Perhaps if she didn’t try to entice their husbands away, they might feel more kindly toward her. “I can’t imagine why,” I said.
“Neither can I, but whatever the reason, you are my only hope. I cannot let Arthur’s sister manage Harriet’s presentation.”
I’d forgotten about the presentation. Poor Harriet. “If you can’t convince your husband, how do you suppose I can help?”
“He’s much more likely to believe you than me. He’ll just assume I’m telling him what he wants to hear. Sometimes that works, but not now.” She made a beseeching gesture. “Please, Frances, if you’d just send him a note assuring him all will be put to rights shortly, I’m sure he’ll relent.”
Though I felt ridiculous pleading Alicia’s case to her own husband, I agreed to do it. “As soon as I find the time. I do have my hands full at the moment. In fact, I must make myself ready for an appointment.”
“I have to be going, as well. I’m to deliver an invitation to Mrs. Chiswick, and I hope to simply leave it with the butler, along with my card. If I don’t make haste, I may be forced to speak with the lady herself.”
“Mrs. Chiswick? Colonel Perkins’s sister? The woman across the way? You are inviting her to the reception?” And Fiona had thought her a nobody.
Alicia heaved a sigh. “She’s a constituent—an important one. Do you recall that ladies’ society I mentioned? She’s head of the regional group back in Chelmsworth. Her counterpart in London is Lady Pettipiece. She’s been very vocal in support of Arthur.” She gave a weary shake of her head. “It’s not likely to change anything about elections, but it should be a feather in his cap. He called on Mrs. Chiswick the other day and informed her I’d be delivering an invitation.” She shrugged. “So, here I am. Are you acquainted with her?”
“As much as I care to be. She makes it her business to know everything that happens on Chester Street, and I’m sure she judges all of us as not living up to her standards. If you do happen to speak with her, for heaven’s sake, don’t mention anything about Miss Teskey.”
“Duly noted, my dear.”
She thanked me profusely as I walked her to the door. I had to feel sorry for Alicia. After all, I barely tolerated the woman, and she considered me her only female friend. Or did she? As I saw her out, I noted the lift in her spirits and wondered if it was due to having successfully manipulated me. Perhaps I wasn’t immune to her wiles, after all.
George came to collect me two hours later. I’d like to say I made good use of that time, but in truth, Bridget and I spent at least an hour arguing over what constituted an appropriate ensemble for the occasion.
“You’re going to Marlborough House, my lady. You might see the prince or princess. That calls for formality.” Bridget pulled out the gown of her choice.
“That’s practically a presentation gown,” I said. “This is an early afternoon call on the grand duke. He’s sure to have his own suite of rooms, and I have no expectation of seeing either of the royal highnesses. An afternoon dress will do just fine.”
It took several selections to come to a compromise, but the battle was worth every minute when I saw George smiling up at me as I descended the stairs. “Every time I see you, I’m reminded of what a lucky man I am,” he said, taking my hand and tucking it into his arm.
Bridget coughed from the landing above me, as if it were all her doing, and we left for the carriage.
“Did you read my note?” I asked when we set off for our meeting.
He tipped his head to the side, giving me a bemused expression. “That’s another thing. How did you manage to learn where Bradmore snuck off to?”
“Did I neglect to mention that? Perhaps I should keep my source a secret.”
“You are not allowed to keep secrets from me.”
I chuckled. “Very well. My mother told me.” I watched his brows shoot up. “She and Rose came across him somewhere on the streets of Paris. She invited him to dinner.”
He drummed his fingers on the seat. “Is she still holding out hope that you’ll change your mind and marry him rather than me?”
“Not that it matters, but I’m sure she’ll change her mind if he ends up being charged with murder, don’t you think?”
“Ordinarily, I’d say yes, but as she’s so disapproving of me, she might think a murderer the lesser of two evils.”
I patted his arm. “She’s coming round to my way of thinking about you. She’s buying me a gown for our engagement party, after all.”
“She knows you’re engaged to me, correct?”
I gave him a stern look. “She does. I sent her a reply and warned her I’d heard Bradmore was involved in some trouble, so she ought to keep her distance from him.”
He groaned. “And I was imagining Delaney arresting the man at your mother’s dinner table. How cruel of you to spoil my fun.”
“I’m practicing for when we’re married.”
While he mulled over my words, the carriage drew up to Marlborough House, and the driver stated our business. We were greeted at the door by a steward, who guided us through the palatial halls to the Romanovs’ suite. Sadly, I would have to inform Bridget that we ran into neither the prince nor the princess. The steward left us in a private sitting room where we remained standing until His Imperial Highness, Grand Duke Michael Mikhailovich joined us twenty minutes later.
He was quite tall and, with his military bearing and lean form, cut a dashing figure. His dark whiskers covered his chin in a neat V, while his hair, just beginning to sport a bit of gray, was clipped very short, giving him a pronounced widow’s peak and narrowing his face. I could easily imagine him in uniform, but as he’d been stripped of his rank by the czar, that was not to be.
When he acknowledged us, George bowed and made the introductions. I executed a deep curtsy and wondered how we were to question this man while observing the protocols his status required.
I needn’t have worried. He took a seat on a velvet settee and invited us to be seated. “Let us dispense with formalities,” he said. “I understand you have questions for me.”
“First, may I offer my condolences on the death of your cousin?” George began.
Michael Mikhailovich nodded, a smile quirking the side of his mouth. “Perhaps I should be the one offering them to you, as she claimed to be your wife.” Before George could respond, he laughed and held up a hand. “I know she was mistaken. As for me, I accept your condolences on behalf of my family. Though she was my uncle’s child, I haven’t seen her in years.”
“She resided not far from your home in Cannes.” I left the question unasked.
“Yet we, the two exiles, never visited. It seems strange, now that you mention it, but it never occurred to me. Cut off from my family in Russia, I thought only of my wife and children.”
“Will there be any sort of funeral service for her?” George asked.
“Her remains will be taken back to France, and the Teskeys will see to her burial. They raised her, and I understand they were close.” He nodded approval of his own plan.
It seemed a rather sad plan to me. “What of her father?”
“We sent Alexei word, but he is in America, exploring the wilderness of the West. I don’t know how long it will take for the news to reach him. We thought it better to proceed than to wait for his instructions.”
I hoped at least the Teskeys would mourn her.
“Then let’s go back to earlier days,” George said. “Why did your cousin settle her in France rather than Russia?”
“You would have to ask him. I don’t even know why she didn’t live in England. Her mother was English.”
“But her mother died.”
“Yes, when Irena was born. I can only guess Alexei didn’t know what to do with the child. He was only rarely in Russia himself. Since he was more frequently in France, it makes sense he would set up her household there. I know he visited her from time to time.”
“So, he was fond of her?” I asked.
“A
h!” With a smile, he threw back his head and gazed at the ceiling. “You are looking for a suspect for this crime.” He brought his gaze back to me and shook his head. “I have no idea how my cousin felt about his daughter. He took care of her, so one would assume . . .” He shrugged. “But Alexei is not in England, and he hasn’t been here for some time. He could not have done this.”
George leaned forward. “You understand why we must ask, of course. The police are investigating her murder, and they have to check every possible connection. Family is the closest of connections.”
“Sadly, I am cut off from my family. There is little I can tell you of my cousin and his affairs.”
“Have you any idea who her mother was?” I asked. This earned me a look of surprise from George and a curled lip from Michael Mikhailovich, as if I were the lowest of gossips. It was all well and fine if Alexei fathered a child out of wedlock, or two, if I remembered correctly, but how crass of me to inquire about it.
“Is that important?” George asked.
“I’m not entirely certain, but through her mother, Miss Teskey was half English, and though she lived in France all her life, she suddenly arrived in England.” I glanced up to find two blank faces gazing back at me. “What if she was here to find her mother’s people? And what if they didn’t want to be found?”
Understanding dawned in George’s eyes. “The threatening letters.”
“What you seek here is not worth your life,” I quoted. “Go back to France.”
This aside left the grand duke confused, so George explained about the threatening letters Irena had received. Though he had no knowledge of the identity of Irena’s mother, he agreed to send another cable to Alexei to inquire.
“It might be faster to gain that information from his family in Russia,” George suggested.
“I’d be surprised if anyone in the family can enlighten you. Alexei kept her name to himself.” Michael Mikhailovich let his gaze linger on George, narrowing his eyes. “You should speak to Igor Petrov. He was close to Alexei before taking up the task of guarding Irena. He might be able to help you.”
“We’d welcome a chance to speak with Mr. Petrov,” George said, “but we’ve been unable to locate him. Do you know where he is?”
“He was here to see me just yesterday.” He gave us a humorless smile. “Everyone thinks I know what is in the family’s heart and mind. Ironic, is it not? I, the outcast. However, he told me where to find him. I will send him to you.”
He came to his feet, and George and I followed suit. Was this interview over already? It took me longer to dress for it. I could tell George wanted to know where to find Igor Petrov, but it was clear the grand duke had no intention of telling us.
The gentlemen shook hands, and the grand duke brought my hand to his lips, fairly towering over me. Before I knew it, we were back in the hands of the steward and escorted to our carriage.
“Do you think he’ll send Mr. Petrov to see you?” I asked George.
“He’s left us with no choice but to wait and see.”
Chapter Fifteen
George brought me home, and after he instructed Jack to stable the carriage and horses, we both retired to my drawing room. The ride home had been quiet. For my part, I had been wondering just where we were in this investigation.
“The grand duke was not much help, was he?” I took a seat at the card table and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil from a small hidden drawer.
George sighed and sank into the sofa. “I doubt Delaney expected much from him. Romanov wouldn’t implicate his own family in a crime. However, if he sends Igor Petrov to us, I’d consider that helpful.”
I jotted names in a column on the page. Bradmore, Romanov, Gilliam, Cooper. “You don’t suppose Mr. Petrov might have murdered her, do you?”
“Right now, Petrov is just a shadowy figure in Irena’s life. I couldn’t say what he might be capable of until I learn more about him. I wouldn’t rule him out, but right now, Bradmore is our best suspect. Gilliam and that actress—”
“Miss Cooper.”
“Yes, her. They may have motives, but I can’t see how they’d have done it.”
“But . . .” I dragged out the word while I assembled my thoughts. “Miss Teskey did say someone was following her, and as she was unable to give us much of a description, it could have been Gilliam or even Miss Cooper.” I looked up to see him watching me over the back of the sofa. “The threatening letters implicate them, in my opinion. At least more so than the rest of our suspects. Both of them would have been better off if she had returned to France.”
The more I pondered it, the more I liked the idea. “Even if Bradmore lied when he said he didn’t know where Miss Teskey was, he had no reason to write the letters. If he truly wanted a divorce, why scare her away?”
“If he was courting another woman, he certainly wouldn’t want Irena to show up at some society affair and declare herself his wife.”
There was no arguing with that. I let the idea of Bradmore as Miss Teskey’s killer simmer for a bit. “He said he’d been trying to locate her, and he did seem genuinely surprised to find she was in London. He had a motive, he had an opportunity, but if he murdered her, I don’t understand the threatening letters. I don’t think they’re from him.”
George rubbed his head. “Who else is on your list?”
“Petrov and Romanov.”
“If it was the grand duke, then he would have been taking orders from Alexei or some other member of the family. Perhaps they’d had enough of her abductions. But if Michael Mikhailovich was involved, he would not have murdered her himself. He’d have passed the order on to Igor Petrov or some other minion to carry out the dirty work.”
“If Igor had been following her, as a good guard would, he might well know she ended up here. But if he killed her, why the threatening letters?”
“Perhaps the person who wrote the letters had no intention of killing her.”
“‘What you seek here is not worth your life’ doesn’t leave much room for ambiguity.”
“It could be a helpful sort who is aware of the danger and wants to warn her.” He stood up and strolled over to the table. “Or someone else we know nothing about.”
“Like her mother’s family. Perhaps Mr. Petrov can enlighten us.”
“Maybe. Right now, I should send a message to Delaney to tell him what we’ve learned.”
“That will be a short message.”
“Yes, sadly.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Do you recall we have an engagement tomorrow evening?”
“Of course. The Stoke-Whitneys’ reception.”
“Do you still wish to go?”
I placed the pencil on the table and gave him my full attention. “This reception is the reason I didn’t go to Paris with my mother and Rose. It was something of a royal command. Besides, I sent my acceptance weeks ago. How could I not attend?”
“I meant, do you still wish to go with me? I’m sure your brother-in-law would be happy to escort you.”
I came to my feet and turned to face him. “Stop that. You are my fiancé, and I love you. We will face any gossip together. Besides, we will have allies there—your sister and brother-in-law will defend us. The prince and princess might come to our aid, as well. They both know you were not married to Miss Teskey. We will be fine.”
“I wish I could believe that, but you seem to have a higher opinion of human nature than I do. The prince, in particular, hates to be in the presence of scandal. I don’t see him coming to our defense. We could lose what little support we have if we flout the rules of society.”
“And those rules say you must hide and I must disown you?”
He placed a hand on my cheek and gave me a sad smile. “I know this goes against your principles, and if we were closer to finding the murderer, I wouldn’t suggest it. But as things stand, it might be best if we play the game. You need not disown me. I’ll become ill and stay at home. As long as people don’t see us together, we wo
n’t be adding fuel to the fire.”
I leaned back to study him. He dropped his hand to my shoulder. “We’ll uncover the truth soon,” he said. “But in the meantime, at least for this reception, we need to keep our heads down and keep the gossip at bay.”
“I don’t like this one bit.”
“Neither do I.”
“But I do see your point, so as it’s only one reception, I’ll agree, but I promise you, I won’t enjoy it at all.”
* * *
I continued playing with my list after George left. Surely, the answer would present itself if only I could arrange the names, motives, and opportunities in the right order, rather like a puzzle. It didn’t happen, and I was just about to abandon the project when someone rang the bell. I tucked the paper back into the drawer and made myself ready for a visitor.
Indeed, Mrs. Thompson opened the doors to the drawing room in a matter of minutes, but she wore a look of surprise upon seeing me. “So sorry, my lady. I didn’t know you were in here.”
I addressed her before she could back out. “Hasn’t someone come to call?”
“Is that Lady Harleigh?” Mr. Gilliam peeked over the housekeeper’s shoulder.
“Mr. Gilliam?”
“He’s come to call on your aunt, my lady.”
“Please let her know, Mrs. Thompson. I’ll entertain the gentleman in the meantime.”
Gilliam pushed forward, handing his hat and coat to Mrs. Thompson before she backed out. “That’s very hospitable of you, my lady.”
“Please have a seat.” I directed him to one of the chairs near the tea table. “Does my aunt expect you?”
“Not at this very moment, she doesn’t.” Once we seated ourselves, he laced his fingers together in his lap and gave me a pleasant smile. “We have plans for tomorrow evening, and I wanted to make sure my arrangements met with her approval.”
“That’s right. It’s Thursday, isn’t it? You are taking her to dine tomorrow, and you’ve found time to drop by now. It’s good to see you are not a slave to your theater.”
A Fiancée's Guide to First Wives and Murder Page 17