Keeping one hand around her small daughter’s middle to keep the child balanced, Phil leaned forward and offered Lyle her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Murphy. And please, my friends call me Phil.”
Flushing with as much color as his hair, Lyle bent to kiss Phil’s knuckles. He must have thought better of it halfway through, because he wound up kissing the air and giving her hand a little shake at the same time. Katherine had never seen a more awkward greeting. He turned a deep shade of plum as he straightened.
Hoping to give him time to recover, Katherine added, “Mr. Murphy is an investigator with Sir John’s men. His inventions have aided their efforts greatly. Mr. Murphy, why don’t you tell her about your newest invention, the one you mentioned to me earlier?”
Katherine worried that if Lyle didn’t take a breath soon, he was going to turn blue. He stumbled over his tongue, mumbling something about clothing and touching. After his jumbled attempt at conversation, he abruptly bowed and excused himself, turning on his heel before Katherine could grab his elbow and convince him to stay.
Phil frowned as she watched him depart. “Oh dear. I didn’t offend him, did I?”
Staring at the path he’d taken, Katherine warred with the desire to follow him and make certain he was all right. However, she needed Phil’s advice, and tonight might be the only time she would be able to attain it. Lyle was a grown man and could take care of himself.
Perching on the edge of an ottoman across from Phil, she answered, “He isn’t accustomed to interacting with the ton. I hope you’ll forgive his abruptness.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to intimidate him.”
Katherine smiled. Phil was one of the most unaffected people she knew, as was the rest of the Graylocke family. Though she was a duchess, she never put on airs, and always spoke to others as equals.
“It isn’t your fault, I’m certain.”
Perched on her mother’s lap, Miss Graylocke made a burbling noise as she fit two pieces of an intricate wooden puzzle together.
Katherine smiled at the little girl, who appeared too caught up in her task to notice her audience. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a puzzle I created,” Phil answered. “She loves them. When this one is fitted together properly, it will become a ball. You watch, she’ll have it figured out by the end of the evening.”
“What an intelligent young woman.”
Phil glowed at the praise. “She takes after her father.”
No doubt she had no small part of her mother in her as well, though Phil was too modest to admit it.
“How have you been?” the duchess asked.
“I’m well. I took your advice and asked Papa for a chance to earn my dowry. I have nine days to solve a mystery, and he’ll award it to me.”
Phil beamed. “That’s fantastic. I’m certain you’ll finish with time to spare.”
“Perhaps, but I could use your advice.”
Miss Graylocke dropped one of her puzzle pieces. Katherine fished it off the ground, dusted it off, and returned it to the child. She received a soft word of thanks in exchange.
Smiling fondly at her daughter, Phil asked, “Advice concerning what?”
“Investigative techniques. I mean to do my own search for a criminal who has eluded even my father. I know you’ve conducted such a search before. How do you recommend I find him?”
Phil leaned back, a pensive expression on her face. Upon seeing that her attention was fixed elsewhere, members of her admiring audience started conversations among themselves or wandered away.
Katherine paid them no mind; Phil’s opinion mattered most to her. Phil had conducted independent investigations in the past, and as a woman, she had faced the same societal limitations on her movements as Katherine.
After a moment, the duchess answered, “The best proof is through confession. Sometimes, the evidence is so elusive that you have nothing more than your own suspicions on which to rely. You’ve been doing this for a long time, perhaps even longer than me.”
“I’m flattered, but I’ve always had my father around to lead the investigation.”
Phil tucked one of her daughter’s curls behind the child’s ear. “Perhaps you have, but you’ve been a fixture at your father’s side ever since I’ve known you. That experience means you know enough to formulate your own theories. Listen to your instincts. I’m certain they won’t lead you astray.”
Katherine’s chest warmed knowing that an accomplished woman of Phil’s caliber had faith in her. “So I’ll need to goad the criminal into confessing.”
“Not necessarily,” Phil cautioned, “but it is often the best way to be sure. While I was hunting that spy years ago, Morgan and I actually thought her to be the French spymaster at first, before we infiltrated her home and recovered evidence that suggested she was answering to someone else. Even though we didn’t find the proof we thought we were looking for, we found a clue that pointed us in the right direction. It was Morgan’s sister who eventually found and caught the true spymaster.”
That wouldn’t do at all. In order to attain her independence, Katherine needed to capture the Pink-Ribbon Killer herself. If she were to do that and could get a confession, that would be best, as it would eliminate any shadow of doubt. But in order to get that confession, maybe she would need some sort of evidence, like what Phil had obtained with the spy, in order to coerce the confession.
“Does that help?” Phil asked.
“It does. At the very least, it gives me a goal as I start my investigation. Thank you. Your advice, as always, is invaluable.”
Katherine stood and smiled as Miss Graylocke fitted the last piece of her puzzle together, which formed a ball the size of her two fists. With luck, Katherine would soon be every bit as triumphant.
Chapter Three
Two days later.
The Earl of Northbrook’s Estate.
When Katherine accepted this matchmaking job, even just as a cover to conduct her investigation, she hadn’t realized how hopeless her task would be.
Miss Annie Pickering lovingly laid out a collection of dead insects pinned to slices of wood. Her valise must be bottomless for her to be able to fit so many grotesque specimens inside. As the plump young woman, only a couple years younger than Katherine, bent over the valise to choose yet another preserved butterfly, Katherine cleared her throat. “Miss Pickering.”
With a broad smile displaying a charming gap in her front teeth and a pair of dimples, the young woman straightened. She clutched the specimen proudly. “Call me Annie, please. I feel as though we’re already friends.”
Katherine fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. As her charge laid the insect on the coverlet of her bed alongside a dozen others, Katherine said, “I was asked here as your chaperone to help you draw the earl’s eye.”
The color drained from Annie’s flushed cheeks, leaving the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks more noticeable. She sat heavily on the mattress. Her sea-green skirt narrowly missed the nearest butterfly.
The color of her dress, subtly darned in places though showing less wear than her mother’s, made her eyes seem an even more brilliant shade of green. That was, when one could see them behind the unruly mop of brown hair. Annie brushed aside the errant strands and beseeched Katherine with her gaze. “I know Mama hired you to help the match. Do you…” Her chin wobbled. “Do you think there’s any hope at all?” She glanced down, twisting her skirt in her hands.
Katherine’s heart echoed the gesture, twisting at the sight of Annie’s despair. Tarnation! She wasn’t supposed to care about the outcome of this matchmaking job. When faced with Annie’s innocent hopes, Katherine couldn’t help but want her to succeed.
How am I supposed to marry a penniless insect-lover to an earl? Perhaps, once she’d caught the Pink-Ribbon Killer, she would find a way.
After gingerly clearing a spot to sit, she perched on the mattress next to Annie and took one of the young woman’s hands in h
ers, squeezing. “Of course there is hope. I’ve spent five minutes with you, and I can already tell you have a good heart.”
Despite the compliment, Annie’s face fell. She fingered the edge of an orange-winged butterfly with black markings along its top edge and gruesome blue spots that resembled eyes in the bottom swell. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
From afar. Katherine forced a smile. “Quite lovely.” She would count her blessings if she didn’t have nightmares from this.
With a fond smile, Annie continued to stroke the wing as she explained, “It doesn’t start out that way. In fact, as a caterpillar, it’s rather fat and ugly. It becomes something beautiful along the way.” Eyes shining, she met Katherine’s gaze.
“You don’t need to become someone else in order to catch Lord Northbrook’s eye. All we need to do is ensure that he sees the kindhearted woman you are.”
Annie managed a shaky smile. “Do you think?”
“I know. You forget, I’ve done this before.” With an earl’s daughters who had substantial dowries. In the end, both her sisters’ husbands had grown to cherish their wives, but Katherine had to admit that the draw of their status, family connections, and fortunes made it much easier to draw the eyes of their husbands-to-be. And neither of them had been set on one man in particular.
Don’t despair. After all, her true purpose in attending this party was to catch a murderer. Certainly, that took precedence. This matter of matchmaking… She couldn’t afford to think about it until after she had apprehended the person responsible for killing two women.
Putting distance between her and the eerie insects on the bed, Katherine stood. “Did you need to bring quite so many of… those?”
Annie snatched up one of her specimens and held it defensively to her chest. “I need them.”
Katherine couldn’t think of any possible use for a collection of dead vermin. She held her arms akimbo. “Why?”
“Because I do. What if someone asks to see my collection?”
“No one will ask.”
Her eyelashes fluttering, Annie looked down at the pest in her hand. The bulk of her hair fell into her eyes again. “Someone might ask,” she said in a small voice.
Her collection would scandalize most of the guests and certainly was not ladylike or appealing to prospective husbands, so Katherine hoped that the topic would not arise. “No one will think that you’ve carried your entire collection to Lord Northbrook’s house.”
Annie brushed the hair out of her eyes. “This isn’t my entire collection. I also have dozens of live specimens.”
Her mother must be a saint! Katherine drew herself up. “Please keep your collection confined to your room.”
With a vigorous nod, the young woman agreed. “Yes, of course. I’ll keep them safe here.”
It would be wrong of Katherine to hide them for the duration of the house party, and that would require touching them, which she preferred to avoid even if they were dead. Best to let Annie keep them confined to her room.
“Where is my peacock butterfly?”
Katherine’s heart skipped a beat. Please tell me it did not reanimate and fly away. Fearfully, she scanned the room, only to catch a glimpse of a wagging golden tail a moment before Emma disappeared into the adjoining chamber.
“Emma!” If that blasted dog has developed a taste for insects and starts hoarding them in her room like bones… Katherine shuddered and took off, skidding into the other chamber, the one assigned to her as Annie’s chaperone, to search for her pet pug.
Smirking, Harriet caught the thief around the middle seconds before the dog dove beneath the neatly made bed. She balanced her on one hip as she bravely detached the insect from Emma’s teeth. Tongue lolling, Emma wagged her tail, proud of herself.
Harriet held the butterfly out to Annie, who had followed on Katherine’s heels. The young woman exclaimed and vigorously checked the dead insect for injury. Thankfully, Emma’s light touch with her treasures meant that the insect had merely suffered a little dampness caused by Emma’s tongue.
Katherine herded her toward her room once more. “Why don’t you put that away? I imagine most of the guests will have arrived by now. They’re likely down with the hostess at afternoon tea. We should join them.”
Annie froze in place, blinking owlishly between strands of hair. “The hostess. Do you mean Lord Northbrook’s mother? I hear she’s frighteningly exacting over the sort of woman her son marries.”
To the contrary, Katherine had heard that the dowager was desperate to see her son married off and producing children. She couldn’t very well be both.
Instead of correcting the young woman, Katherine hoped to use Annie’s trepidation to spur her from the room faster. “In that case, you ought not to be tardy. If you’re the last to arrive, it might reflect poorly on us.”
With a squeak, Annie disappeared into her room. Katherine followed to find her frantically searching for her slippers. She hopped on one foot as she donned one, and on the other foot while pulling on the other.
Behind her, Harriet chuckled. “No need to panic. You’ll both head below in a trice.”
Annie lost her balance and fell on her rump. She winced. From the cradle of Harriet’s arms, Emma barked and squirmed, begging to be let down. Katherine would have held her captive, but her maid capitulated. The pug scrambled across the room to lick Annie’s face. Katherine grabbed the pug, rescuing the poor young woman. Balancing Emma on her hip, she used her free hand to fish a handkerchief out of her reticule.
“Thank you,” Annie said. Her words were muffled as she wiped her face clean.
“Why don’t I fix your hair?” Harriet asked.
Katherine patted her coif, which seemed to be in place. “Am I out of sorts?”
“Not you,” Harriet said, laughing. “Miss Pickering.”
“Oh. That’s a splendid idea.”
Armed with an ivory-backed brush, Harriet rounded the young woman, who was still seated on the floor and seemed confused at the new turn of events. Katherine bit back a smile.
With a note of warning in her voice, Harriet brandished the brush and said, “Hold still. We’ll have you ready before you know it.”
Self-consciously, Annie patted down her hair as Katherine escorted her out of their room on the second floor of the manor and toward the stairs. “I still think I’d look better if I ornamented my hair. I have a male Chalk Hill blue butterfly in my room that would—”
“No.” Katherine held up her hand, stalling whatever horrid suggestion Annie might think to add. “I draw the line at putting insects in your hair.”
“But… I’m not pretty without it.”
Much prettier than if she put vermin in her locks. Katherine could only begin to imagine the ton’s reaction to that.
In her opinion, the simple coiffure that Harriet had wrought did wonders to improve Annie’s appearance. It better displayed the freckles adorning her round cheeks, but it also revealed her eyes, which Katherine considered to be Annie’s crowning feature. When she was excited, they sparkled.
At that moment, they appeared sad and flat.
“What if he doesn’t notice me? He hasn’t so far this Season.”
Katherine patted the young woman’s arm, hoping to reassure her. “Be polite, be gracious. I’m certain you’ll make a favorable impression upon both hosts.”
Annie’s fears didn’t seem to be allayed, but as a door opened farther along the corridor, Katherine cut the conversation short. She laid a guiding hand on Annie’s elbow, hoping to hurry her down the stairs.
“Lady Katherine.”
A woman’s voice dripped with scorn. Grimacing, Katherine turned to face Mrs. Fairchild. She’d had the misfortune of crossing paths with the professional matchmaker while attempting to find husbands for her sisters. Apparently, her success in those instances had made her an enemy.
Despite the fact that she couldn’t be more than ten years older than Katherine, if that, Mrs. Fairchild held herself as
if she carried a lifetime’s more experience. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a severe style and covered with a lace cap. Her cerulean dress covered her from wrist to neck to ankle. Despite the unfashionable color, the matchmaker wore the dress as if it were the crown jewels. She cultivated a haughty air, which matched her attire.
“I’d heard you’d taken up Mrs. Pickering’s desperate case, but I didn’t quite believe it.”
Annie turned a violent shade of pink. She ducked her head, as if hoping to hide behind her neatened hair. Protectiveness washed over Katherine as she took a small step to put herself between Annie and Mrs. Fairchild’s scorn.
“I have pledged to help Miss Pickering make her match, and I’m proud to do so.”
Katherine didn’t care to play the matchmaker at all, but for Annie’s sake, she hoped she feigned exuberance well enough to fool her rival.
Mrs. Fairchild turned up her nose. “Of course you have. It isn’t as though you’ve been given any more respectable offers.”
Was that insult meant for one of her sisters? Katherine drew herself up and balled her hands into fists to keep them from trembling. Mrs. Fairchild only undertook clients with the purest reputations, the most demure, polite, pretty girls from wealthy families. If they were beyond reproach, then Mrs. Fairchild was the first to recommend them to wealthy men to make shallow matches of convenience, and nothing more. Most likely, those involved wound up miserable.
The rival matchmaker added, “If anyone is going to make the match of the Season, it will be Miss Young.” She indicated the prim, polished, young blond woman who might as well not have had any tongue or personality of her own, for she didn’t say a word. She clasped her hands in front of her cream gown and let her matchmaker speak for her.
Gritting her teeth, Katherine looked the sour older woman in the eye. “If that was your aim, you’ve already lost. The Season ended three weeks ago. Come, Annie,” she added as she turned on her heel. “Let’s go below.”
The young woman seemed close to tears. She hunched in on herself as she slinked down the stairs. At the bottom, Katherine pulled her aside for Mrs. Fairchild and her charge to pass. The rival matchmaker did so with an air of superiority. Miss Young displayed as much personality as her pale dress.
An Invitation To Murder Page 3