“Mrs. Mowbray,” he said cautiously, “I hope you will allow me to ask you a few questions regarding the events of last night at the Theater Royale?”
Once the ladies took their seats again, the investigator took a seat across from them on the couch opposite.
“I’ve already spoken with Lord Coniston,” he continued, not looking toward the other man. “But I’d like to hear things from your point of view now, if you don’t mind.”
Con was pleased to see that rather than giving in to her fear, Georgie maintained her dignity and responded, “Of course, Mr. McGilloway. I am happy to help. That poor man on the roof deserves our help.”
“I don’t suppose you would consent to answering my questions without all these good people in attendance,” the man said, in such a way that Con knew he thought the chances were slim.
“I’m afraid she will not,” Con said, before Georgie could say anything. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, of course, but Mrs. Mowbray is rather nervous and she does not wish to speak to you alone. Aside from the fact that it would be highly improper.”
“I thought not, my lord,” McGilloway said with a nod. “But I had to ask all the same.”
Settling back into his seat, the investigator turned back to Georgie. “All right then, ma’am,” he said, “why don’t you tell me about what transpired last night at the theater. When did you first know something was wrong?”
Once again, Georgie told her story, beginning with how she’d seen the man who resembled her husband and ending with finding the body of the young man on the roof. When she was finished, there was no sound in the room except for the ticking of the mantel clock.
“Was this the first time you’d seen the man who looked like your husband?” McGilloway asked.
“Not at all,” Georgie said, staring at the painting on the wall behind McGilloway’s head. “He’s also been seen hiding in the garden here in Henrietta Street. And at Farley Castle. But I’d never been as close to him as I was at the theater. I was able to see how much like my husband he really was in the theater. From the upper stories to the very back of the garden is quite a long way and it’s difficult to judge size and distance.”
McGilloway nodded. “Would it surprise you to know that the young man whose body you found has been working as an investigator himself?”
That must have given Georgina some pause, because she looked sharply at McGilloway. “You mean an investigator like you?” she asked.
“In a way,” McGilloway conceded. “He was hired by a minor Italian nobleman to find the whereabouts of a piece of jewelry that was stolen from his wife just after the war.”
Con saw Georgina frown. “So the dead man had nothing to do with my husband’s look-alike? And he wasn’t one of the four men who attacked me either?”
“He definitely was not one of the four young men,” McGilloway said, his gaze intent upon her, as if he thought he could read her mind simply by staring at her. “I’ve spoken with all four of them.”
McGilloway looked at Georgina closely. “As far as we know, your husband’s look-alike was not involved in the man’s death either. Though there is a strange coincidence at work there. We’ve spoken with an army friend of your husband’s and he seemed to think that your husband was involved in some minor theft while he was in Europe. That might explain why the dead man was here. He was investigating your husband. Were you aware of any illegal activities he might have been involved in?”
Georgie shook her head, as if to clear it. “No,” she said “So far as I knew he was merely a soldier. I did get the feeling he was hiding something, but I assumed that was just…” She paused, embarrassment lending color to her cheeks. “I assumed he was having an affair. I had no notion that he was stealing.”
“With your husband’s death,” McGilloway said with a shrug, “there is no way of knowing one way or the other if he was involved.” His eyes watching her keenly, McGilloway continued, “Unless, of course you found some unexplained valuables with his things after he died, of course. But you’d have told the authorities, wouldn’t you?”
“Well,” Georgina said with a frown, “it was rather impertinent, but I may as well tell you that I found nothing in Robert’s things. No extra funds, no jewels, no valuables of any kind. If I had I should certainly not be employed as a ladies’ companion to keep a roof over my head.”
“Aye,” McGilloway said with a nod. “I thought as much. Though I did have to ask.”
“I can’t say that I’m surprised to hear such an accusation,” Georgina admitted with a shrug. “My husband was not the most ethical of men, and I often found that when he wanted something he had no compunction about taking it.” Con noticed the way she seemed to shrink into herself at the memory and once again found himself damning the late Colonel Robert Mowbray.
“But what of the fellow on the roof, McGilloway?” Con asked, bringing them back to the subject at hand. “If you believe Mrs. Mowbray, then where does that leave the investigation into his death?”
“It’s possible the man was killed by someone over an entirely different matter than the one the fellow was looking into. After all, it’s rare that a man like that works only one case at a time.”
“It makes sense,” Con said grudgingly. “But surely it is too much of a coincidence that he was investigating the husband of the woman who found him.”
“I would add, however, that it’s quite possible the man wasn’t as convinced of Mrs. Mowbray’s innocence as I am,” McGilloway said. “And someone said they saw the dead man, a Mr. Potts, rushing down the hallway and he happened to run into you, Mrs. Mowbray. I believe he shoved you out of the way? Perhaps Lord Coniston didn’t like that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, man,” Archer said, pushing himself away from the mantel. “Lord Coniston has no need to kill anyone. Especially not over something so trivial. It makes no sense.”
“You may be right, Lord Archer,” the investigator said mildly. “It could be that I’m chasing at windmills. But I do dislike coincidences.”
“You told me I was in the clear this afternoon, McGilloway,” Con said tersely.
“That was before I learned the identity of the dead man, Lord Coniston,” the investigator explained. “Things are different now.”
“But that’s nonsense! We were there because the man who looks like my dead husband lured us there, for heaven’s sake,” Georgina said, standing up so that she could pace behind the sofa. “He wanted us to be blamed for the investigator’s death so that he could escape suspicion.”
“That’s a likely scenario,” McGilloway agreed. “And one that very neatly removes the two of you from suspicion. Even so, I’d like to ask you both to remain here in Bath for the next few weeks. Just until we figure out who it is that killed our young investigator.”
Con clenched his teeth. He hated being trapped anywhere. Even somewhere as large as Bath. Still, he’d stay here if it meant keeping Georgina safe.
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” she said, raising a brow, and once more Con was awed by her ability to remain calm under the circumstances. “I am, after all, the companion to an elderly lady who lives in Bath. I’m hardly likely to go jaunting off to Scotland or the Continent. My home is here.”
“And you, my lord?” McGilloway asked Con.
It was difficult to respond without giving away any of his interior thoughts on the matter. He did, however, manage it, shrugging with a nonchalance he did not feel, and saying, “Of course. I’ll remain in the general area. For now.”
As if he knew how much emphasis Con had placed on those two little words, “for now,” McGilloway gave him a small smile, and nodded. “That’s all I can ask,” he said. “For now.”
With that, the man excused himself, and Georgina, Con, Perdita, and Lord Archer were left alone.
The room was quiet for a few moments as they each reviewed the man’s words on their own. Finally, Perdita gave her friend another hug and said, “My poor dear, you must
be so devastated to learn of the accusations against Robert. I remember you being worried that he seemed to be getting money from somewhere other than his salary, but this is beyond awful. It only seems to confirm your suspicions.”
Georgina, however, was having none of it. “Do not treat me like a poor martyred heroine, Perdita,” she said firmly. “I was never that, even when Robert was at his very worst. I am simply a widow who has learned her husband—like any number of other husbands—was capable of more deceit than she’d imagined. It’s hardly worthy of sympathy. If anything, I should be chastised for being so blind. Can you imagine how you might have felt if the situations were reversed?” She shook her head. “I already knew that Robert was a scoundrel. One more crime added to his roster is hardly enough news to inspire gasps of horror.”
Her mouth twisting, Perdita nodded, though Con could see there were tears in her eyes. He thought perhaps Georgina should be left alone to contemplate the news she’d just learned, but he dared not speak the words aloud.
Seeing how overset her friend was, Georgina seemed to make a mental decision. “Perdita, I am sorry. I know you mean well, but it simply does not bother me as much as you might think.”
Nodding, Perdita lifted her handkerchief to her nose and sniffed. “I know what you mean. I wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to hear the same thing about Ormond. I sometimes forget how much stronger you are than me.”
“Only on the outside,” Georgie assured her with a half-armed hug. “I think none of us know what things are like inside a marriage. Even happy ones. And you are right on one score. I was worried about where he was getting the extra money. It’s too bad it didn’t occur to me what he was doing until just now.”
“So, ladies,” Lord Archer said, clapping his hands together. “What’s to be our next adventure?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m even more determined than ever to catch our man in the garden tonight,” Con said with some degree of relish. “Here’s hoping that he is prepared to reveal the reasons behind his nocturnal visitations.”
Eleven
While Con and Archer settled into Lady Russell’s library to talk strategy for that night’s ambush of the Robert look-alike, Georgie and Perdita walked the short distance to Perdita’s house in Laura Place. Because the Duke of Ormond’s family didn’t keep a permanent residence in the spa town, the current duke, who also happened to be married to Perdita’s sister, had instructed her to rent whatever she thought suitable.
“For all that he’s a duke,” Perdita said, sipping the cup of tea the housemaid had just brought them along with a plate of sandwiches and biscuits, “The new Ormond is certainly reluctant to spend like one. You can take the man out of the country, and all that nonsense.”
Georgie bit back a laugh. “You are too hard on him,” she told her friend. “I daresay he’s not been accustomed to living on so lavish a scale as the rest of the family has done. And from what Con says he’s rather lenient with you.”
Perdita shrugged. “I daresay you’re right. And I am excessively pleased that my sister has found someone who will care for her better than Wharton did. It’s just difficult to adjust to having someone else in charge of things, now. I knew of course that it was always supposed to be Trevor’s, but I grew rather accustomed to making my own decisions—with Archer’s assistance of course. I’ll get over it soon enough, I suppose.”
“So, Isabella does still seem happy, then?” Georgina asked cautiously. She knew as well as anyone that marriage could sometimes start out blissfully only to dissolve into misery weeks later. “I quite liked the new duke when I met him in London. He seemed a sensible sort of man.”
“Oh, quite,” Perdita said with a laugh that didn’t quite ring true. “My sister is fairly bursting with happiness. Before long she’ll be increasing and her bliss will be complete.”
Ah, Georgina thought, that was what was bothering her friend. It was only known to a few people, but when the former Duke of Ormond—Perdita’s husband—had died, Perdita had been increasing. The stress of his passing, along with the violent way he’d treated her during their last encounter, had proved too much for Perdita to handle. And like so many women in that situation she’d blamed herself. Isabella and Georgina had tried to comfort her as best they could, but for many months the young duchess had been inconsolable.
“That’s wonderful news,” Georgina said despite her worry for Perdita. “I am so happy for her. Truly.”
“So am I,” Perdita said despite the tears in her eyes. “Truly, I am. I know you must think me a beast for even a twinge of jealousy, but I find it so hard not to feel it.”
Georgina reached out and took her friend’s hand in hers. “I think nothing of the sort,” she said firmly. “What you went through was horrible. And I wouldn’t wish that sort of thing on anyone. I truly ache for you, Perdita, no matter how happy I am for Isabella and Trevor.”
Perdita swallowed and squeezed Georgie’s hand back. “You’re a dear, Georgie,” she said, “really you are. I don’t know of anyone else of my acquaintance I could ever admit such feelings to.”
“Just because you are envious of someone doesn’t mean you cannot also be happy for them,” Georgie said practically. “We are complex creatures, are we not?”
“Indeed,” Perdita said with a sad smile. “And the thing of it is that I cannot wait until Isabella has a child. It’s just that I wish I had a child as well. When I think of those last few weeks with Ormond, I cannot help but feel hurt and angry all over again. It’s as if he weren’t satisfied with attacking me in person, but he also tried to find a way to hurt me after he was gone.”
“Dearest, I know it’s difficult to contemplate,” Georgie said. “Especially so soon after the dissolution of your engagement to Lord Coniston—”
Perdita held up a staying hand. “Stop right there, Georgina,” she said. “First of all, you must know that the business with Coniston had nothing to do with love or power or any of that other nonsense that surrounds marriage among the ton. It was purely a business arrangement. An arrangement I found myself completely opposed to after I’d given the thing some thought.”
“What’s the second thing?” Georgie asked, her brows raised.
“The second thing is that if you are about to tell me that I should consider marrying someone else in the hopes that he will give me a child,” Perdita said with a frown, “then you should save your breath. I have no reason to believe that I can have children at all. Remember that I had two pregnancies with Ormond, neither of which proved to be viable. Why don’t I simply give up while I can?”
Georgie had heard the argument from her friend before. “But surely the reason those pregnancies didn’t work out was because you were so miserable while you were married to Ormond. I haven’t heard physicians say as much, but does it not make sense that a mother’s happiness and well-being will affect the health of her child?”
“Dearest Georgie,” Perdita said, patting her friend on the hand. “You are a far better friend than I deserve. Here I am nattering on about Ormond and Isabella and my own unhappy circumstances, while you are sitting there patient as ever letting me run roughshod over you.”
Her contrition apparent on her face, Perdita poured her friend another cup of tea and continued. “Since you seem so interested in Lord Coniston,” she said, “perhaps you will tell me about the undercurrent of electricity I’m feeling between the two of you. I haven’t seen him look this intrigued since he was dangling after that awful Mrs. Pettibone. You remember her, don’t you? She had enormous…” Perdita cupped her hands before her own modest breasts.
Georgina nearly choked on her tea. “That must have been before we met,” she told her friend, curious despite herself at the information her friend was revealing about Lord Coniston. As a ton outsider, Georgie would only have known about Lord Coniston’s past amours if they’d appeared in the gossip sheets. And even then she wasn’t much for reading up on the comings and goings of the upper ten
thousand.
“Well,” Perdita said, spooning sugar into her tea, “I won’t sully your ears with details but it was a rather amusing time given Mrs. Pettibone’s inability to rub two thoughts together. Actually, come to think of it, it was a rather dull time. I always found myself seated next to her at dinner. I suppose because I’ve got a reputation for being kind. What a nuisance.”
“You’re a goose,” Georgie said with a shake of her head. “An utter goose.”
“You won’t wriggle out of the question all that easily,” Perdita said fiercely. “Now tell me how it is that you’ve ended up sharing a house in Bath with one of England’s most eligible bachelors.”
“For heaven’s sake,” Georgie argued. “You make it sound as if we live there alone. Lady Russell and countless of her other relatives are there too, you know.”
“You’re evading the question,” Perdita said, wagging her finger. “Let me guess. You were here in Bath, minding your own business, caring for Lady Russell to the best of your ability, when who should turn up on Lady R’s doorstep but the ever-so-handsome Lord Coniston?”
“Something like that,” Georgie said with a surprised laugh. “And there’s nothing going on between us. We’re merely friends. And besides, I’m not even of his station. I’m a glorified servant girl, if you must know. That hardly means that we are destined for great happiness together.”
“Hmmm,” Perdita said thoughtfully. “I think you protest too much, but there is no way I’m going to convince you in a few moments. I do wish you’d give the fellow a chance though. It’s obvious from the way he looks at you when you aren’t aware of it that he adores you.”
“Purdy,” Georgina said, giving her friend a half hug, “I have missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, dearest,” her friend replied. “And I cannot wait for tonight when we will capture this look-alike fellow. What right does he have to go about spying on private citizens? It’s outrageous!”
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