Who Speaks for the Damned (Sebastian St. Cyr #15) - C. S. Harris Page 0,69

Anne Hayes—was the wife of a dour, stout Yorkshire baron some fifteen years her senior. His lordship’s town house on Stratton Street was not large, but it was extremely well-appointed and richly furnished, thanks to her ladyship having outlived all three of her brothers and thus unexpectedly inheriting a handsome sum from her late father, the Second Earl. Sebastian knew these things because before approaching her, he stopped by Park Lane to talk to his aunt Henrietta.

“You didn’t ask about any sisters,” said the Dowager Duchess in response to Sebastian’s somewhat testy question. “I was under the impression you were interested in Seaforth’s sons because of the succession.” Which he had to admit was true.

“Are there other sisters?” asked Sebastian.

“She’s the only one who lived to come of age. If I remember correctly, she was six or seven years Nicholas’s senior, and was married and off in Yorkshire by the time he ran into trouble. Most of her children are grown, although I believe there may still be a girl in the schoolroom and a boy at Eton.”

“What’s she like?”

The Duchess pressed her lips together in an expression that told him more about her opinion of Lady Anne than words ever could. “To put it bluntly, she’s a sanctimonious, moralizing prude. I’ve no doubt that if she’d been born into a bourgeois household she’d be one of the Chapham Sect. I swear, they’re proliferating these days. If they have their way, we’ll all have to give up dancing and playing cards, and start fainting at the mere mention of a piano’s ‘legs.’”

“She doesn’t sound like the kind of person Nicholas would approach for help.”

“Not if he knew his sister—and one assumes he did.”

“Perhaps she was different when she was younger.”

“Oh, no, she’s always been like that. Most of the Hayes family are.” She gave a disdainful huff. “A bunch of insufferable killjoys that range from the merely unimaginative to the profoundly hypocritical.”

“What’s Lord Bradbury like?”

“Much the same. But then, he’s from Yorkshire, and the family never used to be very flush. Needless to say, the match was far from brilliant for an earl’s daughter, even if Seaforth’s title was of only recent origin and Irish to boot. And I see that smile on your face, Sebastian, and I know what you’re thinking, but these things do matter. My point is, she didn’t make a particularly good marriage because at the time all three of her brothers were alive and her dowry was rather small. But in the end she came into an unexpectedly large inheritance when her father died.”

“Which means she was either lucky or unlucky, depending on how one looks at it.”

“Oh, believe me, she imagines herself to be most unlucky. Those kind always do. I’ll be surprised if she agrees to see you. Most people know by now that you’re looking into Nicholas’s murder, and Lady Anne likes to pretend he never existed.” She glanced at the ormolu clock on the drawing room mantel. “And now you must go away and leave me in peace so that I can dress for Lady Cartwright’s dinner in honor of the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg. The vast majority of the visiting Allied Sovereigns are dead bores, but I admit to finding the Tsar’s sister entertaining—in the same way that one is amused by a fireworks display.”

“I thought they were all up at Oxford for the next couple of days.”

“Most of them are. But the Grand Duchess has elected to remain in London, hence tonight’s dinner.” The clock began to strike the hour, and she stood up and shooed her hands at him. “Now go away.”

* * *

Sebastian’s knock at Lady Bradbury’s door was answered by a gaunt-faced butler who looked dubious when Sebastian presented his card, but bowed and went away to see if her ladyship was receiving visitors. He came back almost immediately with her ladyship’s apologies. Lady Bradbury would shortly be preparing for an evening at Drury Lane and was thus unable to see him.

“Drury Lane? How fortuitous. Please tell her ladyship that since she can’t see me now, I’ll make it a point to find her at the theater later this evening. I have some important questions about her brother I’m looking forward to asking her, and will try not to inaccommodate her too much.” The butler’s eyes widened in alarm as Sebastian gave one of his nastier smiles. “You will give her ladyship my message, won’t you?”

He turned away and walked slowly back to his curricle. He’d

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