and toast, and as she found a place at the table, she noted that she was among the last to be seated.
“I trust you were able to sleep after that horrible policeman’s intrusive questions?” continued Lady Eggleston, her mouth pursed with distaste. “If I’d known we’d be treated like criminals, I never would have accepted this invitation.”
“Come now, Countess,” said Val from where he sat at the head of the table, “I hardly consider Mr. Eversham’s questions as bad as that. He merely asked you to recount what happened on the walk.”
“Much too polite, if you ask me.” Barton forked eggs into his face with the gusto of a blacksmith shoveling coal. “In New York, our police aren’t afraid to ruffle a few feathers. They don’t hold with tiptoeing around society folk.”
This was met with a gasp from Lady Eggleston, and even her husband, the earl, who was taciturn at his most talkative, uttered a heartfelt “I say.”
“I, for one,” Kate said mildly, “think it’s clever of Mr. Eversham to gather the facts before he begins making accusations. After all, we want the actual culprit apprehended, do we not?”
“Indeed, we do, Lady Katherine.” Miss Barton, who had remained quiet throughout the conversation, blushed, as if she disliked calling attention to herself. To Kate’s surprise, she then addressed her father. “Papa, you must admit that the police in New York are quite deferential to our class of people—as you well know from the beating they gave our groom when they mistook him for that escaped convict. It’s those without influence or wealth upon whom they visit their most violent tactics.”
Kate’s estimation of the young lady rose several degrees.
“I know enough, daughter,” Barton said gruffly. “But like everyone else I want this fiend captured before he kills us all in our beds.”
“Mr. Eversham is an experienced detective.” Kate was not unaware of the irony that she was the one defending Eversham against criticism. And yet, she did trust him to do a better job here than Adolphus Wargrove, for example. Eversham had the good sense to recognize when important steps in the investigation process were being skipped in order to rush to a hasty result. “He is renowned throughout the nation for his solutions to some very complicated crimes.”
“You haven’t been his greatest supporter, though, have you, Lady Katherine?” Mr. Thompson, who had watched the ongoing conversation in silence, narrowed his eyes as he posed his question, as if trying to gauge whether his barb landed. “Didn’t you insinuate in your interview with the witness in the Betsy Creamer murder that Eversham had failed to interview her first?”
Hearing a reader throw her own criticism of Eversham—which at the time she’d thought was just—back at her made Kate cringe inwardly. “You’re not wrong about my criticism, Mr. Thompson. However, my issues with certain actions on Mr. Eversham’s part don’t mean that I think him incompetent. Indeed, quite the opposite. I would not expect so much of him if I didn’t think he was more than capable of greatness.”
“I’m not sure what to think, Lady Katherine. After all, Scotland Yard was able to find the killer thanks to your interview with the witness. He’s locked up in jail awaiting trial right now, isn’t he?” Thompson shook his head. “And yet, poor Mr. Jones was killed here in a manner eerily similar to that of the other Commandments killings.”
“It is troubling, Mr. Thompson, make no mistake.” Kate wasn’t sure how to reconcile the man’s questions. Everything he’d said was true. All they could do was let Eversham do his work and hopefully find the real killer.
“I suppose I shall have to mark your change of heart about Eversham down to the mysteries of the female mind.” Thompson smiled. Kate thought she heard a note of mockery in his tone, but his expression was guileless.
“There’s no mystery there, Thompson.” Barton guffawed. “The mind of a lady isn’t complicated at all. It just needs a bit of praise every now and then. Indeed, I suspect that dwelling on such dark topics has overset Lady Katherine’s nerves a bit, eh?”
“Must I remind you, Mr. Barton, that I am seated at this table?” Kate counted to three in her mind to prevent herself from speaking any more harshly to the man. It would do her case no good to become visibly incensed by his nonsense. He would merely state that she’d proved his point.
“Oh, I do know it, Lady Katherine.” Barton had the temerity to wink at her, and