“Yes. You do.”
She looked down. “Who unfastened my dress?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“To let you breathe better. If it wasn’t totally improper, I would have cut the strings on your corset too.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I said I would have, not that I did.”
“That was James Harding, wasn’t it?” She thought she had heard William identify the man, but since her hearing had taken leave at that moment, she wasn’t sure.
“Yes.” William put his hand behind her back and helped her up. “It was him. But there was something odd about it.”
“You mean there is something odder than being found floating in the river?”
William reached into his pocket and withdrew some papers. “These were found on his body, inside an envelope. They’ve been drying out, but the ink has been washed away. Tucked in with the papers was my business card, which was why the police contacted me to identify the body.”
“What is odd about that?”
“I can’t say for certain, since the writing is gone, but I have a feeling these are papers James was to deliver for me a couple of weeks ago regarding a business deal. I’m almost sure these are the contracts I signed, because I remember tucking my card in with the papers and putting them into an envelope that looked very much like this one.”
The door to the office opened, and the young man who had escorted them to the morgue stuck his head in. “My lord, how is her ladyship feeling?”
“I am better, thank you,” Amy said, fastening the top of her dress.
“Then there are two police detectives here who wish to speak with you.”
Taking a glance at her, William said, “Very well, since Lady Amy seems to have recovered from her faint.”
“I don’t faint.”
“I will be right back with them,” the young man said, then closed the door.
She smoothed her hair back and adjusted her hat. “We were several flights down to the morgue, yet from the window over there, it appears we are on the ground floor. How did I get up here?”
William raised his brows. “How do you think?”
“Don’t tell me you carried me?” For some reason, she felt quite uneasy with the idea of William carrying her up three flights of stairs. First because she really needed to shed close to a stone, and second because it seemed—strange. It appeared he was quite a bit stronger than she’d thought.
Before she could dwell too long on that, the door opened again, and William and Amy looked up. They both groaned as two detectives stepped into the office. Why in heavens name were they to be plagued once more by the men who had harassed them months before during Mr. St. Vincent’s murder investigation?
“Well. Look who is here identifying another unexpected dead body.” Detective Marsh grinned and slapped Detective Carson on the shoulder. “None other than his lordship, Lord Wethington, and his cohort, Lady Amy Lovell.” He strolled into the room and stood before them, his hands firmly planted on his hips. “Who did you kill this time?”
CHAPTER 5
William’s annoyance quickly turned to anger. “Detective, must I remind you again that attempts at jokes are inappropriate when discussing someone’s demise?”
The prior year when William and Amy had investigated the murder of her ex-fiancé, the detectives had seemed a bit too casual with death for his liking.
“Settle down, your lordship.” Marsh took a seat and opened his always-handy notebook. Detective Carson stood behind his partner, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Tell me how it is you are connected to the deceased”—Marsh flipped back a few pages—“Mr. James Harding.”
“He was my man of business.”
Marsh wrote furiously while Carson addressed William. “What did the man do for you?”
William was certain that Carson continued to stand so he could intimidate him and Amy. Tired of straining his neck to look up at the detective, William stood. “He handled my finances. He negotiated contracts, he collected rents for my various properties, paid bills, and kept track of my various holdings.”
Carson nodded. “Why don’t you sit down, your lordship?”
“As soon as you do, Detective.”
Carson glared at him but took a seat. He looked over at Amy. “I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here with Wethington, but it seems to me that viewing a dead body is not something a young lady would want to do. Was this Harding chap your man of business as well?”
“No. I do not employ a man of business. My brother handles all the financial matters for my family.”
“Detective, might I ask how Mr. Harding came to be floating in the River Avon?” William inquired.
“All unwitnessed drownings are considered homicides and require an investigation. All we know so far is that Mr. Harding was apparently drunk and took a walk along the river and fell in. It’s happened before.”
William did a good job of hiding his surprise, since he knew James to be a teetotaler. “And why did you determine he was drunk and fell into the river?”
“He had an empty flask in his pocket that smelled of spirits. Aside from the normal bumps and bruises that a body would suffer floating in a river, there were no other injuries to suggest it was anything but an accident.”
“Yet you are investigating it?”
“It is required.” Carson looked over at Amy. “Just so we’re clear. There is no need for either one of you to do any prying. You were lucky you weren’t killed last year, sticking your nose in police business.”
“Yet we handed the murderer over to you,” Amy snapped.
Marsh looked up from his pad and glowered at her. “Just as we identified the killer ourselves.” He waved his finger at her. “If we learn that you are nosing around again, I will notify your father to come and escort you to London.”
Amy bristled, and William quelled the urge to plant a facer on the detective. “If you are finished with your questioning, Lady Amy and I would like to leave.”
Carson nodded. “Just be sure to remain available for any further questions.”
William took Amy’s arm and held her elbow as they left the office and exited the building. The weather had turned cooler, and Amy shivered alongside him. He waved for his driver to pull up, and they climbed into the carriage.
“You appeared unconvinced when the detectives said they believed it was an accident.” Amy took the blanket he handed her from underneath the seat and wrapped it around herself. He was certain her chill was not just from the cold air but rather from her experience in the morgue.
William leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “James Harding was a teetotaler. He never imbibed. He once told me his father was a wastrel who spent a good portion of his income on strong spirits. I have never, in all the time I’ve known James, seen him take as much as a sip of wine.”
“How very interesting,” Amy said. She remained silent for a minute or so and then said, “Then it was no accident?”
William shook his head. “Not unless the man did a complete turnaround from the way he had previously lived his entire life.”
“Do you have any idea who would want him dead?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Aha! I heard a tiny niggling of doubt in that word.” She shifted in her seat and pulled the blanket up farther on her chin.
William stared out the window at the shops and shoppers as the carriage moved slowly through the traffic, carefully considering his words. “As I mentioned briefly before, of late I had a few concerns about James.”
“In what sense?”
He looked over at her. “I had reason to believe all was not right with my finances.”
“You think he was cheating you?”
“I hate to even say it out loud, since we worked together for a few years, but yes. I was beginning to believe money was disappearing.”
“What will you do?”
William leaned back and studied her. “James shared an office with Mr. Ernest Tibbs. He’s a barrister, who only recently moved into the space. I think I should go—”
“—we should go.”
He frowned at her. “I should go and tell Tibbs I am going to retrieve my files from Harding’s office. While I’m there—”
“—while we’re there.”
He sighed and continued. “I will of course retrieve my files, but I think a bit of browsing through all of Harding’s files might not be a bad idea. If he was purposely sent into that river, there must be someone who would benefit from that.”
She stared at him for a minute. “Do you honestly think we are about to involve ourselves in another murder investigation?”
William shook his head. “No.”
Amy’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe that was what you were suggesting.”
He cleared this throat. “We”—he waved his hand back and forth between them—“are not going to become involved in another murder investigation.”
“Now just a minute. If you think Mr. Harding was helped into that river and you believe I will stay out of it, you are mistaken, my lord.”
He raised his eyes to heaven. “One could only hope.”
The carriage slowed down as it arrived at Amy’s house. The driver opened the door and William stepped out. Turning toward Amy, he held his hand out. “I assume I may escort you to the Assembly tomorrow evening?”
“Yes. Of course.” She took his hand, and they climbed the steps together.
William placed his knuckle under Amy’s chin. “The police detectives were correct. We were lucky we did not get killed when we involved ourselves in St. Vincent’s murder.”
She shrugged. “I suppose.” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe we should get a gun.”
“No! No gun. I doubt very much that we will have to shoot our way out of a barrister’s office.”
With that, he bent forward as if to give her a kiss, but thinking better of it, he gave her a slight salute and hurried back down the steps. When he glanced out the carriage window, she was staring after him.
* * *
The Saturday night Assembly was the event of the week, with those who were in town from London joining the regular Bath citizenry. It was easy to pick out those from Town and those from Bath. The Londoners’ clothing was more sophisticated, more expensive, and more daring.
William and Amy joined the circle of friends from the book club who generally attended. Eloise, Mr. Davidson, Lord Temple, Mrs. Morton, and Miss Sterling stood in a circle discussing the upcoming book festival, which William noticed made Amy a bit uncomfortable. That is, if the way she gripped his arm was any indication. He would be black-and-blue in the morning.
“I’m so excited to finally meet Mr. Burton,” Miss Sterling gushed. “I just know he will be tall and handsome.”
Good lord, she sounded like a swooning young maiden, a status from which Miss Sterling was many years removed.
“Lady Amy, what do you suppose Mr. Burton looks like?” Mrs. Morton asked.
William choked down his laughter. “Yes, Lady Amy. Give us all your opinion. What do you suppose Mr. Burton looks like?” He grinned at her and bit his lip when she kicked his shin hard enough to cause a bruise.
He glanced down at her foot to see if she was wearing men’s boots.
“I can assure you, Mrs. Morton, that whatever anyone imagines Mr. Burton looks like, he will be nothing like that,” Amy said.
“Who cares what the man looks like?” Mr. Davidson, always the sour one, groused. “Burton writes great books. Nothing else matters.” He shook his head in disgust just as the music for the first dance of the evening began.
William held out his hand, and Amy moved into his arms as they began the dance. He wondered how his mother would view his relationship with Amy. No doubt Mother would be quite pleased to meet her. Amy was everything a woman of their class would want for her son. But Mother could also be a bit pushy, which might frighten Amy, who he knew was not as thrilled at the idea of marriage as he might like.
He shuddered to think about the first meeting between the two women.
Once the dance had ended, they headed to the refreshment table to partake of punch and lemonade. They’d each just taken a sip of warm liquid when Mr. Charles Lemmon approached them.
“Good evening, Wethington, Lady Amy.” He nodded and picked up a drink from the table behind them. “Bad news about Harding drowning.” He shook his head and sighed.
“Did you know him, Lemmon?”
He nodded. “Yes. He was my man of business. I understand he worked for you as well.” He seemed to hesitate for a minute, then leaned in close to William. “Did you notice anything odd about Harding the last few months?”
Amy glanced over at William. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.
Lemmon took William by the elbow and moved him away from the few people near them. Amy walked right along with them.
Of course.
“Something doesn’t seem right. Or, I should say, something didn’t seem right.”
“How do you mean?” William decided it was better to see what Lemmon had to say instead of offering his scant information.
“Don’t wish to malign the dead, don’t you know, but I had a feeling things were … not as they should be.”
“Can you be more specific? I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”
Lemmon huffed. “He was stealing from me.”
Well then. That didn’t leave any doubt.
“I see.”
“Had you seen the same thing? Or was it only me he was robbing?”
William didn’t want to say too much, since he had only just begun to suspect tomfoolery himself, but maybe he could gain more information if he admitted to finding some discrepancies. “Recently, I have had reason to believe that some numbers of mine didn’t match Harding’s.”
Lemmon nodded furiously. “Yes. That’s what I have found. A few of the reports he gave me didn’t match what my bank was saying.” He shrugged. “I’m having my solicitor look into the matter. Now that I have to deal with the estate myself instead of Harding, I’m sure it will take a very long time before I get answers.”
“Just so.”
They stared morosely at the dancers, both lost in their thoughts. Mr. Marshall approached them and requested a dance from Amy. It annoyed William to no end to watch Marshall take her by the hand and lead her to the dance floor. He could no longer pretend that he was unbothered by the attention paid to Amy by other men. It might be time to seriously consider staking his claim.
No one else approached him with inquiries into Harding’s affairs, but two other friends commented on the man’s untimely passing. Somehow word had gotten out that he’d been the one to identify the body.
He and Amy danced two spirited cotillions, and with all he had on his mind, he was not unhappy when she asked to leave. He’d spent too much time brooding and thinking about Harding and the mess that was beginning to unravel to really enjoy himself. He also felt a bit of guilt for not dancing with some of the other ladies who were lacking partners, but he had no desire to spend time with any woman besides Amy.
“It appears you were not the only one with questions about Mr. Harding’s management of their affairs.” Amy pulled the blanket around herself as the carriage rolled away from the Assembly hall. “Did anyone else approach you about Harding beside Mr. Lemmon?”
“No. A couple of others commented on his death and wondered how I had gotten to be the one to identify the body. But no one else mentioned any financial discrepancies.”
“I guess it is possible that he wasn’t fleecing all his clients. Or no one has learned it yet.” She paused. “Or perhaps they have been swindled and don’t want to discuss it.”
“I need to have access to his files.”
She straightened in her seat. “Break in?”
The devil take it, she actually looked pleased. “I do worry abo
ut you sometimes, you know.”
She waved her hand around. “We’ve done it before.”
“Yes. But it’s not necessary in this case. Since the office is not locked up tight with Mr. Tibbs still a tenant, I think I can talk my way into going through Harding’s files. That is, provided the police haven’t decided Harding’s death was no accident and sealed up his office.”
“Do you think they might do that?”
“Yes. Once they figure out that his death was orchestrated—if that happens—they will obviously look to his business to see if someone there had reason to remove James from this earth.”
“Then we better go there as soon as possible.”
William sighed. “There is that word again.”
“What word?” She actually looked innocent. But it didn’t work.
“We.”
“Well, of course, I will go too.”
William bowed his head. “In this instance, my dear, you are correct. I want to get in and out as quickly as possible.”
“Then when shall we go?”
“Monday. First thing. I want to retrieve my files, but I also want to browse Harding’s files to see if we find anything incriminating in his records, like a double set of numbers, that sort of thing. We know of at least one other client he was doing fancy numbers with.”
They remained quiet for the rest of the ride. William walked Amy to her front door and waited until Stevens opened it. “I will escort you and your aunt to church tomorrow, I assume?”
“Yes. That would be very nice. And you’ll join us for lunch as well?”
He bowed. “It would be my pleasure, and I will see you on the morrow.” Again he contemplated kissing her but decided that, until he had time to seriously consider the situation between him and Lady Amy and speak to her about it, it was best to keep his lips to himself.
CHAPTER 6
William appeared on Amy’s doorstep at precisely twelve o’clock on Monday, as planned. They’d hoped Mr. Tibbs would be preparing to leave for his noon dinner when they arrived at the offices he shared with Harding, leaving the office empty.
The Sign of Death Page 4