constable, so I won’t see you at dinner,” he said.
He’d expected some sort of protest, but she nodded. “Perhaps it would be better if we sleep in our own beds tonight?”
“That’s probably sensible.” It was the truth, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t felt a pang of disappointment at her words.
“You can’t solve a murder on too little sleep.”
Eversham bit back a smile. Ever the practical one, his Katherine.
“Besides,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “We’ll need to be well rested for the trip to Crossmere.”
She was going to be furious when she found he’d gone without her, Eversham reflected as he watched her walk away.
But he had a job to do, and at least here at Thornfield, he’d know she’d be safe.
Chapter Nineteen
Kate wasn’t surprised that conversation at dinner that evening revolved around the murder of Mr. Green.
The murder of an acquaintance would upset anyone, but when the deed had occurred mere hours after you’d seen the person, there was an added layer of alarm.
“I suppose this means the order I discussed with him won’t be possible now,” said Barton pettishly as he dug into his soup.
Well, for some people it was alarming, Kate thought wryly.
“Somehow I don’t think Green’s shop will be back to regular business this week, Barton.” It was unlikely the American recognized the hint of mockery in Valentine’s tone. The man was oblivious to conversational subtlety, Kate had found.
“When will that beastly detective allow us to leave?” demanded Lady Eggleston. “We’re going to be murdered in our beds! It’s perfectly obvious none of us is the killer. It’s insulting to suggest otherwise.”
“I’ve engaged extra security for the house,” Val assured the countess. “Though I don’t believe there is any risk to us, I do want to ensure that you all feel safe while you are here.”
Miss Barton looked visibly relieved. “You do not know how much I appreciate your kindness, Lord Valentine.”
Genevieve, who was seated to Kate’s right, said in an undertone, “They needn’t worry. I believe the killer is long gone. It would be mad to remain here when every able-bodied man in the county is looking for him.”
Before Kate could respond, Mr. Thompson, who was seated on her other side, spoke up. “I don’t know, Lady Genevieve. Perhaps hiding in plain sight would be the better choice.”
“There’s a thought,” Genevieve said approvingly. “If I were writing the story, I would definitely give that notion serious consideration. After all, he would be able to stay one step ahead of the investigation. Depending on his reasons for killing, he might even lay a false trail to lead the police astray.”
“This isn’t an amusement, Lady Genevieve,” chided Lord Eggleston. “This fiend has killed twice.”
“But surely, my lord,” Caro said from her seat across the table, “when we speak of things like this, it takes a bit of the killer’s power away from him.”
The earl made a noise of skepticism.
“I should have expected such a sentiment from the author of A Lady’s Guide,” Lady Eggleston said dismissively. “You treat murder as if it were a game. And discuss topics that no lady of proper upbringing would ever deign to raise in polite conversation.”
Kate forbore from pointing out that she was discussing such a topic right now.
“I’d almost forgotten we have experts with us.” Mr. Thompson turned to Kate. “Perhaps you could tell us your thoughts, Lady Katherine and Miss Hardcastle. You interviewed the witness who saw the murderer, didn’t you? What have you to say about the matter?”
“I wouldn’t say one conversation with a witness makes us any more qualified to discuss the case than anyone else.” Kate met Caro’s eyes across the table. “While it is true that we have followed the case from the beginning, our impressions are likely no different than the next person’s.”
“And what are those impressions?” Thompson seemed genuinely interested.
Caro, who had been listening to the whole exchange, spoke up before Kate could find her words. “The ugly truth is this: At any moment, any one of us could have our life snuffed out. It’s as simple as that.”
Jim Hyde, Valentine’s prizefighter, had been listening to the conversation silently while he ate his dinner, but now he set down his wineglass with a laugh. “The lady isn’t wrong.”
“But it’s not polite to discuss it,” Lady Eggleston said, frustration ringing in her voice.
Kate had endured enough London parties with ladies like the countess, who thought it was their mission in life to police the