Chapter Thirty-Four
Henry
“And those are all the motives you know for why someone might want Lord Perrin dead?” The magistrate, the Right Honorable Lord Preston, rubbed his eyes.
The skin beneath them was bruised and puffy, speaking to many sleepless nights.
Henry couldn’t help but wonder just how many miners he and the other men were able to pull from the collapsed mine. And how many bodies.
“Yes, my lord, although I do want to point out that Mr. Smith was easily able to recoup his losses.” Henry leaned forward on his seat in the front sitting room. The morning sun was streaming directly into his eyes. “I no longer feel his motive to be strong.”
Preston closed his notebook. “Thank you for your opinion. You’ve given Constable Adams your direction if I need to contact you again?”
Henry nodded.
“Then you are free to leave Perrin Manor,” Preston said. “Please send in Lord and Lady Havenstone.”
Henry nodded and stood, his chest oddly tight. He went to the rear sitting room and told the Havenstones it was their turn with the magistrate.
Katherine jumped from her seat. She took a step toward him, paused and looked about the room, then made her way to him at a moderate pace. “What did you say? How did it fare?” she said in a low voice.
“I told him what I knew.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Everything?”
“Well, I didn’t mention we had been looking into the murders ourselves.” He made sure no one was looking their way and dragged his finger across the back of her hand. “Or anything else that is none of his concern.”
His chest tightened. And tomorrow he would be gone back to Exeter and she to London.
She swayed closer. “Does he—”
“So what did the magistrate say to you?” Lady Mary stood behind them, a cup of tea in her hand. She took a small sip. “He was most closed-mouthed with his thoughts when we spoke.”
“Imagine that,” Henry murmured. He shrugged at the older woman’s glare. “He has only just arrived. I would not expect to be privy to his opinions on the matter.”
Lady Mary sniffed. “Yet he is allowing everyone to return home on the morrow. He seems a bit rash.”
“How long can he expect everyone to remain?” Katherine asked. She rubbed her arm. “Constable Adams is removing the bodies to town. He said the magistrate has a physician he wishes to examine them and then he will release them to be buried. Life moves on.”
Without him.
Henry pressed his lips flat. Did she have to sound so resolved to that fact? Would their separation mean so little to her? Or was she only being smart, resigning herself to what neither of them could change?
He looked to her father. Or could they?
“There is still the matter of the killer to be caught.” Lady Mary stabbed her walking stick into the carpet. “I, for one, will not be leaving until this has been solved.”
Henry grimaced. “You have a reason to stay, as the nearest relation. I, however, can think of no excuse to explain my remaining. And even if I did, everyone else will have left, including all of our suspects. What would be the point?”
Lady Mary’s shoulders curved. “That does present a problem.”
The Havenstones returned. “Miss Smith, Lord Preston has asked to speak to you,” Lord Havenstone said.
Katherine chewed on her lower lip and gave Henry a worried look.
“If you aren’t guilty, you have nothing to worry about.” Lady Havenstone looked down her nose at Katherine. “The magistrate seems a most civilized man.”
“Of course.” Katherine straightened. “I will go to him at once.” And with chin high, she strode from the room.
Henry’s gaze lingered on the empty doorway.
“…tonight.”
“Hmm.” He blinked and turned to Lady Mary. “What was that?”
She stepped closer. “I said if everyone is to leave tomorrow, we need to think of a way to trap the killer tonight.”
He squinted at her. “Might one ask exactly how we are to do that?”
She stared into her cup. “I’ll think of something.”
Silence fell between them. Mr. Smith laughed uproariously at something Mr. Ryder said. Miss Walker attempted to rally others to another game. Mr. Withers tried to explain the curative effects of colchicine on gout to Lord Havenstone.
Henry tried to think of the most polite way to phrase his question. “If it were such a simple matter to contrive a trap for our killer, would we not have thought of it already?”
Lady Mary glared at him over her spectacles. “Before, we were not properly motivated.” She turned and made her way to one end of a settee.
Henry went to the window and looked out over the gardens. They had feared for their lives before. He thought that was more than enough motivation. But right now, his thoughts were more concerned with another consequence of everyone leaving tomorrow.
He thought he was sure of Katherine’s feelings, but unfortunately they meant little next to her father’s. He eyed Mr. Smith. He was a genial man. He cared for his daughter, but like many, thought her welfare best taken care of by a man of wealth. Henry understood his point of view.
But Henry was an attorney. He argued and persuaded for a living. Perhaps it was time he made his argument to the man himself.
He waited until Mr. Ryder had left to sit near Lady Mary before approaching Mr. Smith. “May I speak with you, sir?”
Mr. Smith blinked. “That sounds serious.”
“It is to me.” Henry gestured toward the casement doors. “May we speak on the terrace?” He ignored the curious looks they were garnering. He had to handle this carefully, like it was the most important negotiation of his career.
Mr. Smith heaved himself up from his chair and led the way outside. Once the doors were closed, he spun on Henry. “You’re not going to accuse me of killing Perrin, too, are you?”
Henry fell back a step. “What? No, of course not.” And thank God they no longer suspected him. That could make this situation only more awkward.
“Then what is this about?” Mr. Smith asked. Traces of blood still stained the stone floor, and he frowned down at it.
The window by the lily of the valley opened an inch. Henry waited, staring at Lady Mary through the glass until she took the hint and wandered back to her seat. “I wished to speak with you regarding your daughter.” He clasped his hands behind his back.
“What about her?” Smith drew his eyebrows together. “Is something amiss?”
“That depends on one’s point of view.” He inhaled sharply. “You had hoped to marry her to Lord Perrin, and I understand you are now looking at another possible match.”
Smith rubbed his jaw. “She has been out in society for several years. I don’t want to waste any more of her time.”
Henry nodded. “You have been looking for a husband who would not only make her a good match but one who is financially advantageous to you, have you not?”
Smith huffed. “Your tone leads me to believe you think those two goals are mutually exclusive. I can assure you, based on the two happy marriages of my other daughters, that it is not.”
“I believe you.” Henry wanted to pace, release some of his nervous energy, but he forced himself to remain still. “But what if it did come down between your daughter’s happiness and your wealth? Which is the most pressing concern of yours?”
Smith cocked his head. “You’re dancing about a question, aren’t you, son? I should warn you, in my line of business, I’ve come to appreciate frankness.”
Henry widened his stance. This was it. The moment when he discovered whether he’d been a fool to dream.
“I care for your daughter. Greatly. And I believe she feels the same about me. You would gain nothing from our union, except free legal representation whenever you wished. But she would be well taken care of. And well loved.”
Smith crossed his arms, resting them on his rounded abdomen. “You’re asking for Katherine’s hand.”
It wasn’t a question, but Henry nodded nonetheless. “I am.”
“Katherine is my youngest.” Smith pursed his lips. “Unlike my older daughters who knew a bit of struggle as I built my business, she has only ever known luxury. You think she would consent to being the wife of a solicitor?”
The back of Henry’s neck heated. “I might not be at the top of society, but I am hardly a pauper. I am well-respected in my profession and earn accordingly.”
Smith arched an eyebrow. “Even if she were willing to live with less, do you think she should give up the status she could attain? She could be a countess, be the pearl of society.”
Henry knew Katherine didn’t care about such things. “I believe I heard you say you didn’t care about Perrin’s rank. As to your daughter’s feelings, you should ask her whether being the wife of an attorney would be acceptable.”
“How much business do you do in London?” Smith ran his thumb and forefinger along his jaw.
“Quite a bit.” Henry’s heart pounded faster. Was Smith wondering how much he’d see his daughter if she lived in Exeter? That could only be a good sign.
“And your London clients, many of them are men of business?”
Henry’s stomach knotted. He didn’t like this turn. “My clients are from varied backgrounds,” he said warily.
“And I have various business interests.” Smith rubbed his hands together. “It could be most useful having a solicitor in the family.”
“Sir, I have to say, I—”
“Yes, yes, nothing comes for free.” Smith flapped his hand at Henry.
“Any deal you broker between your clients and myself, you will of course receive a commission. And with your inside knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses, we should be able to secure most favorable terms. Perhaps we could set up a sliding scale on Katherine’s dowry.
If you meet a certain number of goals in bringing me new business, you gain a percentage of said dowry at the end of each year.
After, say, ten years, if all goes well, you will have earned the full amount I would pay to any earl or viscount’s son.
That is more than generous, would you not agree? ”
“Exceedingly generous,” Henry gritted out.
The curtain at the window fluttered, but he ignored it.
If Lady Mary wished to eavesdrop, he no longer cared.
No doubt Mr. Smith was being generous for even considering Henry for the husband of his daughter.
And when Henry refused the terms, no doubt said generosity would disappear as fast as one of Cook Clem’s cakes. “I must say—”
“You don’t have to thank me, my boy,” Smith said. “If you are what my Katherine wants, I can make it work.”
“Most kind.” Henry drew his shoulders back.
“That is not what I was about to say, however. I would do many things for your daughter, but abusing my position isn’t one of them.
I owe my clients a duty to place their interests above my own.
A duty I would show to you had you been one of my clients.
If those are your terms, I am afraid I must decline. ”
Would Katherine consent to an elopement? Would she risk the wrath of her father, the cut direct from her family and friends, just for him?
Smith grabbed his elbow before Henry could leave. “Don’t be hasty, Evans. I like an honest man.” He lowered his ear toward his shoulder. “To a point. But more importantly, I want a good man for Katherine. That was just the opening volley.”
Henry’s shoulders lowered an inch, but he still remained tense. “What do you mean?”
Smith gazed heavenward. “There was a benefit in seeking husbands among noblemen. At least they knew the starting point for a negotiation. I would have expected better from an attorney.”
A negotiation? Meaning Katherine’s father was open to different terms. As long as Henry won Katherine and didn’t have to compromise his ethics, he would give just about anything to Smith in return.
But since Henry was a good solicitor, one skilled in negotiation, he kept that knowledge to himself. He crossed his arms over his chest. “All right then. These are my terms.”