A Question of Love (Questions For A Highlander Book 1)

by Angeline Fortin

  “Oh, I’ve been to bed, just haven’t slept.” Jack stretched with a cocky grin. “I had promised Lady Hamilton my evening. Energetic lass.”

  “Married women will not get you the fortune you need, Merrill,” Francis commented as he finished tying his cravat. “You might want to at least try for a widow if you don’t like the debs.”

  “I was trying for a widow until you showed up and snagged her from me,” he reminded. “Ah, but of course she isn’t a widow any longer. I suppose I should be happy that I didn’t get her an inch from the altar before her husband showed up and ruined my good fortune.” He clapped his friend on the back as Francis grimaced. “Anyway, I am off to bed but I told Godfrey I’d let you know on the way up that there are some men downstairs waiting to talk to you.”

  “Men? Who?”

  “Looked fairly official to me. I saw them come in as I was walking up the street. Bloody hell! You think they are here about that fight the other night?” Jack asked. “You think that jackass Shaftesbury went to the bobbies?”

  “I don’t think he would have much to gain in doing so,” Francis answered with a shake of his head, though a puzzled frown furrowed his brow. “Man like that must know that the authorities tend to overlook such minor contretemps when nobility is involved. I suppose there is nothing for it but to go and find out.”

  “Can’t wait to see this,” Jack shrugged as Francis raised an eyebrow. “Could be interesting, besides, you might need a witness to your innocence.”

  Two men rose as Francis and Jack strolled into the drawing room. Jack was right, they did have an ‘official’ air about them. Both wore suits of middling quality, in muted colors and serviceable styling. The taller man was a bit older than the other, graying and dignified. Francis pegged him as the superior to the younger chap, who smiled at them with a kind of feral glee when they entered. “May I help you gentlemen?”

  “Glenrothes?” asked the elder of the pair.

  “Aye,” he answered warily.

  “Gerald Thompson, Edinburgh police. This is one of my detectives, Mr. Shaw.” Francis shook hands with both men and indicated Jack. “Haddington.” Jack also shook hands with both men as Glenrothes invited the pair to sit.

  “I suppose I should get right to the point. I am sorry to inform you, my lord,” Thompson began gruffly, “that your former wife, the countess of Glenrothes, was found dead this morning in her room at the Grand Hotel.”

  For a moment Francis sat stunned as the news sank in. A thousand thoughts chased one another around his mind. Vanessa was dead? How? When? How strangely convenient… for him. Not looking at Jack, who was gaping in amazement and struggling to keep any expression from his own face, Francis asked quietly. “May I ask how it happened?”

  “Lady MacKintosh was found early this morning by one of the maids at the hotel,” Shaw consulted a small notebook he carried with him. “Initial conclusion made by the coroner is that she was strangled and her windpipe crushed. She would have suffocated within minutes.”

  Francis absorbed that for a moment, waiting, trying to feel something. He knew he should but he felt… nothing. “How ghastly.” It was incredible as well, though he didn’t say that. A quick glance to Jack showed he was thinking the same thing. The murder of his wife had certainly made his entire life significantly more simple. “Who did it?”

  The older man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “That is, of course, the other reason we are here, my lord, other than to inform you of her death. Rumor has it that you have been seen in several instances arguing with your wife in public.”

  Ah, there it was! “Ex-wife,” he reminded blandly. “We have been divorced for many years, sir.”

  “Had been,” Jack murmured.

  Francis shrugged and agreed with his friend’s correction of tense. “Well, aye, had been.”

  “How many years were you married?” Shaw poised a small pencil over his notebook.

  “A dozen?” Francis thought out loud. “’Bout a dozen I suppose, by the time the divorce was finalized.”

  “Maybe eleven,” Jack drawled keeping an eye on the younger detective as he lounged carelessly against the back of the settee and put his feet up. It set Shaw on edge, he could see with a glimmer of humor, that blasé indifference to the facts. “Could be… maybe.” He raised a brow at Francis and both men shrugged as if the exact number were of no importance.

  “And when did you get divorced, my lord?” Thompson continued, while Shaw glared at Haddington, who only smiled blandly back at him.

  “It was approved by Parliament about four years ago.”

  “Rumors have been abounding across town lately that you were seen arguing with the countess Glenrothes in public venues several times over the past week, my lord,” the detective went on. “Might I ask what you were arguing about?”

  Francis took a deep breath, feeling irritation welling up in him. “I had not been arguing, my good man. She was. She wanted money, I simply wanted her to go away. I think those ‘arguments’ might also be defined as negotiations. What are you getting at?”

  Shaw’s eyes gleamed up at him over his spectacles. “Why did you divorce your wife, my lord?”

  “Why does any man divorce his wife?” Glenrothes shot back, sensing that the younger man was somehow enjoying trying to put him on the defensive.

  “Rumor also has it that you have been seen in the company of the Countess of Shaftesbury on several occasions recently.” With that change of subject, Thompson inserted himself into the questioning, for Francis now knew that was what this was.

  “The countess is a dear friend of my brother’s wife and has been staying with them for several months.” He tried to make his voice convey the most impersonal tone he could. “I have merely been a polite escort to my sister-in-law’s friend from time to time, as has Haddington on numerous occasions. It is nothing more than that.”

  Jack nodded in agreement as he could also easily see where they were going with their questions.

  “And the fight involving the countess at the Duke of Roxburghe’s residence last night?”

  “Merely defending a friend from an unwanted suitor,” he shrugged it off.

  “Seemed to be a bit more than that, I would say. So the countess is merely a… friend,” Shaw asked slyly, but changed the topic again when Francis couldn’t hold back a frown.

  Thompson cleared his throat. “Why did you divorce your wife, did you say?”

  “Because she was disposed to fucking every man she met.” Glenrothes leaned forward, resting his arms casually, and spoke with bland sarcasm. “It tended to irritate just a bit. Surely any self-respecting man would have done the same in my place.”

  The men exchanged a look. “Is that how it was?”

  “Indeed it was.”

  Jack chuckled dryly. “Could give you the names of a dozen men to back it up.”

  “Is that so?”

  “There are sworn testimonials to the fact in the records from the Parliamentary inquest.” Francis sighed as if he were bored with the entire subject. “Might we get to the point of this questioning, gentlemen?”

  “Of course,” Thompson conceded. “Where were you last night, my lord?”

  “And there it is. You think I killed her, yes?” he asked, having no intention of telling them where he was last night. “Very well, I give you my word that I did not.”

  “And we should take your word on that?” Shaw sneered.

  “I am Glenrothes,” Francis informed him coldly, leveling him with a stare that had the young man suddenly studying his boots intently. “Aye, I think you should.”

  “And if we did not?” Thompson asked. “Then what?”

  “Then I would ask you this. Why would I kill her?” he questioned with a raised brow, nobility leaking from his every pore. “I have no motive. Other than her constant requests for money – which I can easily afford, by the by – I have no reason even to bring her to mind regularly. She is naught but a nuisance and an embarrassment. A pes
t. And why now? Why would I choose this place and time? If I wanted to kill her, I have had plenty of opportunity over the past dozen years to do it quickly and quietly. If I were bent on murder, Mr. Thompson, I might have buried her in the gardens of my estate with no one the wiser. No one has seen her in town for years. So why do it now, right after we ‘argued’ in public and leave the body for it to be easily discovered, ready for fingers to be pointed at me?”

  “Why indeed?” Jack agreed in a provoking tone.

  Thompson stroked his chin thoughtfully. “So you admit that you would have liked to see her dead?” He raised his hand in submission as Francis started to argue the point. “Your arguments raise valid points, my lord, and, I will admit, the authorities are reticent to accuse or arrest noblemen in instances like this. Always messy. Much too public. Makes us look bad when we’re wrong.”

  “Well, you are wrong now.”

  Chapter 43

  “Have you any alibi for your whereabouts last night?” Shaw persisted, disliking that his superior was backing down from the fight. Politicians! Personally he liked to see the nobles get what was coming to them every once in a while.

  “I returned here after dinner with my brother’s family last night.” It was not a flat out lie, more a lie of omission. He had returned home after leaving Richard’s last night. It had taken him no more than ten minutes to leave again.

  “Is there anyone who can corroborate that?” Shaw prodded. “Haddington, perhaps?” Shaw took in Haddington’s attire. “Although it seems that you are just getting in, unless you slept in your clothing?”

  Jack scalded the man with a mean look through narrowed eyes that had the underling looking away quickly. “Is there anyone else, my lord?”

  “My staff can verify what time I arrived if you would care to question them.” They can also verify what time I came back in this morning, he added silently.

  “And you were here all night?”

  Clever to ask the question, Francis thought. That Shaw was no man’s fool. “Where else would I be?”

  “Where else indeed.” Thompson clapped his hands on his thighs and stood.

  Shaw was slower to stand but bent his head to his notebook again. “Just one last thing, my lord. We have a witness who says he saw you leaving the Grand Hotel at half four this morning.”

  “Your witness is wrong. I was nowhere near the Grand this morning.” His words were instant and honest and had a ring of truth to them that anyone could recognize.

  “Nevertheless, my lord…” Shaw looked up to see Glenrothes towering over him, large and arrogant. He couldn’t resist taking a small step of retreat. “We will need to place you under arrest, pending a trial.”

  “I don’t think that is necessary, Shaw,” Thompson placated, politically aware of whom he might offend rushing into an arrest. Glenrothes had political power in Edinburgh and elections were coming up soon. “The earl will not leave town, will you, my lord?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” Thompson forwarded the assurance to Shaw with a tight smile. “There is not sufficient evidence to make an arrest as yet anyway.”

  “But, sir!” the detective protested. “The witness!”

  “Aye, the witness,” Francis thought about that for a moment. “Who was the witness, if I may ask?”

  “A desk clerk saw you leaving the hotel at half four,” Shaw explained again.

  “He saw me? Knew me by sight?” Glenrothes challenged with a doubtful tone. “I have not been to Town in several years other than to attend Parliament or do business, are you aware of that fact? I have never stayed in any hotel in this town. I would like to meet any hotel clerk who thinks he knows me by sight.”

  “He did not know you by sight, my lord,” Shaw conceded, but added testily, “you asked him to make sure your wife, the countess, was not disturbed as you left.”

  “I find it an appalling insult to my intelligence that I would set myself up so easily to be accused of murder and leave such a blatant trail of my ill deed,” Francis drawled, thinking that the whole deal would be humorous if they were not insulting his hard earned reputation… as well as his acumen.

  “Your apparent idiocy knows no bounds,” Jack agreed with a snort of laughter. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “I am smarter than that.” Francis turned to Thompson. “Sir, I would like to meet this witness if I might? It would be interesting to see if I met him whether he would know who I was, because, I can assure you, the man he saw was not me.”

  Thompson considered that a moment and nodded. “That might be enough to clear you of all suspicion, my lord. Without his confirmation of your identity we have nothing other than rumor to tie you to the murder. I will set it up and have a runner let you know what time to come.”

  “I appreciate that.” The two men shook hands as Francis steered the official toward the door.

  “If there is anyone else you can think of who might have motive to harm your former wife, will you please let me know?”

  “I do not know where she has been the last several years, but perhaps her maid might be able to offer some assistance?” Francis offered again, as if he hadn’t given his ex-wife much thought of late. Which, he truly had not.

  “Her maid?” Shaw inquired.

  “There was no maid of hers at the hotel last night.”

  “Well, I would start there then. She went through them regularly, but I have never known Vanessa to be able to get through life without assistance.” Francis ushered them to the door and said their goodbyes. Closing the door, he leaned against it and looked back at his friend. “Vanessa is dead.”

  “Very convenient for you,” came the drawled response.

  “Incredibly convenient,” he answered. “Can you think of anyone that might benefit from this?”

  “There is you, of course.”

  “We already determined that, but someone set me up to take the fall for this,” Francis said. “In fact, laid a very well marked path to my front door. Provided motive with all the recent arguments. Opportunity with the timeline.”

  “Don’t forget the witness.”

  Francis nodded. “There’s much anger behind this whole scenario.”

  “I have an inkling of an idea who might hate you that much.”

  “Indeed, as do I, but it doesn’t quite fit to what we know yet.” The question was obvious to Francis. “Why would Vanessa take part in a plan that ended in her death?”

  “Might have come as a big surprise to her in the end.”

  A corner of Francis’ mouth jerked up unwillingly at his friend’s jest. “Indeed, I would wager she never saw it coming.”

  Chapter 44

  “This just gets worse and worse,” Eve moaned, rubbing her temples, when Francis arrived back at Richard’s at a more proper hour later that morning and told them what had happened. He had taken a long ride in the park to clear his head and consider recent developments before appearing at Moray Place. Jack had gone off to bed with a promise to be woken before Francis went to the police station. The incredulity of the whole situation still amazed him.

  “She’s dead?” Eve asked once again.

  “She is.”

  “Strangled?”

  “Aye, crushed her windpipe, they think.”

  “And you did it?”

  “They think I did it, Eden.” Francis leaned against the mantle as the ladies exclaimed amongst themselves over the morning’s happenings.

  Sensing that she had just wounded his feelings with her thoughtless words, Eve went to Francis and slipped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. “Well, I know you didn’t do it, Francis, really,” she huffed. “But why do they think you did?”

  “Motive, opportunity and a witness,” he replied, rubbing his chin against the top of her head. She tilted her head, brushing a light kiss against his chin before turning in his arms so she could see the rest of the room. A week ago such a public embrace would have been imposs
ible for her to endure without embarrassment, much less initiate. It was amazing how much she had changed, or reverted, in that short time. She had longed to find the girl she had been within herself and it seemed that she was slowly emerging!

  Francis continued, “We all know that Vanessa had been creating a nuisance of herself with all these very public outcries against me. Those confrontations where I have ‘threatened’ her and brushed her aside are being taken as motive to kill her. A demonstration of my tendency to violent behavior. I think it was part of her plan.”

  “Even she was not so brainless as to make a plan that ended with her murder,” Abby snorted in a most unladylike way. “I mean she wasn’t the brightest woman but she wasn’t that stupid.”

  “I’m guessing that she didn’t know the entirety of the plan,” Richard deduced.

  “Obviously,” was Moira’s wry reply. “And of course, she had a partner in crime. The one who put her up to it and killed her in the end.”

  “But who…” Eve’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “No!”

  “Why not?” Francis tightened his arm around her and glanced down in confusion. “You don’t think he has it in him?”

  “I can’t…” She shook her head in denial.

  “Think about it,” he insisted, not letting her back down from acknowledging the truth. “He comes to town. No one knows who he is. We can’t find where he’s staying. Vanessa was seen last week with an unknown man according to the maid Jack talked to, and I use that term loosely.” He counted these off on his fingers as he went on. “He has threatened you, if you recall.”

  Eve put a trembling hand to her throat, thinking of all the times William’s hand had surrounded it lightly as he had admonished her, his thumb stroking her throbbing pulse in such a menacing manner. The coldness, maliciousness of his eyes, so unfeeling as he watched others administer his punishments. It might have easily been her. It might very easily have been her.

  It still might be.

  For a heartbeat, she almost felt sorry that Vanessa had been taken in by him.