Murder at the Ice Ball
Page 22
“Have you heard back whether or not the Crown will accept? It is highly unusual.”
“It is,” Lord Rochford agreed, “but it is sometimes done. I imagine it will be some time before the Crown makes their decision. Now that Celia is dead…” He shook his head. “I don’t even want to contemplate it. What do I have left?”
Lord Rochford’s distress seemed genuine, but Katherine had to wonder if he’d truly forgiven Celia and accepted her reason for the affair so easily.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The pall that fell over the group as they departed from Lord Rochford’s residence was nothing short of gloomy. So preoccupied was she in reviewing what they’d learned at Lord Rochford’s house that Katherine didn’t even notice when she took Wayland’s hand to climb the carriage stairs, nor when he settled Emma in her lap. She noticed that he was near only when he seated himself beside her and Emma’s claws dug through her clothes on her way to beg attention from him. Wayland gave that attention without comment as the carriage lurched into motion.
They passed several streets in silence before Pru broke it. “I don’t think he killed his wife. He seems to have forgiven her for the affair and, indeed, blames himself. He has no motive.”
Lord Annandale reached over to thread his fingers through hers and lend his support. Pru sounded a bit lost.
“I agree,” Wayland answered, his voice a rumble in the near darkness of the carriage.
“Katherine?”
“It seems that way, but wouldn’t he try to make us think that if he were the killer?” Why was everyone so ready to accept Rochford’s story? Katherine knew that killers always lied. “With Celia dead, there is no one to dispute his claim that they were going to try anew. And you heard him say he suspected the police were not satisfied with ruling her death an accident. He would know that he is a suspect. He might have tried to plant the ring to move the suspicion away from him and onto Conyers. That would explain why Mrs. Ramsey spotted their carriage the day after Lady Rochford fell.”
“But the housekeeper said he was too deep in his cups to leave the house even to tell his own daughter. When would he have planted it?” Pru asked. “You saw him yourself. He was in no condition.”
“Perhaps that was all an act. Remember the housekeeper’s highly irregular and insubordinate behavior? She is still employed. Perhaps she behaved that way on instruction from Lord Rochford to make him appear distraught and allow him to deny leaving the ring.”
“Good point. I think we need to talk to Conyers again, given what we just learned. He was closest to Lady Rochford. He might know something we can use to prove it was Lord Rochford,” Wayland said.
“Or to prove that he is the killer,” Pru said.
“Yes, we can’t rule him out. The ring was in his planter, but anyone could have put it there, including him. We must find something else to tie either Conyers or Rochford to the crime,” Katherine said.
“Lady Rochford ended their affair,” Pru argued.
“Months ago, if she and her husband had then reconciled.”
“Not so,” Pru said, shaking her head. “He was in the country during the summer. He might only have returned to London recently. And what of her carriage, spotted there multiple times the week she was killed? She might have been telling him it was over for good. If he had just found that out, he may have still been angry enough to kill her when he ran into her at the ball. Perhaps he made advances and she spurned them.”
“I find Conyers’s tale curious,” Wayland said as he rubbed Emma’s belly. The dog looked to be in heaven.
“How so?” Katherine asked. While he was in the carriage, she might as well avail herself of his expertise.
“He claimed that he and the victim had a special bond, something beyond the physical. He didn’t call it love, but it seemed similar, as though he thought her the perfect partner. If so, wouldn’t it make more sense for him to kill her husband in the hopes that she would then fall into his arms?”
Katherine cocked her head to the side as she considered it. Lord Conyers had seemed particularly aggrieved, but something didn’t sit right with her. “You have a point. Or perhaps he was lying to us about it in an attempt to appear like the wronged party. She couldn’t have felt as deeply about him, or she wouldn’t have reconciled so readily with her husband. Lord Rochford knew everything, and the tale of her seeking out another bed partner in order to get with child isn’t unlikely. In fact, it fits with what my stepmother has said of her.”
“Why would he be so adamant they were two kindred souls if she did not return his feelings?”
Katherine shrugged, half turning to look at Wayland. “It happens often enough, especially among the young bucks and debutantes. Simply because he pines for Lady Rochford doesn’t mean that she returned the sentiment at all. She might have chosen him only for his age and virility.”
“Is a matchmaker claiming she doesn’t believe in love?” Pru teased.
Wayland stiffened as Emma playfully nibbled on his finger. Maybe she’d bitten him too hard, though she was usually gentle.
Keeping one eye on him in case he took it upon himself to discipline her dog, Katherine answered, “Not at all. I know very well that love can exist and flourish even in a marriage mart such as our own. But not all matches are love matches, and not all affairs are of the heart.”
Wayland wiggled his finger back and forth in Emma’s mouth, carrying her head along a few inches. She seemed to be enjoying the attention, and he didn’t seem terribly alarmed at his predicament, so Katherine let them be.
“Well, I suppose there is truth in that. After all, I never expected to fall in love. I wanted to become a dour old spinster, like Katherine.”
“I’m twenty-five,” Katherine reminded them as she pulled Emma onto her lap and scratched her behind the ears. The rascal seemed sad to leave Wayland’s embrace.
“And you dress as though you’re seventy-five,” Pru teased.
When neither of the men jumped to her defense, Katherine sighed. “Can we return to the topic at hand? We must be able to find a better tie to Lord Conyers than a ring left on his doorstep. Or another suspect.”
Pru slumped in her seat as she thought. “He was at the ice ball. I wonder where he went after his flirtation with the swan. He lied to us earlier about never leaving his fiancée’s side.”
“I think that was his friend’s flirtation, but it might be worth asking around to see. Someone ought to have seen him or at the very least remarked upon his friend, so deep in his cups as to court inanimate objects.”
Wayland chuckled. “You could ask the hostess.”
“Lady Dalhousie? She does notice everything that goes on. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew the exact location of her entire guest list the whole night. But she has a penchant for exaggeration, so I’m not sure how much we can believe,” Katherine said.
“It’s worth a try.” Pru leaned over to pet Emma. “Lady Carleton is holding a ball tonight. She was one of the Burglar of Bath’s victims, if you recall. Lady Dalhousie will never be able to stay away, not wanting Lady Carleton to outstrip her and become the center of attention once more.”
Katherine buried her hands in Emma’s fur and murmured to herself, “I suppose I’d better dig out my invitation, in that case.”
Katherine stood to one side of the ballroom and watched the swirl of dancers on the floor. There was nothing particularly memorable about Lady Carleton’s ball at all. She hired the same musicians as everyone else, served the same food and drink, decorated in the same way, and invited the same guests. Unfortunately, Katherine did not see Lord Conyers among them, though the ball was overly crowded, making it difficult to see exactly who was there.
Pru sighed. “Perhaps we will have better luck if we split up.”
Disappointment welled in Katherine’s chest as she glanced at her friend. First Pru had included Annandale in the investigation, and now she wanted to look for suspects without Katherine. Oh well, Katherine had no
problems investigating on her own... though she did have to admit she had grown quite fond of Pru’s assistance. “Very well. You go toward the refreshment table, and I will go toward the garden.
They parted ways, each choosing a different route around the perimeter of the ballroom. Katherine scanned the ballroom. But Lord Conyers still wasn’t among the dancers or those around the refreshment table or even near the cluster of debutantes in the corner.
Preoccupied with her search, Katherine nearly stepped into Mrs. Fairchild as she squeezed between two gaily chatting groups just beyond the high vase. The set had ended, the men and women dispersing to find new partners for the next dance. As Katherine met her rival’s gaze, a throb started in her temples. She didn’t have the time or energy for a fight at the moment.
“It was all a lie on Lady Dalhousie’s part. Lord Bath being the burglar, I mean. I misjudged him,” the woman said quickly. As she nibbled her lower lip, she had never looked so young. Katherine recalled that for all her stature and experience in matchmaking, she couldn’t be more than ten years older than Katherine.
“He’s a good man.” Katherine scanned the crowd over her shoulder. Where was Conyers?
“Do you really think he’d make Miss Verne a good match?”
Katherine’s gaze pivoted back to Mrs. Fairchild.
“I do,” she said softly, her words nearly drowned by the crowd. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it to her if I hadn’t. But there is one problem.”
“Which is?” Mrs. Fairchild regained her superciliousness as she raised one dark eyebrow.
“He’s stubborn.”
“Aren’t all men?” she said with a laugh. “Are you having trouble bringing him up to snuff?”
“I’m having trouble getting him to admit that he needs or wants a wife. His grandmother, the Dowager Marchioness of Bath, approves of the match even if he has yet to make any commitment.” Katherine wanted Mrs. Fairchild’s cooperation, but her eyes kept straying to the crowd in search of Lord Conyers.
Mrs. Fairchild frowned. “He doesn’t want a wife? But… isn’t he your client?”
“Yes. I was never trying to steal your client, only to match her with mine. Though it wasn’t he who sought me out but his grandmother who hired me to find him a match. He knows little to nothing of the arrangement.”
“Then how can you be so set on Miss Verne marrying him if he wants nothing of marriage?”
“Lord Bath is a good friend of the family. If anyone can convince him to marry, it is me. Trust me, I can bring him up to snuff, and I will. So long as he has managed to acquaint himself with Elizabeth enough to see her many merits.”
Mrs. Fairchild nodded tentatively. “She is a young woman of many merits.”
Katherine had to wonder if Mrs. Fairchild was older than Elizabeth. When they had previously encountered each other, the rival matchmaker had put on such airs that she seemed five or even ten years older than she did now, infinitely more experienced and determined.
“Do you oppose the match?” Katherine asked boldly, hoping that the woman would not answer in the affirmative.
Mrs. Fairchild glanced into the crowd, no doubt seeking out her client. “Marchioness is a title that would make any woman jealous. He is a bit eccentric…”
“But not unkind,” Katherine assured her. “He dotes upon his grandmother and tries to do right by his tenants. If you spend any length of time in his company, you’ll see—”
The woman tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and gave a slim smile. “What man with a title isn’t a little eccentric? I never did listen to any of the drivel Lady Dalhousie had to say, anyway.” She drew herself up. “I think Miss Verne would be very happy with him.”
Thank goodness. Katherine released a pent-up breath. She held out her hand. “Shall we call a truce, then?”
Mrs. Fairchild clasped it, squeezing her hand only briefly before releasing it. “Only this once.”
The two women parted ways, and Katherine focused again on her search until...
“Lady Katherine, what a surprise. I expected to find you with Lord Bath. Isn’t that where you’re most often to be found of late?” Lady Dalhousie’s expression took on a hawkish quality as the gossip raised her brows. Katherine almost cursed out loud. She had an important task at hand, but she couldn’t be rude and ignore Lady Dalhousie.
“He’s faring quite well on Miss Verne’s arm, thank you.”
“Is he?” The old woman’s smile spread. “How odd. I thought for certain I espied him dancing with someone else.”
Tarnation!
Katherine’s eyes darted to the dance floor as she prayed that the woman was mistaken. She didn’t have the time to hunt down an obstinate marquess and force him to dance with a woman he was destined to become enamored with.
“Do tell, Lady Katherine. Have you given some thought to my suggestion that the Burglar of Bath has now returned?” Lady Dalhousie pointedly jerked her chin toward the dancers.
Katherine didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking where she pointed, most likely at Lord Bath.
“The Burglar of Bath was apprehended in September,” Katherine answered, desperately wondering how she could get away from Lady Dalhousie.
“Yes, I know. That was dreadful, and now we have the Lady Rochford scandal.”
Katherine’s eyes snapped back to Lady Dalhousie. “Scandal? I thought it was an accident.” Was the gossip being her usual overly dramatic self, or did she know something of interest?
Lady Dalhousie leaned toward Katherine and lowered her voice. “I’ve heard it was no accident. And while servants these days are frightfully tight-lipped, one does overhear things...” Katherine had no doubt that Lady Dalhousie eavesdropped on her servants, and maybe that habit would come in handy for Katherine. The woman had her full attention now.
“What kinds of things?”
“I heard Lady Rochford was not alone on that balcony.”
“Yes, you mentioned before you saw Lord Bath—”
“Not Lord Bath. I overheard one maid telling another that the man was small of stature.” Lady Dalhousie made a sour face. “But when I asked for further information, the maids denied seeing any man near the balcony."
Darn! Harriett’s contacts hadn’t mentioned that. Was Lady Dalhousie making it up to spread gossip? Maybe Katherine should have Harriet visit the Dalhousie servants again. She might not have talked to the right ones.
“Did they mention any specifics as to who it could have been?” Lord Conyers wasn’t exactly small of stature. Lord Rochford was shorter than Conyers.
“I’m afraid not—”
“Katherine!”
Turning, Katherine spotted Pru elbowing her way through the crowd. What had her so frantic?
“Katherine, come here.” Pru tugged Katherine’s elbow, but Katherine held firm. Whatever Pru wanted surely couldn’t be as interesting as what she’d just heard from Lady Dalhousie.
“I was just talking to Lady Dalhousie. She had some interesting information on the accident at the ice ball. Lady Dalhousie, would you tell Pru what you just told me?” Katherine turned back to Lady Dalhousie only to find she’d drifted off and was talking to an older couple. Drat! Katherine wanted to know more about the man who had been seen with Lady Rochford!
“That can wait.” Pru almost pulled Katherine’s arm from its socket as she towed her across the room to a quiet corner far from the orchestra. “I believe I just spotted Mrs. Dillinger.”
Katherine frowned. “Lord Rochford’s daughter? What is she doing here? The family should be in deep mourning, not out at balls.” Though the sour woman had never seemed fond of her stepmother, Katherine wouldn’t put it past her to claim that since they weren’t related by blood, she need not observe any period of mourning.
“I don’t know why she’s here. I thought it just as odd. That’s why I left to find you immediately.” Pru stood on her tiptoes to scan the crowd. “What did Lady Dalhousie tell you that was so interesting?”
“Was she ever in mourning?” Pru mumbled under her breath.
Mrs. Dillinger hadn’t worn black when they’d met with her on Bow Street. In fact, her cloak had been scarlet. That didn’t bespeak a woman in mourning.
“I saw her in that side corridor. I thought she would have divested herself of her cloak and be out in the main room by now.”
Katherine eagerly followed Pru’s footsteps as she led her across the room. At the mouth to the corridor, Pru stopped with a scowl. “Tarnation! Where did she go?”
“Keep your voice down if you’re apt to use foul language,” Katherine teased.
Pru’s mouth twisted with distaste. She peered down the first of two nearby corridors. This one, wider, was the corridor that led to the front door. It was empty.
On a hunch, Katherine crossed several feet toward the second, narrower corridor through which the servants entered and exited. A large vase had been placed near the door, almost as if to obscure it and make the servants even more invisible.
Down the corridor were two figures. A woman, dressed in a dark-blue cloak, was standing close to a man. They looked to be in a heated discussion. The woman’s face was turned away, but as the man turned to walk away, Katherine caught his profile.
“Lord Conyers!”
She hadn’t meant the name to slip out, but the instant it did, he started. The woman fled down the corridor, and Katherine caught a glimpse of her pinched face. Mrs. Dillinger! Were they lovers?
Katherine would have given chase, but talking to Lord Conyers was more important.