“What’s happened to your ankle?”
Katherine grimaced. “Is it that obvious?”
“You look as though your foot has grown to the size of Wayland’s.”
Under his breath, Wayland muttered, “Should I be offended?”
Katherine sighed. “It’s the bandage. I twisted it; that’s all.”
As the pair lingered in the doorway, Wayland neatly sidestepped them and entered the room. Not a hint of irritation from the way she’d treated him betrayed whether or not he thought ill of the altercation. In fact, as he crossed to her, he looked nothing but concerned. When he stood between her and her friends by the door, Emma trotted up and pawed at his boot. He ignored the dog. “May I have a look at it?”
Katherine didn’t know what he, a detective and former military captain, hoped to do to heal her, but she nodded nonetheless. As he kneeled, Pru and Annandale took their customary positions on the loveseat. McTavish had disappeared for the moment, likely teasing Harriet, wherever she had run off to.
As Wayland lifted her ankle from the stool Harriet had fetched for her, white pain erased her thoughts. She gritted her teeth to keep from making a sound as he gently unwound the bandage. The pain intensified without the compression. When her bare ankle and foot were open to the air, the former being too painful and swollen to don a stocking, he set aside the bandages slowly to probe her flesh. A hiss escaped from between her teeth.
He lightened his touch, grazing over the blue-and-purple bruise near her Achilles tendon. When he gripped the bottom of her foot to turn it, she gasped.
“Don’t!”
He rested her foot on the stool once more. “For how long did you apply the ice?”
“A few minutes. I went up to bed when my father left.”
He grunted and straightened. “Apply more ice. It will help. And how much have you moved this morning?”
Cantankerous from the pain he’d subjected her to, she glared at him. “I didn’t sleep in this chair, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Especially since I left you in that one.” He pointed at the loveseat, where Pru now rested, staring at them with rapt attention.
She leaned forward. “You left her here, did you?”
Something that looked suspiciously like panic crossed Wayland’s face before he looked away, the color high in his cheeks. He turned his back and knelt to replace the bandage on Katherine’s ankle. If not for the suddenness of the motion robbing her of her breath, she might have pointed out that she hadn’t yet applied ice to the injury. Then again, given his mortification, perhaps now wasn’t the time.
In a brusque tone, Wayland informed, “I was searching for clues, footprints and the like, as to who has been lurking along the rear path near our victim’s house, when Lady Katherine was hurt.”
That hadn’t been the story he’d told Katherine. She pressed her lips together.
Pru smirked. “And did you find anything?”
He glanced at her for only a moment before he stood, putting space between himself and Katherine. “Nothing suspicious.”
Because she couldn’t stand the knowing expression on her friend’s face, Katherine added, “I was out searching for clues as well. I fell leaving Dr. Gammon’s house, where I went to look for the notes about which he had expressed concern when I visited him. I couldn’t find those. Not in his study or his bedchamber, and they hadn’t been in the parlor when I accompanied Lyle the morning he was found. Dr. Gammon’s notes on his treatments for Lord Westing seem to have disappeared.”
Pru exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Lord Annandale but didn’t comment. At the very least, she had ceased interrogating Wayland.
Katherine sighed, staring at her ankle. “I suppose that will be the last piece of evidence I will find—or not, as the case may be. I’m unable to go out until my ankle heals.”
By then, the murderer might have left the city, or even the country.
“Lucky for you, lass, we’re here to do the searching for ye.” McTavish’s voice boomed from the entryway, where he carried a tray holding the tea service, along with some leftover scones from the day before. Under Harriet’s uncharitable direction, he placed the tray on the table and helped her to fix the tea for the parties present.
Eager for the change in topic, Katherine straightened and looked between the men. “What did you find? The only thing Pru, Harriet, and I were able to discover yesterday was the fact that Lord Westing’s daughter now lives outside of London. Her place in the house has been usurped by his successor—an ambitious man, I’m told.”
Harriet canted her head to one side, as if considering this. “Is that what you learned? Lord Westing’s footman didn’t consider his new lord capable of murder. He said his succession to the title came as quite the surprise.”
At that, Pru frowned. “Why would it? If Lord Westing had only a daughter, surely it would be well known that the estate and title would be entailed him.”
Why hadn’t Katherine thought of that? She bit her tongue, the pain in her mouth barely noticeable compared to the rhythmic throb of her ankle. “I suppose that there is more to investigate, though I won’t be able to do it myself.”
McTavish flashed her a grin. “Och now, don’t worry your wee bonny head. We’ll handle this for ye.”
Frankly, Katherine didn’t know if he was soothing her or patronizing her.
Lord Annandale coughed into his fist, drawing everyone’s attention. “I brought McTavish to the gaming house, and we found a bit about Dr. Gammon’s son. He’s a well-liked, charismatic man who everyone seems to remember. And he owes a bit of blunt, but nothing so drastic to warrant killing his father.”
Pru tapped her chin, pensive.
Katherine sighed. “Dr. Gammon doesn’t have a lot of wealth. The house, yes, but not much outside of it, or he would keep a full staff rather than hiring a housekeeper to work only a few days a week. Still, I suppose the debt is a mite suspicious, particularly with the way Mr. Gammon has been acting.”
Pru accepted her teacup and took a dainty sip before she added, “If money isn’t the motivator, then I suspect it must be revenge.”
Katherine reminded her, “Lord Westing’s daughter now lives outside of London. She didn’t have the opportunity.”
“That we know of,” Pru countered. “I admit it is far-fetched that she would come into London for only one night. The roads in and out of London are treacherous this time of year in the daylight; they’re near impassable in the dark. If she was in London, she must have stayed somewhere until morning, but it wasn’t at Lord Westing’s house. I admit I’ve asked some friends who count her among their friends, and they insist she’s been out of town since Christmas.”
“She cannot be at fault, then.” Katherine ought to feel more satisfied upon ruling out a suspect, but she only felt miserable.
Pru hesitated. “Perhaps… but if she had money, could she have hired someone to do the deed for her?”
The group fell silent as they considered the suggestion. Wayland, however, bent and paid a lavish amount of attention to Emma. She growled low as he toyed with her ribbon, tugging it to and fro as she gripped the other end.
Lord Annandale broke the near-silence. “What do ye think of the new Lord Westing? Could he have orchestrated this?”
Katherine exchanged a glance with Harriet. Cautiously, she admitted, “We haven’t been able to learn anything save for what the servants told us yesterday. Perhaps we’ll learn more upon further investigation.”
Everyone turned their attention to Wayland. For a moment, he was so engrossed in playing with the dog that he didn’t notice the shift in focus. When Lord Annandale cleared his throat, Wayland looked up, frowning.
Katherine asked pointedly, “And you?”
He glanced at Emma as though looking for an answer.
Katherine reminded him, “Didn’t you say yesterday that you were off to find information about Dr. Sumner?”
“Ah, that.�
� He straightened, leaving Emma to chew on the discarded tuft of ribbon. As he adjusted his cuffs, he answered, “I’m afraid I could not find Dr. Sumner to question him.”
That wasn’t the answer Katherine had been expecting. “I beg your pardon? Why were you searching for clues at Dr. Gammon’s house if you hadn’t completed your assigned task?”
Wayland’s mouth thinned. He met her gaze, his expression as bland as his voice. “I did my due diligence. If Dr. Sumner is in London, none of my contacts know of it. I will continue to look, of course, but at the moment, I had no other recourse unless I intended to spend the evening at home, brooding.”
Although Katherine had often questioned his intentions, Wayland wasn’t the brooding type.
Pru cut in, turning the tide of the conversation and the tension gathering in the room. “Do you think Dr. Sumner fled town after killing his colleague?”
Softly, Lord Annandale answered, “Could be, lass. But if we’re entertaining the idea that Lord Westing’s daughter hired an assassin, then I’d argue Dr. Sumner could have done such a thing as well. He could have used his absence from London as an excuse.”
The longer they spoke, the more the pain in Katherine’s ankle mounted. She let out a strangled, frustrated sound. “We are no further along today than we were yesterday.” If anything, they only had more suspects and more possibilities.
“Actually…” Pru trailed off, taking a sip of her tea. “Didn’t you say that the particulars of Lord Westing’s treatment were missing from Dr. Gammon’s notes? Why would his daughter take the file? We’ve been working on the premise that Dr. Gammon and Dr. Sumner killed her father either by design or mistake. The evidence would be in that file, would it not? If so, she would want everyone to see it, to know the proof of Dr. Gammon’s wrongdoing.”
Harriet added, “Perhaps that’s precisely why his daughter took the file. She wants to ensure that people do see it. When a man dies, his things are boxed and shoved in the attic of the nearest relative. If I was in the daughter’s place, I would not want to leave it to chance that the file would be found and read.”
Wayland paced as he added, “And other people had access to the house. What of Dr. Gammon’s son? Katherine, you said he’s been acting strangely. He might have taken it.”
Katherine pointed out, “He only acted toward me in that way after his father was killed. The file might have been taken by the killer while he was there poisoning Dr. Gammon.”
They each frowned, deep in thought, until McTavish summed up the situation several minutes later. “So we’ve come full circle, then. We dinnae have more than a handful of suspects that grow more suspicious by the hour.”
Katherine sighed deeply and sank back into the armchair, using its bulk to shield her expression from as many people in the room as possible. With her ankle in such a state, she couldn’t speak with the suspects on her own. Her father had expressed his confidence in her ability to solve the mystery without leaving her chair, but she hadn’t done it yet. Would he lose faith in her if she couldn’t prove him right? Not to mention, sending out Pru, Lord Annandale, or even Wayland to search for her was not the same as doing it herself. In the case of Pru and her fiancé, they might be too preoccupied with each other and their upcoming nuptials to notice key pieces of evidence. If only there were a way for her to speak with these people on her own.
Unless… Katherine straightened. “I have an idea.”
The quiet rustle of clothing silenced as the group fixated upon her.
She smiled. “We will make my injury work in our favor. We’ll make them come to us.”
With a frown, Pru fiddled with her teacup. The clink of porcelain mirrored the pulse of Katherine’s heart—and the throb in her foot. “How so?”
“I admit, it won’t solve everything. I’ll still have to deal with Lady Dalhousie—”
“Lady Dalhousie?” Wayland asked with the raise of his eyebrow.
Katherine swallowed yet another sigh. In as even a voice as she could manage, she said, “Lady Dalhousie approached me with the request to match her niece. You know how persuasive she can be. I cannot say no.”
“And what does this have to do with the investigation?”
Wearily, Katherine admitted, “It doesn’t. And my idea won’t help with her at all, either. I warned Lady Dalhousie and her niece, Miss Ball, that if she wished for a love match, it could not be rushed. Even so, I know Lady Dalhousie will not rest until she sees my ankle for herself. She simply won’t believe that I’m injured if I write to her of what happened, which means she will certainly come to call and harangue me.”
Lord Annandale chuckled, a sound that was soon stifled as Pru poked him with her elbow.
Pru asked, “What is your idea for the investigation?”
Katherine brightened. “Obviously, we cannot invite our suspects here to confess, but we can do the next best thing. If we make certain each of the suspects knows that I’m injured and at home unable to defend myself, and if we spread a rumor that I discovered among Dr. Gammon’s notes a titillating piece of evidence of wrongdoing in Lord Westing’s case—”
Pru interrupted, “Perhaps something more vague. For the rumor. We don’t know for certain that his death is connected to Lord Westing’s death.”
It was far too much coincidence for her, but Katherine didn’t have the wherewithal to argue. “Very well. We’ll say I discovered evidence that sheds suspicion on Dr. Gammon’s death. Then, all we need to do is make certain that Lord Westing’s daughter, Dr. Sumner, and Mr. Gammon hear these rumors. Knowing that I’m helpless, they will come here to try to steal the notes!”
“Did you injure your head along with your ankle?” Wayland barked. He rounded on her, eyes blazing.
Katherine shrank back in her seat. She had never seen him so furious.
“It’s too dangerous.”
His snipped words rang in the air. However, Katherine refused to back down. She didn’t want to remain idle for the rest of the investigation. She met his gaze squarely. “It is not too dangerous if you are hiding in wait to apprehend the killer before they can harm me.”
Lord Annandale cleared his throat.
Heat chased onto Katherine’s cheeks, and she ducked her head. “All of you, I mean. You’ll all wait to intercept the murderer. You’ll listen while I coax a confession. Once I do, you may reveal yourselves and subdue him. We’ll hand him over to Lyle for a trial.”
Pru looked dubious. “But if Lord Westing’s daughter lives out of town, how could she come…”
Katherine wrinkled her nose. “Do we know for certain that she is out of town? Perhaps that’s only what she wants everyone to think. She might have spread a rumor of her own to prevent suspicion. Even if she is truly out of town, she might have hired someone to perform the deed. They might hear the rumor and come in her place. And if Dr. Sumner committed the murder, his absence from society could indicate a desire to wait until the murder investigation quiets. He has a successful business in London; he cannot wish to relinquish that entirely.”
Grudgingly, Lord Annandale nodded. “We can spread the rumor around the men’s clubs. That might draw him out.”
Katherine gazed from one person to another. “Then you’ll do it? You’ll spread the rumor?”
Pru nodded in confirmation. “We’ll spread the rumor.”
Darkly, Wayland added, “And we will be here this evening to see if it bears fruit.”
Chapter Sixteen
Katherine balanced on her good leg, shutting her eyes and taking several deep breaths until the shadow of pain in her injured ankle subsided. Only once she had regained her composure did she open the door. She craned her neck back, looking up into Wayland’s scowl.
“What do you think you’re doing answering the door?”
Katherine glowered back. She wasn’t in the best of moods to begin with, confined as she was to the house and her chair. “Harriet is busy.”
“She’d best be bleeding, to let an injured woman perf
orm her tasks.”
Katherine gritted her teeth. “I have hands and one good leg. I can do for myself.” When he opened his mouth, no doubt to argue again, she hobbled back and ushered him into the house. “Why are you here so early? The others won’t arrive for another three or four hours yet.” They had agreed to meet after supper. Outside, dusk was just beginning to fall.
Wayland shut the door, keeping out the waves of cold air assaulting them both. Katherine adjusted her shawl and hopped on her good leg, using the wall for support.
He studied her dubiously. “You are not in the least bit capable of walking around on your own yet.”
“Don’t coddle me. Why are you here?”
He raised his eyebrows. “We’re going out.”
Katherine let out an exasperated huff and turned to limp back into the parlor, where she had been confined for the entirety of the grueling day. He stopped her. One moment, she had both feet on the floor… mostly. In the next, he’d swept her up into his arms.
At the shocking change, she gasped for breath and clutched at his shoulders. Although her grip made her knuckles creak, he didn’t protest. Nor did he seem in danger of letting her fall. However, his touch was… disorienting, to say the least. The last time he had held her this way, the pain in her ankle had rendered her insensible to the intimacy. Now, she was entirely too aware of him.
Breathlessly, she demanded, “Put me down.”
Instead, Wayland lifted his head and shouted, “Harriet?”
A moment later, Harriet scurried out the narrow corridor, a wooden spoon in her hand. Her eyebrows were low slashes across her eyes. “Yes?” Her voice was polite, but only just.
Wayland didn’t appear to notice her harried mood. He stepped toward the staircase. “Katherine needs to change into eveningwear. Shall I carry her up to her room?”
“No. Put me down!”
Murder on Charles Street (Lady Katherine Regency Mysteries Book 5) Page 13