“He said you murdered Nicky.”
And she believed him, her certainty evident in her eyes.
“What did you tell him?”
“She told me nothing, Your Grace, but others have. I’m Inspector Alistair Boulton, Scotland Yard. In my possession, I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Nicholas Glenville, the Marquess of Farthingham. I would ask that you accompany me peacefully.”
Richard felt a sinking, as though he were once again in the midst of the storm, being battered about, terrified that the storm would once again win. He faced the man. “I am a peer of the realm, sir. It would not occur to me to behave in any manner except as a gentleman.”
Richard headed toward the door.
“Richard, tell me you didn’t do it,” Kitty called after him.
In that moment, he lost all hope of ever holding her heart—not when she believed him capable of such a despicable act.
He strode from the room without answering and without looking back.
“This is absurd,” the Dowager Duchess proclaimed. “It’s Weddy’s death all over again. What sort of son do people think I’ve brought up—to hold him accountable every time that damned sea has its way?”
“Your Grace, you must calm down.”
The words were quietly spoken by Lionel Gurney, Richard’s solicitor. He’d arrived at the dower house with his assistant, Mr. Lacey, a few moments earlier.
Into the silence that had followed Richard’s departure, Kitty had realized the absurdity of the arrest as well. She’d listened to Inspector Boulton reveal the evidence bit by bit until he’d had her convinced.
But the evidence failed to take into account the kind of man that Richard was.
Murder Farthingham? No, she couldn’t see him murdering anyone in order to gain anything.
She couldn’t take back the awful words she’d carelessly tossed at him, which she knew had cut him to the quick. His stiff posture had told her that. She was grateful his back had been to her and she’d been unable to read the devastation in his face that he surely must have felt. Would he ever forgive her for doubting him? Could she ever forgive herself?
She’d called for a carriage and come to tell Richard’s mother of what had transpired. The Dowager Duchess had immediately sent for Richard’s solicitor, who’d only just come from meeting with Richard.
“When can we see him?” Kitty asked. She sat in a chair near the sofa where the Dowager Duchess and Lady Anne were holding hands.
“Presently, he does not wish to be visited by anyone. I’m certain you can understand. The circumstances…the man’s pride,” Mr. Gurney explained.
“Will he not see any of us?” Lady Anne asked.
“He’d rather not. His accommodations are sparse, but not terribly depressing. Still, he doesn’t wish to cause you any unnecessary heartache.”
The Dowager Duchess released a tiny sob. “My poor Richard.”
“Mama,” Lady Anne cooed. “He’ll be fine. He’s not guilty. Surely they’ll see that.”
No doubts were woven in Lady Anne’s voice, and Kitty felt guilty that her voice had not carried the same conviction when she’d last spoken to Richard.
“I fear that they won’t see it until he is tried before the House of Lords,” Mr. Gurney stated. “Which shouldn’t be too long in coming. These are unique circumstances, and everything is progressing quite quickly.”
“Did Farthingham wash up onshore somewhere?” Lady Anne asked.
Kitty shuddered at the image, but she could hardly blame Lady Anne for wanting some sort of evidence.
“No. No body has been found,” Mr. Gurney said.
“Then how can they accuse Richard of murder?” Lady Anne asked.
“Apparently they have witnesses who provide damaging circumstantial evidence. It would be best that we not discuss the particulars in case you are called to testify.”
“Inspector Boulton told me that things were overheard,” Kitty said.
“Quite so.”
“I can’t see that it’s anything more than gossip,” Kitty said.
“Indeed. Scotland Yard’s reputation leaves much to be desired. They are in need of some sort of crime that will draw the nation’s attention to their competence so that they might feel vindicated. What could be better than an opportunity to bring a peer to task?”
“I should think a true crime would serve them better,” the Dowager Duchess said.
“You mustn’t fret so. Your son will be proven innocent,” Mr. Gurney assured her.
“I thought he was innocent until proven guilty,” Kitty said, although she certainly hadn’t expressed that belief earlier in the day, and now she was feeling quite ashamed of her reaction.
Mr. Gurney got to his feet. “You are quite right, Your Grace. He is innocent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must begin to prepare his defense. Sir Ambrose will argue the duke’s case before the House of Lords. You may rest easy. The duke has utmost confidence in the barrister’s abilities.”
All the ladies rose and bid the gentlemen farewell. Mr. Gurney promptly left the room, while Mr. Lacey lingered.
If Kitty were not so worried about Richard, she might have paid more attention to the man earlier when Mr. Gurney introduced him. He was quite young and very nice-looking.
“Lady Anne, if I can be of service in any way…” His voice trailed off as though he were embarrassed to have spoken at all and could think of nothing further to say.
“Thank you, Mr. Lacey,” Lady Anne said. “I appreciate your kind concern.”
With a brisk nod, he turned and strode from the room.
With a huge sigh, the Dowager Duchess dropped back on to the sofa. “I very nearly didn’t survive the accusations before. They were most cruel. I fear they will be much worse this go-round.”
Kitty didn’t know how things could get any worse, but she feared that she’d soon find out.
Chapter 27
Richard’s trial before the House of Lords came about much too quickly, much too slowly. He’d not let anyone visit him. Kitty wasn’t even certain where he was being held. She’d considered having his solicitor deliver a letter to him, but she could find no words to express her sorrow over her initial reaction to the suspicions and her last words to Richard.
It was a dreary dismal day outside, a light rain falling, as though even the heavens were weeping. Kitty sat beside the Dowager Duchess and her daughter in a special section reserved for peeresses.
Any other time, as Kitty came to her feet along with everyone else in attendance, she might have been impressed as the lords paraded in, wearing white wigs and dressed in their scarlet and ermine robes. But all she could think was how utterly insane it all seemed: a nightmare from which she thought she might never awaken.
Then Richard was led in to answer the charge made against him. Oh, dear Lord, she thought her heart might break.
The Dowager Duchess squeezed Kitty’s hand. “Do not weep,” she whispered. “For Richard’s sake, do not weep.”
What Kitty wanted to do was scream. He looked as though he’d aged ten years. But he stood defiant and proud, and when asked whether he was guilty or not guilty, his voice rang out strong, “Not guilty.”
He refused to sit, but rather stood within the place that had been designated for him. The Attorney-General came to his feet and opened the case for the Crown. In monotone, the man rambled on about how he intended to show that the Duke of Weddington exhibited a pattern of behavior which in the end would prove his undoing, and with the testimony of key witnesses, would prove that it was not Nature that had killed Nicholas Glenville, the Marquess of Farthingham, but rather the duke himself, who had purposely and with malicious intent taken the marquess out in a storm and killed him.
He called as his first witness, Jason Redman, Lord Farthingham’s butler.
“The Duke of Weddington visited the Marquess of Farthingham at his London residence on several occasions, did he not?” the Attorney-General asked.
&nb
sp; “Yes, sir, he did.”
“Did he visit on the morning that Lord Farthingham’s betrothal announcement appeared in The Times?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you describe the duke’s mood?”
“He was quite agitated. Furious in fact. He didn’t wait for a proper announcement of his arrival to be made, but simply stormed into the drawing room, where Lord Farthingham was enjoying his morning tea. I’ve never had a gentleman not wait for a proper announcement to be made. I found it quite unsettling.”
“You are quite certain of the morning in question?”
“Yes, sir. He was clutching The Times in his hand.”
The Attorney-General held up a crumpled newspaper. “Was this the newspaper he had in his possession?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And how did you come to have it?”
“As he was leaving, he tossed it to me and told me to get rid of it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, sir. I enjoy reading the newspaper, and Lord Farthingham’s financial situation was such that he’d dispensed with having a newspaper delivered sometime back, so I thought to keep the duke’s newspaper and read it at my leisure.”
“You need not look embarrassed, Mr. Redman. I’m certain no one faults you for wanting to keep abreast of the news. That morning, did you overhear any of the conversation between the duke and the marquess?”
“Immediately after I closed the door, I heard the duke say, ‘You promised to wait until the end of the Season to announce your betrothal.’”
“So, on this particular morning, you witnessed the duke arriving in anger, clutching The Times, and questioning the marquess about his announcement. It seems then that the duke was not at all pleased that the marquess had formalized his intention to marry Miss Robertson. Did you overhear anything else?”
“Not on that particular morning, but on another occasion, a couple of weeks earlier, the duke visited and announced that he did not wish for the marquess to marry Miss Robertson.”
“Because the duke had an interest in the lady?”
“I assumed so, yes.”
“My lords!” Sir Ambrose came to his feet. “I must protest this idiocy. If any of you have set eyes upon the present Duchess of Weddington, you will know that any man who claims not to have an interest in her is lying. Of course, she drew the duke’s attention. She is lovely, witty, and gracious. But interest in a lady does not precipitate murder. We have no body. We have no physical evidence of foul play; only conjecture and gossip. This trial is lunacy.”
The murmurs rippling through the room gave Kitty hope that everyone would agree, and the trial would end before it had truly begun.
“My lords, there is a pattern here that must be addressed,” the Attorney-General interjected. “Arguments, sailing, death. They can no longer be ignored. For who would be his next victim? His wife? Should she lose favor with him?”
Gasps echoed through the chamber.
The Lord High Steward calmed the room, noted Sir Ambrose’s protests and nodded for the Attorney-General to proceed.
“Mr. Redman, was there anything else that led you to believe the duke had more than a casual interest in the lady?”
“Yes, sir. The duke and the lady walked about the garden alone one evening when Lord Farthingham was hosting a dinner party.”
The servant was excused, and Kitty wanted to shriek. His story was only part of what had happened that evening. Farthingham had insisted on the walk, the wager. She couldn’t believe that so much had been left unsaid. Did people truly believe she and Richard would flaunt an affair in front of Farthingham?
The Attorney-General called three witnesses in succession who testified that they’d seen her slip out into Harrington’s garden during the Harringtons’ ball. Less than a minute later the duke had followed her—neither of them was ever seen returning to the ballroom, and their absence was in time noted by others.
She had tried so hard to preserve her reputation, and here it was being ripped to shreds by half-truths. She was incredibly grateful that her parents weren’t there to witness this travesty. They were in France, on the Riviera. She’d not sent word to them because she’d not wanted to ruin their holiday. Thank goodness she’d followed her own counsel on that matter.
Kitty focused her attention on Richard, imploring him to look at her, but his gaze seemed transfixed on some distant corner as though he knew the outcome wouldn’t be favorable and had already come to accept it. She was also fairly certain that he was experiencing a good deal of discomfort. There was a tautness to the set of his mouth, a stiffness to the way he held himself.
Then Lady Priscilla Norwood was called to testify.
With an audible gasp, Lady Anne looked at her mother and then at Kitty.
“But she is my dearest friend,” Lady Anne whispered. “Why would the prosecution question her?”
Considering Lady Priscilla’s propensity for gossip, Kitty could think of a dozen reasons why she might be called, none of them good.
“Lady Priscilla Norwood, you are a dear friend of the duke’s sister—Lady Anne Stanbury—are you not?”
“Indeed I am, sir.”
“Did you have occasion to be present at the dinner party when the duke and Miss Robertson took a walk in the garden?”
“Yes, sir. I was there.”
“What can you tell us about their walk?”
Lady Priscilla shifted as though very uncomfortable. “They were supposed to take a turn about the garden, but they were gone for a very long time. Even Lord Farthingham commented on how long it was taking them to return to us.”
“Did Lord Farthingham seem upset?”
“No, sir. Not that I noticed.”
“Sometime later you spent several days at the duke’s home in Cornwall, Drummond Manor. Who was in attendance?”
“Well, sir, I was there, of course, as you’ve stated. As was Mr. Frederick Montague, Lord Farthingham, Miss Robertson, the duke, and his sister.”
“What did you observe while you were in their company?”
“The first afternoon, I’d lain down for a nap. When I awoke, I looked out the window and saw Miss Robertson and the duke returning to the stables. I thought nothing of it, of course. The duke is always a remarkable host. The next afternoon, we went sailing, and the duke invited Miss Robertson to stand before him at the wheel. He whispered something to her. I know not what, but she seemed inordinately pleased.”
Sir Ambrose rolled his eyes and shook his head with theatrical exaggeration.
“But it was the following morning, was it not, that made you suspicious regarding Lord Farthingham’s death?”
Kitty and Lady Anne exchanged confused glances. Was Lady Priscilla responsible for this travesty of justice?
“Yes, sir. You see, I awoke that morning and went in search of Mr. Montague. I was quite taken with him and wanted to see if he might teach me to play billiards, so I might have an opportunity to flirt a bit. You know how it is? Games of croquet and lawn tennis are really merely opportunities for harmless flirtation. And I thought billiards might be as well—”
“Yes, yes, you wished to flirt. But you did not have the opportunity to flirt, did you?”
“No, sir. As I was passing the billiard room, I heard loud voices. The door was slightly ajar, but there was no footman about, which is exceedingly unusual in the duke’s home. He has so many servants that one never has to open a door for oneself.”
Kitty saw Richard cast an almost despairing glance at Sir Ambrose as though he knew what was coming and knew it would not bode well for him, as though he desperately wished the testimony to end.
“Continue, Lady Priscilla Norwood,” the Attorney-General urged.
“Must I?”
“You are on your oath to reveal what you know.”
“Yes, of course. I…uh…I approached the door and heard Lord Farthingham say, ‘The only way that you will ever have her is if I am dead.’”
The
room erupted with gasps, murmurs, and whispers. Kitty had held her gaze on Richard, and in the single moment when Lady Priscilla had revealed Farthingham’s words, she’d anxiously wanted him to look at her so she could convey that she knew he had not murdered Farthingham. But Richard never looked her way, and she could hardly blame him.
She’d rebuffed him at every turn, and still he’d pursued her. He’d taught her that there was no shame in her body’s reaction to his touch.
She’d learned that her only shame resided in her doubts regarding his innocence. She knew this man, had known him from the first moment she’d set eyes on him. Kindred spirits. Soul mates. He would no more murder Farthingham to gain her than he would cheat to win a game.
Once the room was again quieted, the Attorney-General dismissed Lady Priscilla and called Mr. Frederick Montague.
Freddie looked as though he wished he were anywhere except where he was, and Kitty feared that he might not only corroborate Lady Priscilla’s testimony but add further damaging statements as well.
The initial questions were of no consequence, simply establishing his friendship with the deceased, his acquaintance with the accused. And then the mood of the questions changed.
“You are a playwright, are you not?” the Attorney-General asked.
“I am.”
“Tell me about your play, A Sea Change.”
“My lords!” Sir Ambrose came to his feet. “Mr. Montague’s talents as a writer have no bearing on this case.”
“If you’ll indulge me,” the Attorney-General stated, “this particular play does. Tell us about the play, Mr. Montague.”
“It is the story of man who seeks to murder his lover’s husband, but in the end the husband murders the lover. It is a comedy of errors.”
“Did the duke read your play?”
“He did.”
“And what was his opinion of it?”
“He thought it rather dark. He said the humor did not ring true. That murder should not be taken lightly.”
“On the morning of Lord Farthingham’s death, you were in the billiard room of Drummond Manor, were you not?” the Attorney-General asked.
“I was.”
An Invitation to Seduction Page 28