A Fiancée's Guide to First Wives and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “Mrs. Thompson has taken your things up to your room,” he said. “I did not close your account with the hotel, but you are all but moved out.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” She rewarded him with a glowing smile. “Did you find the letters?”

  “I did not. Are you certain they were in your room?”

  She busied herself with her coffee. “No. Maybe they are at the theater, or perhaps I left them back in Paris.”

  “I thought you didn’t receive them until after you came to London.” I couldn’t help the note of irritation that crept into my voice. How quickly I’d gone from sympathy to exasperation, but for heaven’s sake, this ever-changing story was maddening.

  “Yes, that’s right. If they aren’t in my room at the hotel, they must be at the theater. I’m certain I didn’t destroy them.”

  And now I assumed she must have destroyed them—if they ever existed in the first place.

  “Tell me about the man you believe was following you,” George said with an edge to his voice. “You must have noticed something about him.”

  She stared into the depths of her cup. “He wore a hat and overcoat.”

  “It’s November. In London,” I said. “If one is out of doors, one is wearing a hat and overcoat.”

  George placed a hand over mine. “There was a man in the lobby at Brown’s Hotel who struck me as suspicious. He didn’t seem to be occupied with any business, yet he was there both when I arrived and left. Was the man following you a bit older, perhaps fiftyish, my height or taller, and bulky? The man I saw had a rather spectacular beard and wore a homburg.”

  She gazed up at the ceiling, as if she were pondering the matter. “That sounds like Igor,” she said at last. “The poor dear must be waiting for me.”

  He drew a deep breath and released it slowly before turning a deadly glare on her. “Who is Igor?”

  Hetty and I leaned forward, poised to stop him from doing her any harm in case he was as angry as he looked. Miss Teskey either didn’t notice or ignored it.

  “Igor? He’s been with me for five or six years now. My father sent him to watch over me after the third or fourth attempted abduction.” She sat back and bobbed her head. “It was probably Igor you saw.”

  The muscles in his jaw clenched. It was my turn to pat his hand, which had curled itself into a fist as he pushed up from the table. “If you had an attendant who, I assume, is on hand to protect you, why have you dragged me into your troubles?”

  “Because you are my husband.” Her expression said she thought him a complete simpleton. “Igor would have been no help with the police. Why, he barely speaks English. I needed you. Since you are some sort of investigator, and my husband, you are the perfect person to track down the man who is threatening me and have him arrested.”

  “Your logic would be fine except for the one little detail you have wrong. I am not your husband.” He threw himself back into the chair and folded his arms, possibly to keep from shaking her. “Whatever put that notion into your head?”

  Miss Teskey squared her jaw. “Our wedding. If I have to return to Paris to retrieve our marriage certificate and wave it in your face to make you believe me, I will.”

  So engrossed were we all in the conversation, none of us had noticed Mrs. Thompson enter the room until the scuffle between her and a guest drew our attention. The housekeeper was clearly trying to push a gentleman back out to the hallway, and he, in turn, appeared unwilling to leave.

  “I say,” he called out. “I believe I can clear this up.”

  I recognized that voice. “Mr. Bradmore, is that you?”

  With that, Mrs. Thompson relented and allowed Bradmore to move around her. He did so, pulling off his hat, and then nodded to each of us. “I do beg your pardon,” he said. “But I couldn’t help overhearing a bit of the conversation. I think I can help sort things out.” He moved toward the table under the weight of George’s glare.

  “Do you have some information on the matter, Bradmore?” I asked.

  “Indeed, Lady Harleigh. I do.” He turned his gaze to Miss Teskey and waved his fingers at her. “Irena, you seem to have mistaken Hazelton for someone else. He is not your husband. I am.”

  I glanced from one man to the other. George was tall and lean, with dark hair and eyes—one had to be very close to see they were actually green. Bradmore, on the other hand, was tall and broad, with tawny blond hair, a short, upturned nose, and light brown eyes. How one could be mistaken for the other was beyond my comprehension.

  Miss Teskey examined him through narrowed eyes. “You?”

  “Me.”

  “You do look familiar.”

  “That is gratifying, as it’s been a good six years since we’ve seen each other.”

  “The two of you are married?” George seemed to be having as difficult a time taking this in as Hetty and I. And Miss Teskey, for that matter.

  “We are,” Bradmore confirmed, twisting the brim of his hat. “In fact, I have been searching for Irena for the past month. I owe you a debt of gratitude in finding her for me.”

  “You have been looking for me?”

  “Indeed. This is somewhat awkward, considering I’ve just reintroduced myself as your husband, but I’m afraid I must ask you for a divorce.”

  Chapter Six

  The room grew quiet enough to hear the ticking of the clock in the entry hall—counting down the seconds until Miss Teskey released an explosive shriek that broke the silence and caused each of us to cringe.

  “How dare you?” Her sinewy motion as she came to her feet, the narrowed eyes, and the flashing teeth all brought to mind the image of a venomous snake after a sharp poke from a stick. I’ll admit to some relief, I wasn’t the one to poke her. “Who are you to come here and ask me for a divorce? You beast!”

  Bradmore strode toward her and dropped his hat on the table in one impatient motion. “Who I am is the only man who could make such a request. And don’t act as if you are crushed by it. You didn’t even know who I was until I informed you.”

  Glancing around the table, he took in the image of the three of us reeling from astonishment. It must have taken him aback, as he squared his shoulders and held out a hand to her. “Let us go into another room and discuss this like civilized adults, shall we?”

  Foolish man. He’d get nowhere with that condescending tactic.

  Miss Teskey lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. “I will go nowhere with you and will discuss nothing. I do not want you for my husband. Hazelton was much better. At least he doesn’t want to divorce me.”

  “Only because he’s not married to you, you little baggage.”

  “Bradmore! That’s uncalled for.” As this was my home, I felt the need to step into the fray. “Miss Teskey, I agree it would be best for the two of you to retire to the drawing room and discuss your situation privately.”

  She shifted her gaze to me, her eyes filling with tears. “You can suggest this? You who profess to be my friend?”

  Bradmore angled a glance at me. “You want to be her friend?”

  “I never said—”

  “No. This is too much.” Brushing past Bradmore, she fled the room and, judging from the sound of her heels on the steps, took to her bedchamber for sanctuary. Bradmore dropped into her empty chair.

  “Well done, old chap.” George allowed a sardonic tone in his voice. “If your intention was to chase her off, that is.”

  Bradmore raised a brow. “I could just as easily have left the girl to believe you were her husband.”

  “Yes. Well, I suppose I should be grateful for that.”

  “Yes, you should,” I said. “But he’s right, Mr. Bradmore. You might have used a bit more delicacy when you requested a divorce.”

  “What I’d like to know is how on earth you came to wed the girl.” This was not the first time I gave thanks that Aunt Hetty had no qualms about asking questions I might find too indelicate. Now that it had been asked, however, I didn’t hesitate to prod him.

/>   “How did that come about?”

  “Let me take a guess.” George leaned over the table. “You rescued her from an abductor?”

  Bradmore stared. “You too?”

  “That’s how she got you two mixed up,” Hetty said.

  I gaped at her. “That’s absurd. Yes, they performed the same service for her, but how did she fail to notice that they look nothing alike or that they have different names or that she married one and not the other? The woman may be a bit cracked, but I believe she has the use of most of her faculties.”

  “She may not have had use of them at the time,” Bradmore said.

  “Opium?” George asked.

  Bradmore nodded. “She was living in Paris, trying to become an actress. Her cohorts may not have even been aware of who her father was, but they could tell she came from money. They sent the ransom note to the Teskeys’ home. Irena was so far gone by the time I arrived, I don’t even know if she realized she was being held prisoner.”

  “How did you free her?” I asked. “She couldn’t have been much help in that condition.”

  “None at all. Thank heaven I wasn’t trying to arrange a rescue. My orders were simply to pay the ransom and take charge of her. That was difficult enough. She was largely incoherent when I moved her things into my lodgings. I couldn’t let her go back to her own rooms for fear her abductors would strike again. Finally, once she had recovered well enough to pay attention, I removed her to the Teskeys’, back at the coast.” He heaved a sigh. “She was nothing but trouble.”

  “Yet you decided to marry her,” I said.

  “That’s the sticky part. I had hoped simply to put her on the train, but I couldn’t convince her that leaving Paris was in the interest of her safety. She pestered me until I agreed to escort her to the station, then on to Trouville. As we traveled, I suppose she wormed her way into my affections. She teased me into escorting her on to the Teskeys’ cottage, and before I knew it, I found myself escorting her down the aisle of some village church.”

  George was eyeing him with skepticism, and I, too, assumed he was glossing over some significant elements of the story. I had never really trusted Bradmore. “So, she just charmed you into marrying her?” I suggested. “You were helpless to resist?”

  “My dear.” George gave me a wink. “I think at some point on this fateful trip, our friend discovered Miss Teskey has many charms—many thousands of charms.”

  Bradmore crossed his arms over his chest and sank back in the chair. But I doubted he could deny the charge. I let out a tsk and shook my head. “A woman should never discuss her fortune with a single man. They can’t help but imagine themselves in charge of it.”

  “She might not have done so, Frances.” Aunt Hetty was grinning at Bradmore’s discomfort. “He might have assumed her father would be generous to her husband. Just think of what he’d save in ransom payments.”

  “Har, har, har.” Bradmore twisted his lips in a sneer. “I’m delighted I could provide your amusement for the day.”

  I brought my cup to my lips to hide my grin.

  “Yes, the thought of her fortune did sway me,” he continued. “It was no secret her father was generous to her, and I had no real prospects at the time. So, why not, I ask you? What I did not consider was the possibility that her father might object. Irena informed me after the ceremony that he fully expected to choose her future husband. She warned me not to let on to the Teskeys that we were married until she’d had a chance to write to her father.”

  This sounded to me like one of her embellished stories. Alexei may have paid for his daughter’s keep, but he was hardly a doting or even present father. I’d have wagered good money that she simply regretted her impulsive marriage.

  “That must have come as something of a shock.” George struggled to contain his amusement. “To learn a royal duke of the Romanov dynasty might just take offense at your unauthorized marriage to his daughter. He might actually think you took advantage of her, considering the distressing circumstances she’d just endured.”

  “The thought did cross my mind,” Bradmore muttered.

  “Not surprised you ran.”

  “I didn’t run. I returned to England and kept in touch with Irena through correspondence up until nearly a year ago, when she stopped responding. At the first opportunity, I paid a visit to Trouville and found her and the Teskeys gone. Neither could I locate her in Paris after an exhaustive search, so I returned home.”

  “Now that you’ve found her, why the change of heart?” I had a feeling I knew the answer.

  He had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, as you know, my circumstances have recently improved. I’m my uncle’s heir now. It’s not as if Irena and I ever lived as man and wife. Please forgive the indelicacy, ladies, but there must be some sort of amnesty or discharge after all this time, wouldn’t you think?” He reddened. “The woman vanished on me. Isn’t that a good enough reason?”

  “Who am I to say?” I leaned in and examined him. “But I think the real reason is that you need a suitable wife now that you are to be a baron. And you don’t find Miss Teskey suitable.”

  “Oh, Mr. Bradmore.” Aunt Hetty gave him a disapproving look.

  He slapped his hand down on the table. “She’s an actress. She is far too fond of opium. And she abandoned me. I stand by my decision.”

  “It’s certainly your decision to make,” I said with a note of appeasement. “Though this may not be the best time to discuss it with her.” I told him about the threatening letters she had claimed to receive. “Hazelton plans to look into the matter. Why don’t you two pool your knowledge of Miss Teskey back at your house?” I touched George’s hand. “Hetty and I have a luncheon to attend this afternoon. Before we leave, I’ll check on her and send word if she’s willing to speak with Bradmore.”

  * * *

  Miss Teskey was not willing to speak with Bradmore. At least that was the impression I gained as she wailed through the locked door about all the things she’d like to do to the man.

  Painful things.

  None of them involved talking.

  I’d have made more of an attempt either to reason with her or to comfort her, but Hetty and I were in danger of being late to a royal appointment, and one did not keep a princess waiting. On our way, we were further frustrated by the tangle of carriages along Pall Mall, all headed to our destination—Marlborough House.

  “How long do you suppose we’ll have the pleasure of Miss Teskey’s company?” Hetty asked.

  I blew out a breath. “I wish Bradmore didn’t want a divorce. Otherwise, he could take the woman off our hands right now. Since that’s not possible, I hope he and George can make some headway regarding the threatening letters, find the culprit, and have him arrested so she can return to her own rooms. Tonight would not be too soon.”

  “Don’t you find her to be a strange creature? I really don’t know what to make of her.”

  “Nor do I. She had an unusual upbringing, to be sure, which might explain her need for connections—to her cousin, to Hazelton, even to me. But can that account for not knowing whom she married?”

  Hetty gave me a sidelong glance. “It sounds as though opium can account for that.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Strange, too, that she started receiving threats right after coming to England. Who here would know her?”

  “Her business partner? Another actress? Do people in the theater move around much? If so, it might be someone she knew in France. Perhaps even this Igor person.” My mind boggled at the dozens of possibilities. “Whoever it is, I have faith that George and Bradmore will find him out—assuming there is anyone to find.”

  The carriage turned, and Hetty glanced out the window. “I think we’ve arrived.”

  “Along with everyone else,” I said, glancing at a cluster of carriages on the drive and in the courtyard.

  “This is grand, isn’t it?” Hetty murmured, marveling at the guarded gate, the surrounding walls, a
nd the many outbuildings. “More of an elegant fortress than a home.”

  “That’s right. You haven’t been here before.” I’d grown so used to my aunt’s company and her natural way of adapting to her surroundings, I often forgot she’d been in England less than a year.

  “Reggie used to be part of the prince’s set, though I don’t know how much time they spent here. The prince counts on his friends to entertain him, and Reggie put on many an expensive dinner at Harleigh House during our early years together. Even given his love of extravagance, and willingness to empty his pockets, he finally saw we couldn’t afford to continue the practice.”

  “Hmm, I’d never given Reggie credit for much sense,” she said. “Perhaps I was too hard on him.”

  “No, you were right.” As our carriage finally passed under the arched entry, I indicated the courtyard and the façade of the redbrick house for her perusal. “Reggie pushed it as far as he possibly could, but the thought of leaving himself short was too much to bear. Ultimately, he learned how to tag along and enjoy the largesse of Jennie Churchill or Daisy Greville, both of whom were more than willing to spend until it hurt. Not that it ever would.”

  Hetty turned away from the carriage window. “When you say they entertained the prince, do you mean . . . ?” She rolled her hand in the air.

  “I don’t know, and I don’t wish to.” I batted the idea around a bit. “Well, it’s rumored that they did, but that’s just rumor. It’s possible. Probable? In any event, Daisy is out of the picture now, and I’m not certain who has taken over entertaining the prince.” I raised a brow on the last words. “All I know is this is only the third time I’ve been here, and on those prior occasions, like today, it was at Princess Alexandra’s invitation.”

  The driver opened the carriage door and dropped the steps before assisting Hetty, then me to the pavement in front of the entrance. As we alighted the stairs, she gave my arm a squeeze. “I’m looking forward to meeting the princess.”

  “You do know she’s quite deaf, don’t you?”