Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Philippa closed her fingers into a fist and gummed it, her saucer-like blue eyes gazing up at Audrey.
The baby lay upon the carpet in the nursery, leftover tears from her earlier fit still sparkling on her long, thick lashes.
Genie and Michael’s little girl now babbled happily, all past distress forgotten.
How easily that was achieved when one was only four months old.
The most arduous thing little Pippa needed to work on was rolling from her back onto her front.
“You nearly have it,” Audrey encouraged as Pippa kicked her tiny feet and wriggled. Philippa had completely stolen her heart. Little George had too, of course, but Audrey had spent more time with the new baby, considering that she was living under the same roof.
Though, not for much longer.
She grasped Pippa’s bare foot and lifted it to her lips, giving it a kiss.
The baby gurgled some more. Spending time with Genie and Michael’s children was nearly the only thing Audrey enjoyed about living at Violet House, and she would be sorry to be parted from them.
But the thrill she felt when she pictured the front of 37 Berkeley Square and how Hugh had dropped to one knee, obliterated any possible regret.
She’d been honest when she’d said Violet House had never felt like home.
Not when Philip had been here and certainly not now.
It was time to move on. And there it was again: the small twinge in her chest that had grown in size and strength over the last few months whenever she thought of Philip.
She’d noticed it shortly after returning to London after the events in Dover, but it had taken a little while for her to understand the cause.
Lord St. John had designed his murderous plot with the intent of luring Philip out from wherever he’d gone on the Continent.
With the Dowager Duchess of Fournier accused of murder at first, and then ultimately, going missing, the news was bound to reach into the country where Philip and Freddie Walker had absconded.
St. John had been willing to wait months if necessary for Philip to return to England, perhaps under some disguise and with a new name.
But he hadn’t. It had been four months since Audrey had sent St. John into the depths of the Dover harbor, never to resurface, while defending her own life.
Four months since newspapers in France had printed the lurid story of the duchess accused of poisoning a fellow traveler on her packet ship, and then being involved in yet another murder in Dover, this time of a Baron of the Cinque Ports.
She’d stewed with worry that he would hear about the trouble and try to return home, but now, she had started to hope he would at least write.
He’d promised to send word once he and Freddie had settled.
It had been a full year now. Wasn’t that time enough?
There were moments when it struck her like a slap across the cheek that perhaps he had been placating her with that promise.
That he’d never planned to write. That he was out of her life forever.
And with his syphilis fevers, she worried some more.
What if one had overtaken him? What if he could not get medical help?
Philippa grew blurry as her eyes stung and watered, the little girl utterly oblivious to the turmoil coiling inside her aunt. Everyone else had already spent a full year mourning Philip. Yet now that her official mourning was over, she had the oddest sensation that it was truly just beginning.
She thumbed away a tear that had slipped free from her lashes and rolled down her cheek. “Gracious, now I’m like you,” she murmured to the baby, who only cooed in response.
With Michael and Genie attending a dinner party soon, it would be a quiet evening at Violet House.
The time alone to sort out the last few days was much needed.
A tenuous link had started to form between Vauxhall, Mr. Givens, and the disturbing new information in Bethany Silas’s case.
She’d been at the pleasure gardens with Mr. Comstock, who had then taken her to the Seven Sins, Mr. Givens’s place of employment.
Then, the strange carriage in Audrey’s vision with the inverted cross…
could it be linked to this patently unvirtuous Sanctuary society?
Murder and a missing young lady weren’t the only things that had sent her mind spinning off in all directions that day.
Hugh’s proposal continued to reduce her into a puddle of pleasure whenever it crossed her mind—and it did, often.
He’d procured a special license. He’d searched for and found a home for them.
This time next year, it was entirely possible they would have their own baby.
As she reclined on one elbow on her side next to Pippa, she felt her heart squeeze with wonder.
The idea of seeing Hugh holding a child…
their child…it was overwhelming. What she needed to do was simply focus on right now, on finding Bethany Silas, especially if she wanted to enjoy her wedding night and the days following without any concerns niggling at the back of her mind.
“You are far away.”
Audrey sat up, startled to see Genie standing within the entrance to the nursery. Her sister-in-law smiled at her as she continued into the room.
“How long have you been standing there?” Audrey asked.
“Long enough to suspect that infatuated grin of yours wasn’t directed solely at my precious Philippa,” she replied, giving Audrey a playful wink. Naming the little girl after Philip had been a sweet gesture, one that Michael had suggested.
Audrey had not mentioned the special license or the trip to Berkeley Square just yet.
She and Genie were as close as sisters, but Genie would leap into action to plan the wedding for as soon as possible if she knew Hugh had officially proposed.
Explaining that she and Hugh couldn’t marry until this investigation concluded would not be received well.
Audrey stood up and brushed the seat of her skirt as Genie crouched to pick up the baby.
“Where is Tamara?” Genie asked.
“In the kitchen. I offered to look after Pippa for a short while.”
The nursemaid had been grateful for the reprieve. Philippa was already beginning to teeth and had been irritable for days.
“Are you quite sure you won’t come with us tonight?” Genie asked. She was ready to depart for the evening, dressed in a lavish, pale green dinner gown of silk taffeta. With her blonde ringlets and ocean green eyes, the color was especially fetching.
“Lady Beauchamp was rather vocal about your invitation,” she added. Genie had not yet informed the countess that Audrey would not be attending, still hoping she would change her mind.
“I’m sorry, I wish I wasn’t so exhausted.
” It wasn’t a lie; she was done in, and she was sorry that Genie would be disappointed.
Genie sighed but was too good natured to continue complaining.
Instead, she did what she usually did: thought of other people first. “Has there been any word about that young man, Sir?”
Audrey shook her head. “Not yet. Hugh is worried about him.”
So was she. If only there was some clue as to where he’d gone, like there was for Bethany. Hugh had gone out the night before, into Whitechapel and toward the docks. He’d looked drained that afternoon at Gunter’s.
“It is awful that the boy saw his father like that,” Genie said as she bounced Pippa on her hip. Audrey quickly placed a linen over Genie’s shoulder and bodice, to prevent any spit-up from landing on her gown. “And that his father may be connected to the other murders too… It is horrifying.”
As expected, the other publications in London had latched onto the story in The Morning Post and had published their own versions.
“I am certain Sir will return to Lord Neatham,” Genie said. “He is devoted to the viscount.”
“And the viscount is devoted to him,” Audrey replied.
He would not stop trying to find Sir. He’d likely go out again tonight, to another part of London’s underbelly, after he paid the Seven Sins a visit.
He’d left her at Violet House earlier with a promise to inform her what he learned there about Mr. Comstock’s and Miss Silas’s visit—and with a firm refusal to bring her with him to the gaming hell.
She had already been there once before, and in all honesty, had no wish to visit twice.
Tamara returned and whisked the baby from the duchess’s arms just moments before Pippa hiccupped and spit up. Genie only looked longingly at her baby.
“I would love to stay home tonight, too. The dinner is going to be dreadfully dull with everyone discussing politics. And Cassie has her musicale to attend, so I will be entirely alone,” she sighed. “Even the wives comment on politics, and I find myself feeling inadequate.”
“You are not inadequate,” Audrey replied, exasperated. This wasn’t the first time her sister-in-law had confessed to feeling out of her depth as a duchess. Audrey always had as well.
“Perhaps I should have an opinion on what they are saying,” Genie said as she walked back toward the door.
“I think any opinion should not be forced to the surface over some misplaced feeling of inadequacy,” Audrey replied.
“I suppose. And the princess is so outspoken, I doubt I could get a word in edgewise anyhow.”
Interest sharpened Audrey’s attention. “Princess?”
“Prince Paul’s wife, Princess Esterhazy.”
She followed Genie to the door. “The Austrian ambassador?”
“You’ve met?” Genie asked, appearing surprised.
“Not quite.” Audrey laced her fingers together, her mind charging forward. The slain Lord Stromburg had been visiting Prince Paul. Perhaps there would be a chance to speak to him at the dinner.
Audrey licked her lips. “I think I would like to go after all.”
The change of heart was done without an ounce of polish, and Genie frowned at her. “I’m concerned as to why.”