Chapter Nine
Lady Mary
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” Marcus, Duke of Montague strode into the sitting room. “The doctor is here again, and I wanted to speak to him about little Mary’s cough. I believe it to be drier.”
He dropped into a chair across from Jane and me, his handsome face sallow and worn.
“It’s the tincture I gave you.” Jane nodded approvingly. “It was my mother’s recipe. Always worked on us kids. I brought some more. Gave it to your butler.”
Marcus gave her a tired smile. “I’m sure it’s helping.”
I examined my nephew. He’d always been such a serious man, at least until he’d met his wife, Elizabeth. His daughter’s illness had brought back much of his gravity, but that little smile he’d turned on Jane gave me hope.
I poked my walking stick into the thick Berber carpet. “She’s made of stern stuff, just like her namesake. She’ll be back up to those pranks of hers in no time, driving you mad.”
“From your lips.” Marcus stretched out his long legs. “Now, apprise me of the situation with you and the late Mr. Trent. Finding dead bodies is becoming a bad habit of yours.”
I narrowed my eyes. “In point of fact, Jane and the milkman found him. He died on my front step with a letter addressed to me in his hand. Unfortunately, the letter is unreadable. Did you know him by chance?”
“Not Trent, no.” Marcus ran a hand through his dark-blond hair.
It needed a trimming, but that was something he could attend to after his daughter recovered.
“I recently spoke to one of his competitors, however. A Mr. Growse. The Persephone sails in two weeks, and it will carry a stock of Growse’s canned food as it travels to the Bahamas.
I think tinned food is the future for ocean voyages. ”
My nephew was one of the rare noblemen to engage in trade, or at least one who made no apologies for it. One of his business ventures was a shipping line. It not only kept the ducal estate in full pockets, but had been of much use to him in his previous career working covertly for the Crown.
“But Trent never approached you about buying from him?” I asked.
Montague shook his head. “I think his business focused on supplying our military.”
I sighed. My nephew usually had such good connections. It was disappointing he didn’t have any useful information in this instance. “Had you heard anything about Trent or his business practices? Any gossip that might be relevant as to why he was killed?”
“No.” Marcus’s eyebrows slammed together. “And if you’ve taken it into your head to investigate this matter yourself, I will have to ask you to desist. I have enough to worry about as it is.”
I couldn’t help but bristle. I loved Marcus and knew he meant well, but he had a tendency to be overbearing.
It was one I had never encouraged and couldn’t understand from whom he’d inherited it.
My sister and her husband had been as malleable as wax.
“I am not some simpleton that needs watching over. I’ve been on this earth quite a few more years than you and just might have a bit more experience. ”
Marcus held up his hand. “I apologize. My tongue gets away from me when I am tired.”
Jane sniffed. “You were only speaking sense. But sometimes, even with all the years on this earth that some might have, they can’t see it.”
I glared at my maid. She definitely had enough years behind her to know better.
“As we can’t seem to refrain from speaking nonsense, even with all our many years of experience combined, perhaps we should leave you.
” My voice softened. “Get some rest, Marcus. Your family needs you to remain in good health, as well.” I stood.
Marcus and Jane followed. He led us to the front door. “I could have the agency look into the matter.”
My nephew was part-owner of the Bond Agency for Discreet Inquiries.
I’d been tempted to use them in the past, but the idea of delegating this investigation to others felt a bit like failure to me.
It was silly. A man was dead. Any assistance in finding the murderer was only to the good.
I’d spoken with Trent’s family, and manager, and only yesterday the man whom he was suing, and still had no ideas who the culprit could be.
Professional assistance would be logical, but I didn’t have to like it.
“Wait.” Marcus paused, almost at the door. “Three of the agents are out of town on cases or visiting family. And Wallace and Grimes are both working a case for, well, someone of especial standing. We’re out of investigators.” He rubbed his knuckle into his eye. “I could—”
“No.” I rocked up on my toes, feeling suddenly light. “You need to stay here with your family. This matter concerns me, and I’ll deal with it.” I shot Jane a look of triumph. I wasn’t being unreasonable. Circumstances merely prevented me from accepting my nephew’s assistance.
Marcus nodded to his butler as he hurried to open the door. “Well, I could ask Summerset. He’s in town now.”
I took my walking stick from the butler and gripped its head.
“Absolutely not. The last time I visited that friend of yours, he was as nervous as a bluestocking in a country tavern. I know his wife is increasing with their first child, but he’s acting as though reproduction was a singular occurrence only known to the two of them. ”
“Would you expect anything less from Summerset?” Marcus arched an eyebrow.
“Never.” I pulled my thin shawl about my shoulders. “Now, you are certain you never met the victim?”
“Positive.” Marcus inclined his head. “I am practiced at remembering faces and names.”
“Of course.” I rolled up on my toes and kissed his bristly jaw. “Keep Summerset home with his wife. You stay home with yours. I will get on just fine.”
Jane accepted a small box from the butler and extended her farewells.
We climbed into my carriage. Once settled, Jane opened the box and took out one of the pastries. “I like Cook, but she just doesn’t make sweets like the duke’s kitchen.”
“Which is the reason my visits to Marcus are the only ones you still accompany me on,” I said dryly.
She was too busy chewing to reply.
“Well, that was unproductive.” I sank back on my seat.
The sway of the carriage eased the muscles in my back but my apprehension lingered.
I’d spoken with Trent’s family and business associates and felt as though I’d learned nothing.
I’d discovered reasons some might want Trent dead, but nothing to indicate anyone’s guilt.
But it was early yet in the investigation. I’d learned these endeavors had a rhythm all their own. Like a miner chipping at stone, if I kept at it, eventually I’d strike gold.
I watched as Jane pulled another pastry from the box. Perhaps today didn’t have to be a complete loss. Perhaps there was a mystery I could unravel.
I folded my hands over my lap. “So, Jane, how long have you had a tendre for our milkman?”
The explosion of dusted sugar that came from Jane’s mouth was most satisfying.