Yes, that definitely complicated matters.
“May I assume you accepted his invitation because he has an unimpeachable alibi for the time of Miss Teskey’s murder? Please tell me you thought to ask him before you became so friendly.”
Her head snapped around. “Of course, I did. He was in rehearsal all day. It is not the perfect alibi, because they broke for lunch for a good hour, but it sounds as though he was in the company of some person or another all day. Something Delaney can check on.”
“Well, I certainly hope he does so before your dinner engagement. I’d hate to see you involved with a murderer.”
“You are making far too much of a simple dinner. I won’t be involved with him. Mr. Gilliam and I have interests in common. He is a pleasant man.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
“He has a good sense of humor.”
“So you said. I could see you were clearly entertained.”
“And I enjoy his company.” She held up her index finger before I could speak. “I’m well aware he’d like me to make an investment, but I flatter myself that the reason he extended the invitation is that he enjoys my company.”
“It appeared to me he does. I have no fear of him swindling you, Aunt. You are far too intelligent for that. My concern is that a potential murderer is attracted to you.”
She choked on a laugh. “I don’t flatter myself to that extent. He is far too young for me, and I’m far too old for romantic attachments.” She waved a hand. “We may become friends, but nothing more.”
Aunt Hetty was just fifty. Were I her age, I might feel the same. Yet it distressed me that she considered herself too old for romance. Before I could voice my opinion, she touched my shoulder and directed my gaze to the window. “Who are all those people?”
We’d just pulled up to my front door, where at least half a dozen men milled about, a few with cameras on stands, pointed at the carriage. Cameras could mean only one thing—these were “gentlemen” of the press. I stepped out when Jack opened the carriage door, and they crowded around us in a very ungentlemanly manner.
“Lady Harleigh, did you know about Mr. Hazelton’s wife?”
“Did Hazelton have anything to do with her death?”
“Lady Harleigh, may we interview you for our paper?”
Wretched reporters! How had they caught wind of this news? And what would it take to make them go away?
Hetty scrambled out to the pavement and wrapped a protective arm about my shoulders. “She has nothing to say to you.” She guided me swiftly to the door, where Mrs. Thompson rushed to let us inside. I took a glance around before closing the door and caught sight of Mr. Mosley from the Daily Observer. Perhaps he could tell me how this had come about. I caught his eye and tipped my head toward Wilton Mews. Hopefully, he’d understand and meet me there.
Hopefully, the others wouldn’t.
Chapter Twelve
I leaned back against the door, as if those clamoring wolves outside were about to break it down. Hetty’s hand shook as she gave her coat to Mrs. Thompson.
“How long have they been out there?” I asked.
“Have to be less than an hour, ma’am. That’s when the first one knocked at the door and asked for you. I turned him away, of course, but if I had known they were growing and gathering out there, I’d have chased them off.”
It was times like this I wished I’d employed a footman. A very large one.
The housekeeper reached for my coat, and I handed it over along with my hat and gloves. “I’ll just put these away and go shoo them off, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson, but they seemed quite ravenous for information. I don’t know if they’ll leave so easily.”
She turned to me in surprise. “They’ll go, all right, or they’ll feel the wrong side of my broom up against their heads. That should teach them not to plague a good, honest woman.” With that, she stomped off, leaving Hetty and me staring at each other.
“Do you think she’ll successfully chase them off?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but just in case she needs assistance, would you slip next door and borrow George’s footman? I have to go out to the gate and see to Mr. Mosley.” I waved a hand at her inquiring gaze and headed down the hallway. “I’ll explain later.” Hetty had never met Mosley, but I’d worked at his paper for a short time not long ago. Well, it wasn’t actually his paper, but he was the editor.
Once in the library, I had to steel myself to open the door to the back garden. The last time I’d done this, I’d found Irena’s body. I hurried along the path, rubbing my hands along my arms, covered only in the fine wool of my gown. Why had I relinquished my coat and gloves? Sometimes I had no foresight at all. After turning the bolt, I opened the gate just enough to peer out. Mr. Mosley waited on the pavement, arms crossed over his chest.
“Come in, Mr. Mosley.” I opened the gate wide. “In fact, come into the library. It’s too cold to be chatting out here, and I’m not dressed for it.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Harleigh. Thanks much. I’d be happy to warm up a bit.” He glanced around the garden as he followed me to the house. “The paper said the sun would pop out today, so I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold and damp.”
I stood aside as we stepped through the door and waved him in. “Perhaps you should sue someone at the paper for printing false statements.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “We don’t make the forecasts, ma’am. We just report them. Poor sods would just do better to report clouds with a chance of rain every day. They’d have a better chance of being right.” He waited for me to take a seat before settling his considerable bulk into one of the armchairs on the guest side of the desk. His brow furrowed as he took in my agitated state. “Now, what’s all this about Hazelton and a wife? Didn’t take him for a man to play with a woman’s affections. Or her reputation, for that matter.”
“You’re right. He’s not that sort of man. He and Miss Teskey were never married, and neither of us had anything to do with her death.”
He took a labored breath and reached a hand to his head, as if to scratch it. Finding his hat instead, he yanked it off. “That’s no more than I’d expect to hear from you, ma’am, but do you have any evidence?”
I blinked. “Do you have any evidence to the contrary?”
“No, but rumors don’t work that way. They’re just whispered from person to person, and if anyone hears it more than once, they consider it fact. People don’t need any proof to decide what they believe, but if you want to change their minds, you need evidence.”
Though it was lamentable, he was absolutely right. “Do you know what stage this rumor is in at the moment?”
“First whispers.”
“How can I keep it from growing?”
“What really happened?”
I gave him the full story, from the moment Irena arrived on my doorstep to finding her body in the garden. “Inspector Delaney may be with Bradmore as we speak. I can’t say that he murdered her, but it was he, not Hazelton, who married her.”
“Do you know where to find the man?”
“I’m afraid the direction he gave to Hazelton is outdated. He no longer lives there. Delaney was eager to find him, so my best guess is the police precinct in Chelsea.”
Mosley nodded. “I’ll start there, but I’ll take that old direction all the same. Neighbors might know a thing or two about where he went.” He pressed his lips together. “I won’t print a word about you or Hazelton, but in return, I’ll ask that as you learn more, you’ll share it with me, and only me.”
I’d expected nothing less. “I have no interest in or intention of speaking to any of those other newspapermen. You may rest assured you will have your exclusive report, and I dearly hope to provide you with evidence as soon as may be.”
“If the police arrest someone else for the crime, that will do, but until then, I’ll thank you for keeping me up to date. I’ll try to word my stories in such a way as to dr
aw suspicion away from you. That way, the other fellows will think I know something, and they’ll start nosing around other possible suspects.”
“I would be forever grateful.”
“You’re doing me the favor, ma’am, so I’ll do my best to help you, but keep in mind, misdirection will throw them off the scent only for so long. A few days at most. I hope the police will make an arrest or you’ll have some solid evidence before then.”
“You can’t wish it any more than I, Mr. Mosley.”
* * *
I let Mosley out the gate to Wilton Mews and plodded back to the house. How could one ugly rumor cause so much trouble? Back in the library, I rolled my shoulders and checked my hair in a little mirror I kept in the drawer, tucking in some loose strands. Between Mosley’s misdirection and Delaney’s investigation, perhaps we could quell this rumor before it took on a life of its own. I slipped the mirror back in the desk. As much as I’d like to hide here for the remainder of the day, it was time to see what was happening in the rest of the house. Perhaps Mrs. Thompson had managed to rid us of the reporters. One could hope.
I found Hetty in the drawing room, peeking out at the street from the window.
“Have they gone?”
She threw a glance at me over her shoulder. “Oh, yes. Mrs. Thompson sent them scattering.” She let the curtain fall and joined me on the sofa. “She was quite ferocious with that broom of hers, but I doubt they’d have done more than fall back if Hazelton’s footman, Frederick, hadn’t arrived and posted himself outside the door. With his arms crossed over his chest and a deadly look in his eye, he intimidated the lot of them.”
“Good. With any luck, we won’t see them again.”
“Reporters weren’t the only ones out there. That butler from across the way was peering from around the service door, then stepped right out and goggled while Mrs. Thompson chased the reporters off.”
“The man is such a nosy parker.” I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “But I can hardly blame him. We are certainly putting on a fine show for our neighbors. He will undoubtedly report it to Mrs. Chiswick, and then who knows how far the story will spread? Hopefully, Mosley can contain the gossip.” I told her about my arrangement with the newspaperman.
“Sounds a bit like extortion to me. As long as you provide him with exclusive tips and ultimately the whole story, he’ll print nonsense to lead his readers and the other publications in the wrong direction. Is that about it?”
“Extortion implies that I’m not willing. As for nonsense, if Mosley’s story is based on information I’ve given him, he’ll be more likely to print the truth than any of the other reporters. They just want a sensational story. It doesn’t matter if it’s factual. Mosley’s doing me a favor.”
“And selling newspapers at the same time.”
The sound of voices outside kept me from arguing with her about Mosley’s motives. “Another reporter, do you think?”
“I doubt it,” she said. “Not with Frederick at the door.”
We were not left in the dark for long. George’s footman tapped on the drawing room door before opening it a crack and squeezing his enormous bulk inside. “The Earl of Harleigh to see you, my lady. Are you at home?”
Bother. What could Graham want? I glanced at Hetty.
“One would assume it’s important, since he didn’t send a message first,” she said.
“Send him in,” I said to the footman. “And thank you for assisting us today.”
He flashed me a grin and slipped out, to be replaced with the more compact form of my brother-in-law, the Earl of Harleigh. Though next to Frederick, anyone would appear small. Graham was roughly my height, putting him at about average for a man. Average was actually a good word for him. His hair was somewhere between light brown and dark blond. His eyes were brownish; skin was fairish. If he’d had the inclination, his looks would have made him a good spy. Nothing particularly stood out. In fact, it took a few minutes for me to notice he’d grown a mustache.
He chose to forgo the usual pleasantries in favor of a simple nod to each of us and seated himself in the chair closest to me. “I came as soon as I heard,” he said.
Hetty and I exchanged a glance. “What exactly did you hear?” I asked.
“What did I hear?” He gaped in astonishment. “Why, that Hazelton’s wife surfaced a few days ago and was subsequently murdered. Of course, the paper didn’t dare mention you, but everyone who knows of your engagement can have nothing but sympathy for how you were duped.”
I narrowed my eyes, somehow thinking if I focused harder on him, what he was saying would make sense.
Hetty took a more direct approach. “Duped? What are you going on about? In what way was Frances duped?”
He leaned forward, as if the problem was that we simply couldn’t hear him. “By Hazelton, of course. But she was hardly alone. We were all under the impression he was free to marry.”
“For heaven’s sake, you read that in the newspaper?” she asked. “And you believed it?”
He backed off, as if affronted. “Well, yes. Why shouldn’t I?”
This was worse than I’d feared. How could any reputable newspaper have gone to print with this story without any sort of confirmation from Hazelton or me? “What paper was it, Graham? You didn’t happen to bring it with you by chance?”
“Are you quite serious? I burned the dratted thing.” He frowned. “Not sure where I saw it. I take the Times and the Gazette in the morning, but it might have been last night’s paper.”
I rose and stepped over to the card table, where the afternoon papers waited. “Thank you for your outrage on my behalf, but it would have been good to know whom I needed to contact to file a complaint.”
“You can’t think to contact any of them.” He followed me to the table. “Newspaper people are a dodgy lot, scurrilous liars every one of them.”
I wondered what he’d think if he knew I’d been one of them for a short time. He’d probably disown me. A tempting possibility. Leafing through the pages of one of the papers, I glanced at him over my shoulder. “If you consider them all scurrilous liars, why would you believe them when they wrote such nonsense about Hazelton? He was never married to Miss Teskey, and he had nothing to do with her murder.”
“Loyalty will not serve you well in this, Frances.”
“For goodness’ sake.” Hetty stalked over to us, shaking a finger at Graham. “It has nothing to do with loyalty. It has to do with truth.”
He blinked. “It isn’t true?”
“Not a word,” I said. “And I’m terribly disappointed that you would so easily believe Hazelton to be a scoundrel and me a fool.”
Graham drew himself up, regrouping for another attack. “They couldn’t have made up the story in its entirety. There must be some thread of truth.”
I gave up on finding the right paper and herded both of them back to the sofa and chairs. “There really is a Miss Teskey,” I said. “She did have an acquaintance with Hazelton, but she was actually married to a gentleman named Bradmore.”
“Why hasn’t this chap come forward?”
“Bradmore came forward to us. We passed on the information to Inspector Delaney, who I hope will soon confirm it with the man himself.”
“Was the woman really murdered?”
“Sadly, that part of the story is true. She was strangled in the back garden.”
“Here?” His voice rose to a shriek. “In your garden? What was she doing here?”
Goodness, I was really mucking this up. “She was staying with me as she had nowhere to go.”
“One presumes she had a home. Why didn’t she go there?”
“She’d received some threatening letters and asked Hazelton to investigate them. Until then, she was afraid to go home.”
“Why on earth did she ask him? Why not her husband? Why not the police?”
“It is somewhat complicated, Graham. She couldn’t produce the letters, and she didn’t know Bradmore was her husband at
the time.”
“She didn’t—” He gaped. “How is that possible?”
“I will never be able to tell this story properly if you keep shouting questions at me. Forget all the whys for the moment. Here are the facts.” I proceeded to give him the details of the past two days. “Inspector Delaney is investigating and looking for Bradmore,” I continued. “As soon as he is able to say publicly that he was her husband, there will be no more gossip.”
Hetty was giving me a dubious look, and Graham shook his head the whole time I was speaking. “The newspaper report made much more sense,” he said.
“I’m afraid the truth often makes little sense.”
Graham lowered his gaze and drew a deep breath. “Do you have any idea when the police or Mr. Bradmore will come forward with the truth?”
“Soon, I hope, but I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“It may be wise for you to retire from society until they do,” he said.
“Hide, do you mean? Won’t that make it appear as though I believe the rumors?”
“Perhaps, but it will also take you out of the line of fire. Society hates a vacuum. In the absence of facts, everyone trusts the rumor. Then they repeat it and elaborate on it. I don’t think you’re aware of how ugly this story could become.”
“It will do so even if I’m at home, hiding.”
“People will whisper behind your back, to be sure, but that’s just gossip. It’s relatively harmless. They can always deny later that they ever put any stock in it. But if you appear in public, they will assume you are throwing your scandalous behavior right in their faces. They will stop whispering and will freeze you out. Many will have nothing further to do with you. It’s very difficult to recover one’s reputation once that happens.”
I knew his advice was sound, but it felt so cowardly. “But don’t I have to choose a side? I am not the subject of this scandal, just an object. If I don’t show my loyalty to Hazelton, won’t I be adding fuel to the fire?”
A Fiancée's Guide to First Wives and Murder Page 14