An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell #6) -Deanna Raybourn Page 0,93
he said, his lips twisting in distaste. “I cannot tell you how much I hated myself in that moment. A Duke of Lokendorf reduced to sitting with such a fellow, asking him for his forbearance! Supplicating, like a beggar. It was his idea to play these pranks upon Gisela, but I agreed and that fault is mine,” he said. There was sorrow in his eyes, and for the first time, I felt I saw the real character of the man.
“The favor you did for Gisela,” I said gently. “Was it to conceal her relationship with Alice Baker-Greene?”
Astonishment flickered in his eyes before he dropped his gaze. “I do not know what you mean, Fraulein. Gisela barely knew the woman.”
“They were lovers,” Stoker said. “We have seen evidence. A sketch in Alice’s own hand.”
Maximilian groaned. “I beg you, do not share this information. Whatever you think of me, and I understand it is very little, believe me when I tell you that Gisela does not deserve to be ruined for this.”
“We have no intention of ruining your princess,” I told him firmly. “Her private affections are none of our concern. But her whereabouts and Alice Baker-Greene’s murder are.”
He leveled his gaze at me. “Alice Baker-Greene fell off the Teufelstreppe.”
“After her rope was cut,” Stoker put in. “Furthermore, you know that is what happened because why else go to the Curiosity Club and steal the rope if not to remove evidence of the crime?”
He was silent a long moment. “I think I am tired now,” he said. “And this interview is at an end.”
“Did you cut that rope?” I demanded. “Did you kill Alice to eliminate your rival for Gisela’s affections? She was the obstacle to your marriage, was she not? Murdering her would have opened the way for you. Did you take it?”
“I did not,” he said, clipping the words sharply. “She was my friend. And whatever you think of me, I am no murderer.”
“But you might be an accomplice,” Stoker suggested.
The duke shied in his chair. “What do you mean?”
“He means that you and Gisela stole the rope from the club—rope that proves Alice was murdered. You helped her do it and you helped her get out of London,” I said.
He gaped at me. “You think Gisela killed her? For what reason?”
“I met Alice several months before her death,” I told him. “She was incandescently happy. She told me about moving to the Alpenwald, how she meant to make her permanent home there. And she was a very strong woman. If Gisela had wanted to break things off with her, turn her out of the Alpenwald, Alice would not have gone quietly. She would have stood her ground and made it impossible for you and Gisela to have married and begun a life together. Would that have been a happy life, do you think? Hochstadt is a very small city. You would have constantly seen Alice—a ghost of Gisela’s former life—and a liability if she ever chose to share her damnable story. You would never have been secure, not until she died.”
He listened in rapt attention, then burst out laughing until he wiped his eyes. “Oh, Fraulein. Whatever becomes of us all, I do hope you will take to writing stories. You have a prodigious imagination.”
He poured another glass of brandy and it was clear he intended to say no more. Before we left, I tried one final tack.
“Where did Gisela go that night?” I asked.
For a long minute, I thought he would refuse to answer, but at last he replied. “She did not tell me, I swear it.”
“I almost believe you,” Stoker told him.
Duke Maximilian hesitated, then reached into his pocket.
“Here, this is all that I know of her intentions—a railway timetable.”
Stoker took the timetable from the duke. It was a little grubby and marked with a pencil.
He traced the penciled line with a finger. It highlighted a train leaving late that evening from St. Pancras.
“Nothing more specific?” I asked.
The duke shook his head. “No. Make of that what you will.”
Stoker scoured the rest of the timetable. “We know from this that she must have been heading north, so that lets out Bristol or Southampton or the Continent, unless she meant to double back. If she were traveling directly, then she might have gone to Liverpool or Edinburgh.”
“From Edinburgh she might have traveled back to the Continent,” I surmised. “And from Liverpool, Ireland or even America.”
I turned to the duke.
“Why not show this to the chancellor or the baroness?”