When she opened her mouth, he cut her off. “I mean it, Katherine. We will not bait the murderer, certainly not with you. Try it, and I’ll arrest you, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
She raised her hands in surrender. “Forget I mentioned it.”
He scowled as he continued to lean against the wall, brooding.
To lighten the mood, Katherine teased, “Perhaps I’ll continue on with matchmaking once this party is through. Are you looking for a wife, Lyle?”
He shuddered and ran a hand through a hank of his ginger hair falling into his eyes. “You sound like my mother.”
“She sounds like an intelligent woman.”
“I am far too busy for romance. Feel free to pass that message on to her, since she doesn’t seem to listen when I speak.” He fiddled with his collar. “I spend half my time chasing down criminals and the other half creating easier ways to hunt criminals. You understand that, don’t you?” He sounded a bit desperate.
Katherine took pity on him. “I do,” she assured him as she reached out to pat his arm. “I was only teasing.”
Fortunately, at that moment, Mrs. Burwick climbed up the stairs at last. Katherine dropped her arm and straightened, ready to confront her. When she noticed them lingering outside her door, Mrs. Burwick hesitated. For a moment, Katherine feared she would run. Lyle must have thought the same, for he tensed as if readying to run after her.
Instead, Mrs. Burwick donned an impassive expression and closed the distance between them. “Lady Katherine, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Her voice indicated that she derived no pleasure from this meeting at all.
“May we speak with you privately, Mrs. Burwick?”
The woman hesitated then nodded. Turning her back, she gestured them into her room and entered behind them. Once she shut the door, she turned to them with her back straight. Despite Katherine and Lyle’s superior heights, Mrs. Burwick did not appear to be cowed. “What is this concerning?”
Katherine removed the ribbon from her reticule. “I found these in your room.”
Mrs. Burwick bristled. “You have no right to search my room!”
“I have the leave of the host to do whatever I deem necessary to catch this murderer. Or did you forget that you were under the Earl of Northbrook’s roof?”
The twitch of the older woman’s eye betrayed her unease. “Those are ribbons. I don’t know why you care to remark on them.”
“They are pink ribbons,” Katherine insisted. “Very similar to the one wrapped around Miss Young’s throat last night.”
If Katherine had hoped for an indication of Mrs. Burwick’s guilt or innocence, she was destined to be disappointed. The older woman maintained her impenetrable composure, showing only a slight tinge of surprise. “It is not against the law to keep ribbons in one’s room. I did not strangle Miss Young.”
Lyle shifted in place, seeming impatient. My goodness, was he inclined to believe Mrs. Burwick? All murderers denied being caught if they wanted to live, and the woman still had high aspirations for her daughter.
“You hope for us to believe that you brought pink ribbon to a house party after the horrid fates of the last two young women clad in such a color?” Katherine stood arms akimbo. “Don’t take us for fools, madam.”
The older woman’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t bring them. The Duke of Somerset gave them to me.”
Katherine frowned. Somerset? Why would he have pink ribbon? Why would he be giving ribbon to Mrs. Burwick?
His voice every bit as authoritative as it had been last night when he’d sent the guests to bed, Lyle demanded, “Why would he do a thing like that?” When he acted in the capacity of Sir John’s voice in society, the transformation was nothing short of miraculous. His absentminded inventor and investigator demeanor was gone. He could have gone toe to toe with Captain Wayland for who radiated the most authority.
Mrs. Burwick melted to his will like butter. Her eyes downcast, she confessed, “I am in negotiations with him to make Prudence his next wife. He thought I had left the ribbons in his room while I was there. I tried to tell him he was mistaken, that they must belong to one of his… companions. However, we were interrupted, so I took the ribbons for the time being. I’ve never used them”—her gaze flicked toward Katherine—“for the very reasons you named. I don’t want Pru to become the next victim.”
She isn’t blond. Katherine held her tongue as Lyle asked, “When did you receive the ribbons?”
“Yesterday, or perhaps the day before.”
“Before the attack?”
“Yes.” The woman’s face hardened. “I didn’t harm anyone. You must believe me.”
If she had indeed been in negotiations with Lord Somerset, she stood to receive everything that she wanted. Why, then, would she attack Miss Young? Katherine remained silent as Lyle thanked Mrs. Burwick for her time and warned her not to conceal vital information in the future. They departed, taking the ribbons with them.
The moment they entered the corridor and shut the door, Lyle turned to Katherine. “We’ll have to speak with the duke, to verify her tale.”
“Of course. His room isn’t far down the hall, so we can start there and check elsewhere if he isn’t inside.”
Lyle nodded, and they meandered toward the bachelors’ end of the guest wing. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” he asked.
“Even if she is, Somerset might have kept a ribbon for himself if he planned something nefarious. But why attack Miss Young? Unless she openly spurned him in some way. She is more beautiful than Pru; perhaps the duke hoped to have her instead. And let’s not forget our theory of a serial kill—”
A hoarse scream pierced the air from the other end of the guest wing, stopping Katherine and Lyle in their tracks. They exchanged a fearful glance.
Miss Young.
They bolted toward Miss Young’s room.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Katherine reached Miss Young’s room, she found the door ajar and Mr. Greaves peering out the window. Miss Young moaned and shifted in bed. She was awake!
But why is Mr. Greaves in her room?
The moment Katherine stepped into the chamber, with Lyle on her heels, Mr. Greaves turned from the windowsill. The shutters were thrown wide, revealing the wan afternoon light, the sun hidden behind clouds. The curtain, still drawn and hastily stuffed to the side, fell in folds across Mr. Greaves’s shoulder. When he stepped away from the window, the curtain fell into place once more, shutting out the light and dimming the room.
“You must hurry,” he urged. “He jumped out the window!”
“Out of a two-story window?” Katherine glanced out and saw a trellis clinging to the house under the window. Roses reached halfway up. He could have shimmied down, but he couldn’t have gone far. That was a heavy drop at the bottom. In fact, he might even have injured himself.
Katherine spared a quick glance toward Lyle before they split ways. He dashed to the window, throwing the drapes wide as he peered out in a manner identical to Mr. Greaves. Katherine hurried to Miss Young, hoping she wasn’t further harmed. She took the rousing woman’s clammy hand as she sat next to her on the bed. A pillow lay on the floor beside the bed.
Behind her, Lyle muttered, “No one is below. He’s gotten away. Don’t let anyone touch this windowsill. I’ll return directly with my case.” Katherine presumed he spoke to her, though he mumbled his words as he strode from the room.
Miss Young squeezed Katherine’s hand, her eyes wide as she fully regained consciousness. She started to speak then moaned and clutched her throat.
“Hush, Miss Young,” Katherine urged, keeping her voice low and gentle. “You’re safe. I must learn what happened here, but I will stray no farther than the door. I spy a pitcher of water. Are you thirsty?”
Miss Young brushed her fingertips over her matted hair as she nodded. Once Katherine fetched her a glass and found that the woman was strong enough to sit up and drink from it without aid, she turned t
o the man left in the room.
Mr. Greaves, to his credit, had retreated nearer the door, possibly to avoid alarming Miss Young with his presence in her room. He shifted as if uncomfortable at remaining even there, under the circumstances. Katherine hailed him before he drifted too far and joined him on the threshold of the open door.
She kept her voice low as she approached him, lest Miss Young hear. “Why were you in Miss Young’s chamber?”
He flashed her a smile, though this was not a time for levity. “I was on my way to my room when I heard her scream. I entered to see to her welfare. Tell me you would not have done the same, Lady Katherine.”
Katherine most certainly would have, so she couldn’t fault his answer even if it was unseemly for a gentleman to enter a lady’s room. “You said you saw a man?” she asked, her tone brusque.
His smile slipped. “I don’t know. The curtains were drawn, and it was dark in the room. When I burst in he was already halfway out the window. All I saw was a glimpse of the emerald-colored jacket he wore. I’m afraid I was too consumed with Miss Young’s safety. By the time I rushed to the window, he was gone and you arrived.”
Surviving that fall uninjured would take a true athlete—or a healthy dose of luck. Since neither Mr. Greaves nor Lyle had noticed anyone suspicious lurking below, the man in question must be a quick runner. Katherine had previously encountered the same swiftness from the man who ran from her in the gardens.
Katherine stifled a sigh. “You didn’t see his face at all?”
Mr. Greaves shook his head.
“What of his height?”
“Near yours, Lady Katherine. Perhaps a bit taller or shorter.”
In other words, the same height as every man in England. Well, all except for Lyle and Captain Wayland. Katherine waved her hand, dismissing Mr. Greaves. “I think it best if you vacate Miss Young’s bedchamber, sir.”
He inclined his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. By the time he straightened, his smile had returned. “I’d like to assist the search in any way I can, Lady Katherine.”
“If I need your assistance, I will find you. Thank you, Mr. Greaves.”
As he turned away, Lyle returned and squeezed past him into the room. He paused and lowered his head to speak to Katherine in a low tone. “Did you discover anything else?”
“Nothing yet. I’m about to question Miss Young to hear her recollections.”
When Katherine returned to Miss Young’s side, the young woman warily eyed Lyle, who crossed to the windowsill. She gathered the sheets to her chest to better cover her. “Who is he?” she asked hoarsely. Her voice cracked, and it clearly pained her.
Katherine reclaimed the spot next to Miss Young’s hip. “Pay him no mind. He is my friend, Mr. Murphy, with Sir John’s men.”
Her eyes widened. “A Bow Street Runner?”
Katherine nodded. “He and Lord Northbrook take this attack against you very seriously.”
Miss Young licked her lips and stared into her glass but didn’t say anything further.
Gently, Katherine prodded, “I know this is difficult and frightening for you, but I must ask. Yesterday in the garden, did you see who attacked you?”
The young woman’s bloodshot eyes filled with tears. She looked down, her chin wobbling as her hands tightened around her glass. “I—” Her voice cracked again.
“Take your time. Anything you might be able to remember will help. I know it hurts to speak. Is the pain less if you whisper?”
“I don’t know.” Miss Young paused. She felt at her throat, sticky with the brownish paste the physician had prescribed to heal her bruises. “I do think it feels a bit better, but it is not at all pleasant.”
“Would you like some more water?”
When Miss Young nodded, Katherine moved to refill her glass. The young woman drank half of the liquid before she spoke again.
“I didn’t see who attacked me. Forgive me, I know I’m no help.” She blinked hard against the moisture shining in her eyes.
“What did you see?”
“Little more than a man’s shadow. He was upon me so quickly, I barely had time to scream. I never saw his face… I chose that darkened corner of the garden for a reason, so I wouldn’t be found out when I…” She bit her lower lip.
Katherine leaned forward. “When you did what, precisely?”
The matted strands of Miss Young’s hair fell forward to shield her face, her cheeks pink with embarrassment or withheld tears. “I sent a note to Lord Northbrook. He’s been paying me some attention, but he suddenly stopped. I hoped to continue our courtship in private. Do you think he—”
“He was in the parlor at the time.” Or so Katherine had heard. Would the gathering lie for him because he was their host?
Miss Young finished the water in her glass and handed it to Katherine. When Katherine asked if she wanted it refilled, the young woman declined. Katherine set it aside next to the pitcher and returned.
“And this afternoon? Miss Young, when you awoke, you screamed. What did you see?”
The color drained from the young woman’s face. Even her pale hair seemed dark by comparison. “I thought that was a nightmare.” Her voice gained in strength. “I saw a man standing over me!”
“Did you see his face?” Please tell me you did.
“No. He held a pillow in front of him, and it was dim, and I was woozy. Mama!”
For a moment, Katherine frowned. As she glanced behind her to the door, she spotted Mrs. Young. The woman dashed to the bedside with tears in her eyes.
“Mama, I want to go home. I’m so afraid.”
Mrs. Young wrenched Katherine away from her daughter. “Be gone! I won’t have you harming my daughter.”
Miss Young clutched her mother’s wrist. “Lady Katherine hasn’t harmed me. It was…” She scrunched her nose as her tears fell. “I don’t know who, but he’s certain to try to finish the job. Please, Mama. I don’t care about finding a husband anymore. I only want to go home.”
With a gaze as sharp as steel, Mrs. Young turned from Katherine to Lyle, who straightened from the windowsill. “She is the victim here. Surely you wouldn’t keep us where she might be in danger.”
“Of course not, madam. You and your daughter are free to go. Her matchmaker will have to stay, however.”
His answer seemed to partially mollify the older woman. “Please, leave us. We must ready ourselves to leave at once.” With that dismissal, she sat next to her daughter and hugged her tight.
Lyle beckoned Katherine closer. As she stepped near, she whispered, “Did you find anything?”
He pointed to the windowsill, where his powder had adhered to a mark. When he lifted a magnifying glass over it, the mark showed an intricate pattern of whorls interrupted by a thin line. He moved the magnifying glass to the pink ribbon, where the dye illuminated the same interrupted pattern.
“The attacker was certainly here.”
Mr. Greaves had been telling the truth. All Katherine needed to find now was a man in an emerald-green jacket.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A cloud hung over the gathering. Even the dowager seemed shaken. She hid it well, keeping her back straight and her hands folded in her lap, but Katherine noticed the pronounced lines of worry around her nose and mouth. The hostess continually glanced around the room as if ensuring that all of her guests were present and safe. She contributed to the conversation on the settee with words as clipped as the melody Miss Reardon played on the pianoforte.
Katherine scanned the interior, pretending that she didn’t notice the black glower aimed her way by Mrs. Fairchild. Fortunately, the rival matchmaker remained across the room, too far to drip her poison into Katherine’s ear. She didn’t appear to be taking the news of Miss Young’s departure with grace, likely because it meant that she had been unsuccessful.
Where was Annie? Katherine had been so busy with Lyle all day as they uncovered clues that she hadn’t had time to speak with her charge at
all. When she was unable to find Annie’s figure among the guests in the parlor, Katherine stopped Lady Reardon. “Have you seen Miss Pickering?”
The older woman shook her head. “I’m afraid not. She was at supper, I’m certain, but I haven’t seen her since the gentlemen joined us here.” Her gaze sharpened, and she leaned closer with a conspiratorial smile. “Is it true what they say, that you’re working with the Bow Street Runner? What have you found?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss the investigation.”
From the corner of her eye, Katherine spotted Captain Wayland as he extricated himself from a knot of gentlemen chatting by the mantel. His gaze fastened on her. By now, Katherine could read that particular expression as if he held a sign detailing his intentions. He meant to coax information from her.
It won’t happen. Katherine was close to solving this case. Far too close to risk Wayland stealing the glory. She excused herself and briskly slipped away.
Instead of taking the main staircase up to the guest wing, she took the servants’ stair. She didn’t want Wayland to follow and corner her. She pressed her back against the wood-paneled wall and held her breath as she waited. At any moment, she expected him to peer around the corner and find her.
Silence. She was safe. Releasing a sigh of relief, she hurried up the stairs to the guest wing.
At the top, she heard voices. She pressed herself against the shadows again, craning her ears.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” said a woman, young by the sound of her voice. Katherine peered around the corner of the stairwell to spot a serving girl no older than twenty standing at the Duke of Somerset’s door. Her face was pink and her eyes downcast. She fisted her hands in her skirts as she curtsied.
“You look familiar…” Katherine didn’t stand at the proper angle to see into the doorway, but Somerset sounded amused.
Her color deepened. “I am Mrs. Fairchild’s maid, Your Grace. We, erm… we met at your house party early this month.” She plucked at her skirts, likely passed down from her employer. They were darned in places but neat.
An Invitation To Murder Page 17