“We’re just finishing here,” Katherine said. “Would you care to join us for a glass of elder wine to combat the cold?”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered as she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m afraid I’m not alone… oh, there she is. Katherine, have you met Dorothy Fairchild?”
Please, let it be any other Fairchild…
However, fate was not nearly so kind. Mrs. Fairchild strode from the milliner’s shop with purpose in her step. Although she was far shorter than Katherine, she held herself with her head held so high it was as if she hoped to outstrip her in height as well as matches made. The rival matchmaker joined them with alacrity, but she didn’t seem at all pleased at the notion.
“We’ve met,” Mrs. Fairchild said, her words clipped. “Lady Katherine, what a delight to see you.”
She didn’t sound delighted in the least.
“Allow me to tender my congratulations once more on the fabulous match you made this September in Bath,” Katherine said, her voice saccharine.
Mrs. Fairchild drew herself up proudly. “And you,” she answered, nodding to Pru. “I see you’ve met my newest client, Miss Verne?”
Tarnation! Katherine’s dreams of matching Elizabeth with Lord Bath shriveled and winked out. Mrs. Fairchild would certainly drip poison in her client’s ear the moment they were out of sight.
As if to prove the thought, the older woman tucked away a strand of her auburn hair beneath her hood and asked innocently, “Who is your newest client? Or do you intend to see one all the way to the altar before taking another? I hear that might be quite a while.”
Pru bristled. “Katherine and I are friends, I’ll have you know.”
Mrs. Fairchild pretended not to hear. She turned to her charge, whose forehead crinkled with worry as she looked around the group.
“Elizabeth, I’m afraid we’re late for a meeting with your mother. We really can’t tarry.”
The young woman hazarded a smile at Katherine, but it disappeared in a flash. “So nice to see you again, Lady Katherine.”
Confound it! Mrs. Fairchild seemed to have her hooks well into Elizabeth. How would Katherine ever find a way to pair Elizabeth with Lord Bath? It was impossible. Not without prying her away from Mrs. Fairchild for an evening or more, and then she might be seen as stealing a client.
Well, that would earn Katherine no favors from Mrs. Fairchild, that was for certain. Perhaps it was just as well that Katherine had a far more important matter upon which to focus her thoughts. She had a woman’s murder to solve.
Chapter Five
For all Katherine’s suspicions, the only way to prove that Lady Rochford had been pushed from the balcony was with Lyle Murphy’s help. That evening at the monthly meeting of the Royal Society of Investigative Techniques, she found him gawking at Philomena Graylocke, the Duchess of Tenwick, as the charming woman delighted the crowds with a description of her latest invention, one her young son had purportedly aided her with.
Her sister-in-law, Lucy Graylocke-Douglass, the Marchioness of Brackley and intrepid author, stood by her side, beaming. The women, both in their thirties, were as different as night and day.
Philomena, with whom Katherine was friendly given that she often attended Society meetings, had auburn hair and an impish smile. Whenever she spoke, she seemed to take her listener into her confidence and share a secret.
Lady Brackley, several years younger, had long ebony hair that seemed to spill from its pins and a gaze hungry for knowledge. Katherine had encountered her once before and found herself trapped in a corner all evening as Lady Brackley asked her endless questions regarding how she had felt visiting crime scenes as a child, of all things. If the questions had been research for a book, Katherine had yet to find it published.
Lady Brackley’s first book, a romantic adventure about a princess-turned-pirate, had been rather entertaining, however.
Katherine elbowed her way past the horde of Graylocke admirers to Lyle’s side.
“Are you planning on speaking with her tonight?” Katherine teased. Lyle had been half in love with the Duchess of Tenwick for as long as she’d known him, never mind that the woman was blissfully wedded to a very powerful man. As far as Katherine knew, Lyle had only spoken to the woman he so esteemed once. He’d turned scarlet and stumbled over his tongue.
At her words, Lyle jumped, his cheeks filling with color. “Katherine, you startled me.”
“I didn’t know this was an inventor’s club,” Pru muttered as she sidled in next to Katherine. She critically eyed the group clustered around the duchess.
“It isn’t,” Lyle snapped, jumping to Philomena’s defense. “But inventions can greatly aid investigations. The duchess once designed a bullet-resistant corset that saved Lady Brackley’s life.”
Katherine smiled and added, “Perhaps someday, you’ll submit to giving a lecture to the Society yourself.”
Lyle rubbed his thumb across his red, freckled cheek, sheepish. “I’m not near the inventor she is. Besides, I’m happy to share my knowledge to help Sir John.” Even though he was paid to patrol the streets and apprehend criminals, he readily shared his inventions with his colleagues on Bow Street and with Katherine.
“Perhaps you are, or perhaps not,” Katherine said with a shrug. “I’ve never used a single one of Philomena’s inventions when solving a crime. I’ve used more than one of yours.”
Lyle’s shoulders relaxed, and his chest puffed out, telltale signs of pride.
“Speaking of,” Pru interrupted. “Don’t we need Lyle’s help?”
“Yes.” Katherine laid a hand on Lyle’s arm, squeezing. “If you don’t mind me stealing you away for a moment.”
Although he glanced once more at the duchess, he nodded and allowed himself to be led into a quieter corner near a fireplace that had a series of armchairs and low tables for more intimate discussion.
Katherine sat at an armchair and leaned close as Lyle did the same. Pru stood between them, silent, as she seemed bent on soaking in the atmosphere and studying every aspect. Whether she was impressed by the Society or not, Katherine couldn’t tell.
“Have you heard of Lady Rochford’s death?” Katherine whispered.
Lyle nodded, keeping one eye on the demonstration across the hall. “It’s impossible not to hear of an unfortunate death in my line of work. She slipped off a balcony, did she not?”
“Slipped…” Katherine hesitated. “Or was pushed. Pru and I found no indications of ice or other hazards.”
Lyle raised his eyebrows. “Did you find evidence of a struggle?”
“No.” An image of the scraped finger bubbled up. “Well, maybe. She had a scrape on her finger. Is Bow Street investigating, by chance?”
Lyle shook his head, his face grim. “We received the body, but I heard it was ruled an accident. She’s to be buried this week, if she hasn’t been already.”
Katherine let out a breath. “She was pushed. I’m almost certain of it. However, no one would believe me if I suggested such a thing, not without proof. Can you help? I know you’ve been testing a method of calculation.”
With a frown, Lyle removed a small leather-bound notebook from his pocket. He flipped it to a page scribbled with letters and numbers and turned it toward her. “You mean this? I’d need a lot of information. We haven’t had many people who have jumped or fallen from pronounced heights of late, so I haven’t had the opportunity to test the formula rigorously. I would need to know the height from which the victim fell, the positioning of the body, how far the body landed from the building—”
Pru rustled in her reticule and produced a page. Since Katherine didn’t spy any handwriting on the back of it, it seemed that Pru had copied Katherine’s notes onto a fresh page so as not to submit her letter to too much scrutiny.
As Lyle accepted the page, Katherine explained, “I took rough measurements while I was there. Some are measured based on the size of my feet.”
Lyle harrumphed and dug into his pocket
once more. “I’ll have to see your feet. Are these the boots you wore?” He produced a measuring cord.
After hazarding a glance at the gathering, who now bustled around Philomena’s form to congratulate or question her following the results of her demonstration, Katherine lifted her foot so Lyle could measure. “No, but all my shoes are nearly identical in size.” Her cheeks heated as she submitted to Lyle measuring her foot for a more accurate count based on her rough measurements. She hoped she hadn’t been too imprecise; her investigation hinged on the answer he deduced.
Never before had she been more grateful that Captain Wayland wasn’t here—even if his absence was peculiar. As a detective himself ever since he had retired from the military after the Battle of Waterloo, Wayland was an avid, active member of the Society. Had he attended the meeting tonight, Katherine knew precisely what he would have said upon spotting Lyle measuring her foot.
“And here I thought you to be the only person obsessed with the size of people’s feet. Is it a club?”
He had once caught her measuring suspects’ feet—including his—in the hope of identifying the Pink Ribbon Murderer. His feet had been much too big to fit with the boot print she had found, and unfortunately, every time she’d turned around, he’d been loitering nearby. Ever since she’d pursued investigations independent of her father’s guidance, that seemed to be a common occurrence. Wayland, apparently, had nothing more interesting to do than try to glean information about her ongoing investigations.
Except, it seemed, this time. Wayland usually attended these meetings, but tonight he was nowhere to be seen. Not that she was looking for him. All the better. Perhaps she would finally be able to root out the criminal without his confusing presence.
The moment Lyle lifted the measuring cord away, she returned her foot to the ground. “Do you need help or peace?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have a familiarity with higher-level mathematics?”
“Peace, it is.” Katherine latched onto Pru’s arm and towed her away. “Find me once you’re finished. I’ll be circulating.”
Lyle nodded absently, already lost in the realm of mathematics given his intense expression as he stared at the page, returning the cord to his pocket and pulling free a pencil instead.
“Come,” Katherine said to Pru. “Let me see if I can’t introduce you to some of the members of the Entrance Committee.”
Unfortunately, the only member of the Entrance Committee in attendance tonight was an old, crotchety man who didn’t look fondly on female detectives. Although the Society didn’t prohibit the inclusion of women among their ranks, too many men for Katherine’s tastes believed themselves above the female members. Pru would gain no favors by speaking to him. As the man to whom the elderly curmudgeon was speaking turned, Katherine stiffened.
Noticing her rigid stance, Pru wrapped an arm around Katherine’s shoulders and steered her in the opposite direction. “Perhaps we ought to try speaking to someone else. It’s best you don’t box Mr. Salmon’s ears and have us barred from the premises.”
“He deserves more than to have his sarding ears boxed.” Katherine seethed with hatred and anger. Unfortunately, Pru had a firm hold on her and refused to allow Katherine to so much as glance over her shoulders. Good thing too. If she had, Katherine might have given the dishonest detective a piece of her mind. But she couldn’t, at least not in public. Katherine had only learned of his dishonesty when trying to uncover the identity of the Burglar of Bath, but to reveal Mr. Salmon for what he was would mean she would have to endanger the reputation of another, more honest person. Katherine would not do that even if it meant letting Mr. Salmon take credit for a case that she had solved.
“Look, there’s your friend Lady Tenwick. Let’s say hello.”
Although Katherine recognized the distraction tactic, she had hoped to find a moment alone with Philomena during the course of the evening. Before marrying a duke, Philomena had been an inventor of some renown, an independent woman and one to be esteemed. Katherine hoped that the duchess might be able to help her find independent living arrangements.
As they approached, Philomena smiled broadly. She held out her hands. “Lady Katherine, so good to see you!”
Katherine accepted the offering and squeezed her hands tight. “Phil, it’s been too long. Can I introduce you to my friend Pru Burwick?”
The duchess smiled as she nodded at Pru. “It’s lovely to meet you. Are you a new member?”
“An aspiring one,” Katherine answered for her.
Phil nodded sagely. “Let me see if I can put a good word in the ear of the Entrance Committee. We need more women here, to even out the numbers. My sister-in-law, Lucy, is considering joining as well.”
“Oh?” Katherine asked, turning her gaze toward the ebony-haired beauty. “I wasn’t aware that you were so interested in investigating.”
“I am.” Lady Brackley’s eyes gleamed. “In fact, I believe my next novel will be heavily influenced by the experience of the Society. Didn’t I hear you were a matchmaker, Lady Katherine? I’m certain someone applauded you as the reason the Earl of Northbrook found his new countess.”
If Lady Brackley cornered her and demanded every minute detail of that courtship, Katherine might scream. She forced a smile. “I am,” she answered, choosing her words carefully. “But only insofar as it allows me access to the suspects of the crimes I solve. Unfortunately, a lady cannot stride up to near strangers and demand they answer questions. There is an unfortunate stigma regarding the investigative arts still, especially where it pertains to women.”
“Is there? Fascinating,” Lady Brackley said. She dug into her reticule and pulled out a notebook and pencil. “Do you mind if I ask you more on the subject?”
Tarnation. Katherine’s smile felt as though it might flake away like weathered paint. “Actually, I’d hoped to get a moment alone with Phil to ask a question. It won’t take long.”
“Certainly,” the duchess answered easily. “Perhaps it will be easier for us to hear each other over here.”
She led Katherine away from her relative and Pru. Lady Brackley, who would undoubtedly make a very tenacious investigator should she ever take up the profession in lieu of writing, immediately latched onto Katherine’s friend to quiz her about Lord knew what.
“What is it that you’d like to ask me?” Phil asked, her manner easy and approachable. That was what Katherine loved best about her. From the moment they had met years ago, when Katherine had yet trailed at her father’s coattails with an eagerness to learn and emulate him, Phil had treated her as an equal, an individual. That alone had granted Katherine confidence at a time when everyone had looked down upon her for her youth and treated her as though the only thoughts in her head were those of her father.
“I’m looking for an independent residence. It’s high time I stood on my own. Since you once lived independently, I hoped you might be able to recommend an appropriate neighborhood.”
Katherine’s needs were specific. She needed to live close enough to Mayfair to suit her family, but frankly the townhouses within those borders were priced higher than her budget. The only money she had to use, for the rest of her life, was the dowry her father had awarded her upon the successful completion of her first independent investigation. Although it was more money than many had at their disposal, she had to use it wisely. She had not only herself to support but Harriet too.
Philomena hummed under her breath. “I don’t know of anything for sale, currently. To be honest, I inherited my father’s house when he passed on. Though now that Morgan’s brothers have all found independent lodgings for their families, we don’t have quite so full a house anymore, and we don’t have much need of two London townhouses. Would you be interested in buying my old house? It isn’t far from Hyde Park, and it has the most darling little hidden room. I used it for inventing, but you might find good use for it in your investigations.”
As tempted as Katherine was, if the house was as close to
Hyde Park as Phil claimed, it was in the heart of Mayfair. Out of her reach. Although she had never stepped foot in the house, Katherine found herself saying, “Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid it’s a bit too big to meet my needs. The residence I’m hoping to find will hold only myself, my maid, and my dog.”
She must have been correct in the estimation of its size, for the duchess nodded in understanding, “Of course. I’ll keep my ears open in case I hear of something smaller coming available for you.”
“Thank you,” Katherine answered, her voice warm. “I do appreciate it. And your offer, sincerely, I do.”
Katherine was not lying in that. Now that she had a brother or sister on the way, perhaps her parents would cease to act like newlyweds and cooing at each other behind every corner. Then again, perhaps that was their nature. For her own sanity, it was time for her to find a house all her own to live in.
Her wandering gaze found Lyle, who still stared at the page, his eyebrows pulled together as he read over his calculations as if searching for errors. She excused herself and joined him. Pru seemed to be mired in Lady Brackley’s impromptu interrogation, but she looked none the worse for wear. Katherine decided not to wait. She would inform Pru of the outcome of Lyle’s calculations later.
Struggling to conceal the excitement churning within her, she reclaimed her earlier seat to Lyle’s left. “You have that look about you. What have you found?”
With a sigh, Lyle set down the pencil. He folded the page and tucked it neatly into his pocket before he answered. “You’re right, Katherine. Judging from the position of the body and the distance where it fell, Lady Rochford did not slip or jump. I conclude with about an eighty-five percent certainty, given the rough measurements”—he raised his eyebrows at her pointedly—“that she was pushed. This was murder.”
Murder at the Ice Ball Page 4