Chapter Ten
Lady Mary
I strode into the dining room, a small skip to my step that morning.
I wasn’t the only one cheered by the break in the storm, or the thought of what Clem might have made for breakfast. Miss Smith stood by one of the windows, her face uplifted to a solitary ray of sunlight shining through a break in the clouds, a soft smile on her lips.
“Good morning, all.” I nodded to the guests as I made my way to the sideboard.
“Good morning.” Miss Smith closed her eyes. “Glorious day, isn’t it?”
Glorious seemed several complimentary adjectives too far, but the house no longer felt like a shroud, and that was something.
“When do you think we shall be able to send for the constable?” Lady Havenstone asked.
“Not for another day or two, I wouldn’t think.” Mr. Evans refilled his coffee from a silver urn. “The rain hasn’t fully stopped, and it will take time for the mud to dry enough to become passable.”
Lord Havenstone stole a sausage from his wife’s plate. “Well, we will be returning home the first moment we can. If the constable wants to talk to us, he can hire a carriage and come find us.”
“Will he let us leave?” Miss Walker pushed her half-eaten plate away. “I would like to get back to my father. My aunt is staying with him, but she’s nearly as old as he.”
“We shall have to wait to see what the constable advises.” Mr. Evans said this with some authority; as he had been Perrin’s attorney, no one disagreed. At least not aloud.
I moved to an empty seat, my plate loaded, when Southey came barreling through the door, headed straight for me.
Sighing, I plucked a slice of bacon from my plate and went to the casement doors that led to the terrace.
I opened one, tossed the bacon through, then closed the door in triumph as the dog chased it. I returned to my seat.
“It is still quite cold outside,” Miss Smith pointed out.
“He has fur. He’ll be fine.” Especially with one of my slices of bacon to warm his belly. I looked to the sideboard but decided it wasn’t worth the trip to replace it.
“If you keep feeding the dog, Lady Mary, he is certain to follow your footsteps even more fervently.” Mr. Ryder looked over the offerings at the sideboard, sniffing appreciatively.
I frowned. “That is hardly possible.” But I made a note. No more treats.
Miss Smith wrapped her shawl more tightly about her. “More coffee, Father?”
He held up his cup. “Thank you, my dear.” He watched as she replenished it.
“I’m sorry for your sake you won’t be a countess, Katherine, but as for my part, I never concerned myself about titles.
It seems the loftier a gentleman is, the more likely he is to be a scoundrel.
No, we’ll find a nice industrialist for you instead. ”
“Because they are always so honest?” Miss Smith arched her eyebrow as she placed the steaming cup in front of her father.
“A man who’s had to work for his wealth is far less likely to squander it in gambling and risky investments,” Mr. Smith retorted.
I pursed my lips. There was some truth in that, perhaps.
Mr. Ryder sat next to me, holding his own cup of coffee. “Vice isn’t limited to any strata of society. Every member of society falls victim to it. Especially gambling.”
My body heated. The man just couldn’t help himself. “No breakfast? I do hope you aren’t feeling ill, Mr. Ryder.”
“I am in the best of health,” he said mildly, though he could hardly have missed my sarcasm. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
Of course, he didn’t. Having too full a stomach was probably some sin in his mind.
“What about love?” Mr. Taylor flushed when all eyes turned his way. “I’m just saying, if a title isn’t important, surely the thing that is important is that your daughter is loved by the man who marries her.” He turned his limpid gaze on Miss Smith.
Mr. Smith burst out laughing. He dabbed his eyes with his napkin. “Love. That’s a good one, boy. You must have amused Perrin with that wit.”
Miss Smith frowned at her father, the idea of love clearly not as amusing to her.
I looked between her and Perrin’s secretary.
I couldn’t see it. I had no problem with marriages between those of different social standings and wealth levels.
My nephew, the duke, had married a woman that had almost had him ostracized from society permanently and they were the happiest of couples.
But a marriage between people of different temperaments and intelligence was another matter.
I’m sure Mr. Taylor was a competent secretary, but he didn’t seem suited to the little I knew of Miss Smith.
Bertram rose and went to the window. He tapped his fingers on his thigh as he looked out. “I do hope that dog doesn’t destroy my sister’s garden. She spent many a happy hour in it.”
“If the storm didn’t destroy it, I think it is safe from a small dog.” I pinched my mouth. Everyone was so concerned, either about the dog’s health or the garden’s. But what of the health of my boots and my gown’s trim? No one seemed to consider that.
“Remember the Christmas we all spent here, you and Cavindish, me and my wife and sister?” Bertram turned, his gaze looking as though it were seeing something far away. He tapped his hand against his thigh. “What a grand time we had.”
Bertram had forgotten to include Lord Perrin in that assembly, but I understood why.
The holiday would have been all the more merry if Perrin had stayed more to his rooms. “It was a lovely time,” I agreed.
And it had been. We’d come together at a time when my marriage was still young and hopeful.
Even when we’d lost a bit of that hope, Cavindish and I had still enjoyed our life together, but once we’d tasted that first bitterness of sorrow, even the good times were slightly tainted.
I cleared the lump from my throat. “I remember your wife leading us in the carols. She was quite an accomplished musician.”
“I can play the pianoforte.” Miss Walker leaned forward. “After dinner tonight, I can entertain us.”
Only Mr. Ryder made a sign of encouragement for that idea.
Bertram cocked his head. “I wouldn’t think those would be fond memories for you, Lady Mary.”
“Why is that?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Perrin mentioned you weren’t happy in your marriage.”
I sucked in a breath, my jaw locking. I didn’t know what angered me more: that Perrin would say such a thing or that Bertram would repeat it here in front of others. Bertram had forgotten his manners.
My spine went straight. “I can assure you that wasn’t the case. Cavindish and I were very happy.”
“As you say.” Bertram ran his hand up the back of his head. “I should go. I have a letter to write.” He put his cup down on the sideboard and left the room.
His exodus started the others leaving. Mr. Ryder rose. “Can I interest you in a game of speculation?” he asked me.
“I thought you didn’t approve of card games.” I was still annoyed at Bertram and might have let that irritation flow unjustly onto Mr. Ryder.
His chocolate eyes twinkled. “I’ve never said that, though it is amusing how you try to twist my words to keep me your bogeyman. Perhaps another time.”
Hmph. And because I didn’t know to which room Ryder had retreated, only knowing he was no longer in this one, I refilled my cup of tea, added an extra lump of sugar, and reseated myself. Only I and Mr. Evans remained.
Mr. Evans moved chairs to sit across from me. “I hope you don’t mind my joining you for another cup of tea.”
I inclined my head.
Evans took a sip then gently placed his cup before him. “I also hope you won’t mind the impudence, but was there an issue in your marriage?”
“I do mind the impudence.” I glared at the attorney. “Very much.”
He sighed. “I don’t mean to pry, and if Perrin hadn’t been killed I wouldn’t dream of it, but as you yourself have pointed out, we need to investigate anyone who might have a reason to want the earl dead.”
“And you think I have one?” My eyebrows shot up.
He tapped his index finger on the table. “I hope not. Perrin asked me a couple months ago about England’s libel laws. He wanted to write a letter to The Times, hoping it would be published for all and sundry to see. He said someone had wronged his family and wanted that person to pay.”
I drew back. “Me?”
“He didn’t say. But he also said he had to consider his actions carefully as he didn’t want disgrace to fall on his family by the association, which led me to believe it was someone close to his family. And Perrin never had anything nice to say about you.”
I swallowed. What exactly had Perrin known about my marriage to his brother? There was no way he could know the truth. Cavindish would never have spoken of it, not even to his brother, and I had never unburdened myself to anyone, not even to Jane.
But Perrin had been needling me since I’d arrived, seeming to hold some specific animus against me.
No. I pushed my spectacles up my nose. He couldn’t have known. “I don’t know whom Perrin was speaking of, but I can assure you he had nothing to write to a paper about me. I wasn’t overly fond of my brother-in-law, but I had no reason to kill him.”
Evans studied me and slowly nodded. “Of course, my lady. I had to ask.”
As I was poking my nose into everyone else’s business, I had a hard time faulting him for turning the tables on me. That didn’t mean I liked it.
I stood. “Good day, Mr. Evans.” I swept from the room, my mind going back again and again to one question.
What had Perrin thought he’d known about me and Cavindish?