Murder at the Ice Ball

by Leighann Dobbs

  Katherine smiled at Pru’s suggestion. “That sounds like an excellent place to start.”

  Trailed by Pru on Annandale’s arm, Katherine led the way across the street to Number 3 Charles Street. Built much the same as its neighbors, it shared a wall with Number 4 and stood no taller or wider than Number 2. A quaint little edifice for a well-to-do man or woman who couldn’t afford to live in the heart of Mayfair.

  Straightening her shoulders, Katherine knocked on the door. To her left, she heard Wayland swear and try the knocker again. Presumably no one had answered him. Excellent. It would give her time to learn what she could from the neighbor without his interruption.

  At first, no one answered. Katherine feared that perhaps Pru had been mistaken and no one was at home. However, after a prolonged minute during which Katherine stamped her feet and rubbed her gloves together to keep warm, the door creaked open by a bare inch or two to reveal the woman behind.

  Her placket-front dress, a light beige in color, attested that she was likely home alone or could not afford servants. The delicate wool seemed of too great a quality for her to be the hired help. Her hair was shielded behind a colorful scarf, and in the shadowed doorway, Katherine couldn’t precisely tell her age. Older than she, by an estimate.

  “Do I know you?”

  Katherine clasped her hands in front of her and met the woman’s wary eyes. “I’m afraid not, but I’m hoping to have a moment of your time. You see, I’m looking to retrace my friend’s steps, and I believe she’s come to this address several times over the past few weeks.”

  A lie, but perhaps it would loosen the woman’s tongue.

  “Who is your friend?”

  Because Katherine saw no use in lying, she informed, “Celia Rochford. You might know her by the seal on her carriage, a blue crest with a—”

  “Horse rampant,” the woman completed. Clearly, she was schooled in the heraldry of high society, not entirely surprising given where she lived. If she lived in the house alone, she had access to some form of income, and that likely meant a connection with one or more lords at some point in her family tree.

  The woman reached behind her, rustling as she pulled a shawl around her shoulders. As she stepped out into the cold, clad in plain house slippers without any mittens or muff, she pulled the door shut behind her.

  She lifted her chin. “I won’t stand here with the door open. But I don’t see fit to invite potentially unsavory characters into my home.”

  Katherine nearly laughed at the look she gave Lord Annandale.

  Pru gasped. “Don’t you recognize a marquess when you see one?”

  The woman narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Although she gave him a curtsey and a polite incline of her head, she summarily dismissed him and looked at Katherine. “And you, madam?”

  “Forgive me. I am Katherine Irvine, and this is my friend, Prudence Burwick, on Lord Annandale’s arm. And your name?”

  “Vera Ramsey.”

  “Mrs. Ramsey, I know it’s cold, and I beg your forgiveness for intruding, but we noticed you watching us just now, and we thought perhaps a woman as astute as yourself might have seen our friend, Lady Rochford.”

  “I’ve seen the carriage a few times,” the woman said slowly. In the light of day, she was prettier than Katherine would have expected from the spinster cut of her clothing, high necked and long sleeved, not to mention plain in color. She looked no older than ten or fifteen years Katherine’s senior, if that.

  “When did you last see the carriage?” Katherine asked. With luck, she would be able to place Lady Rochford in the vicinity of Lord Conyers’s trysting house shortly before her death.

  The busybody drew her shawl closer around her shoulders and shivered. “Last week, but she isn’t the only woman to visit. Lord Conyers, next door, has quite the array of female companionship at his beck and call. I’ve even seen them peering in the windows, they are so anxious to get in.”

  Her eyes, a light blue like the summer sky, twinkled with mischief. She leaned forward, as if waiting for Katherine to ask precisely whom she had seen here other than Lady Rochford. Although Katherine was mildly curious, she didn’t have long before Wayland quit his efforts to bring someone to the door of the neighboring house and looked in on them.

  Katherine asked, “Would that have been Monday or Tuesday of last week?” It would have been a mere day before Lady Rochford was killed. If she had delivered the news of her forthcoming child to her lover, possibly the father, she might have sparked a murderous intent in Lord Conyers then.

  Mrs. Ramsey thought a moment. A furrow formed between her eyebrows, one of disappointment. After a moment, she said, “Perhaps Monday, but I certainly saw it on Wednesday or Thursday. I go out to do my charity work on those days, you see, helping out young women in need.”

  That couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Are you certain?” Katherine asked. “The exact date would be helpful.” When Mrs. Ramsey turned a shrewd eye on Katherine, she hastily added, “You see, Lady Rochford was due to take tea with me, and she didn’t show up. I wondered if it might have been something illicit.”

  To Katherine, it was a shabby excuse, but a gossip like Mrs. Ramsey seemed to accept the explanation readily enough. “It was certainly Wednesday or Thursday when I saw the carriage last. As I said, I go out on those days, and I saw it when I returned. If I had to say which day for certain, I might think… Thursday. Yes, Thursday. But it is possible that she also was here on Monday. Given the frequency with which I’ve seen that carriage the past few months, she and Lord Conyers were very familiar with each other, if you understand me.”

  Katherine couldn’t possibly mistake her. But given that they were searching for Lady Rochford’s lover, she had expected such speculation. It seemed they had the right address.

  Even if they couldn’t be certain of the date. Mrs. Ramsey seemed to be confused or perhaps fabricating a good story. Katherine tried to keep her opinion from her expression as she thanked the woman for her information and bade her adieu.

  There was no possible way that Lady Rochford could have been on Charles Street last Thursday. She had died on Tuesday. Which begged the question—was Mrs. Ramsey’s information unreliable, or was there something going on that Katherine had not yet considered?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Katherine only half-expected Lord Conyers to attend the musicale at Lady Edgerton’s that evening, even if he was engaged to her niece. He seemed the type to prefer more titillating entertainments than a few young women barely out of the schoolroom as they demonstrated their musical prowess.

  Fortunately, Katherine had another aim in attending the musicale tonight. Now that she knew that Lord Bath hadn’t been responsible for Lady Rochford’s death, she could match him with Elizabeth Verne with a clear conscience. If Elizabeth heeded her note and attended tonight. Katherine’s note had been rather hasty, and she had only the vain hope that Mrs. Fairchild could arrange an invitation to attend tonight’s event. Katherine didn’t know the hostess well enough to wrangle one for Elizabeth herself.

  As another pair of women entered through the door, Katherine sighed in relief. She recognized Mrs. Fairchild’s brown hair and round figure instantly next to Elizabeth. Of course, she had expected for Elizabeth to bring her matchmaker to the event, but it added a layer of difficulty to the arrangement. Fortunately, if Elizabeth had attended, then she had decided to give Katherine’s idea a try.

  A try was all she needed. Lord Bath could be overprotective of the women in his life—or so Grandma Bath continually complained—but he had a good heart, deep pockets, and a title that dated back to the Norman invasion. In the world of lords and ladies, it was an aberration that a man such as him wasn’t yet married. A testament to his stubbornness, if his grandmother was to be believed.

  Raising her glass of lemonade slightly, Katherine caught Elizabeth’s eye. She was rewarded with the briefest of nods, an acknowledgment that Elizabeth would deign to be introduced to Lord Bath. W
ith that assurance in place, Katherine waited for her to slip her chaperone and venture nearer.

  With luck, that wouldn’t be too long. The three young women, each between the ages of sixteen and twenty, were sitting at their instruments and awaiting their mother to quiet the gathering so they might perform. Grandma Bath had already been led to her seat, though Lord Bath must have departed to fetch her another glass of lemonade or champagne, for Katherine didn’t espy him with her. She joined the old woman instead, bracing herself for what was to come.

  Laughingly, Pru had abandoned her on the pretense of searching for Lord Conyers the moment they had arrived at the party. Katherine had no one to distract from Grandma Bath’s insistence that she marry Lord Bath.

  Battling for serenity, Katherine slipped into the seat next to Grandma Bath. Although she cringed at the question, she had to ask, “Where is your grandson?” After all, if Lord Bath were not present, Katherine couldn’t introduce him to his future wife.

  Grandma Bath turned an assessing eye on Katherine. “Missing his company, are you, Lady Katherine?” The old woman waved her hand through the air. A jewel on her ring finger winked in the light shed by candles around the room. “Ernest has gone to fetch me a bit of champagne to wet my throat. I hoped he might meet you along the way.”

  “Why? Did he have something important to tell me?” Perhaps Lord Bath had been overwhelmed with guilt for lying to her and wished to confess the truth.

  “No, no. I just hoped he might find the company of a young woman more scintillating than an old biddy like me.” She winked.

  Katherine bit the inside of her cheek to hide her frustration. “I’m afraid he’ll have to find some other young woman instead.”

  “You are supposed to arrange that, aren’t you? Where are your candidates? I’d like to meet them.”

  “In due time,” Katherine answered, distracting from the fact that she had but one candidate and that particular woman was not convinced. “For now, why don’t we enjoy the evening?”

  Movement caught her eye, a flash of periwinkle skirts and burnished gold hair as Elizabeth wove through the throng of what must be near fifty guests all crammed into Lady Edgerton’s large drawing room. Chairs faced the corner pianoforte, where the girls had arranged their instruments, in rows, leaving only a narrow path along the perimeter for the woman to navigate.

  As Grandma Bath harrumphed, Katherine added, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked a friend to sit with us tonight.”

  “That Burwick girl?” the old woman asked with genuine interest. She must approve of Pru. “She has a sensible head on her shoulders.”

  Now Katherine wished that she had asked Pru to accompany her after all. “No, this is a friend you haven’t met. Her name is Miss Elizabeth Verne, and I assure you she has as sensible a head on her shoulders as either Pru or I.”

  Grandma Bath narrowed her eyes. For a moment, Katherine thought she would ask the golden question of whether this woman was a candidate for marriage. However, instead, Grandma Bath merely nodded and said, “Very well.”

  Those two words rendered Katherine speechless for a moment. However, when the back of her neck prickled from the nearness of a body, she realized why Grandma Bath had cut the inquiry short.

  “Here you are, Grandmama,” Lord Bath said. He leaned forward to hand a flute of champagne to his grandmother. “Katherine, I hadn’t realized you would be sitting with us as well tonight, or I would have brought you one too. I can fetch you a glass, if you’re thirsty.”

  Katherine hefted her lemonade as she turned in her seat to view Lord Bath. Tonight, he wore those wide, ridiculous sleeves, as always. However, the cut of the rest of his clothes was fashionable, the color a dark maroon that suited him well. His smile, as always, was genuine.

  “How is your father?” he asked. “He’s been too busy for me to pin down since I’ve arrived in town.”

  “Papa is well. I’ll remember him to you,” Katherine answered politely.

  Behind him, Elizabeth slipped between two people to stand at the edge of the chairs. She looked a bit frazzled but took a moment to pat herself down. As Katherine stood, the smile on her new friend’s face was as serene as if she hadn’t just escaped her chaperone by the skin of her teeth.

  Katherine held out her hand to Elizabeth, gesturing her forward. “Lord Bath, may I present my friend Miss Elizabeth Verne. You might have crossed paths with her at Lady Dalhousie’s ice ball.”

  At the mention of the murderous event, the marquess stiffened. He recovered marginally, smiling, but the expression did not meet his eyes. He’d scarcely inclined his head and murmured his polite delight upon meeting one of Katherine’s friends when the hostess rang a spoon against her glass to call the room into order. As the clear peals of sound faded, everyone hurried to find their seats.

  Somehow, in the mad scramble, Katherine found herself wedged between Lord Bath and his grandmother. Elizabeth was on Grandma Bath’s far side. How had that happened? The pair would never fall in love if they weren’t allowed to sit with one another.

  As the girls in the corner of the room were introduced and each took a bow, their cheeks rosy with the admiration, the violinist pronouncedly shaky in her hands as she picked up her violin, Lord Bath leaned closer. “Katherine, my dear, I hope this is not an extension of your queries into my unmarried state. Your friend is lovely, but I haven’t the time to devote to a wife.”

  Thankfully, his voice didn’t carry. Katherine kept her expression even. “Of course not,” she lied through her teeth. Thus far, her schemes to match two people together had always worked better once they decided for themselves that marriage was what they wanted. Forcing either party wouldn’t make for a happy marriage.

  The performers began their musicale to eddied whispers in the crowd gathered. The fact that they didn’t seem to have the full attention of the guests seemed to frazzle the violinist even more. She continually darted her gaze toward the pianist. When it was her turn to join in, her first draw of the bow across the strings was jolting and discordant. She cringed, her face filling with color as she froze upon making the mistake. Her mother jumped to her feet. “Felicia. Play. I know you know how. We pay enough for lessons.”

  The cheeks of the other two girls turned pink with sympathy at their sister’s embarrassment. They bowed over their instruments, prepared to start again.

  Two chairs down, Elizabeth tsked under her breath. “That isn’t how you handle a child’s mistake. You have to nurture talent, not command it.”

  “Oh?” asked Grandma Bath in a loud whisper. “How would you have handled it?”

  “Better to encourage her to continue and carry on as if the mistake had never been made. Everyone makes mistakes, and she seems particularly skittish of performing. After this, I doubt she ever will again.”

  Katherine smiled to herself at the conversation. Elizabeth would be able to handle Grandma Bath with aplomb, and perhaps she’d bring up the possibility of a school in Bath while she was at it. Now, Katherine had only to seat Lord Bath a touch closer so he, too, could hear.

  She leaned closer to him. “Would you mind switching chairs? It’s stifling in the middle.”

  “Certainly,” he answered without question.

  After they had made the move, the girls were ready to play again, and they began the song anew, from the beginning. Although the violinist was almost in tears and played so softly that Katherine barely even heard the instrument, when she joined in, she made no mistakes. The onset of their musical performance limited Elizabeth’s conversation as she gave them her rapt attention. Hopefully, Grandma Bath would engage her in conversation again, and Lord Bath would have the opportunity to admire her intelligence and gracious conversational skills.

  Katherine turned in her seat, searching the crowd for Lord Conyers. As expected, she didn’t find him, but Pru and Annandale were seated near the back next to Wayland. Katherine stifled a sigh. Apparently, he went everywhere with Annandale, so she was going to have
to get used to having him around.

  Avoiding Wayland’s gaze, she attempted to put him from her mind and continue her attempt to find Lady Rochford’s lover. Presumably all the guests were now in the drawing room, no one at a card table set up elsewhere. If Lord Conyers wasn’t in this room, he hadn’t attended the event. Unfortunate but far from surprising.

  The violin’s notes became shaky as her stage fright overwhelmed the violinist. When her mother stood to chide her again, this time the poor girl turned her back and rushed from the room, likely to lose her lunch. Katherine winced in sympathy.

  As did Elizabeth. “If she doesn’t like to play, her mother shouldn’t force her to. It’s cruel. I’m sure the girl has other talents.”

  Grandma Bath harrumphed. “How do you expect her to find a husband if she’s too shy to show her talents?”

  Elizabeth scoffed. “We women are good for more than finding a husband, as you ought to know. She could teach or compose or find any number of other ways to pass her time.”

  Katherine opened her mouth to contribute to the conversation, but in the disorder of the room, she lost her voice. At the back of the room, Mrs. Fairchild had finally located her charge, if the glower on her face was any indication. And she certainly thought Katherine was poaching Miss Verne.

  Hastily, Katherine muttered her excuses to Lord Bath and got to her feet. She had to have a word with the fellow matchmaker before Mrs. Fairchild ruined what had the potential to be a great match. She sidestepped a couple rising from their chairs to circle the perimeter as the hostess hastened to create order among her daughters before the night was proclaimed a disaster. It was likely too late, especially in the eyes of the poor violinist.

  The moment they met halfway down the line, Mrs. Fairchild glared daggers at Katherine. “You have no honor,” she spat. “Stealing my client—”

  Katherine held up her hands. “I am not stealing your client. Lord Bath is my client. If you’ll only listen to me a moment, you’ll see—”