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

by Anna Lee Huber

  “I’ve never met this Mrs. Dubois,” Lady Bearsden said, rehashing any thoughts I supposed she felt might be helpful to me. “And I suspect I never shall.”

  I hid a smile at her disappointment.

  “But I know Lord Henry.” She smiled. “Such a lovely man. I can’t believe he would ever do such a thing. And I’m acquainted with Lady Rachel and her sister, though I knew their mother better.” She tsked and shook her head. “Such a sad tale.”

  I’d begun to nod without really listening when she suddenly leaned toward me.

  “Lord Corbin was not a very nice man, you know. There were even rumors for a time that he killed his wife. Nothing could be proven, of course. But that didn’t stop everyone from speculating.”

  “Wait. Who?” I asked, trying to figure out what I’d missed. I felt a surge of anticipation run along my veins, sensing this was important.

  “Lord Corbin,” she repeated and, then seeing my blank stare, elaborated. “Lady Rachel’s father.”

  I indicated my understanding.

  She settled back into her seat, shaking her head again. “He was a hard man. It was probably a blessing for those two girls when he died of an apoplexy.”

  I sat straighter. “He died of an apoplexy?”

  Lady Bearsden nodded, oblivious to the change in my mood.

  “She told me her husband also died of an apoplexy.”

  “Poor dear,” she murmured. “And now her friend.”

  This did not seem to strike her as odd, and perhaps it wasn’t. Heaven knew, an apoplexy seemed to be a physician’s explanation for anything they couldn’t easily diagnose. But I couldn’t help but note the coincidence. Though what Lady Drummond had in common with Lady Rachel’s cruel father and her abusive husband, I didn’t know.

  Regardless, I began to reassess everything Lady Rachel had done and said since the moment she visited me after Lady Drummond’s death. She had seemed so distraught, and perhaps she had been, but for a different reason.

  I thanked Lady Bearsden for listening to me and reminded her how much trust I’d placed in her by telling her all I had.

  “Don’t worry,” she told me with a shrewd look. “I may be friends with a bunch of busybodies, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to keep my own counsel.” She flashed me a coy smile. “It’s just more fun to be well informed of everyone’s foibles. Especially at my age.”

  CHAPTER 28

  I puzzled over Lady Rachel during my walk home. Could she have poisoned her friend? But why? It simply didn’t make any sense.

  And it all was no clearer to me when I returned to Charlotte Square than it had been when I set out. But I felt certain Lady Rachel had some part to play in the riddle. I just didn’t know what. Yet.

  Gage was waiting for me in the drawing room. I paused in the doorway to study him, trying to assess how well his conversation with his father had gone. The sun from the front window shone down on his golden curls where he sat bent over my sketchbook as he flipped through the pages. His boots were splattered with mud, indicating he’d gone for a long ride. Perhaps that was the reason for his tardiness.

  “These are extremely well done,” he commented without looking up.

  “But I’m missing one,” I replied obliquely, crossing the room toward him.

  He looked up in question, but I refused to elaborate.

  “You first,” I told him, settling into the corner of the fainting couch next to his chair.

  He tipped his head in assent. “I suppose that’s only fair.” But then he fell silent.

  I waited as he leaned forward to set the sketchbook on the table and then straightened his waistcoat. I narrowed my eyes. He was gathering his thoughts, deciding exactly what to reveal. I’d watched him do it often enough, just usually not with me. “What did your father say?” I prompted, telling myself not to get angry.

  He inhaled deeply before finally replying. “He admitted he had courted Lady Drummond the year after my mother died.”

  “That must have been difficult to hear.”

  He nodded, still staring at the rug, and lapsed back into silence.

  I tucked my legs up underneath me, trying to be patient. But my annoyance got the better of me. “Did he say why? Or explain why he elected not to tell us?”

  “He thought it would be good for him to take another wife, to have a hostess for his dinner parties, and someone to come home to since the war was over. Lady Drummond seemed the ideal choice.” Gage exhaled heavily. “But . . . she wasn’t my mother. And in the end, he decided they wouldn’t suit.”

  I could understand now why Gage was having so much difficulty relaying this information to me. It must have come as a shock to know his father had considered taking a second wife. And then to hear why his father had decided against it, stated just as succinctly as Gage had put it, I was sure. Well, that made Lord Gage seem altogether quite human, and far more sympathetic than I was comfortable with, given the way he had treated me. It sounded like he had truly loved his wife, and as pleased as that made me for Gage, it irritated me to think the man was not entirely unfeeling.

  “That sounds reasonable,” I said in a gentler voice. “So why did he keep such an association secret?”

  Gage glanced up at me, and I could tell from the shuttered look in his eyes that he was about to close me out. “He told me. I had to force it out of him. But he asked for my discretion.”

  “Even from me?” I asked, keeping a carefully neutral tone.

  “Specifically from you, and . . . I promised I would keep his secret, so long as it wasn’t relevant to the inquiry.”

  My jaw tightened. That was the same wording he’d used with me, when he promised to share what he learned. “And I suppose you’ve deemed it as such?”

  “Yes.”

  I glared at him, letting him know with the snap of my eyes how displeased I was. “And how do you know it’s not relevant? Perhaps I know something you do not that will make it so.”

  “Because I know. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

  I lowered my gaze to brush at the folds of my skirt, trying very hard not to raise my voice. “I see. And does Lord Drummond know about his friend’s courtship of his wife?” I couldn’t help asking.

  He sat back, resting his ankle across his other knee. “Yes. Actually, my father introduced them.”

  “How happy for Lady Drummond,” I drawled sarcastically.

  “Quite,” Gage admitted in a clipped voice.

  I brushed at my skirts once more and then clasped my hands together in front of me. “So is this the type of behavior I’m to anticipate in the future? Where you and your father share confidences and push me out of investigations?”

  He frowned. “Now you’re just being unreasonable. You can’t expect me to reveal my father’s secrets just because you want me to. The same way my father can’t expect me to reveal yours.”

  I clenched my fingers, hating his scolding tone of voice. The fact that he was correct only made me madder.

  “Either you trust my judgment or you don’t,” he added, dropping his leg and resting his hand on the arm of the fainting couch next to me. His voice softened. “You will be my wife, and I will always share with you what I can. But there will be some confidences I cannot tell you, some secrets I cannot share.”

  “Does that include your own?”

  He stilled, and I knew he hadn’t anticipated such a question. The light in his eyes dimmed. “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. It’s not,” I agreed. “You’ve told me over and over that you’ll tell me everything when the time is right. But that time never comes. And when I ask you about it, I end up being the one to apologize for pushing you.” I gestured broadly with my hands. “So tell me, once and for all, are you ever going to confide in me? About your past? About your family? About Greece? As you said, I�
�m going to be your wife. Do I not deserve to know you as well as you know me?” I sat back, staring at him intently. “Or do you not trust me?”

  His face turned red. “Why does it matter so much to you? Will it change how you feel about me?”

  “I suppose it depends on what secrets you’re keeping,” I snapped back.

  The color drained from his face, and I had to wonder what exactly he was hiding from me that would make him react so. “I don’t know what to say, Kiera. It’s not easy for me to talk about my past.”

  I threw up my hands. I was so tired of being sympathetic on that point. “And you think it was easy for me?” I demanded. “I had to share the most terrible, wounding experience of my life with you just to prove I was innocent of a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “I know.”

  “We didn’t even like each other at that point. At least you’ll be sharing your secrets with your future wife.”

  “I know,” he bit out, silencing me.

  I gazed into his flushed countenance as he breathed heavily. The anger drained out of me, leaving only hurt and confusion. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

  His eyes were a well of secrets I couldn’t begin to swim to the bottom of. And when he turned away, I began to believe for the first time that he would never give me the chance.

  “I can’t answer that, Kiera. Not now,” he told me.

  “You can’t? Or you won’t?” I murmured hoarsely.

  He did not reply, but simply rose to his feet and left. I wrapped my arms around myself to hold myself together as his body moved farther and farther away from me and then disappeared from sight. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t, even though the separation growing between us physically hurt. Somehow I breathed through the pain, digging my fingers into my upper arms to hold back the tears welling in my eyes.

  I refused to cry. I couldn’t. Alana and the children needed me to be strong. Lady Drummond needed me to stay focused. Whatever became of Gage and I would happen regardless of whether I fell apart or not.

  When finally I felt composed enough to lift my head, it was to see Philip standing in the doorway leading from the back parlor. From the look on his face, I could tell he had heard at least a portion of my and Gage’s conversation. I just didn’t know how much.

  At first he said nothing, just stood there looking at me. I thought for a moment he would turn around without speaking and leave, but then he pushed away from the door frame.

  “That was not very well done of you,” he murmured, shaking his head in gentle reproach. “You expect too much.”

  My brows snapped together. “Do I?”

  “Yes,” he replied, stopping to lean against the back of one of the green brocade wingback chairs positioned near the hearth. “I know you’re scared, Kiera. But fighting with him is not going to help.”

  I stiffened at this pronouncement, refusing to acknowledge the hollow feeling in the pit of my gut that said he might be right. I was not going to listen to this. Not from him.

  “I see. You propose to lecture me on my relationship?”

  Philip’s shoulders lifted, clearly sensing he was treading on hazardous ground.

  I stood, clasping my hands in front of me. “Then I shall return the favor.”

  He lifted his hands and started to turn away.

  “No!” I snapped, startling him. “I have waited days to have this conversation with you, and it is happening. Now.”

  He stared at me as I crossed the room toward him in just a few angry strides.

  “You want to talk about being scared? You are the one responding out of fear. And in the stupidest way possible.”

  His head reared back. “Stupid?”

  “Yes, stupid.” I had planned to approach this with more subtlety, but it was too late now. My anger over his interference had gotten the better of me.

  His nose wrinkled in disdain. “I hardly think attending to my estates and parliamentary . . .”

  “You’re avoiding your wife because you’re afraid she’ll die,” I stated baldly.

  He stilled like a rabbit sensing danger.

  “These matters of business and politics you’ve been so busy with. They’re not so urgent. You’re simply looking for excuses. Maybe you’ve even begun to believe them yourself. But the truth is, you’re scared.”

  His eyes dropped to the floor and I moved closer, pleading with him across the chair between us.

  “Well, I’m scared, too, Philip. But if the worst should happen . . .”

  His hands clenched into fists where they rested on the back of the chair and he turned his head to the side as if to deny it.

  “If Alana should die, at least I’ll have the comfort of knowing I spent as much time as I could with her during her last few weeks. Will you be able to say that? Or will you hate yourself for making these paltry excuses not to talk to her, to lie in bed beside her, to hold her?”

  Philip closed his eyes, as if flinching from that reality.

  “She needs you.”

  At the desperate tone of my voice, he finally opened his eyes to look at me.

  “She needs you, Philip. She needs your comfort, your strength. Your love.” I shook my head despondently. “I don’t know if she can make it through this without it.”

  His face was pale. “I’ve never stopped loving her.”

  “Yes, but have you told her that lately? Have you shown her?”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. I could see the shame and sorrow in his eyes.

  “It’s not too late,” I told him quietly. “So for all of our sakes, please do something about it while you can.”

  I didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and left, giving him the space to think about what I’d said. As I would think about what he’d said about Gage.

  I wasn’t sorry for confronting Gage with his continued refusal to confide in me. What I said was true. I was the one who kept apologizing for pressuring him, but the time for patience was at an end. The date of our wedding was inching closer; my sister nearly had it all planned. If we were going to pledge to love and honor each other for the rest of our lives, then he needed to trust me enough to share his life with me. All of it. Past, present, and future.

  But no matter the truth behind the sentiment, I should not have reacted in anger, especially when he told me he couldn’t share his father’s secret. I had lashed out at him instead of attempting to discuss things in a calm, rational manner. I was treading on unfamiliar ground with our relationship, and I hated how disoriented and nervous that made me feel, and perhaps a little oversensitive.

  I sighed, weary of arguing with Gage. We had bickered more in the last two weeks than we had in twice as many months. I needed to find a better way of debating with him, or else risk becoming one of those quarrelsome couples no one was happy to be around. Or worse, no couple at all.

  Philipa called down to me through the railing from the floor above my bedchamber in a voice that I knew she thought was a whisper, but really wasn’t a whisper at all, asking me to come play with them. Since she’d risked punishment sneaking out of the nursery just to ask me, I felt I couldn’t say no. Though I supposed that meant I was rewarding bad behavior. I shook that worry aside. The children were as frightened as all of us. They deserved some leniency.

  That was where Figgins found me sometime later, knee deep in blocks as I helped Malcolm build a fort and Philipa an enchanted castle, while Greer tottered around attempting to knock them down. Earl Grey was stretched out on the rug nearby, his new favorite spot to take a nap.

  “My lady, Lady Stratford is here to see you,” he said.

  I sat up straighter, nearly toppling the guard tower I was constructing. For her to come calling on me was a breach in mourning etiquette, and as lighthearted as Lady Bearsden was about it, I knew her niece was not.

  I a
pologized to my nieces and nephew and joined the butler in the hall. “Did you place her in the drawing room?” I asked, moving toward the stairs.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good. Send for some tea, please.”

  Lady Stratford sat on the edge of a chair, gazing out the window. When she heard my footsteps, she rose gracefully to her feet with a sheepish smile. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”

  “No,” I hastened to reply. “Is everything all right? Your aunt?”

  “Is fine. I know I’m breaking protocol by coming here,” she added hesitantly.

  I brushed her words aside, settling into the chair next to hers. “As if I care. I told you I didn’t think your late husband deserved any observance of mourning. I’m just surprised to see you, because I know the rules do matter to you.”

  “Well, this mattered more.”

  I glanced at her quizzically, wondering what she meant.

  She pressed her hands together in her lap. “My great-aunt told me you called this morning.”

  “Yes. She was very kind, and actually quite helpful.”

  “She said as much.” Her lips curled in a crooked grin. “Well, crowed as much.”

  I smiled back. “So long as she only crows to you.”

  “Oh, she can be trusted.” She inhaled deeply, as if working herself up to reveal something she didn’t wish to. “But the reason I wasn’t there was because I was confirming a suspicion I had. The rumors that have been circulating about you, the old gossip that someone stirred up again . . .” She shook her head. “Lord Gage didn’t start it.”

  I nodded slowly, having already half suspected as much. “Do you know who did?”

  She grimaced. “Lady Rachel Radcliffe.”