Murder on Charles Street - Leighann Dobbs Page 0,55
didn’t prefer one as personal as the death of a friend. Dr. Gammon had been a solace to her when she’d moved out of her father’s house. She would get on without him, but it seemed unfair for him to have to die in such a way when he’d been such a delightful man, willing to help anyone who needed it.
Katherine frowned, recalling an earlier piece of the conversation. “You said you’ve only been in town for two days?”
If so, her arrival would have been the day Dr. Gammon’s body had been discovered. If so, Lord Westing could not possibly have killed Dr. Gammon!
Miss Finch nodded. “Yes.”
“And Lord Westing? Did he accompany you, or did he go on ahead?”
“He accompanied us. Papa made certain of that.” She bit her lip, looking nervous. “I usually wouldn’t be so forward, but you’ve been so nice. You see, Papa is hoping for a match, but I’m not so certain. Lord Westing seems a nice enough fellow, but I scarcely know him. I don’t want to marry the first man who looks at me, even if he has a title. Do you think I should discourage Lord Westing’s suit, if I’m not certain of him?”
Softening, Katherine reached over the wall that separated them and patted Miss Finch’s hand. “Listen to your instincts. Neither your father nor Lord Westing could possibly deny you the desire to get to know him better before you make a decision. I’m certain it will work out all right.”
Katherine didn’t know any such thing. Simply because her parents were liberally minded and didn’t mind her pursuing her independence instead of a husband did not mean that all parents treated their daughters in such a way. In fact, Katherine had often found that she was the aberration. Take Pru, for instance. Her mother had made it her business to seek Pru a wealthy husband. The fact that Pru had happened to fall in love with the man her mother had picked for her was a lucky coincidence.
But it wasn’t Katherine’s place to interfere, not unless the Finches hired her as a matchmaker. She certainly didn’t want to take on another matchmaking client. She’d learned everything she needed to about Lord Westing—namely, his innocence in the murder of Dr. Gammon. Now, she could enjoy the remainder of the play without feeling guilty over having accomplished nothing.
Wayland’s voice returned, muffled at first, but Katherine caught the tail end of the conversation. “…poor dear can’t even walk on her own. I’m lucky to have convinced her to leave the house this evening rather than resting her ankle.”
Katherine scowled. Who was he talking to about her?
She twisted in her seat to look at the curtain separating the box from the corridor. Wayland held it open, a glass of champagne in each hand. Lady Dalhousie and Miss Ball entered first, followed by another man. Katherine shut her mouth before she betrayed her surprise. It was Mr. Gammon.
As Wayland stepped into the box, Mr. Gammon at his heels, he caught Katherine’s gaze and winked. He had spread the rumor directly to one of the suspects! As Wayland crossed to her and offered the glass of champagne, he said, “I hope you don’t mind if we bring one more person to sit with us this evening. I found Mr. Gammon in the lobby and invited him to our box. He’s been gracious enough to escort Miss Ball.”
Katherine smiled. “I don’t mind at all.”
She took the champagne and sipped it as Wayland settled himself beside her. Lady Dalhousie took the seat next to him, and Miss Ball lowered herself next to her aunt. Last in the long line of bodies, Mr. Gammon sat next to the young woman and offered the other ladies the flutes of champagne he held. With so many bodies in between them, Katherine would never manage to get a word in edgewise to question him.
Oh, well. If Mr. Gammon had killed his father, then the foundation of his arrest had already been laid. He would certainly rise to the bait that Wayland had offered and come to her house to collect the evidence she had purportedly taken. No doubt, he would even come tonight after the theater.
Chapter Seventeen
Katherine gritted her teeth against the waves of mixed pain and cold. She tried not to grimace. “I don’t think it’s having much effect.”
Wayland sipped from the brandy in his tumbler and gave her ankle no more than a cursory glance from his position on the loveseat across