A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,108

in interest.

“What do you mean?” Gage said.

“During our conversation yesterday, Lady Helmswick mentioned that a few months ago her husband had returned to Haddington rather unexpectedly, a week before he was scheduled to do so, and solely for the purpose of attending the funeral of a local woman.”

Bree gave a little gasp at the implication.

“Now, she didn’t know for certain. Or didn’t admit to it anyway. But she suspected that woman had been his mistress. She told me she found the entire matter to be decidedly odd. Particularly when you consider the fact that the earl was not known for his sensibility or courtesy.”

“And yet he interrupted his travels and pleasures to hasten back to his dead mistress’s graveside.” Gage’s voice thrummed with the same skepticism I felt.

“I suppose it’s possible he loved her,” I argued for the sake of fairness.

“But if so, why did Helmswick keep mistresses in London, Paris, and who else knows where?” Trevor replied. “A wife would be one thing, supposing the mistress was of lowly birth and so not of sufficient rank for a man of such consequence as the Earl of Helmswick to marry.” We were all aware of the expectations and snobbery of our class. “But to keep other mistresses besides?” He scowled. “That doesn’t sound like a man in love.”

“Whatever the case, I’m beginning to suspect Lord John failed to share everything that Mr. Renton told him on his visit to Sunlaws,” Gage declared, his scowl aimed at Anderley’s letter.

“Indeed,” I said. “Why would Lord Helmswick continue to receive a belligerent Mr. Renton if his only purpose in visiting him was to hound him for the money he owed him?”

His gaze met mine. “Perhaps we need to have another conversation with the duchess’s fourth son.” He flinched as a bugle blast suddenly rent the air. “After dinner, that is.”

Trevor surged to his feet. “That’s our cue to dress for dinner, is it not? I’d best be off so I have time to wash this dust off me, or else Shep will finally follow through on his threats to resign. Just let me know what else I can do,” he called over his shoulder.

I smiled fondly at my brother’s back. Trevor’s valet might feel his talents were wasted on my brother, who could care less what was fashionable and what was not, but he was undeniably loyal, and his threats so much blather.

Rising myself, I led Bree into my bedchamber. I sank down on the dressing stool, removing the sling cradling my right arm while she pulled my pale blue gown with white lace overlay at the center of the skirt and around the hem from the wardrobe. I hadn’t the slightest preference for which frock I would wear that night. I supposed in terms of sartorial sense, Trevor and I were much alike.

Moving to stand behind me, she began to remove the pins from my coiffure, which per usual, was already threatening to unravel. Though her gaze remained trained on my unruly tresses, I could see the concern tightening the corners of her mouth, and feel her apprehension in the sharpness of her movements.

“You’re worried about Anderley, aren’t you?” I asked softly, my own anxiety bubbling up in my breast over the news he’d shared about the cholera outbreak.

Her gaze lifted briefly to meet mine in the reflection of the mirror, but it was several moments before she spoke. “I do hope he’ll take care, m’ lady.”

I released a tight breath. “I do, too, Bree. I do, too.”

* * *

* * *

Dinner was served in the less ostentatious family dining room, where we’d gathered just four days prior to slice the Twelfth Night cake and crown the Lord of Misrule and his Lady. In some ways it was a shock to realize such a short time had elapsed, but in others not. Given all that had happened, I still felt like we were only beginning to uncover the truth. Yet there was a sense that a clock was ticking down, that we were running out of time. And not just to the formal inquest, which Rodgers could not delay much longer. But to some other unforeseen event for which I felt unprepared. And that was probably the most unnerving of all.

The duke and duchess’s entire family was gathered—save the second son, Lord Richard, and his wife—as well as the duke and duchess’s lovers, and Marsdale, Trevor, Gage, and me. Most of the guests from the Twelfth Night Ball had decamped, but there