The Sinister Spinster

by Joan Overfield

  Lady Barrington gave a light laugh. "Perhaps," she conceded with an indifferent shrug. "But I would hardly think Mr. Colburt's death could be termed unexpected. He was such a villainous wretch, it was only a matter of time before someone had enough of his nonsense and killed him."

  The unfeeling pronouncement had Adam's eyebrows arching in speculation. "You sound as if you believe Mr. Colburt to blame for his own demise. That seems rather harsh."

  "Is it?" She gave another shrug. "I don't believe so. The dolt had only to mind his tongue and his childish temper, and he might have survived into his dotage. But that was Charles; he was never quite as clever as he thought himself to be."

  That struck Adam as decidedly telling, but he was politician enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Instead he and the duchess spoke idly of the brief funeral service for Colburt, which had been held a few hours earlier, and after a few minutes her grace drifted off to speak with the other guests. Adam watched her go,

  He spent the rest of the afternoon drifting from guest to guest, gleaning from them what he could. He also kept a sharp eye on Elizabeth, and was considerably ill pleased to see her being run ragged by Lady Derring and her friends. When all of this was well behind them, he vowed grimly, he would see her removed from beneath that harpy's claw.

  He'd write St. Jerome, he decided. The viscount had proven quite successful in placing his former comrades-in-arms in a variety of positions, and he would best know how to go about securing Elizabeth employment. Or he could even appeal to Elinore, he thought, his brooding gaze sliding in the aloof beauty's direction. Although she'd not had a companion before, there was no reason she couldn't hire one now. She seemed genuinely fond of Elizabeth, and he was certain she would prove a good and kind employer. It was the perfect solution to his problem.

  Yet even as the solution presented itself, Adam found himself rejecting it. He wouldn't wish Elinore on his worse enemy, and in any case, she and Elizabeth were both so stubborn and willful, they were certain to be pulling caps within a fortnight. And fobbing her off on any other lady he could think of was equally repellent. Elizabeth was a lady in her own right, and the idea of her in a succession of subservient positions was an anathema to him.

  "Good afternoon, my lord."

  Mr. Carling's quiet voice interrupted Adam's dark musings, and he glanced up to find the younger man standing before him. To his surprise the lad's fleshy face had lost its usual expression of sullen petulance, and there was a new air of dignity and purpose about him that lent him a quality that had previously been lacking. Mr. Carling, it seemed, had grown up at last.

  "Mr. Carling." Adam inclined his head graciously, showing him the respect he'd previously withheld. "Pray accept my condolences. I am sure Mr. Colburt was a very good friend to you."

  "Thank you, Lord Falconer," Mr. Carling replied, further surprising Adam by holding out his hand with commendable maturity. "It is kind of you to say so."

  More impressed than he ever thought he'd be with the dandy, Adam accepted the proffered hand The lad's handshake was so firm, it took a few seconds for Adam to notice the piece of paper Carling was pressing into his palm. Their eyes met, and in the younger man's gaze Adam saw both fear and determination reflected in his pale eyes. Adam's fingers curled protectively about the note before he stepped back.

  Assuming it likely they were under observation, Adam took pains to conceal the note while he lingered at Carling's side. He waited several seconds before drifting away, and then allowed another ten minutes to pass before slipping quietly out of the drawing room. His own chambers were too far away and he slipped into the hallway, making certain he was alone before unfolding the note.

  "I know who took the papers and then killed Charles," he read. "Meet me in Papa's study after dinner, and I shall tell you all. Tell no one, or I am dead."

  Decidedly Gothic and more than a bit dramatic, he thought, tucking the note back into his pocket. But if Carling had any information he was willing to share, he was more than ready to accommodate him.

  He returned to the drawing room and spent the next hour drifting from group to group and keeping a sharp eye on Carling. He noted that the lad kept strictly to tea and hovered protectively near his parents, a sight he viewed with considerable satisfaction. Geoffrey Derwent, on the other hand, seemed as hell-bent on mischief making as always, and was making considerable inroads into the earl's decanter of brandy. Remembering how the idiot had blurted out his suspicions and innuendoes while in his cups, Adam began making his way toward him. He'd almost reached his side when disaster struck. It was no small surprise that Elizabeth was the source of the disaster.

  "How dare you, sir!" she exclaimed, her hand lashing out to strike Derwent across the face with enough force to send him staggering back. He fetched up against the tea cart, sending it and its contents spilling to the floor in a cacophony of shattering porcelain and piercing feminine shrieks.

  "What the devil?" The dandy lay sprawled amongst the broken dishes and smashed cakes, his hand cradling his cheek as he blinked up at her in drunken indignation. "What on earth is wrong with you, you bitch? You're mad!"

  The slurred oath had even more women shrieking and swooning, and several more were glaring at him in outraged disgust. Adam reached him in a few strides, hauling him off the floor and giving him a sound shaking before setting him on unsteady feet.

  "Mind your tongue, puppy!" he warned, fixing him in a murderous glare. "I'll call you out if you say one more word."

  "But it was a compliment!" the younger man insisted, his humiliation and temper obvious in his flushed cheeks. "Presumptuous doxy; she ought to be grateful for what I offered."

  Adam didn't waste any more time with words; he simply doubled up his fist and struck the idiot across the jaw with as much power as he could muster. Derwent went crashing to the floor again, and this time Adam didn't bother picking him up. Carling and two other men came dashing up to help, and Adam gave them each a stern look.

  "Take this piece of dung to his rooms and make damned certain I don't clap eyes on him again," he ordered curtly. "I've had all of him I can stomach."

  Without waiting to see if his orders were being carried out, he turned to Elizabeth only to see her slipping out of the room, an attentive Elinore at her side. Ignoring the calls and demands of the others for explanations, he turned and gave chase.

  "Dearest, are you all right?" he asked, hurrying toward her.

  "Of course I'm fine, you dolt!" she snapped, glaring at him in what could only be termed annoyance. "Now get back in there and keep an eye on him before he is killed!"

  Adam's jaw dropped in astonishment. He knew Elizabeth too well to think he'd find her near collapse from nerves, but neither had he expected to find her barking orders at him like a top sergeant. Concern gave way to male bafflement and he turned to Elinore, who was also regarding him with a singular lack of appreciation for his heroic efforts.

  "What the devil is going on?" he demanded in bellicose tones.

  "Mr. Derwent was bragging that he knew the identity of Mr. Colburt's killer," Elinore answered, her gray eyes frosting over with displeasure. "He then offered to share the information with Elizabeth in exchange for her favors. Thank heavens she had the presence of mind to slap him before he said anything more."

  "It sounds as if he said quite enough to me," Adam muttered, wondering if he should kill Derwent and be done with it. "How dare he presume to insult you in such a manner!"

  "Adam, will you stop brooding over my honor and pay attention to what is important here!" Elizabeth retorted, fisting her hands on her hips and casting him an annoyed scowl. "I didn't slap Mr. Derwent because of his crude innuendoes. I slapped him because it was the only way I could think of to stop him from blurting out the truth without tipping our hand to the enemy!"

  Adam's anger faded as the enormity of her observation sunk in.

  "Who heard him?" he asked, furious with himself for failing to have grasped the significance of the matter soone
r.

  "Lady Bealeton, Mrs. Deville, and a few of the others," Elinore replied, ticking off the names with a frown. "And the vicar, Mr. Smithing, was nearby, as I recall, but he is so deaf I doubt he would have heard a brace of cannons if they were shot off next to him. I can't think of who else might have been about."

  "Lady Barrington was there talking to Miss Harewood," Elizabeth provided, looking thoughtful. "But judging from the way she jumped when Mr. Derwent upset the tea cart, I'm certain she wasn't paying him any mind."

  "Pray to God everyone else was equally inattentive," Adam responded, thinking quickly. He glanced at Elinore. "Lady Elinore, do you know where your footman might be?"

  "Taking his turn at passing biscuits, I shouldn't wonder," Elinore replied, eyeing him with her customary coolness. "With the household at sixes and sevens, Lady Derring has bespoken his services. Do you think I should offer to have him stand guard over Mr. Derwent?"

  "Please," Adam said, although privately he thought it would be no great loss if the unknown assassin succeeded in doing away with the drunken Derwent. "In the meanwhile, I want the two of you to continue keeping your eyes and ears open. Report to me the moment you learn anything of value."

  Elizabeth opened her lips as if to offer argument, but when Elinore gave a discreet shake of her head, she quickly closed them.

  "Of course, my lord," she said, dropping a graceful curtsy. "Will there be anything else?"

  Adam cast her a sharp look, strongly suspecting sarcasm. "No," he said between clenched teeth. "There will not."

  "In that case, I wonder if her ladyship would be so good as to help me to my room?" She turned to Elinore with a speaking look. "I am sure you will understand that I am quite overwhelmed by all of this and need to seek my bed."

  "Of course, my dear," Elinore responded, her dulcet tones making Adam's suspicions grow even sharper. "I shouldn't care to have you swooning in the hall. Come now," she said, and led Elizabeth up the stairs with studied attentiveness.

  Adam watched them go, his jaw clenching as he fought the urge to go after them. He hadn't time for Elizabeth's temper now, he told himself, turning back toward the drawing room. He had a murderer to catch, stolen papers to recover, and a potentially ruinous political scandal to avoid. The moment he was done with that, however, he would deal with Miss Elizabeth Mattingale. The recalcitrant companion had walked away from him for the last time.

  Twelve

  "Odious, overbearing tyrant!" Elizabeth wasted little time in letting her annoyance be known. "Telling us to keep our eyes and ears open as if we were a pair of eaves-dropping schoolgirls! Who does he think he is?"

  "A man, of course," Elinore replied, surprisingly sedate as she reclined on her chaise longue, calmly sipping her tea. "And a marquess in the bargain. There is no more overbearing species on the planet, I do assure you. Why do you think I refused him?"

  The wry observation brought Elizabeth up short, and she blushed to think what she had said and to whom she had said it. Elinore had in a matter of a few days become a very dear friend, but not so dear that Elizabeth could afford to forget the disparity in their stations. She cast the other woman a guilty look over her shoulder.

  "I beg pardon, my lady," she began hesitantly, "I didn't mean to—"

  "Oh, nonsense, Elizabeth!" Elinore snapped, her complacent air vanishing as she sat up and set her cup on the table. "Don't 'my lady' me! I should have thought we were far beyond that."

  The genuine hurt she heard in the other woman's voice and saw reflected in her light gray eyes had Elizabeth feeling immediately contrite, and she returned to her chair with a sheepish smile.

  "We are," she said, reaching out to briefly squeeze Elinore's clenched hand. "Forgive me for implying otherwise. It is just that his lordship has me so vexed, I vow I cannot seem to think."

  "Falconer has that affect upon some women, I have noted," Elinore replied after a moment, studying Elizabeth in her disconcertingly keen manner. "Thankfully he never had that affect upon me; another reason I refused him, by the by. How long have you been in love with him?"

  The cool question had Elizabeth leaping from her chair, her face blazing and then paling as she met the other woman's assessing regard. She sat back down with an unladylike plop.

  "Is it so obvious?" she asked, praying Adam hadn't guessed the truth she thought she'd taken such pains to hide.

  "Only to someone who cares for you both," Elinore assured her, and this time it was she who gave Elizabeth's hand a gentle pat. "But don't worry, I shan't tell a soul, and his lordship is far too thick-headed to notice. Unless he chooses to do so, of course."

  Elizabeth decided it would be wisest to ignore that cryptic observation for the moment. "What now?" she asked, forcing herself to concentrate on more immediate concerns.

  "Now we wait," Elinore replied, settling once more against the plump cushions and looking thoughtful. "Papa is returning in a few days, perhaps as early as tomorrow, and he writes that he is bringing us news that will finally settle this unpleasantness once and for all."

  "That is good," Elizabeth said with a relieved sigh, feeling much of the weight easing from her shoulders. She knew both Adam and Alexi were working diligently on her behalf, and although she appreciated their efforts and had complete faith in the outcome, she was also unwilling to sit by and do nothing while others cleared her name. That was why she'd gone to Lady Elinore to ask for her help.

  Since the day of the murder, she and the other woman had spent several hours debating the mystery of the missing papers and Mr. Colburt's death. Their plotting sessions sometimes involved Lady Barrington, and she was deeply touched by both women's willingness to be of assistance. Of course, lately their talks had only been between Elinore and herself, but that was because Lady Barrington was occupied with a new lover. Or at least that was what Elinore had told her, lifting her eyebrows with a worldly acceptance Elizabeth couldn't quite bring herself to emulate.

  "He also writes that your friend Bronyeskin has been breaking hearts and causing scandal everywhere he goes," Elinore was continuing, her full lips pursed in disapproval. "Rather swift work on his part, don't you think, considering the wretch has been in London but a handful of days?"

  Elizabeth smiled, thinking of Alexi. "His highness could create a scandal in under a minute, if such was his intent," she said, and then frowned, wondering if indeed a scandal of some sort was Alexi's intent. It made for an intriguing possibility.

  "Perhaps." Elinore gave an irritated shrug. "At least we shan't have to worry about his returning to plague us. With everything in place for the Czar's fête, he will be far too occupied to come to the country."

  They continued talking and planning for the next half hour before Elizabeth excused herself and returned to the drawing room. Since Lady Derring had yet to give her her conge, she still considered herself to be in the countess's employ, and she was determined to carry out her duties until the end. Her ladyship might still give her the sack, but she was hanged if she'd let her have the satisfaction of claiming it was because she'd not given proper service.

  Elizabeth wasn't surprised to find the drawing room all but deserted upon her return. Less than half a dozen guests remained, Lady Barrington among them, and when she saw Elizabeth hovering in the doorway she gestured her forward with a graceful wave.

  "Dear Miss Mattingale, are you quite all right?" she asked, her blue eyes bright with concern as they studied Elizabeth. "That pestilent beast! I cannot imagine why the Derrings allow him to remain. He is the outside of enough."

  Although she more than shared the duchess's assessment of Mr. Derwent's character, the presence of the other guests had Elizabeth holding her tongue. "I believe they allow him to remain because of Mr. Carling," she said at last. "Mr. Colburt's death has been quite hard on him."

  "I cannot think why," the duchess opined with a sniff. "He was as big a fool as that tedious fop Derwent. Which reminds me," she added, sliding Elizabeth a quizzing look, "do you really think he me
ant it when he said he knew who killed Mr. Colburt? I own I find it difficult to believe."

  "As do I," Elizabeth agreed. "Mr. Colburt was also his friend. One would think if he had any useful information of the crime he'd have told the earl at once."

  "That is so," the duchess responded with a nod. "Doubtlessly he was bragging for effect; a dangerous thing, considering the real killer could have overheard him and be moved to silence him. How fortunate for his health that he is as ignorant as he is vicious."

  Elizabeth started to agree and then stopped, frowning as a sudden memory shimmered to life in her mind. "I hope the same might be said of Mr. Carling."

  Lady Barrington's gaze sharpened. "What do you mean?"

  "The night of the murder, Mr. Derwent seemed to be hinting that Mr. Carling knew more than he was telling," Elizabeth replied, lost in thought. "I remember Mr. Carling seemed quite upset and was trying to hush him even before Lord Falconer intervened." Then she shook her head.

  "But that's nonsense," she said, feeling decidedly foolish. "It makes even less sense than if Mr. Derwent had some knowledge of the crime. Given his devotion to Mr. Colburt, he would certainly have shared whatever he knew with his father so that the killer could be brought to justice. Keeping quiet would make no sense, unless he was doing so to hide his involvement with the theft of his father's papers."

  Lady Barrington gave a startled gasp. "Mr. Carling took the papers?" she demanded incredulously. "But that is infamous!"

  Elizabeth blanched in horror at what she'd inadvertently let slip. At least the duchess had kept her voice low-pitched, and a frantic glance about showed that the other guests seemed oblivious to the outburst and were deep in their own conversations. Vowing to be more circumspect in the future, she leaned toward the other woman in a confiding manner.

  "I have no proof, you understand," she whispered, once she'd finished sharing her suspicions. "But Lord Falconer agrees with me. He says it's precisely the sort of prank they would pull."