at the castle, and whether it was kept empty in his absence or another guest was sleeping there.
Lady Helmswick herself opened the door, a coy smile stretching her lips. “Did you forget . . . oh!” She stammered to a stop. “Lady Darby, it’s you.” She hesitated, her eyes searching mine. “Won’t you come in?”
I stepped through the door into a sitting room decorated to appear like a garden cottage. Dainty furniture with cabriolet legs and wheat-colored upholstery or rush seats were covered in pillows with cheerful floral patterns or topped with vases bursting with flowers. Even the bare stone walls of the castle had not been plastered over, as if to imitate the walls of a courtyard spilling over with ivy. Between these sprays of greenery hung a number of wide mirrors and landscapes depicting the southern provinces of France. While above, the ceiling was painted a pale robin-egg blue.
I had to admit it was a charming effect. Though it lost some of its appeal when I saw her brother, Lord John, seated on one of the chairs. I held nothing against Lord John. In truth, I rather liked him. But I had hoped to speak with Lady Helmswick on her own.
Had the duchess known her son—one of them, in any case—would be here with Lady Helmswick? Was that why she had allowed me to visit her alone? Or was I being unreasonably suspicious?
If Lady Helmswick hadn’t been precisely happy to see me, Lord John seemed almost dyspeptic. He pushed to his feet, tugging at his mulberry-hued frock coat, while his features flickered between a tight smile and a pained grimace as he greeted me. It was a feeling I knew well, for I suspected my face had sported the same expressions on innumerable social occasions when I had wished to be anywhere else.
“Sit, please,” Lady Helmswick exclaimed, gesturing with her hands as she plunked down onto the pale green upholstered settee. Her gaze flickered over my rather plain blue-green morning dress with its simple scalloped lace trim. It was a stark contrast to her pine-needle green gown with buttons marching down the front bordered by a diamond pattern, a high collar, and enormous gigot sleeves. “Is there . . . news?” she asked, recognizing the significance of my visit.
“Yes, and no,” I began hesitantly, trying to decipher from her demeanor what would be the best way to proceed. “I don’t wish to alarm you unnecessarily, and we don’t want to make any claims that are unsubstantiated. At least, as much as they can be.” I glanced between the brother and sister. Their eyes both displayed varying degrees of anxiety. “But we have not found any evidence that suggests the body found in the crypt could not be Lord Helmswick.”
She blinked at me for a moment and then inhaled sharply, almost as if she’d forgotten to breathe. “Does that mean you’ve found evidence that suggests it might be?”
Lord John’s hands tightened where they rested on the dark trousers covering his thighs.
“The man’s boots. They are rather distinctive. Mr. Gage will be joining us shortly with them, and you will be able to tell us for yourself whether you recognize them.”
She nodded.
“Also, his clothing was obviously that of a gentleman. A deep blue coat of superfine, smoke gray waistcoat, and dark trousers. Does that sound like something your husband would wear?”
She lifted a hand to her forehead, but then lowered it again, as if she didn’t know what to do with it. “Yes, it does. But it is a rather common ensemble, is it not?”
“It is,” I conceded.
“Then that’s not proof of anything,” Lord John interjected, his brow furrowing.
“It’s not proof of identity, no. But it’s also not disproof.” I glanced between them. “You understand, that is the difficulty we are currently working with.”
Realization flickered over Lady Helmswick’s features, a ripple of shocked distress and then she managed to regain control of her emotions, once more concealing them behind a mask of mild concern.
I shifted in my hard chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “What of your husband’s appearance? Was there anything notable about his skin, particularly on his chest?” I voiced hesitantly, the question being somewhat awkward to frame in front of her brother. “Or his teeth?” I hastened to add. “Were they distinctive in any way?”
Lady Helmswick cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know what you mean about his chest. In truth, I’m not all that familiar with his body.”
This wasn’t altogether surprising. Regardless, the markings I’d