Chapter Eleven
Henry
She was quite charming when she was trying to be stealthy. Henry paused when she did, ducking behind the corner when she looked behind her. When he poked his head around the wall, Miss Smith had disappeared out the same side door he’d used the day before.
He gave a passing thought to letting her be. It really was most ungentlemanly to follow a lady. He was tired of looking through Perrin’s office, however, and suspicious activity should be investigated. So, after waiting thirty seconds, he followed her out-of-doors.
The chirping of robins was the only sound he heard. The birds were probably just as happy the storm was breaking as Perrin’s guests. The path to the left was a pit of mud, unblemished by any recent footprints. The right led to the rear terrace. Henry went right.
A quick glance around the corner showed Miss Smith in the same spot he’d found her in yesterday, and with the same companion. She and Mr. Taylor hovered near the potted lily of the valley at the far corner of the terrace, their heads bent close together, their voices too low to hear.
Henry’s muscles tensed. Nothing the secretary had to say could be so interesting. And how foolish of Miss Smith to meet with him. After what had happened to Perrin, no woman should gallivant about, meeting with strange men in dark corners.
Unless Miss Smith knew Perrin’s secretary better than she let on.
Henry had never cared for Mr. Taylor. Perrin’s secretary had been overly obsequious to his employer and then turned around and spoken poorly of him to others.
Perhaps Taylor was talented at turning that cloyingly sweet tongue on a woman.
Although Henry found his scrawny neck and thin shoulders less than physically impressive, mayhap his slenderness evoked a tender feeling in some women.
There was another, darker, reason Miss Smith might want a moment in private with the secretary.
Had they hatched the plot to murder Lord Perrin together? Had Miss Smith been so against the idea of marrying the earl that she’d resorted to murder?
He examined the woman, but no signs of villainy were apparent in her features.
Her brown eyes were wide-set and lovely.
Her full lips were a bit tight at the moment, but irritation was a common reaction to Mr. Taylor.
And with the sun’s rays finally breaking through the clouds, Henry could see golden streaks illuminated in her honey-brown hair.
Henry shifted his weight. She really was quite lovely. She reminded him of a painting he’d seen once at a Gainsborough exposition. The portrait of a Mrs. Sheridan, he believed. With her soft eyes and pretty mouth, Perrin would have been a lucky….
Miss Smith turned her back on Taylor, and he grabbed her arm, quick as a snake. A wince crossed her face.
Before he knew it, Henry’s feet were moving. “Unhand the lady.”
Taylor looked up, his face blanching at whatever he saw on Henry’s face. “We are only having a conversation. A private one.”
“One which has now concluded.” Henry stopped next to Miss Smith, calculating how many of the secretary’s fingers he could break when he pried them off her arm.
Unfortunately, the point became moot. Taylor dropped his hold on her and stepped back. “You might think you’re in charge here, Evans, but once the magistrate arrives, things will change.” He gave Miss Smith a hard look. “In more ways than one.” And turning on his heel, he stomped off.
Henry looked down at the top of Miss Smith’s head. She seemed determined to examine a bug that crawled along the stone floor. “Lovely company you keep, Miss Smith. Is Mr. Taylor a beau of yours?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, her lips whitening.
“Mr. Taylor was correct in one respect,” he continued. “The magistrate will be arriving soon.” The butler thinks it will be safe to send someone on the morrow if the rain keeps at bay. “I will have to relay my opinions to him, and right now, you and Mr. Taylor are acting most suspiciously.”
She nudged the beetle with the toe of her boot.
Henry loosed a breath. “Fine. If you wish to keep your own counsel, that is your right, but you should speak to your father about hiring a good barrister skilled in criminal law.”
He made it halfway across the terrace before he heard her move.
“Wait.” She muttered softly before stamping up to him. “I will tell you what you want to know. Perhaps we can find someplace without eavesdroppers, however.”
Ignoring the insult, he nodded and led her around the building to the side door. Both sitting rooms were occupied but the library was free. They went inside and he shut the door behind them.
Sunlight struggled through the far windows, casting dim shadows on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A couple of chairs and a settee formed a loose circle around a low table, and a large, wingback chair faced the now cold fireplace.
“Shall we sit?” He went to one of the chairs, waited until she seated herself on the settee across, before lowering himself down. “Now. Tell me, why all the clandestine meetings with Mr. Taylor?”
She jumped to her feet and went to a bookcase. “There is nothing romantic between Mr. Taylor and myself, except he has said he loves me and wishes to marry.”
“Nothing romantic indeed.” Henry debated whether to stand. He had just settled himself, and the chair was deucedly comfortable, but proprieties demanded he not be seated while a lady stood. He pushed up.
“Well, nothing romantic on my part.” She ran her finger along dusty spines. “I am grateful to him. Mr. Taylor tried to help me out of a dire situation.”
“What dire situation?”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
Henry strode up to her, getting closer than was proper. He didn’t like to use his size to intimidate, especially a woman, but he was tired of her dodges. A man had been murdered. He placed his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “What situation?”
Something whispered to his right, and he jerked his head. He saw nothing but the seats they had left and the back of the large wingback. Perhaps the mice had invaded this room, as well. He should tell a maid to let Southey loose in here.
Miss Smith sighed, her breath gusting over his hand.
“I thought I had killed him, you see. Lord Perrin. And in order to divert suspicion from me, Mr. Taylor stabbed Perrin’s corpse.
He brought attention to the knife in the sitting room, then stabbed the body while there were witnesses to me remaining in the room. A perfect alibi.”
Henry blinked. Not much surprised him, but he had a hard time wrapping his mind around her words. “You thought you’d killed Perrin. But you didn’t?”
“No.” She jerked away and started pacing.
“He grabbed me at the top of the stairs, you see. I thought he was in his cups and trying to take improper liberties. I pushed him away, and he fell down the stairs. And never got up.” She pressed her hand to her throat.
“He was probably struggling for help from the poison when he grabbed at me. Poor man.”
Henry rocked back on his heels. Pushed down stairs. Stabbed. And poisoned. He rubbed his forehead. Perrin had truly had some horrible last moments. “It sounds like it was an accident, or you were defending yourself. Why not just call for help?”
“I intended to, but Mr. Taylor found me next to Perrin’s body. When I explained, he thought I could be in trouble. He said he’d take care of it and to return to the sitting room and not tell anyone.”
“And you agreed.” A sour taste filled his mouth.
She grabbed his arm. “You don’t understand. Perrin had been pulling at my dress, my body, and then he was dead, and I felt numb. I didn’t ask Mr. Taylor to do it. I wanted to speak up, many times, but if I did, then I would get him in trouble, as well.”
A soft snort sounded. Frowning, Henry went to the door and flung it open.
No one. If he was the type of man to believe in ghosts, he would think Perrin’s spirit was haunting them.
He closed the door again and returned to Miss Smith.
“So Mr. Taylor desecrated a body out of the kindness of his heart, and now he wishes you to marry him as repayment for that favor. Do I have that right?”
She frowned. “It isn’t like that. He said that if we were married, neither of us could testify against the other.
And he might care for me a little. He had shown interest when he thought I was Perrin’s intended and quite out of his reach.
There’s a chance I might have an affectionate husband.
” She eyed him up and down. “I don’t suppose any of your contracts ever contain a clause about that.
That a husband, after buying his wife, must at least show her some tenderness. ”
Henry ignored the scorn in her voice. He wasn’t an expert on criminal law, but he didn’t think Taylor’s reasoning was strictly true.
A husband and wife couldn’t be compelled to testify against each other for acts or speech that occurred during the marriage, not before.
But he wasn’t here to give Miss Smith legal advice.
“If he is so affectionate, why did he grab you?”
She rubbed her arms. “He was upset. I told him that since Perrin was killed by poison, we no longer needed to marry. I wasn’t responsible for his death. Mr. Taylor said that I could still be in trouble for pushing Perrin, and that it would be reckless not to marry. He may be right.”
Henry shook his head. She couldn’t be that na?ve.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to think so.
“He’s only upset because dreams of his life of ease are disappearing.
” Lady Mary’s head popped up over the back of the wingback chair.
“Really, girl, you might not have the finest mind in London, but use what brains the Lord did give you. That man is using you.” She sniffed.
“And mucking up my investigation in the process.”