Chapter 3 #2
The silence around the table was so fraught that Leo hardly tasted the soup. She crossed glances with Jasper multiple times, wishing they could have taken supper alone somewhere else rather than with the family.
When their bowls were being cleared away, Helen broke the uneasy quiet.
“Miss Spencer, Inspector,” she began, her nervousness betrayed by a quaver in her voice, “I think we are all quite curious as to the letter my mother left for you to read privately. Did she explain what your presence here has all been about?”
The solicitor dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and stammered the beginning of a response. “Mrs. Dalton, I must reiterate that your mother’s request was that—”
“Yes, thank you, Corman, we are aware of her request,” Mr. Dalton interrupted, the snide remark enough to silence the solicitor.
“However, as all of us wish to know exactly why Francine gave two people she has never met—not only that, but the two proteges of her late sister’s husband—an obscenely expensive property, I think it only fair they explain why. ”
The intensity of his stare bored into Leo’s cheek. “Whether you think it fair or not, Mr. Dalton,” she replied, turning to face him, “the contents of that letter are private. As Mrs. Stroud wished them to be. I imagine, as her family, you would want to respect her final wishes.”
He sneered. “Do you have even the slightest idea how much a property at that address in London is worth? It certainly is not meant to house those of the working class.”
At the barefaced insult, Jasper looked as if he’d have liked to clock the man in the jaw. Leo would have enjoyed seeing it done, too.
“Tony, that is quite enough,” Frederick said, slapping his hand once upon the table. It wasn’t violent, though it did startle the two wolfhounds flanking Nadia’s chair. “I’ll ask you to respect my late sister’s wishes and to treat our guests with the same respect.”
Mr. Dalton gurgled some more laughter, the hysterical sound of it a bit alarming. “Of course, my lord. Whatever you say, my lord.”
“Do shut up, Anthony,” Viscount Cowper said smoothly, paying more attention to the claret in his glass than to anyone else at the table. “Mr. Reid and Miss Spencer, what my grandson-in-law says has merit, even if he is acting like a drunken buffoon.”
At the rebuke, Mr. Dalton shrank back into his seat with a pout.
“Inspector,” Jasper said.
The viscount frowned. “Pardon?”
“It is Inspector Reid, not ‘Mister’,” he replied evenly, even as Viscount Cowper’s mien darkened. “And while Miss Spencer and I understand the frustration over the ambiguity of this bequest, we intend to honor your daughter’s wishes by withholding the contents of the letter.” He paused. “For now.”
Leo stifled a pleased grin at Jasper’s pointed rebuke and admired him for not silencing himself in the face of opposition.
She took a furtive glance toward Helen. The woman seemed just as nervous as before.
Did she have an idea as to what all this was about?
Perhaps her mother had not hidden her suspicions well enough.
Nothing could be said on the matter of Teddy here, of course.
Jasper would want to question her alone.
“Inspector,” the viscount echoed, drawling the title with obvious derision. “I must say, I was baffled when I heard Gregory Reid had replaced my grandson with some runty street urchin he’d scraped up while going about his work.”
Leo’s pulse jumped at the purposefully cruel words. She could barely believe he’d dared say them aloud.
Jasper, however, didn’t flinch at the viscount’s direct loathing. Instead, he allowed a small twitch of his lips. “That you believe he would attempt to replace Gregory Junior with me reveals how little you truly knew him.”
“Grandfather,” Nadia began, speaking gently. “Now isn’t the time to dredge up the past. Let us eat.”
At that word—eat—the wolfhounds yipped and let their tongues loll out of their mouths. Helen scoffed in disgust.
“Must you allow them in the dining room? It is unsanitary.”
Nadia stroked the head of one dog. “It isn’t unsanitary, Helen; you just hate my dogs.”
“One of them bit my maid!” Helen cried. “She is terrified of dogs as it is.”
Nadia laughed. “It was a nip. Porthos didn’t even break Dora’s skin.”
As the sisters bickered, the footmen returned with large platters of roasted duck, glazed in an orange sauce.
One held the tray to the viscount’s side, offering him the chance to help himself.
The other footman went to Helen’s side. While she took a portion for her plate with shaking hands, the viscount did not.
He remained locked in a staring spar with Jasper.
“Perhaps you are right,” Lord Cowper finally said, “and I did not know Gregory well. However, it seems both my daughters certainly did.”
The words themselves might not have implied anything untoward, but the suggestive sound of them curling off his tongue made his meaning obvious.
Paired with the mention of Gregory in Francine’s letter and his request for secrecy, Leo’s mind reeled to a stop.
She could not reconcile what the viscount was insinuating: that the Inspector and Francine had once been romantically involved.
A swift glance across the table showed Jasper grinding his jaw with stifled fury.
He would not react, Leo knew. He was too measured, too cautious to be goaded into making a spectacle of himself.
He kept his eyes trained on the viscount until the footman intercepted their staring match by leaning forward next to Jasper’s shoulder, presenting the platter of duck.
The rest of dinner unfolded at a quick pace; the footmen likely related the strain in the dining room to the kitchen staff, and they knew to hurry things along.
When it was time for dessert, only Mr. Corman appeared eager to eat his trifle.
Lord Cowper tossed down his napkin and shoved back his chair, rising to his feet like a geyser.
“Gentlemen, you are, of course, welcome to join me in the billiards room for a brandy and cigar,” he said, though the invitation sounded hollow and rote. He immediately left, his pace loping but fast for a man of his age.
Helen also stood. “Ladies, shall we?”
Leo wasn’t quite sure what to do. The men and women were now separating to different rooms, as she supposed was their custom.
The practices of the titled and wealthy were often a mystery to her.
She and Jasper locked gazes, and with his solemn nod, she supposed she would follow the viscount’s granddaughter.
The solicitor looked longingly at his barely touched trifle as he and the other men rose from their seats to join the viscount.
She didn’t envy Jasper; it would not be a relaxing game of billiards, to be sure.
As she approached the door, she and Jasper were able to steal a moment together, his sleeve brushing against hers as they walked side by side.
He lowered his voice to a whisper, “See if you can arrange for an interview tomorrow morning with Mrs. Dalton.”
Leo nodded. “I’ll invite her to take breakfast in my sitting room,” she replied under her breath. It was all they had time for; outside the dining room, Jasper peeled off with the other men in a different direction.
She pushed aside the odd sensation of disappointment and the desire to rejoin him.
After her decadent bath and then the next few hours spent pacing her bedroom and adjoining sitting room, exasperated to have no immediate purpose, she had longed to know where Jasper was and what he was doing.
It was just the same as she’d felt over the last four months spent apart.
His letters were surprisingly detailed about Liverpool, his lodgings at Mrs. Hart’s boardinghouse, and his fellow sergeants and constables.
But it wasn’t enough. Leo had wanted to be able to see him.
Touch him. Feel his sooty green eyes on her.
It was a greedy sensation that she wasn’t at all sure she liked, and yet, it was also unstoppable.
Helen led them to the same sitting room in which Leo and Jasper had been sequestered earlier in the afternoon.
The fire burned brightly, illuminating the room with a cozy golden glow.
Nadia and Millicent went to the settee, and each took an end cushion, smoothing out their black skirts after sitting.
Somewhere along the way, the dogs had departed from their mistress, but as Helen selected a chair and sat, she was just as rigid and unsmiling as she had been at the dinner table.
A maid had come into the room and was pouring what appeared to be sherry into cordial glasses.
Leo lowered herself into another chair, and the silence persisted. Millicent propped her elbow upon the arm of the settee and absentmindedly brushed her fingers against the blue silk damask. Only after the maid brought the tray of cordial glasses around and then left them did someone speak.
“Can’t you convince your husband to stop being such a boor all the time?” Nadia asked, directing her question to her sister.
Helen pinched her lips together. “I don’t think this is an appropriate topic to discuss in front of our guest.”
Nadia waved her hand. “It’s not as if Anthony has successfully hidden how ill-tempered he is, especially when he is drunk. Miss Spencer noticed, trust me.” She turned toward Leo and pinned her with a pair of hard brown eyes. “Didn’t you?”
As platitudes were not her forte, Leo replied, “I noticed some discord, yes.”
Nadia crossed her arms and smiled smugly at her sister. “See?”
Helen lifted her chin and turned her head, as if to dismiss them all. Lounging against the other arm of the settee, Millicent sighed heavily. “Nadia, dear, if you had ever married, you might understand that it isn’t so easy to change the nature of a man.”
The affront struck precisely as intended; color bloomed on Nadia’s cheeks.