Chapter 20
Kendra had been in elevators filled to capacity with more breathing room than Lady Harrington’s ball.
In the slang of the day, the party was a crush, which was to say it was a smashing success.
Good for Lady Harrington, but bad for her and Alec, as they were forced to fight their way through the warm bodies crowding the grand foyer to the elaborate staircase that curved to the upper level.
It didn’t help that they were stopped every other minute by well-wishers congratulating Alec on his marriage and wondering when he planned to whisk his bride off on their honeymoon.
Kendra had to admire the ease with which Alec dealt with the curiosity and gentle teasing.
She kept mostly silent, which was for the best, since her inclination was to tell them to mind their own damn business.
Kendra breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally disgorged into the ballroom.
It had been designed by John Nash himself, with a wraparound balcony and short flight of stairs down to the dance floor.
Alec snagged two champagne flutes from a passing footman, handing one to Kendra as she watched the quadrille below, the orchestra playing in the corner.
Kendra let her gaze roam over the elegant throng, noting the glitter of diamonds, the blaze of sapphires, rubies and emeralds. “What kind of security does Lord and Lady Harrington have? There’s got to be at least a million dollars of jewels in this room.”
Alec chuckled. “That’s what you think of when you look around?”
“That was my first thought, but now I’m wondering what everyone is hiding.” She watched the dancers spin in graceful patterns around their partners. The scene looked like something out of a fairytale, but that was deceptive.
Or maybe not. Every fairytale had something evil at its core. How many of these couples were in dysfunctional marriages, abusive relationships? How many envied the other’s social position or luck at the gambling tables?
Pride, greed, lust, anger, sloth, gluttony, and envy—the seven deadly sins were alive and well, and slithering around the ballroom like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, Kendra thought. Which of the deadly sins was she dealing with in Lady Westford’s and Clarice’s murders?
She sipped her champagne. “Keep an eye out for ruffles.”
Alec laughed. “I don’t have to. Lady St. James is standing over there, near the orchestra, talking to Lady Colburn.”
Kendra found the countess, who was resplendent in green taffeta with, yes, several tiers of lace-edged ruffles. Diamonds and emeralds circled her throat and gloved wrists, and twinkled in the tiara atop her head.
“Kendra! Sutcliffe!”
Kendra glanced around to find Rebecca pushing through the knots of partygoers, followed by her parents and the Duke.
“Becca,” Alec said, smiling as he looked her over. “You look lovely.”
Rebecca’s maid had fashioned her auburn hair into complex braids and curls, embellished with seed pears and tiny blue flowers. The elaborate style contrasted with her modest silk gown, a lighter shade than her cornflower blue eyes.
“I pale in comparison to your wife, Sutcliffe,” Rebecca said. “Oh, my, Kendra, you are simply ravishing.”
“Marriage agrees with you, my dear,” Lord Blackburn said, beaming at Kendra.
“When did you arrive in London?” Alec asked.
“This afternoon,” Rebecca replied, and shot a grin at her parents. “Papa decided that there was less danger coming to London than having me run away to town by myself.”
“My daughter is quite headstrong.” Lady Blackburn laid a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder as she smiled at Kendra. “You really do look marvelous, my lady.”
“My maid worked for hours and hours on me,” Kendra commented, earning a laugh from Lady Blackburn.
“I’d say that she had good material to work with.” Lady Blackburn searched Kendra’s face with intelligent eyes. “Bertie told us that you’ve determined that Lady Westford was murdered. Have you learned anything of interest?”
“Several things, but I’m not sure where they fit at the moment. Did you know that Lord Westford had another family?”
Rebecca gasped and glanced at her mother, and her eyes widened when she saw the truth on her face. “Mama? You knew?”
“I was aware,” Lady Blackburn said quietly. “This is not a new arrangement. Nor is it a secret.”
“So I’ve been told,” Kendra said. “Do you also know about Mr. Goldsten?”
“I know about her friendship with Mr. Goldsten,” Lady Blackburn said slowly.
Kendra eyed the matron. “At Aldridge Castle, I thought you said that you were acquainted with but not close to Lady Westford.”
“That’s true. But gossip travels—even to the countryside.” Lady Blackburn’s lips quirked. “And I’ve attended a few of the same salons as Lady Westford.”
“I’m curious, my lady, are you a patroness for St. George’s Hospital?”
“Not a patroness, no. But I am involved in helping hospitals that serve the community—St. George’s is one.
Unfortunately, the hospital is in a sad state these days.
I’m of the mind that it can be repaired, but Lady Westford believed we should be raising funds to tear it down and build anew.
” She hesitated. “I believe St. George’s was where Lady Westford met Mr. Goldsten. ”
“What do you know of Mr. Goldsten?”
“I’m acquainted with most of the medical staff at St. George’s. Mr. Goldsten always struck me as someone dedicated to the art of healing. A very serious-minded individual. Ambitious.”
Kendra picked up on the last word. “Ambitious?”
“He not only works at St. George’s, but he opened his own surgery in Blackfriars.” She tilted her head, leveling a shrewd look at Kendra. “Surely you can’t think he had anything to do with what happened to Lady Westford?”
“I don’t think anything at this point.” Nothing that she felt comfortable sharing, anyway. Kendra caught the Duke’s eye. “Would you walk with me, Your Grace?”
He smiled, offering her his elbow. “It would be my pleasure, my dear.”
Alec stretched a hand to Rebecca. “Becca, would you care to dance?”
Lord and Lady Blackburn followed Alec and their daughter to the dance floor, although Kendra was aware of the thoughtful glance Lady Blackburn tossed at her over her shoulder.
“I assume you want to quiz me about my day,” the Duke said as they began their stroll along the perimeter. Casually, he took Kendra’s empty champagne flute, exchanged it for two full ones, then maneuvered her into an alcove so they wouldn’t have to fight their fellow attendees milling around them.
“Did you learn anything interesting?
“A lot of gossip, mostly benign. There was one tidbit, though.” He took a swallow of champagne. “Apparently Lord Westford was enraged when he learned about his wife’s latest paramour.”
“I thought their open marriage was acceptable to both of them.”
“It was . . . until Lady Westford became involved with Mr. Goldsten.”
“Ah.” She wasn’t surprised by the antisemitism in this age. God knew, she’d seen enough of it in her own timeline. Would it ever end?
“He was in his cups and complaining that she was making a mockery of their bloodline by taking up with a Jew.” The Duke paused to draw in a deep breath, his gaze meeting hers. “He was furious. He said that he could kill her.”
“Those were his exact words—he could kill her?”
“Yes. It’s not particularly pleasant, but it is a figure of speech.”
“And yet his wife is dead,” Kendra murmured, her gaze straying to the dance floor. She could see Rebecca beaming at Alec as she drew herself up into a graceful plié before swaying sideways to the music.
“The incident happened several months ago, when the affair came to light,” the Duke went on. “He was foxed and spoke in anger. If he was serious, surely he wouldn’t have waited so long to do something about it.”
Kendra shrugged. “We know that he didn’t commit the actual murder. Maybe it took him that long to find someone to do it.”
“My acquaintance with Lord Westford is limited, but I still cannot believe it of him.”
Kendra scanned the ballroom again. “Is he here tonight?” Every rich person in London seemed to be crammed into the mansion.
“Lord Westford? No, he’s in mourning.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not grieving at home. Alec said he couldn’t locate him today. He took his family—his other family—to the country.”
The Duke frowned, but said nothing.
She flicked him a look. “By the way, I’ve sent messages for a briefing tomorrow morning. I’ve come up with another theory that I want to run by everyone. It’ll expand our suspect list.”
“Interesting. I shall be there.”
“Now . . .” She tipped her flute and finished her champagne. “I need to find Lady St. James so she can introduce me to Lady Harrington.”
“You don’t need Lady St. James for that, my dear. Jane and I have a long friendship. I shall introduce you.”
***
At sixty-one, Lady Jane Harrington was still attractive, with a fine-boned face that sagged a bit here and there but was remarkably free of wrinkles.
In a time before laser and skin peels, injections and fillers, Kendra knew this was primarily due to studious avoidance of the sun.
The matron’s hair, more silver than brown, was swept into an elaborate updo and was decorated with diamonds and pearls that matched her drop earrings and a glittering necklace that looked like it could bankroll a small country.
Lady Harrington stood on the sidelines with several other matrons, including Lady St. James, whose eyes lit up at their approach. “Your Grace, Lady Sutcliffe, good evening.” She snapped her feathered fan shut. “May I introduce you to our hostess, Lady Harrington? And this is—”
“Bertie, how are you?” Lady Harrington interrupted, stepping forward with a hand outstretched to the Duke. “It’s been ages since I last saw you. Still prefer the fresh air of the country over the frivolities of town?”