A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,119

woman I’d seen sitting on a bench in Hyde Park one day. She’d looked so sorrowful, so forlorn, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had etched the sadness in her eyes. No one else paid her even the barest flicker of attention, such that when she caught me looking at her, I think I shocked her.” My mouth curled in self-deprecation. “I know I disconcerted her, for she collected her things and hurried away.

“I called the painting ‘Portrait of a Forgotten Woman.’ And I wonder if . . . maybe your father was willing to pay so dearly for it because it reminded him of your mother. Of what he’d done to her. If maybe, in his own way, he’s still mourning her.” I continued to gaze out the window, allowing time for Marsdale to consider this and either accept or discard it as he wished.

A few moments later, he came forward to stand beside me, his posture slightly more relaxed. He didn’t address the matter of his father, and I was content for him not to, instead turning his attention back to the matter of our inquest. “You’re certain the body isn’t Helmswick’s, then?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t react, but I could still sense the turmoil roiling inside him. It was stamped in the watchfulness of his gaze in the reflection of the window, in the twitching of his fingers at his sides, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Do you know who it is?”

I turned toward him then, and he twisted his head to meet my penetrating gaze. “A man named Patrick Renton. Have you ever heard of him?”

He shook his head somewhat reluctantly, and I wondered whether his hesitance stemmed from the fact that he was lying, or because he was questioning whether he should admit to knowing him even though he didn’t.

“Apparently, he was the brother of one of Helmswick’s mistresses. She died after the earl forced her to rid herself of his child. Renton followed Helmswick here to blackmail him, but the earl had already left.” I searched his tight expression, trying to decipher whether he’d known anything about this prior to my telling him. I would have expected some sort of derisive quip if he had, but he remained silent. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Nothing I can tell you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I suppressed a sigh of exasperation. Back to this, were we? “Then I suppose you also refuse to tell me why you suspected Lady Helmswick of killing her husband?”

Marsdale scowled. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. It was obvious you were trying to protect her.”

“Maybe I was trying to protect her from a false accusation.”

I narrowed my eyes at the implied insult. “Have you ever known me to make a false accusation?”

“No,” he admitted. “Though your husband has made an error or two in judgment.” He was clearly referring to our first investigation together, when Gage had initially believed me to be the murderer, and then accused Charlotte of the crime, before being urged by me to continue inquiring. “And I’m told the local procurator fiscal is not an admirer of the duke.”

I couldn’t deny this, for I’d uncovered the same about Mr. Rodgers. In truth, I was surprised the gentleman had not inserted himself more into our inquiry, despite his agreement not to. At the least, I’d expected him to demand a report on our progress, but unless Gage had kept such a nuisance to himself, thus far the procurator fiscal had remained true to his word. However, his indulgence would not last forever. A coroner’s inquest would have to convene. And though a verdict of “willful murder against some person unknown” could be granted, having a definitive identity for the corpse and a suspect would be better. Otherwise, they might decide it was easier to ascribe the entire incident to some nameless tramp falling and hitting his head, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Particularly now that Helmswick was almost certainly not the victim.

“Well, I’m not about to let that happen. Not if it’s within my power,” I promised.

“And if it’s not?” he countered.

“Then it will be within the duke’s. Besides,” I hastened to say before he could dispute that as well, “from everything we know thus far, Eleanor didn’t even know Renton had followed her husband to Sunlaws, let alone have any motive to want to kill him.”

I could see the thoughts flitting through his dark eyes as he tried to figure out what I knew, and