A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “Those files.” He groaned. “It’s like looking for a needle in a stack of needles.”

  “Under those circumstances, Charles, I’d say one is quite likely to find a needle.”

  “Yes, but would it be the right one?”

  The fact I found logic in his statement rather unsettled me. Perhaps I was spending too much time with Cousin Charles. Fortunately, we’d arrived home. He helped me from the carriage and saw me to the door which, surprisingly, was opened by George Hazelton.

  “Where have you two been?” The question came out in a growl.

  Was I always to be questioned as to my whereabouts when I returned home? One glance at his rather thunderous face halted my glib response. Good heavens, what was wrong?

  After handing my hat to Jenny, I led the gentlemen into the drawing room where Lottie awaited us, looking nervous. I gave her a smile and turned to the large man hovering over me. “What brings you here today? Has something happened?”

  “Happened? Heavens, no, Frances.”

  I hadn’t thought it possible, but his countenance grew even darker. “Only that when I arrived here half an hour ago, I fully expected to find you safely ensconced in your home. Then upon speaking to Miss Deaver, I learned you were out questioning suspects. And Evingdon may or may not have been with you; she wasn’t sure.”

  Oh, dear. Now I understood. “Your information isn’t entirely accurate. And as you can see, he was indeed with me.”

  “I had no idea where you were,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Or how much danger you might be in. I only knew it had something to do with Archer.”

  I glanced at Lottie, who raised her hands in defense. “I was working on the columns last night and only half listened as you and Mr. Evingdon made your plans for today.”

  “Completely understandable, dear. I’m sure you weren’t expecting Mr. Hazelton to arrive and quiz you.” I turned back to George who stood with his hands clasped behind him, rocking from heel to toe and back. Heavens, what was the man so angry about?

  I returned his scowl in kind. “You act as though I’ve done something wrong. We were simply trying to gain some information from Lady Caroline, whom I don’t believe is a suspect in this case.”

  He drew in a long breath. “At least Evingdon was with you.”

  “Yes, I believe I mentioned that.” I took his elbow and guided him to a chair. “You told me to use my judgment. I wouldn’t do anything foolish. Now, perhaps we can all sit down and discuss how we’re all progressing on this case.”

  Lottie moved from the table and seated herself next to Charles on the sofa while I gave George an update of our findings and how we planned to proceed with the columns. He seemed to grow calmer as I spoke. Perhaps I’d regained his confidence. “We’ve included just enough information that if we happen on the murderer’s story, he should recognize it. I daresay we should tell Mr. Mosley about this so he’ll be on his guard in case the killer goes after him.”

  He nodded his approval of our proceedings. “I take it nothing you’ve read has caused you to focus on a particular note or person.”

  I glanced at Lottie and Charles. Both shook their heads. “We actually have many stories that are so scandalous, I have to wonder who wouldn’t kill to keep their information from publication. I’ve seen nothing that could narrow down the suspects, but we’ve started with those who attended the funeral.”

  “Have you seen anything that pertains to the Archers?”

  “No, and we specifically checked.” I raised a brow. “Why do you ask? Do you suspect Mr. Archer?”

  “Not necessarily of the murder, but Archer has something to hide, which is why I was so concerned when I thought you were questioning him. He attempted to break into Mary’s house last night.”

  “Aha!” We all turned to Charles as he jumped to his feet. “I knew there was something dodgy about the man. Did you have him arrested? Did Delaney get him to admit his guilt?”

  George regarded his friend with some curiosity. “Not precisely.”

  I shooed Charles back to his seat and turned to George. “What exactly happened and how do you know of it?”

  “I’ve been waiting for a chance to get into Mrs. Archer’s house and I was there again last night, hoping the constable would step away long enough for me to gain entrance. I saw Archer myself, trying to break in through the back door. Unfortunately for him, a constable also saw him and took him to the Chelsea police division, where I followed. Delaney wasn’t on duty so I couldn’t obtain any information, but Archer was released within the hour so he must have come up with some excuse.”

  “Did you return to Mrs. Archer’s house?” Lottie asked.

  “I did, but by then a new constable was on duty, fresh and well rested, so it seems I’d lost my chance.”

  “What do you suppose Archer was after?”

  He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “No idea. But I wish that constable hadn’t been so good at his job. I’d have preferred to catch Archer in the house with some damning evidence in his hands.”

  I gave the matter some thought. “Do we know who Mary’s executor is? Archer is a banker and so a likely choice. Could he simply have been trying to settle her estate?”

  “In the middle of the night?” Lottie crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.

  “And he isn’t her executor,” George added. “Louise’s husband has that responsibility. From what I understand he has the keys to her house, so Archer had no legitimate reason for being there.” He gave Lottie a nod. “Especially in the middle of the night.”

  “This only makes me more convinced Lady Caroline knew about the Miss Information column,” Charles said.

  I gave George the details of our visit to Caroline earlier.

  “It doesn’t necessarily mean she knew Mary wrote this column, but her comment about the servants, combined with Archer’s behavior, makes them very suspicious in my view.” I glanced over at the files. “Perhaps Mary did have a note pertaining to some scandal about them and we’ve missed it.”

  Charles released a grunt. “Needle in a stack of needles.”

  Lottie turned to him with an inquiring glance, but I pressed on.

  “That might be what Archer was after when he tried to break into her house. Perhaps I should pay him a call.”

  George lurched to his feet. “Evingdon, Miss Deaver, if you’ll excuse us, Frances and I need to speak privately.”

  “Privately?” In this house privacy was at a premium. Before I had a chance to consider where to take him, he clamped a hand on my wrist and led me from the room.

  “We’ll return momentarily,” he said, tossing the comment to Charles and Lottie over his shoulder.

  “Hetty and Graham are in the library,” I said, scurrying to keep up as he strode down the hallway.

  He took a detour to the right and into the dining room. He stopped at the table and, releasing my wrist, turned to face me.

  I took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  He took hold of my shoulders and gazed into my face with a strained expression. “We need to set some rules before we delve any further into this investigation.”

  “George—”

  “Frances. Everyone you speak to in this case is potentially dangerous.” He released my shoulders and circled away, running a hand through his hair. “Perhaps we should forget rules and simply reconsider your involvement.”

  “But I wasn’t doing anything dangerous. We were simply talking to Lady Caroline.”

  He twisted around and threw me a glare. “If I’d known that, I might not have been so concerned.”

  “Never say you’re going to shut me out of this investigation because I worried you. Is that my punishment?”

  “Punishment? Frances, we are working on this investigation together but you must allow I’m the more experienced partner, while you are a novice.”

  “A novice?”

  “Yes, with an ample supply of natural skill, I’ll grant you, but s
till a novice. Your instincts have yet to be tested.”

  I stared in confusion. “My instincts.”

  “We don’t yet know if they’ll lead you into danger or keep you safe.” He gave me a penetrating look. “Need I remind you that two people have been murdered?”

  I placed my hands on my hips and glared. “No, you needn’t. Heavens, George, do you subject all your partners to this lecture?”

  He pulled back in surprise, then smiled. “No. I’ve always worked alone.”

  I was about to offer a scathing comment about his partnering skills, but held my tongue when he squeezed my shoulders once more.

  “Until you. You are my first partner and I couldn’t bear it if something should happen to you.”

  Oh, dear. Why did I always suffer waves of delight when he said things like this? “I do understand and promise to be more careful.” I gave him a hopeful smile.

  “Yet after what I just told you about Archer, you’re willing to go and talk to him alone.”

  “You said you didn’t suspect him of Mary’s murder.”

  “But he is hiding something.”

  “I’d be completely safe if you came with me.”

  He shook his head. “Archer’s approached me before about investing with him and I told him I had no interest. He wouldn’t believe I’ve had a change of heart so quickly.”

  “Charles?”

  He gave me an incredulous stare. “You’re resolved to do this, aren’t you?”

  I held his gaze, determined not to back down, until he huffed in exasperation. “He might do. He’ll keep Archer confused and intimidated at the same time.” His expression sobered as he gazed at me. “While I want your help, I don’t want you taking risks. Make sure Evingdon goes with you, and from now on someone must always know where you are, preferably me. If you won’t agree to that point, then yes, I will shut you out of this case.”

  My answer was immediate and instinctive. “Agreed, but I want the same promise from you.” I blinked away some foolish moisture from my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to lose you either.”

  His hand moved to the back of my neck and his lips came down on mine. Heavens, this was a proper kiss. Or rather very improper. Deep, delicious, and full of the promise of . . . of something. I didn’t know or care what. At last we were getting somewhere. I pressed closer, fairly sinking into him.

  He pushed me away. He was gentle, but firm, with a tug at his waistcoat and a brush of his sleeves.

  I stared, my jaw drooping. What? Why?

  “I know this is not the time or the place,” he said. “But someday soon you must decide what you want of me, Frances. You’re already aware of what I want.”

  I blinked. What had just happened? If not for the flush on his face, I’d have thought I imagined that kiss. I straightened the folds of my skirt.

  “I’m afraid you give me too much credit,” I replied. “I’m not at all sure what you want. When you asked me to marry you it was such a businesslike proposition—beneficial to both parties. You worry about my safety, but is that just your protective nature?”

  My words grew more heated as I spoke, my gestures more animated. “You tease me with an occasional show of affection, then call me your partner. Now we have this moment of passion that leads to nothing. No, George, I must confess I am completely in the dark about what you want from me—a friend? A partner? A lover?”

  One corner of his lips quirked up in a crooked smile. “Yes. All of it. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Words failed me. Of course that’s what I wanted, but was that even obtainable?

  The confusion must have shown in my expression, as he sighed and gave me a weary smile. “I know you’re not ready to make this decision yet, Frances. But if you’re ever to make it, you must at least open your mind to it.”

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ll leave you to make your plans with Evingdon. Now that I think about it, Archer would wonder at the two of us visiting his office together. At least Evingdon is a relation of yours while you and I have no official connection.” He smiled. “I’m just the man you sneak through your back garden to visit.”

  I sighed. If only that’s all he was.

  Chapter 15

  I’d waited until the following morning to send a note to Gordon Archer at his office, asking if he had time to see me to discuss some investments. Jenny returned with his reply while I was enjoying breakfast with Rose in the schoolroom. As luck would have it, he would be at leisure to meet with me anytime this morning. I gave Rose a kiss and headed off to dress, hoping Bridget could find something businesslike in my wardrobe. We settled on a pale gray voile with long sleeves extending over my hands. The straight lines of the skirt were edged in a darker gray, making it rather severe. Perfect.

  Charles arrived with a hired cab just as I stepped into the hall.

  “Mr. Hazelton must be using his carriage today,” I remarked as he assisted me into the cab. Riding in private carriages had spoiled me. This one was clean, I noticed as I settled in, but something loose behind the rough upholstery poked me in the back.

  Charles slipped in beside me. “Yes, occasionally Hazelton needs his own carriage. I’d considered having mine sent over, but I’m not certain I need to stay with him much longer. I’ve seen nothing in the papers about my arrest. Have you heard anything of it?”

  “You weren’t arrested. Delaney simply brought you in to intimidate you. But no, it seems that news hasn’t leaked out.”

  I watched him from under my lashes. “Now that you mention your stay with Mr. Hazelton, may I ask about your feelings toward Miss Deaver? Since you’ve been living next door you’ve been spending more time at my home, and I feel I must speak plainly. If you have no intentions of a courtship, I must insist you avoid being alone with her.”

  He turned away, glancing out the window. “I find Miss Deaver absolutely delightful, but I’ve no right to any such intentions, Frances. I’m a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  His voice held a note of dejection I hadn’t heard before. It’s not that I’d forgotten Charles was a suspect, but I never realized he worried about it. I was ashamed to admit I hadn’t believed he worried about anything. I placed my hand over his.

  “That impediment will be removed, Charles, and soon, if Mr. Hazelton has anything to do with it. But until you’re certain of your intentions, please have a care for her reputation and her feelings.”

  He turned half toward me, a grin spreading across his lips. “Do you think her feelings are involved?”

  Was he serious? Could he not see for himself? The hope in his expression cut off any sarcasm I might have uttered. “I can’t speak for Miss Deaver, but my own observations tell me she’d be favorably disposed to your attentions.”

  He plopped back against the seat, leaning his head on the wall behind him, his hat pushed over his eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said under his breath.

  * * *

  The cab slowed to a crawl as we drew closer to the city and the bank on Princes Street. We gave up about half a block away, climbed down to the street, wove our way through the congested traffic, and joined the crowds of business people on the pavement. Goodness, this was nothing like Mayfair, where everything moved at a more leisurely pace.

  Eventually we stepped into the lobby and were escorted to Gordon Archer’s luxurious office. He rose from behind an enormous desk to greet us and guided us to comfortable chairs facing his desk. The dark paneled walls, thick carpets, and leather upholstered chairs were as fine as any I’d seen in the most elegant of homes.

  If Archer was surprised by Charles’s presence, he gave no indication of it.

  “I’m honored you considered me when you thought of investing, Lady Harleigh,” he said. He’d reseated himself behind the desk after we refused his offer of refreshments. “I wonder that your father was not your first choice.”

  Bother. I’d forgotten my father’s reputation would have preceded me. It was no secret our family
fortune had been built on his financial acumen. I smiled. “I’d like to strike out on my own just this once. My brother-in-law told me if I wanted a good, solid investment, I should speak to you.”

  “And of course, your sister-in-law recommended you,” Charles added. “Lady Harleigh was great friends with her.” He leaned in toward the desk. “Mrs. Archer couldn’t praise your talents enough. In fact, she once told me if I had anything to invest I must see you for advice—ouch!”

  That last was the result of some rather heavy pressure of my heel on his toe. Had he forgotten the two didn’t get on? I maintained a placid smile as I gazed steadily into Archer’s eyes. “She did speak highly of you,” I said.

  “Indeed?”

  Archer clearly had the makings of a good card player. His expression remained neutral as he folded his hands on his desk blotter and leaned toward me, clearly ready to get down to business.

  “Tell me, Lady Harleigh, when you say you are seeking a solid investment, do you mean safe, or profitable?”

  “Safe, by all means,” Charles replied. “Risky investments make me nervous.”

  Archer turned his gaze to Charles and raised his brows. “Are you advising Lady Harleigh?”

  “He is not,” I said. “I’ve come to you for that, and I’d like to know why one can’t have both a safe and profitable investment?”

  “As Mr. Evingdon implied, a profitable investment often comes with a significant amount of risk. For example, you could lose some of your principle.” He leaned back to pull a file from his desk drawer. Spreading the pages on the desk in front of me, he proceeded to explain the benefits of an account earning three to five percent per annum. Within five minutes, I stopped listening and nearly dozed off. This conversation was leading us nowhere.

  “What about real estate?”

  That woke me up. Archer stopped speaking midsentence and turned to Charles.

  “The bank’s transactions in real estate are on a rather grand scale and not meant for personal investment,” Archer said with a chuckle. “Unless, of course, Lady Harleigh is seeking another state for America, which would require significantly more capital.”