Night Storm (23 page)

“Find anything of interest?” he asked, directing his question to Blackburne.

“A dark thread beneath the middle finger on her right hand.”

“Charley,” Cameron said quietly.

“Yes?”

“Did Mr. Blackburne answer your questions?”

“As best he could, given the circumstances.”

Cameron lifted a brow, clearly expecting more of an answer.

“Until I see the murder scene and speak to witnesses,” Blackburne said, “I’m unable to give a professional opinion on the facial laceration and the thread. However, I think it’s safe to say the bruising around her throat likely occurred when her assailant yanked something—a necklace, perhaps—from her neck.”

“Pardon me, sir,” a female voice said from behind them.

A maidservant hunkered close to the wall, her anxious gaze snapping among the three of them.

Breaking away from their semicircle, Charlotte took two cautious steps toward the young woman. “Yes?” When the maid hesitated, she gentled her voice while moving even closer. “Do you have a message for one of us?”

“Mr. Granston sent me to speak with Mr. Adair.”

“And you are?”

“Alice, ma’am. Lady’s maid to her ladyship.” She dug out a handkerchief from her sleeve. “Or w-was.”

Charlotte caught Cameron’s eye before wrapping a comforting arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

“W-what happened to her wasn’t right. You couldn’t have found a kinder soul in London.”

“Did you serve Lady Winthrop long?”

She nodded. “Since the year after my mistress married the baron. He didn’t like how close his new wife was to her longtime lady’s maid. So he sacked her and hired me.”

“Goodness.” Charlotte had no idea how else to respond. “How awful.”

“It wasn’t the first time he broke my mistress’s heart.” Alice shoved the damp handkerchief back up her sleeve and lifted her chin. “Although we never let on in front of him, my mistress and I became very close.”

The servant’s last comment made Charlotte’s pulse race. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cameron and Joseph had moved within hearing range. They seemed content to allow her to ask the maid questions, so she continued.

“Do you know why Granston asked you to speak with Mr. Adair?”

“Yes,” she said, distracted. “I overheard what the three of you were discussing.”

“What part?”

“About the bruises on her ladyship’s throat.”

“Do you recall fastening a necklace about Lady Winthrop’s throat the morning of her death?”

Lowering her gaze, the lady’s maid bit her trembling lips. “My mistress was a good person.”

“Of course, she was.” Charlotte rubbed soothing circles on Alice’s upper back.

“The baron has changed so much in the last several years.” She peered up at Charlotte. “You might have noticed the smell.”

Indeed, she had. How anyone could stand to live under Winthrop’s roof was beyond Charlotte. Her nostrils had not stopped burning since she entered this house.”

Charlotte sent the maid a knowing smile. “How else has his lordship changed?”

Alice flicked a glance toward Cameron and Blackburne. She lowered her voice. “Even in the early days of their marriage, his lordship would rush back to his bedchamber after being intimate with his wife. His valet would always have a tub of hot water available for the baron to cleanse away the ‘feminine filth,’ as he called it. After carrying two babes in the womb but having them taken by the Lord, it became evident my mistress would not bear a child, so his lordship’s marital visits stopped. A great relief to them both.”

“I should say so.”

“But the loneliness near drove my mistress mad. She loved people and music and plays and riding in the park. Everything, really.”

“Is that when she began her patronage of the Augusta Theatre?”

Alice’s face brightened a little. “They loved her there, and she became more her old self under their attention.”

An uncomfortable knot of unease formed low in Charlotte’s stomach.

Thankfully, Cameron picked that moment to chime in, because she didn’t know if her voice would work.

“How did Lord Winthrop respond to her friendships at the theater?”

“Not well, sir. They argued something fierce every time she announced her intent to go to the there.” Alice shook her head. “His lordship’s reaction made no sense. He wanted nothing to do with her, yet he would not allow anyone else in her life.”

From experience, Charlotte knew how fragile and volatile male pride could be. Add a dose of instability or a compulsive nature to the mix, and one could witness any number of rash actions.

“The necklace your mistress wore the day of her murder.” Blackburne paused long enough for the maid to nod in confirmation. “What did it look like?”

“A long, sturdy gold chain carrying a locket in the shape of a heart. The heart had a small diamond in the center.”

“Where did she come by this piece of jewelry?”

“I’m not sure. She came home with it one night and made me promise never to speak of it.” Alice swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t have now, but Mr. Granston said I could trust Mr. Adair and that if I knew anything to help find her ladyship’s killer, I should share it with him.” Her eyes widened in horror as she met Cameron’s gaze. “But Mr. Granston didn’t say anything about these other two.”

“It’s all right, Alice,” Cameron said. “Mrs. Fielding and Mr. Blackburne are my friends and want to find your mistress’s killer as much as I.”

Alice all but wilted with relief. “Good. That’s good.”

“How did Lady Winthrop seem when she came home with her secret necklace?” Cameron asked.

“More happy than I had seen her in a long, long time.”

“Where had she been the first evening she brought the necklace home?” Blackburne asked. “How long ago did this happen?”

“About a fortnight ago, I believe, and she had attended a play at the Augusta.”

Charlotte shared a look with first Cameron, then Joseph. “Did she ever give any indication as to who gave her the necklace?”

“She never spoke a name.”

The maid’s expression grew pensive, and Charlotte thought she caught a glimpse of hurt.

“Earlier, you mentioned that you and Lady Winthrop were close. Do you know why she kept this particular secret from you?”

“I’ve been mulling over that question a lot, especially after her ladyship’s death. She might have confided in Lady Bentondorf instead.”

“No,” Cameron said. “I spoke to the viscountess on Monday. After a bit of coaxing, she admitted to believing her friend had been engaged in some scandalous, illicit behavior that made her exceedingly happy. But she could tell me nothing specific.”

“Oh.” Alice’s gaze shifted worriedly, as though former images and conversations converged on her faster than she could decipher. Perhaps struggling with the confirmation that her mistress had taken a lover?

“What’s bothering you, Alice?”

“I’m not sure,” the maid admitted. “If my mistress didn’t share the details of her admirer with Lady Bentondorf or me, she must have been concerned we would not have approved.”

“Lady Bentondorf did mention she thought her friend was ‘unconventional,’” Cameron said.

“An actor, or someone equally below her social ranking?” Blackburne offered.

“No.” Alice shook her head. “Her secrecy had to have been for a far more wicked reason than class difference. But I can’t think what.”

Charlotte squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Put it out of your head for now, Alice. Perhaps something will come to you after you’ve given the subject a rest for a while.”

“I will try, ma’am.”

Blackburne held out a card to the maid. “Should you think of a reason, send word to my office.”

She accepted the card with trembling fingers. “Yes, sir.”

To Cameron, he said, “I would like to hear more about what Lady Bentondorf—and anyone else you’ve had an opportunity to interview—had to say.”

“I have a meeting after this. Would tomorrow morning suit?”

“Of course.” Blackburne shifted his attention to Charlotte. “My meeting with Lord Winthrop shouldn’t take long. Will you wait, or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“I should get back to the shop.”

To Cameron, Blackburne said, “You’ll see Charlotte home?”

“Of course.”

Blackburne smiled at Charlotte. “You did well today. May I lean on you again in the future, should the need arise?”

“I’m honored you think so. Please, call on me anytime.”

Blackburne took his leave, as did Alice.

“Wait for me here,” Cameron said to Charlotte. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He hurried to intercept the maid, and then guided her farther along the corridor, speaking in low tones near the young woman’s ear.

Charlotte experienced a stab of something unpleasant in the center of her chest. The pain increased when she saw him slip a small object into Alice’s hand. She whirled away, unable to bear the scene any longer.

Although she had done well not to dwell upon all the women Cameron had surely bedded in her absence these last few years, seeing him so cozy with the maid brought back all those ugly thoughts to the surface. By the time Cameron’s strong fingers curled around her to support her arm, she had already started on the last flight of stairs.

“Where are you running off to?” he asked.

“I’m not running anywhere. I was attempting to give you some privacy.”

“Privacy?” The area between his eyes folded together in confusion. Then his gaze strayed up the stairs before returning to her face.

He would not find the answers he sought. Charlotte made sure her features revealed none of the chaos churning within.

Even so, his too-tempting mouth stretched into a slow, knowing grin. “Did you think I was arranging an assignation with the pretty lady’s maid?”

Heat sprayed up her throat like a great wave engulfing a rocky beach. Before it could reach her cheeks, she continued her descent to the ground floor. “I’ve no notion what you were doing with Alice, nor do I care.” She increased her speed. “It’s growing late, and I still have much to do at the shop.”

“I’ll need to return tomorrow to speak with his lordship. Would you like to accompany me?”

Holding on to the balustrade, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t see why.”

“Considering what you and your coroner friend discovered, I now have a few follow-up questions.”

“Careful, Cameron. One might get the impression you’re jealous of my gentleman friends.”

His gaze narrowed; the icy chips glowed with dangerous intensity. “What if I am?”

The dark quality to his query caused her heart to thunder inside the wall of her chest. If it were true, she wondered if the emotion stemmed from a love lost five years ago. Or could it be that he and Lord Winthrop shared a similar quality? He didn’t want her, nor did he want anyone else to have her either.

“If it’s true,” she said around a deep intake of breath, “I would suggest you rid yourself of the emotion. It will prove quite useless.”

For a terrible moment, Charlotte watched his eyes flare white-hot. Had he been a mythical creature she would not have been surprised if a lightning bolt shot from those angry orbs and struck her down. Instead, he blinked, and the glow flicked out. The change was so sudden; all she could do was stare.

“Will you join me?” he asked again.

It took two full seconds for her to recall his original question. Two seconds that seemed an eternity under his indifferent scrutiny.

Charlotte was torn. As awful as Lady Winthrop’s murder was, Charlotte found herself—God help her—enjoying the investigative process. It was much like linking a set of symptoms to identify a particular illness, disease, and even remedy, though on a much grander scale.

The butler saved her from answering. He creaked into the entryway carrying their hats, at the same time they quit the stairs. Granston held out her bonnet and Cameron’s hat. “I took the liberty of hailing you a hansom.”

“How thoughtful.” Charlotte settled her dark-blue bonnet atop her head and strode through the open door. “Thank you.”

She heard Cameron say, “Don’t forget my offer, Granston.”

“Rest assured, sir. I won’t.” He tapped the side of his head. “The mind-eating disease has not yet visited this old brain.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Charlotte shivered as she made her way to the waiting carriage. She hoped something so crippling never visited Granston, or anyone else she cared about. To lose the names of loved ones and years of memories had to be as devastating for the family as the victim. Senile dementia stole a person’s life, day by day, month by month, year by year. All the while, the victim’s family watched their loved one fade further and further into the mind of a stranger.

Deep in thought, she hadn’t noticed that Cameron had entered the cabin or heard him bark out a direction for their driver. The lurch of the carriage snapped her out of her musings.

Before she knew what she was about, she pried into Cameron’s personal business. “What sort of offer did you make to Granston?”

He said nothing for several seconds, though she’d managed to attract his full attention.

“A position,” he finally said.

She frowned, wondering what a thief-taker would do with an elderly butler. “What kind of position?”

“Whatever comes up between now and when the butler contacts me—
if
he contacts me.”

“Is Lord Winthrop turning him out?”

“No. Once Granston is satisfied Lady Winthrop’s body is laid to rest properly, he’s going to give his notice.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“Not really.”

“According to Lady Bentondorf, Granston entered this household with her ladyship. His loyalty lies with the baroness, and he’s distraught by the way her husband has disrespected her remains. However, he’s not ready to retire, so I offered him a position.”

“For which you do not have an opening.”

“Over the years, I’ve accumulated a good many favors. Something will come available for Granston, I’ve no doubt.”

“Perhaps Sydney Hunt could find him a suitable situation.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your suggestion in mind.”

Why would a man known for his ruthlessness bother with a butler decades beyond his prime? Who else had he taken under his wing? A lady’s maid who no longer had a mistress to care for? Warmth seeped past the stronghold she’d secured around her heart.