A Study in Death (Lady Darby Mystery, A Book 4)

by Anna Lee Huber

  “Nothing is certain.” I leaned toward her. “Believe me, I don’t like the man any more than you do. So the fact that I’m confident enough of his innocence to search for other suspects should say something. Otherwise I wouldn’t be wasting my time.”

  She heaved a heavy sigh. “I know. It’s just . . . I was so sure it had to be him.” She shook her head. “Who else could it be? Everyone else adored her.”

  “Maybe someone was jealous. Or frustrated . . .” I felt like I was grasping at thin air. I couldn’t begin to guess the motive, so I turned to what I could deduce. “What of the man who was interested in pursuing a liaison with her? The one you said that Lady Drummond mentioned several times?”

  Lady Rachel lifted her hand from her brow to gesture wildly in frustration. “Yes, but I don’t know his name.”

  “Can you guess it?”

  Her dark eyes turned to me with interest.

  “Surely you must have some idea,” I argued, knowing I had her attention. “You were her closest friend. If anyone knew, it was likely you.”

  “But if I’m wrong . . .”

  “We shall find that out quickly enough, and he will have suffered nothing more than a few pointed questions.”

  She tapped her fingers against her rouge-stained lips. “There is one man I felt certain Clare was attracted to. I saw them chatting at a ball once, their heads bent together. She was so happy. Her face looked as if it had been lit from the inside.” Her eyes turned sad. “I never saw her look that way with Lord Drummond. She should have had a husband who made her feel that much joy.”

  Her words pinched me in my chest. She was right. Lady Drummond had deserved that.

  “Who was he?”

  She pressed her lips together, hesitating for one more moment before relenting. “Lord Henry Kerr.”

  “The Duke of Bowmont’s youngest son?” I asked in some surprise.

  She nodded.

  I had to admit, I knew very little about Lord Henry, except that he was the youngest of six children, five of whom were boys, and that his mother, the duchess, had been notoriously unfaithful after giving birth to her second son. It was widely accepted that Lord Henry, his sister, and two of his brothers had been conceived on the other side of the blanket, though the duke had agreed to claim them as his own. Probably because he claimed more than his own fair share of bastard children begotten by his mistresses.

  “Thank you,” I told her. “Even if he turns out not to be a suspect, even if they were not lovers, perhaps he knows something that could be helpful to us.”

  Her smile was doubtful as she shifted forward in her seat, as if to rise.

  “I do have one more question, if I may?”

  She settled back. “Of course.”

  “It has come to our attention that Lady Drummond wrote a letter to a physician, a Dr. Abercrombie . . .” Her eyes flared wide and I paused. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” she replied and then hastened to explain. “I’m just aware that Dr. Davis is her normal physician, so this is certainly out of the ordinary.”

  “She asked for an appointment with him, to discuss an urgent matter, but nothing else was said. Do you know why she would have done such a thing?” I hoped Lady Rachel could confirm our suspicions that it was in regards to the venereal disease her husband may have given her, but she shook her head in bewilderment.

  “The only thing I can think of is that she suspected she was carrying a child, and it was not Lord Drummond’s. That’s something I would definitely want to find out privately first, so I could decide how to tell my husband.” She tilted her head. “If at all.”

  I grasped her implication, but I doubted Lady Drummond would have even contemplated such a thing. Though I supposed if she had been scared enough of her husband, anything was possible.

  “Her maid said she wasn’t enceinte. And without an autopsy, I would trust her word over anyone else’s.”

  Lady Rachel’s face was grim. “Yes. Aileen would have known. How is she, by the way?”

  “She’s doing well. Dr. Graham believes she shouldn’t suffer any lasting effects.”

  “Good.” She swung her knees around to sit straighter, effectively ending my questions. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be much more help in naming potential suspects.” She shook her head. “I just don’t see how anyone would want to hurt Clare.” Her voice almost pleaded with me, as if she was asking me to explain.

  “I’m encountering the same problem.”

  “Maybe one of her acquaintances from the past will have some suggestions. I’m afraid our friendship has been relatively brief in the scheme of things. Just four or five years. But I imagine the ladies she made her debut in London with might know things I don’t.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her I’d already been pursuing that very same angle when she said something that made me pause.

  “Perhaps Lord Gage has a better idea of who would wish to harm her.”

  I considered what she’d said. “You mean because he’s such an experienced inquiry agent,” I guessed, though it had been an odd way to phrase it. “He hasn’t . . .”

  “No,” she interrupted, sounding confused now herself. “Because he knew her. I was told he actually courted her for a time when she was a debutante. Am I wrong?”

  I felt like I’d been punched. Lord Gage had failed to mention any of this. From the way he had been behaving, I had believed he was only acquainted with her through her husband. Though if he had once held her in regard, it explained his strange reaction to seeing her portrait.

  If it was true, then Lord Gage must have pursued her not long after his wife, Gage’s mother, had died. It must have been but a year or two later. I wondered how serious the courtship had been, and if things had ended amicably between him and Lady Drummond. And what of Lord Drummond? Was he aware of the prior connection between his wife and his old naval colleague? And if so, had this knowledge affected their friendship?

  Either way, I found it curious that Lord Gage had not said a word about this. For a man so concerned with objectivity, he had certainly failed to practice it himself.

  However, it seemed bad form to let Lady Rachel know any of these thoughts, not to mention embarrassing to me as an investigator and the future daughter-in-law of the man who had refused to be so forthcoming. So instead, I smiled and said, “Of course.”

  I wasn’t sure this fooled her, for her expression remained puzzled, but she didn’t press me further.

  • • •

  In light of the lovely weather—such a rarity this early in spring—I had elected to walk back to Charlotte Square. The coachman, who was normally a rather disapproving fellow, had not even batted an eyelash when I informed him this after he delivered me to Lady Rachel’s door. Apparently, even he could appreciate a rare display of March warmth.

  Unfortunately, the sun and crystal blue sky of the morning did not last into the afternoon. I emerged from Lady Rachel’s front door to a sky full of heavy clouds and the first gusts of a sharp breeze that heralded the arrival of rain. I sighed and wrapped my cloak tighter around me. And I had so been looking forward to some warm sunshine on my face.

  “Shall I send for your carriage, my lady?” Monahan, Lady Rachel’s majordomo, asked from behind me.

  I turned and smiled. “No. I think the rain will hold off for a bit yet, and it’s only a few blocks. I could use the exertion.”

  “Very good, my lady,” he intoned with a bow. So staid. So proper.

  I set off down the street at a relatively fast pace. The rain would hold off, but not forever, and I had no desire to be caught out in it.

  The one advantage to the return of the clouds was that I had the pavement all to myself. There were no promenading ladies and gentlemen to impede my progress, just the occasional passerby going about his normal business. I smiled and nodded to a gentleman carrying
a leather satchel and then turned the corner onto a quiet street. The uniform gray stone town houses seemed to hunker together beneath the lowering sky. The only spot of color was a single cheery red door on one of the homes across the street. I smiled at the bright floral print curtains I could see in the front window of the same house.

  It was only then that I realized I wasn’t alone. My shoulders inched upward in alarm, and then just as swiftly fell when I discovered who was keeping pace with me. His hands tucked into his pockets as if out for leisurely stroll, Bonnie Brock flashed me his blinding white grin as I turned to glare at him.

  “Isn’t there a better way of approaching me?” I asked.

  “Well, I can hardly march up to yer brother-in-law’s door and ask to see ye, noo, can I?”

  I grimaced. That was true.

  “So unless ye want me to abduct ye again . . .” His eyebrows arched hopefully.

  “No,” I told him repressively.

  His eyes twinkled in amusement. “Then I’m afraid an afternoon constitutional is our only option. Gage willna be jealous, will he?”

  I didn’t even dignify that with a response. “So to what do I owe the pleasure?” My voice twisted with sarcasm. I knew better than to think Bonnie Brock had sought me out just for the pleasure of my company.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps I merely wished to harass Gage.”

  I could believe that, but I knew that was not the reason he’d gone to the trouble to come to New Town himself to shadow me. But if he wanted to dither about telling me, who was I to argue. In all likelihood, he wanted something from me, and I was in no hurry to find out what that was.

  “How is your sister?” I inquired, changing subjects until he worked his way around to whatever he’d come to say.

  He did not respond and I turned to see that his brow had lowered in concern. “She’s no’ the same.”

  “I suppose that’s to be expected. Maggie has been through an ordeal.”

  Even though the sixteen-year-old girl had left Edinburgh willingly with one of the men who used to be employed by her brother as a body snatcher, she had only done so because he’d promised to marry her. Unfortunately, he’d done nothing of the sort, instead abandoning her in a shack in the wilds of the Cheviot Hills during the freezing cold of winter, while he and his colleagues rode about the countryside committing crimes. She’d been trapped in a horrible situation until Gage and I had caught up with the men and rescued her. She’d suffered some frostbite, and I suspected she’d been used terribly by at least one of the men. We had cleaned her up as best we could, treating what wounds we could see, and escorted her back to Edinburgh.

  “Has she talked to you about it?” I ventured to ask, wondering how much he knew.

  “Nay.” His eyes were troubled when he turned to look at me. “Did she tell you anything?”

  I shook my head. That was the truth. Maggie had been solemn and silent for much of the time she was in my care. But the fear in her eyes and the marks on her body told their own story. One I wasn’t about to reveal to her brother unless she gave me permission to.

  But it appeared he’d deduced at least some of it.

  “She . . . she lost a bairn a few weeks ago.” His voice was raw with pain, and I had to swallow to hold back a swell of answering emotion.

  Though it had been too early to tell the last time I saw her, I had known there was a real possibility the girl was carrying a child.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  He scowled. “I ken it’s for the best. A bairn would only have reminded her o’ the father’s devil-spawned soul. But she seemed to have wanted it. I’ve ne’er seen her weep so. Even when our mam died.”

  I shook my head in sadness. Poor Maggie. She’d been through enough hardship. It seemed horribly unfair that she should have had to face more.

  Bonnie Brock’s body suddenly bristled with violence. “I wish ye’d sent my men back to me instead o’ takin’ ’em afore a magistrate,” he growled. “I’d o’ administered a more fittin’ justice than the men in Berwick.” His eyes narrowed. “I still might.”

  “I thought about it,” I admitted. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him glance at me in consideration. I shrugged. “It did seem a fitting retribution. But I wasn’t the only person chasing them. And in the end it was easier to secure their imprisonment at Berwick than try to transport them north to Edinburgh.”

  We turned the corner onto Charlotte Street, and I huddled deeper inside my cloak as a sudden gust of wind swept down the street, making me shiver.

  “Yer bein’ watched,” Bonnie Brock announced without preamble.

  I looked up at him in surprise. “I know. I’ve seen your man at Charlotte Square.”

  “No’ just by my men.”

  My steps slowed to a stop. “What do you mean?”

  He arched a single eyebrow impatiently. “Just what I said. My men noticed someone followin’ ye twice noo. But when they tried to confront him, he slipped away.” His scowl turned black. “It willna happen a third time.”

  I blinked up at him. “Your men?”

  His mouth curled into a cocky grin. “Ye didna think I’d only posted Rosy to watch ye noo, did ye?”

  That’s exactly what I’d thought, but I didn’t tell him so. I lifted my chin. “What did this man following me look like?”

  He shook his head in frustration. “He was too well covered. Middling height and build. That’s all my men could see.”

  I turned to stare up the street, wondering why this man was following me. Did it have something to do with the inquiry? But what? Was it a witness too scared to approach me? Or did he have more nefarious purposes in mind?

  “I’m only warnin’ ye that ye may have made an enemy. I canna tell ye more until my men catch the sneak.”

  I nodded. Bonnie Brock’s long, tawny hair whipped around his head, and for the first time afforded me a better look at his face. Normally concealed by the fall of his hair, a puckered scar ran from his hairline down across his temple to his left ear. This mark was far worse than the ridge of scar tissue running along his nose that stood out white when he was angry. I stiffened in shock and then tried to hide it, but from the hard look that had entered his eyes, I knew he had seen my surprise.

  “I’ll be careful,” I told him, trying to pretend I wasn’t intensely curious about his scar. It definitely painted his sobriquet in a different light. I was certain there was a story behind it, but I wasn’t about to ask. The last thing I wanted was to anger him. If he took such pains to conceal it, then there was a reason, and I suspected it wasn’t simple vanity.

  We resumed our walk, and I wondered how far he would escort me. I had expected him to peel away as soon as our conversation was done, but he remained by my side as the trees of Charlotte Square came into view. A lone figure stood huddled under the branches.

  “Why do you call him Rosy?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Because he sure dinna smell it,” Bonnie Brock pronounced drolly.

  I laughed, ever appreciative of Scotsmen’s irony. At least with nicknames like that, you knew what to expect of a man. With gentlemen, it wasn’t so easy.

  I paused before crossing the street, staring ahead at the castle high on its hill. He waited, perhaps knowing I was coming to an important decision.

  “You have men who specialize in larceny, don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, and I turned my face to the side to look up at him.

  “I think ye ken the answer to that. What’s the snatch?”

  “Jewelry.”

  I could tell I’d piqued his interest, for he shifted a step closer.

  “Whose?”

  “An imprudent baron’s.”

  He tilted his head. “How much?”

  “Enough to make it worth your while.”

  “Yer proposal?�
��

  “I can give you the layout of the house, the position of the safe, and even a few guesses as to the combination. A percentage of the gems go to you, while the rest go to my . . . client.”

  We eyed each other shrewdly.

  “And no one is to be harmed. But your men have to make it obvious there was a robbery.”

  Bonnie Brock’s eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. “That’s an odd request. But easily done.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I would no’ have branded ye a procuress. You’re full o’ surprises, Lady Darby.”

  I turned to stare up at the castle again, hoping I wasn’t doing the wrong thing trusting such a task to him and his men. They were, after all, criminals. But that’s why they were so perfect for the job in the first place. I frowned. “Some situations call for a little improvisation.”

  CHAPTER 25

  My conversation with Lady Rachel had given me much to think on, so before I spoke to Gage, I decided it would be best if I confirmed her assertions about Lord Gage’s courtship of Lady Drummond. After all, she had admitted she hadn’t known Lady Drummond then, so perhaps she had gotten her facts wrong. I knew Lady Kirkcowan had debuted with Lady Drummond, but in light of my and Gage’s contentious conversation with Lord Kirkcowan at the Assembly Rooms and the plan I had set in motion with Bonnie Brock, I thought it best not to be seen at her house. Since Alana knew nothing about it, that left Lady Stratford as the only person I could trust. Though I hoped she would have told me about it before.

  Her brow puckered as I relayed the information Lady Rachel had given me. When I finished, her gaze dropped to the blue cushions of the settee and she sighed. “It’s true.”

  I felt almost numb upon hearing her answer. “She told you?”

  “Yes. She never intimated that it was serious,” she hastened to assure me. “Though I don’t know what Lord Gage’s feelings were on the matter. It bothered Clare that he already had a son who was older than her. Yes, I know Lord Drummond is almost as old, but his only child was just three years old at the time, and a girl. A marked difference. And Lord Drummond already had his title, while Lord Gage, though a war hero, was still merely a mister.”