Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Sunday Afternoon
The windows and doors of Lady Reed’s home had been thrown open to clear the sickly chemical smell, but Audrey could still trace the faintest remnants of the wretched odor as she was shown into the morning room the afternoon following the murder.
Their footman had not taken Audrey’s coat and gloves, advising she instead keep them to stave off the chilled air of the rooms.
As she crossed the ground floor lobby, a man in military uniform exited the room that the footman was leading Audrey toward.
The man carried his shako hat under his arm, his jet hair neatly combed and pomaded, except for an artful curl across his brow.
His full mouth and regal chin struck her as familiar, but it wasn’t until his deep brown eyes rested upon her that she realized who he was.
He looked incredibly like Hugh. Or rather, like the late Viscount Neatham.
Hugh’s youngest half-sibling snapped his heels together and sketched a rigid bow. Audrey stopped.
“Good day. You are Lord Neatham’s youngest brother, are you not?” she asked.
Surprise lit his expression before he schooled it into polite detachment again. “Yes, ma’am. Colonel Trenton, at your service.”
Red veins streaked the whites of his eyes, and the waterlines were also irritated. Vestiges of weeping, she presumed.
“I am very sorry for what has happened,” she said, then, because it would be far more direct to return Eloisa’s ring to a family member rather than Lady Reed, Audrey reached into the pocket of her skirt.
“Here,” she said, extending the small garnet ring.
He peered at it, markedly confused. “I was present last evening when…well, I was the one who found your sister, and this was on the floor near her. I meant to give it to Lady Reed, or the Bow Street officers, but I’m afraid I became rather distracted. ”
It was an inane excuse. But she could not keep the ring, nor could she think of another way to return it. Thankfully, the colonel’s interest did not rest on the strange explanation. He bowed again, this time a degree more intently.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not know you were the duchess.” He straightened, and then reached for the ring. He held it gingerly between thumb and forefinger. “This belonged to our mother. Thank you.”
His voice sounded raspy, as one’s voice often did when burdened by emotion.
She imagined he’d been visiting with Lady Reed to discuss the events of the night before.
The question of whether the marchioness had been honest with him about her earlier private meeting with Eloisa caused her to push the boundaries of their chance meeting.
When Colonel Trenton dipped into another bow, this one in parting, Audrey cut him off with a clearing of her throat.
“Do you have any idea why Miss Neatham would have been at the soiree last night? It’s my understanding that she was not expected to attend.
” It was the more polite way to say that the young woman had not been invited.
Then again, she had not been on any guest list for many years, and for obvious reasons.
Colonel Trenton slipped the ring into a pocket of his uniform. “I’m afraid I couldn’t say,” he replied. “Lady Reed has expressed the same confusion.”
He coughed and then grimaced. Guilt for badgering him warred with a longing for more information on what Eloisa and Lady Reed had been discussing before the murder. But she supposed a conference with the marchioness was her best bet for learning that.
“The duke and I express our condolences,” she said, and then with a small bob of her head, allowed him to take his leave.
The footman, who had been standing aside, waiting while she spoke to the colonel, now entered the morning room to announce her.
A fire roared in the hearth, and a maid was tucking a thick quilted blanket around Lady Reed’s feet. The marchioness reclined on a chaise, her stout body bundled as well as it would have been in an open sleigh, complete with mink muffler and matching mink-trimmed hat.
“Your Grace, what a surprise. Do come in. I apologize for the brisk air,” Lady Reed began. Brisk was putting it somewhat mildly. It was no warmer indoors than out. “Did I hear you speaking with Colonel Trenton just now?”
“Yes, we met briefly,” she replied, decided not to mention anything about the garnet ring.
“Poor young man. So despondent. So desperate to know what his sister was doing here last evening,” Lady Reed said with a long sigh. Audrey had the same burning question. But before she could echo it, the marchioness went on.
“He is to be married, you know. In less than a fortnight. Though now, I am not sure it would be proper to continue with such a ceremony. A wretched thing, too—the young lady is quite wealthy, I’m told.
Oh, Ginny do bring tea,” she called out to her maid.
“This is unbearable! The windows have been open all night and morning in an attempt to fumigate the premises. I do not know how much longer I can stand it.”
Lady Reed was far more talkative than she’d been the evening before when Audrey and Philip had approached her to thank her and take their leave. She’d been distracted then, and because of the garnet ring, Audrey now knew why.
“The smoke was quite peculiar,” Audrey agreed, thinking of the haze that had seared their eyes and throats and nostrils. “Whatever the caustic chemical was, it was certainly employed to cause distraction and panic.”
Which chemical it had been had also occupied a corner of her mind since the previous night.
No flames had accompanied it, but certainly there were a number of chemical compounds that, when combined, could create such a reaction.
Why, just a month or so ago, there had been a lecture at the Lyceum that touched on such things.
A pair of chemists, Mr. and Mrs. Marcet, were to present on Mrs. Marcet’s newly published chemistry book.
Audrey had been desperate to attend, but Cassie had only just returned, and she had not wanted to leave her alone at Violet House.
However, Lord Thornton may have attended. If so, he could have an idea about which chemicals might have been used.
From under her blankets, Lady Reed’s distressed expression pinned on Audrey. “Do you suggest that someone planned the events of last night?”
Audrey sat a bit taller, surprised that the marchioness had not yet worked that out for herself. It seemed obvious.
“Of course,” she said. “The smoke conveniently drove any witnesses from the ballroom. The murderer must have used the poor visibility to sneak up on Eloisa.”
Lady Reed’s brow arched. “What a vivid imagination you have, Your Grace.”
Her poorly masked condescension only inspired Audrey to get on with the reason for her visit.
“Last evening, you told Officer Tyne that you had not been aware of Miss Neatham’s presence in your home.”
The marchioness scoffed. “That is correct. What of it?”
“I only wonder why you would withhold the truth.” Lady Reed’s relaxed position on the chaise stiffened. “It’s been made known to me that you and Miss Neatham met in another room of this home last night, before the unfortunate events.”
“That is absurd,” she hissed. “Where did you hear such nonsense?”
Her denial was not unexpected. Audrey shrugged and said, “Servants do love their gossip, my lady.”
She fussed on the chaise, pulling at the blanket and huffing in exasperation. “Servants are also notoriously devious, Your Grace. I would think you would know that.”
“Are you not acquainted with Miss Neatham?” Audrey asked instead.
“Of course I am. She is—was—my relation by marriage.”
Interest zipped up along the duchess’s spine. “What is your connection?”
“Lila, Lady Neatham, is my niece,” she explained. “My sister’s daughter.”
The maid reentered with a tea service, giving Audrey a few moments to sort this through.
Lady Neatham, Bartholomew’s wife, was Lady Reed’s niece.
Had she seen much of Eloisa in the past several years?
Once the maid had poured for them and left, she asked that very question.
The marchioness shook her head as she sipped her steaming oolong.
“No, I only encountered Eloisa before the scandalbroth that scattered that blackguard, Marsden, on an ill wind. Lila married the viscount shortly before the dreadful duel. Eloisa attended a few family parties. Afterward…nothing.”
“Then why was she here?” Audrey asked. “Why try to speak to you, and during a soiree at that? It must have been some emergency.”
Lady Reed’s cup clattered onto the china saucer, the woman herself appearing rattled and perturbed. “How dare you call me a liar?”
Audrey bit her tongue, realizing she had been too heavy-handed, just as she had been last spring when she’d been hunting down evidence to clear Philip of murder charges.
The urgency filling her to the brim to establish what truly had happened, and who was to blame, felt just the same as well.
It was unforgivably rude to accuse Lady Reed of telling falsehoods, and yet Audrey knew that she had indeed lied.
Rescinding the accusation would have no soothing effect.
The damage had already been done. The least she could do now was leave here with answers.
“Very well, I will be frank.” Audrey squared her shoulders and set her own teacup and saucer on the table. “I am the one who saw you, Lady Reed.”
The marchioness gasped, her lips parting. “How could you have done?” Then, quieter, “We were alone.”
“I am afraid you were not,” Audrey replied, and not wanting to dive any deeper, continued, “Why tell Officer Tyne a falsehood?”
Lady Reed jutted her sharp chin. “This has to do with Eloisa’s by-blow half-brother, doesn’t it?
The Bow Street officer you’ve been cavorting with.
” She let out a smirk when Audrey’s eyes widened.
“Oh yes, people speak of it, Your Grace. Do you think your fancy has gone unnoticed? He is missing now, or haven’t you heard?
Attacked the viscount before coming to my home—”
“You have no proof he was here.” Audrey knew she sounded too eager to defend Hugh, and yet, she also could not curb her tongue. “Eloisa was asking you for something, and you denied her. What was it?”
The blankets fell away as Lady Reed stood, gaping at her. “You were spying on us?”
“I had the misfortune of happening upon you,” she lied, though in some ways, it was true. It was a misfortune to have only heard a snippet of their conversation in the vision rather than all of it.
“She was asking dangerous questions, just as you are now, Your Grace,” the marchioness said. It came as no great surprise when she then demanded that Audrey take her leave.
Calmly, Audrey stood, grateful she had not removed her outer trappings. It would save her time in departing. However now, after the confrontation, she was fully warm, her blood pumping hot.
“Whatever you are concealing, I ask that you reconsider. Miss Neatham was murdered, and I mean to find out who killed her.”
Lady Reed’s teeth came on full display as she laughed haughtily. “My word, you’ve taken leave of your senses, Your Grace. Sullying yourself by playing at inspector! Whatever you think you know, it is wrong. Good day to you.”
The marchioness sealed her lips and waited for Audrey to be gone.
There was nothing more to be said. As she turned and left the sitting room, her shivers set back in.
It wasn’t the chilled air of the house. She’d been reckless.
Within hours, all of London would know that she had barged into Lady Reed’s home and acted like a madwoman.
A cold sweat erupted on her chest and back. She’d been foolish. Brazen. This would not go unnoticed or unremarked upon, that was for certain.
But Lady Reed had admitted to seeing Eloisa, and that Eloisa was asking dangerous questions. What could she have wanted from the marchioness? Her sister-in-law’s aunt. A distant relation, at best.
Feeling more anxious and disturbed—and wholly unwise—than before, Audrey returned to the waiting carriage.
Her driver Carrigan descended from the box, but before she could reach him, a small figure darted into her path.
A skinny, knobby shouldered boy stopped and lifted the brim of his cap.
Audrey’s chest grew hot as her heartbeat doubled.
The boy’s cheeks appeared scrubbed, the cap, newly purchased.
He wore trousers that reached all the way to his ankles now, and his boots, though not at a high polish, were solid without a single rip or hole.
“Sir?” she asked, disbelieving. “My word, you’ve grown at least an inch.”
It wouldn’t do to remark on his cleanliness. Or the fact that he didn’t smell like a chamber pot.
“Got a message for you, duchess.” Hugh’s errand boy—though he was much more like his trusted streetwise assistant—was all business as he continued, “Tonight. Ten o’clock, sharp. Keep your bedchamber window cracked.”
Audrey blinked, taken aback. “My bedchamber? Sir, what is this about? Have you seen Mr. Marsden?”
But the boy slipped away like spots of grease on water. He darted behind a pair of men in great coats and when Carrigan reached her side, Audrey could no longer see the boy.
“Are you unwell, Your Grace?” he asked. “Did that urchin bother you?”
“No, no, I am fine, Carrigan,” she said, her pulse still racing.
As he handed her up into the carriage, she drew in a long breath, and cursed the hours still standing between now and ten o’clock.
Hugh was coming to see her.