by Sonia Parin
“You’re looking pensive,” Evie said as they strode out to the roadster.
Tom gave a small shrug. “Yesterday I suggested trying to determine what you have in common with Bicky. We never got around to figuring that out.”
Evie slipped her leather gloves on and adjusted her hat. “You’re right. We didn’t get very far with that. I remember I’d been obsessed with something Charlotte said about Clara.” And that had led her to suggest they search her room for anything that might serve as evidence. Evie shook her head. “I’m still thinking about Clara. What if she’s up to something?” Evie almost wished that were true. Bicky certainly deserved better.
“Aren’t Dukes supposed to have children?” Tom asked.
“They sure are. The more, the better. Or, at least, as Consuelo Vanderbilt put it, an heir and a spare. Preferably male. You heard the Dowager Duchess. If anything happens to Bicky, his cousin thrice removed inherits.”
They both stopped and stared at each other.
“It would be unthinkable,” Evie remarked.
“But not impossible. What do you know about the heir?”
“Alexander Fleshling,” Evie murmured.
“That’s it? His name?”
“Give me a moment. I’m thinking out loud. I have met him. Bicky had him over before I returned to America. There had been another heir ahead of him, but he died during the war. If I remember correctly, he fell off his horse and broke his neck. Anyhow… Usually, with heirs so far removed, you tend to find they are ensconced in some sort of profession, medicine or the law, because they have to make a living.” She tilted her head up as if seeking divine inspiration. But nothing new came to her. “We’ll have to ask Bicky. I’d be surprised if he’s even kept in regular touch. He’s still young.”
Tom leaned against the motor car and stared at her. “Do you really have errands to run?”
“I do now. I’d like to know what was in Penelope’s telegram.”
“I guess you have reason to believe she hid the true contents from you.”
The Penelope she knew would have shown her the telegram and made a big deal out of it. Instead, it had been folded and returned to the envelope as if for safekeeping.
“So, how do you propose going about it?” Tom asked.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stop by the telegraph office. The post mistress is rather lovely.” Seeing Tom’s eyes widening as if in disbelief, Evie rolled her eyes. “I see, you’re not in favor of the idea.”
Tom brushed his hand across his chin. “I’m curious to know how you would convince a post mistress to reveal what is possibly confidential information. I’m sure there is some sort of law or code of conduct in place about such things.”
“Well, then… Perhaps we should drive to London and go to the Criterion. Who knows, if we sit there long enough we might encounter the Duchess and if we’re really lucky, we might overhear a plot to do away with Bicky.”
“That sounds like a plan. If we leave right now, I’m sure we’ll arrive before lunch.”
“In case you’re wondering, yes, I am surprised to hear you agree with me. Don’t you find the idea of the Duchess being somehow responsible rather ludicrous.” Evie had already crossed her off the list because she didn’t believe Clara would risk her freedom but she kept finding reasons for suspecting her again…
Tom shrugged. “Women in love have been known to do bizarre things.”
***
“Did you feel that strongly about the telegraph office being a dead-end?” Evie asked when Tom drove right through the village.
“Are you trying to accuse me of having no faith in your abilities?” Tom asked in return.
Evie crossed her arms. “Well, as a matter of fact, I think I did rather well to discover the source of Miss Wainscot’s rash.” She had even surprised herself. She had no idea where she had learned to be so methodical or persistent.
“True,” Tom said. “In fact, you did very well. I am impressed.”
Evie grinned. “Why, thank you, kind sir. But why did you wait until now to tell me?”
“I’m sure I mentioned it.”
Yes, he had. But his ‘well done’ remark had sounded almost absentminded.
When he stopped at the train station, Evie frowned at him. “What are we doing here?”
“How far do you think this roadster will get us? It’s nearly two hundred miles to London.”
London? “You’re serious.”
“You suggested it.”
Yes, but she hadn’t thought he would take her seriously. “We drove here, so I assumed... Oh, I don’t know. How did we manage it?”
“In the larger car with extra canisters of gasoline and with a couple of suppliers along the way, that’s how. And, let me tell you, this is not America. Those suppliers are few and far between. Anyhow, what did you think I was doing every time we stopped?”
Evie blushed. Every time they’d stopped, she’d actually closed her eyes because she’d thought Tom had needed to answer the call of nature…
Evie lifted her chin and looked ahead. “Never mind all that. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the train.”
They strode the short distance, purchased their tickets and only had to wait a few minutes for the train to arrive.
As they were about to step into the First-Class compartment, Tom gave Evie an encouraging push.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lady Penelope,” Tom said. “She’s boarding the same train. I guess she’s serious about sorting out her wardrobe.”
Evie peered out the window.
“She’s in the next carriage.” Tom checked his watch. “Why didn’t she just telephone her dressmaker?”
“Perhaps because she’d like to organize someone else. Penelope is quite unforgiving. I’ve heard people refer to her as a quiet mouse who roars.”
“Interesting,” Tom mused.
“In what way?”
Shrugging, he said, “I wonder what triggers her sharp temperament.”
Evie sat back and gave it some thought only to find herself thinking about Tom. He looked quite comfortable sitting opposite her.
If this had been the first time he’d traveled in first class, she would imagine he’d want to look around and see what he’d been missing out on. Come to think of it, he’d looked quite comfortable and confident when they’d visited Hainsley Hall.
There had been absolutely nothing to suggest he’d felt awkward.
Whenever she’d traveled to a new house with her maid, Caro, she’d noticed Caro looking around as if dazed by the sight of it all. Caro had almost grown up in large houses so she was used to it all. Even if the downstairs experience differed from that of the upstairs life, she was no stranger to the sight of a large house with all its extravagant furnishings and art works. And yet… she remained in awe of it all.
Not Tom.
“Have you thought about what I said earlier?” Tom asked.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to remind me. I can’t remember the last time I had to juggle so many thoughts at once. What with pretending I needed to run errands and looking for a dog I might or might not want and you bringing us to the station instead of stopping at the village… So, what else am I supposed to be thinking about?”
“What you might have in common with Bicky. We should still assume you are both targets. Why would someone want both of you out of the way? Who would stand to profit from that?”
Before she could compose a decent response, they were on their way. Evie looked out the window and watched the station disappear.
Tom cleared his throat. “I recall the Dowager Duchess saying you should have called her mama. Was there ever anything serious between you and the Duke?”
“The Dowager might have thought so… at the time. I suppose it might have been an easy assumption to make. It’s… It’s a long story.”
“And we have plenty of time.”
Evie shifted. “Well… I suppose you could say I made a grand entrance. At the time, it
would have been a big deal to have me as a house guest. Remember, I was a debutante.”
He nodded. “I think what you mean to say is that you were an heiress. In other words, you were loaded.”
“That too. Anyway, you’ve seen what it’s like. When someone of note arrives at a large house, they usually organize quite a welcoming committee. From memory, the entire household had come out to greet me and they usually only do that for someone above an Earl or a Duke. Bicky had only recently become a Duke. Much had been expected of him and there I was, young, eligible and, as you pointed out, loaded.” She’d been gracious and as polite as she could have been but the moment she had set eyes on Nicholas…
She’d been lost.
He hadn’t been among the welcoming party. Evie remembered retiring to her room to change after her long journey. Caro had been sent up to help her dress and they’d formed an instant connection.
Frowning, Evie remembered Clara had attended that house party. Sitting up, she stared at Tom.
Clara had arrived the day before and, according to Caro, she had been instantly smitten by the young Earl of Woodridge. At the time, Evie had been overwhelmed by so many titles. She’d been a mere Miss, fresh off the boat, while all the other debutantes had hailed from the grandest houses in England.
Evie shook her head. “No, if Clara had meant to do anything, she would have taken action back then.”
Tom smiled at her. “I think you need to fill me in on the rest. That sounded like the tail end of a conversation you had in your head.”
“I suppose if I had to try and join the dots, I would say Clara resents me because I landed the man she wanted and the man she ended up with had been focused on winning me. Yes, Bicky had been interested.”
Tom held her gaze for a long moment, and then he said, “I see.”
“But it wouldn’t make sense to wait all this time to do something about it.”
“Wouldn’t it? Back then, she might not have had the resources or the necessary female wiles to take action. Try to put yourself in her shoes. What would she do now that she couldn’t do back then?”
Evie tipped her hat down to cover her eyes. She didn’t want to think about this anymore. She couldn’t. “Clara would have far too much to lose. She’d never risk landing in prison.” But she could afford to pay someone else to do her bidding, Evie thought.
“Tell me about her. Is she the type to influence people easily? Does she have an entourage of admirers? A lover? You’ve all hinted as much.”
“Are you suggesting someone else might have done the deed for her?”
Tom shrugged. “It’s possible.”
Evie put on her best snooty tone and said, “Oh, darling. I have this pesky problem. It’s really nothing but it would mean a great deal to me if someone were to take care of it for me.”
“Precisely.”
She couldn’t. Could she?
Chapter Twenty-One
Hit and miss in bustling London
When they reached King’s Cross Station, they stepped onto the platform and straight into a flurry of activity, but only after making sure Lady Penelope had already set off on her merry way to sort out her dressmaker problem.
“Now that we’re here, where do we go?” Evie asked.
“The restaurant, of course. We could make discreet inquiries. Find out if the Duchess has been dining there. Is it far from here?”
Evie looked down at her shoes. She could manage a walk around the village, but anything more than that would be too strenuous. “We’ll have to get a taxi.”
As they strode out of the station, Evie took a moment to adjust to the different pace; the cars, the bicyclists and people… so many people hurrying by with such haste, they became a blur.
Evie wondered if Sergeant Newbury had unearthed anything of significance. As far as she knew, he had only interviewed Bicky’s houseguests. She assumed he had also spoken with all the estate workers. If anyone new had been seen in the village, someone would have noticed.
The shooter had to be someone everyone knew.
Someone everyone trusted.
Evie wondered if the police had stepped up their investigation. After all, there had been an attempt on a peer’s life…
During the drive to Piccadilly Circus, Evie talked about the dog she might get and avoided all mention of the subject uppermost in their minds for fear it would sound too odd to the driver.
“I hope you realize a dog will need to be walked a couple of times a day,” Tom said.
Evie slanted her gaze toward him. “Yes, of course.”
“And you’ll also have to train him.”
“You mean, teach him tricks?”
“To sit on command,” he said.
“Oh, I suppose I could hire someone to do that for me.”
“And where will it sleep?” he asked.
“I’m sure I could have something suitable made for him.”
“A dog sized fourposter bed?”
Before she could answer, the taxi came to a stop outside the restaurant.
“I missed the sights,” Evie said. “I should spend a day being a tourist.” Seeing the customers walking into the restaurant, Evie tugged his sleeve. “I’ve just realized, we’re not dressed properly.”
“Pardon?”
“The clothes we’re wearing. We’re not dressed for lunch.”
Tom pushed out a long breath. “We have traveled the length of England to get here and now you refuse to set foot inside a restaurant because you’re wearing the wrong clothes. Would it be so bad if we walk in dressed as we are?”
Evie gave him a lifted eyebrow look. “We’ve come this far, let’s not ruin it by making a bad impression or worse, being turned away.”
While Evie turned to leave, Tom refused to budge.
“We’re both foreigners,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us.”
“Would you also like me to be loud, obnoxiously so? After all, it’s almost excepted of Americans abroad.”
The edge of his lip kicked up. “You sound offended.”
“And I am.” Evie’s voice hitched. “Over the years, I’ve had to endure so many prejudices, I don’t wish to prove anyone right. I simply cannot do it. I won’t.”
A man striding by turned to look at Evie. A couple shook their heads.
Tom smiled. “See, you were just loud. I knew you had it in you.”
When he took a step forward, Evie grabbed hold of his arm and dug her heels in.
“Are you honestly telling me you won’t go inside because you’re wearing the wrong dress?”
“I’m dressed for the country. This would be a major faux pas and… and it won’t serve our purpose of blending in. I assume that’s what we need to do.”
Tom gave his jaw muscles a thorough workout. “What do you propose we do?”
“The house isn’t far from here.” She reached for his hand and checked his watch. “In fact, it will work out perfectly. We’re far too early for lunch. That would make us even more obvious.”
***
When they reached Evie’s Mayfair house the butler, Edgar, barely batted an eyelash as he stepped aside to allow both the Countess of Woodridge and the chauffeur into the house.
While Evie had expected a different reaction from her stuffy butler, she felt too much relief to worry about it. In Evie’s mind, another battle had been won as Tom had insisted going in through the servant’s entrance.
Evie had put her foot down. “I really don’t mean to stand outside my own home and argue with you. Now, do as you are told… Please.”
The words rang in Evie’s mind as she made her way up to her bedchamber with Edgar fast on her heels.
“My lady, Peters has taken the day off. Whom do you wish me to send up…”
“Edgar, please get a hold of yourself. I realize this is all out of the blue and I’m sorry for catching you unawares. If Millicent isn’t here, then I shall have to manage by myself.”
“B-by yo
urself, my lady?”
“Yes, Edgar. Now, please don’t make a fuss. Mr. Winchester and I will show ourselves out. No need to stand on ceremony.”
Evie thought she heard Edgar murmur Tom’s name under his breath as if in disbelief. A sure sign he had noticed Tom’s entrance by the front door. When he emitted a huff, Evie stopped and turned.
“Edgar. You are beyond reproach. Your service to me has been exemplary.”
He bowed his head.
“If you have anything to say, anything appropriate to say, then do so within my hearing. Otherwise… Well, I really must get on.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
“I do wish it, Edgar.”
Evie went through her wardrobe and wondered how Caro or Millicent managed to make such swift selections from so many choices. It seemed for every choice she made, she had to make two more.
She settled on a pale green dress and matched it with the softest shade of fawn shoes with double straps only because she found a hat with both colors on it.
When she finished dressing, she checked the clock on the mantle and realized it had taken her an entire hour to change.
Caro and Millicent definitely earned their keep and deserved a raise.
As she strode down the stairs, she suddenly realized Tom wouldn’t have anything suitable to wear since all the clothes he had been producing had come from the man he’d met at the pub, Sir Bradford.
Belatedly, she realized that had probably been the reason why he’d tried to talk her into going into the restaurant dressed as they had been. He’d known he wouldn’t have anything appropriate to change into.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she had given herself a good talking to. “So help me, I will never again assume…”
Edgar cleared his throat.
Evie looked around the entrance hall and saw no sign of Tom.
“What have you done with Tom?”
Her butler’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, my lady.”
“Tom Winchester. I expected him to be waiting for me here.”
“Mr. Winchester is waiting for your ladyship outside.”