before. Since I like to see an enterprising young fellow choose an honorable career path, I will answer you, even though it goes against my instincts to discuss a private matter with a stranger.” He shifted his weight in the chair. “Livingstone and I were discussing the marriage of his daughter to my son. However, we could not come to terms. There you have it. All above board.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Keep that between ourselves, shall we? No need for the world to know our business.”
Harry nodded. “Of course. Miss Livingstone has endured enough gossip lately. There’s no need to add to it.”
“She has only herself to blame.”
My blood rose, hot and thick. I couldn’t stay silent any longer, even though some part of me knew it was futile to voice my opinion. “Does Mr. McDonald deserve none of the blame for seducing her?”
Lord Cremorne frowned at me, seeing me for the first time. “A girl worthy of being the future Lady Cremorne doesn’t allow herself to be seduced. My son’s wife must be beyond reproach.”
“Pity your son isn’t.”
Lord Cremorne leaned forward and studied me closely. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Harry said as he ushered me past the waiting butler and out of the office. His firm grip on my elbow didn’t loosen until we reached the ground floor entrance hall.
The door opened just as the footman reached for the doorknob. Jonathon strode in but stopped upon seeing us. His jaw dropped and his gaze slid from me to Harry.
“You again,” he snapped.
Again?
Jonathon turned to me. “What are you doing here with him?”
Harry’s grip tightened once more. “We were just leaving.”
“Kindly release Miss Fox and allow her to speak for herself. She doesn’t need anyone else to speak for her, let alone a former employee of her uncle’s.”
Harry tensed, although he did release me. He clasped his hands at his back. I wondered if that was to stop himself from punching Jonathon’s nose.
Considerable diplomacy was required to diffuse the situation. Unfortunately, I was still annoyed by Lord Cremorne’s comments and diplomacy was beyond me. “Do stop the chest beating, Jonathon.”
He stiffened.
“To answer your question, we’re here to speak to your father about the night of the murder.”
He made a scoffing sound in his throat. “You’re still continuing with this ridiculous endeavor?”
“Investigating a murder isn’t ridiculous.”
“The police have arrested the killer. You’re wasting your time, Cleo. Not to mention, it’s unworthy of you. Not just the activity, but spending all your time with…” He jutted his jaw in Harry’s direction.
“Just as I am capable of speaking for myself, I’m also capable of deciding what—and who—is worthy of my time.”
Jonathon pressed his lips together and drew in a deep breath. Reining in his temper perhaps? “Cleo, can we talk in private?”
“No. I have to go.”
“I’ll wait for you outside,” Harry said, his voice dark but no longer angry.
I must have looked as though I wanted to throttle him for abandoning me, because he added, “He’s right. You need to talk.” To Jonathon, he said, “Cleo helps me from time to time when I have to question someone of your father’s caliber. I find they open up more in the presence of someone with gentle breeding. She’s never in harm’s way and her reputation is always foremost on my mind, and hers. Be assured, there’s no need for alarm.”
Jonathon looked as shocked by the speech as I felt. Neither of us had the presence of mind to respond.
Harry left but paused in the doorway. He mouthed “Be nice” to me. With his back to Harry, Jonathon didn’t see. The footman closed the door then melted away into the shadows.
While I understood why Harry was worried, he didn’t need to be. Jonathon may not like me investigating, but he wouldn’t do anything about it. If Floyd was willing to let it slide, Jonathon had no reason to interfere. It wasn’t his place, and a gentleman never overstepped.
“Come into the sitting room,” he said.
“No. We have nothing to say to one another.” He winced and I regretted my unkind tone. “I like you, Jonathon. You’re a good friend to Floyd, and he certainly needs friends right now.”
He looked down at his feet.
“But we’re not suited. You need someone who was born and raised in your world. Someone who appreciates all this.” I indicated the large entrance hall with the crystal chandelier hanging above our heads, the gilded clock on the table and paintings on the walls. “Your father understands that.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?” It was odd to me that he didn’t seem to know about the arrangement his father tried to broker with Mr. Livingstone, but perhaps Lord Cremorne wanted to be absolutely sure an arrangement could be brokered before breaking the news to his son.
“If you intend to court a woman in future, you ought to speak with your father first so there’s no…confusion.” Before he could ask me to clarify, I added, “Let’s remain friends, and we’ll laugh about this in years to come.”
He glanced at the closed door. “You can do better than him.”
“There is nothing going on between Harry and me, nor will there ever be. But that doesn’t mean there will be anything going on between us, either.” I pointed at him then myself. “The sooner you accept that I am determined never to marry, the happier you’ll be. It’s not personal, Jonathon.”
“I see now that you are determined. Does he see it too?”
“Harry accepts that we are merely associates.” I gave a dismissive wave. “We’re not even friends. Neither of us could bring ourselves to be friendly with the other. I had him dismissed from his position at the hotel, for goodness’ sake. It’s hardly a solid foundation for a friendship.” I bit down on my tongue to stop myself rambling. It was a sure clue that I was lying. Not that Jonathon would know that about me. He hardly even knew me.
He opened the door. “You should go.” It was said without heat or bitterness, thankfully.
I stepped out. “What did you mean when you said ‘You again?’ Are you referring to when you saw Harry with me in the hotel a few days ago?”
He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He looked past me to Harry, waiting on the pavement. “Good day, Cleo. Perhaps I’ll see you later.” His attempted smile was unconvincing, but at least he tried.
I tried too, hopefully with more conviction. I was certainly relieved that he wasn’t angry anymore. My little speech about not being Harry’s friend must have worked.
“All’s well,” I said when I joined Harry.
He fell into step beside me. “Are you sure? He didn’t look like he’d accepted you investigating with me.”
“He hasn’t and he won’t, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do anything about it. He’s a wretch, but he’s not cruel. He’s no Ambrose McDonald.”
Harry glanced sideways at me. “What did you say to him?”
“I explained how things are between you and me. Or, rather, how things aren’t. As far as he’s aware, you and I barely put up with each other.”
“He believed that?”
“I think so. He’s arrogant enough to assume I wouldn’t be interested in a former employee of my uncle’s.”
“Indeed,” he muttered.