A Study in Death (Lady Darby Mystery, A Book 4) (7 page)

I tightened the belt of my sapphire blue dressing gown around my waist and turned to watch Bree fidget with the pleats of the ball gown.
The deep rose color of the bodice and overskirt was a brighter shade than I normally favored, but Alana had insisted I could not always wear blue and purple in the evening, even if they did compliment my chestnut brown hair and the lapis lazuli shade of my eyes. She had ordered Madame Avignon to use this fabric, and I had deferred to her opinion, though now I wished I hadn’t. The pale cornflower blue I had wanted to use would have been far less . . . shocking.

Bree must have read the growing horror on my face, for she gave me a bright smile. “It looks lovely on ye, m’lady. It truly does.”

“It doesn’t make my skin look too pink?” I asked anxiously.

“Nay. Actually, the opposite. Makes ye look as pale and creamy as a pearl.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and paced toward my dressing table, uncertain whether to believe her, and frustrated that I cared. Before Gage it had mattered very little to me what I wore, so long as it didn’t interfere with my painting, but now I was afraid I would embarrass him. He was the charming golden boy of the ton, always impeccably turned out, and devastatingly handsome no matter what he wore. I knew they didn’t understand how he could be attracted to me—an eccentric, scandalous outcast. I’d heard there were bets being placed even as far away as London on just how long our engagement would last before Gage found some way of ending it. I was sure no one would blame him if he did, even though it would be a horrible breach of promise and protocol.

I glanced once again at the rose confection with white underskirt and lace trim, and then decided to put it from my mind, at least until I had to wear it. “Were you able to discover anything this morning?” I asked Bree, reaching out to fiddle with the hair brushes on my dressing table.

She set aside the pair of slippers she was holding up to the dress and crossed the room toward me. “I didn’t find Lady Drummond’s maid. Aileen’s her name. But I did happen upon one o’ the footmen.”

I looked up into her bright eyes. I could tell from the tone of her voice she had something to say to me. “Oh?”

“He said Aileen’s been right broken up by her mistress’s death—burstin’ into tears in the middle o’ dinner. And the whole house is in a bit o’ a dither. One o’ the maids left wi’ oot given notice, and several o’ the other members o’ the staff are threatenin’ to quit as well.”

“Did he say why?” I asked in surprise. Everything had seemed quiet and calm when I’d visited the morning before, but perhaps that was only in the public rooms. Who knew what had been happening belowstairs?

“I gather they’re scairt. At least the maids are. The others seem concerned he’ll marry his mistress, and apparently she’s no’ fit to fill Lady Drummond’s place.”

My eyes widened. “Who’s his mistress?”

Bree shook her head. “He didna ken. But his lordship visits her every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday in some house on Cumberland Street near St. Stephen’s Church.”

“This footman is quite chatty and relatively well informed,” I replied.

She smiled impishly. “Dinna ye ken? Servants always ken the best gossip. There’s no’ much else to blather aboot.”

I frowned, pondering what I should be worried she was telling the rest of the staff about me.

Her expression softened. “Dinna worry, m’lady. I’m the soul o’ discretion. I ken better.”

I turned to the side, not wanting to see the empathy in her gaze. “Did he have anything else to say?”

“No’ that would be helpful to you.”

I narrowed my eyes as she ran her hands over the bright yellow skirts of her dress. If I wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks had turned a little pink. I wondered if I should be concerned. After all, my previous maid had essentially been seduced into sharing information about me. But Bree was different. She wasn’t some sheltered Highland lass who had
never been farther than five miles from home. I suspected if Bree wished, she would lead this footman on a merry chase, not the other way around. Maybe Gage’s valet, Anderley, was not the only one handy at uncovering information from other people’s servants.

There was a knock on the door, and Bree went to answer it. It was Alana’s maid, Jenny.

“Lady Cromarty’s awake now, my lady,” she informed me. “You asked me to let you know.”

I followed her from the room and down the hall to Alana’s chamber, where she held the door for me. My sister was propped up on her pillows, her head turned to the side to look out the window. From her vantage, I didn’t know if she could see much more than the gray sky, but she didn’t seem to be admiring the view anyway. She was lost in thought, and whatever she was contemplating did not seem to be happy.

I shook my head as I spotted the gray lump of fur curled up next to her side. Alana’s hand periodically stroked over the fur. Leave it to my cat, Earl Grey, to find the warmest, coziest place in the house.

“When did he sneak in here?”

Jenny smiled at the gray tabby. “I don’t know, but the rascal was in here when I brought up her ladyship’s luncheon a few hours ago.”

Earl Grey was a mouser from our childhood home, Blakelaw House, where I had spent the winter with our brother. For some reason, the cat had attached himself to me, finding his way back into my art studio or bedchamber even when he’d been chased out. I had eventually accepted and even welcomed his presence, and now thought of him as my pet, bringing him with me to my sister’s home in Edinburgh.

“Ring if you need me,” Jenny said before closing the door behind her.

Alana glanced up as I crossed the room to her. I watched as she visibly made an effort to appear cheery. “Good afternoon, dearest.” Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were tired and her complexion pale.

I glanced significantly at the cat curled into her side. “Is he bothering you?”

Her smile turned into something more genuine as she looked at the feline. “No.”

Earl Grey opened one of his golden eyes as if to say,
Who would be bothered by me?

I rolled my eyes at him and settled into the same chair I had occupied the day before. I clasped Alana’s hand where it rested on the counterpane. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” she sighed. “So no different than before.”

I appreciated her attempt to make a joke, knowing it was more for my benefit than hers.

“Growing a baby takes a lot of effort,” I murmured, staring at the mound of her belly beneath the blankets.

“It does. And it seems to get more difficult with age.” Her eyes drifted to my flat stomach. “So you and Gage better start soon.”

I flushed at the idea of carrying Gage’s child, at the thought of the act that would create it. “I don’t think we’re in a great hurry,” I replied. “And anyway, I don’t even know if I’m capable.”

“Because you and Sir Anthony never had a child?” Alana scoffed. “I don’t know what the man made you believe . . .”

“He never said anything about it.”

Her eyes searched my face. “Then he must have known it was his fault you never conceived, because he never showed you any kindness otherwise.”

That was true, but still. “He . . . never really made much of an effort.” I blushed brighter.

“Well, there you have it.” Her eyes hardened. “At least he spared you that.”

I stared down at our joined hands, uncomfortable with thinking about those moments let alone discussing them. My sister seemed to sense this and let the matter drop.

“Did you decide whether you would rather have the daffodils or the larkspurs?”

“Oh, Alana, I haven’t even thought . . .”

“I still think the larkspurs would look best with the forget-me-nots,” she hurried on to say. “But I know you’ve always loved daffodils, and they do mean ‘chivalry.’”

I squeezed her hand. “Alana, slow down. There’s no need to rush.” I released her hand to brush a stray tendril of hair back from her face. “You need your rest. Just focus on that. The wedding plans can wait.”

“No, they can’t,” she insisted.

I frowned.

She sat up higher on her pillows, jostling Earl Grey, who blinked open his eyes and then closed them again once she settled. “Kiera, all I’ve been doing is thinking about rest! Or rather how I’m supposed to be resting, and how I’m not supposed to think of anything distressing. But without something to distract me, all I
can
think about is the baby, and whether I’m bleeding again, or if I’m moving too much, or if I’ll even live to hold him.”

I grabbed hold of her hands. “Alana, don’t talk like that. Of course you will.”

“But you understand my point. I
need
something to distract me.” Her eyes were wide with pleading.

I nodded slowly, supposing I did. I’d implored our brother, Trevor, in a similar manner just a few months ago to understand why I needed to be involved with the investigation at Dryburgh Abbey. Though I had needed to distract myself from my grief over a friend’s death, not my own precarious health and that of my unborn child. How much more distraught must Alana be?

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “I want your wedding to be so beautiful. Everything it should have been the first time. Especially now that you’re marrying the right man.”

I smiled tightly. Alana had never understood why I had wed Sir Anthony in just a small private ceremony in a chapel in London. Her wedding to Philip had been an elaborate affair, as big as the joy she
had felt on that day. That my sister should know me so well and yet not fully comprehend how nervous large events made me, particularly when I was the center of attention, puzzled me. But I knew she meant well. She wanted me to also have a celebration as big as my joy. She just didn’t realize I would rather savor that joy and give a larger portion of it to those I truly loved than spread it far and wide.

Her eyes softened with a sheen of tears. “You’ve been through so much. I want to do this for you, my only sister. To know that it will be special.” Her lips curled into a bittersweet smile. “Just in case I’m not there to see it myself.”

I shook my head, feeling my own tears threaten. “You will be. You will be. Don’t say that.” I punctuated each phrase by hitting the coverlet with our combined hands.

She didn’t try to argue with me, just continued to smile.

“Alana,” I exhaled, feeling sick with the fear I had refused to completely acknowledge until now.

“We’ll see,” she said softly. “It’s in God’s hands now, isn’t it?”

I sniffed and nodded, releasing one of her hands to dash away a tear that had escaped to trail down my cheek. “But that doesn’t mean you can give up. I won’t let you.”

“I know. I haven’t. I’m just preparing for all eventualities.”

I still didn’t like the sound of that, but I remained quiet. How would I react in her situation? Would I want to know I’d left everything and everyone as well prepared as I could, or would I obstinately refuse even to contemplate it?

“Now,” she declared, as if the matter was settled. She inhaled deeply, composing herself, and then pointed toward the top of her dresser. “Bring me that stack of papers.” She stroked a hand down Earl Grey’s back. “We have just enough time to choose your invitations before you dress for the Inverleith Ball.”

T
he short ride to Inverleith House just north of Edinburgh passed quickly as I informed Gage first of Alana’s health, and then to distract myself from my fear, of all of the things Bree and I had uncovered about the Drummonds. Whether any of this gossip was true and contained a viable lead was up for some debate, but Gage had to admit that things were looking worse and worse for Lord Drummond. We were now aware of two potential motives for him killing his wife, and the fact that his staff was in such tumult said something to his character.

However, before that information even mattered, we needed to prove Lady Drummond had, in fact, been murdered. Gage had not had any luck in questioning the chemists and apothecaries in New Town. Those who would talk to him had denied selling anyone any poisons that would cause such a reaction, while the others were closemouthed and affronted by the very insinuation. I inherently distrusted these men who were so reticent. They sold poisons every day to help people combat an infestation of rodents or bugs. What was to keep someone from using those substances for a darker purpose?

I still had hopes that Sergeant Maclean had uncovered something
from the chemists in Old Town, but I was beginning to suspect I might have to pinpoint a specific poison before we made any real headway in the matter. I made a note to redouble my efforts to schedule a visit with Dr. Renshaw at the Royal College.

I peered through the curtains as the carriage slowed to a stop. We sat in the darkness of the long drive, surrounded by trees and shrubs, as we waited in line to be delivered to the door. I knew that part of the estate had been purchased by the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh so that their collection of flowers and plants could be moved farther away from the filth and contamination of the city. I’d never had occasion to visit, but Philip was acquainted with Dr. Robert Graham, the society’s Regius Keeper, and he had dined with us on occasion. In addition to his interest in botany, for which he was the chair at the University of Edinburgh, he was also a physician to the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh, and one of the rare medical men who did not dismiss me as foolish or unnatural because of my scandalous history with my late husband’s anatomy research. He was forthright in his opinions, but kindhearted and curious, which made him far more tolerant of someone like me.

Of the hundreds of guests who would be here tonight, he was one of the only people I was looking forward to seeing.

“Is Lord Drummond likely to attend?” I asked, as always making a list of people both to seek out and avoid.

“I don’t know,” Gage admitted, leaning closer to see out the window. “I would wager he was invited, though courtesy suggests he should excuse himself given that his wife died just two days ago.”

I was interested to see if he would bow to protocol, in an effort to court society’s favor if not out of respect to his late wife, or if he would defy convention and attend. The baron seemed little interested in the ton’s good opinion, but if he wished to remarry, and to do so well, he would need to remain in the good graces of the matrons who ruled over society.

It was needless to say, I was certainly not regarded favorably. Though Alana had kept them from tossing me out completely, I remained on the fringes. Or at least I had until Gage had openly begun to court me and then asked me to marry him. From the spiteful glances the matrons sent my way, I was certain they thought I’d bewitched him in some nefarious manner.

“I’m going to seek out a few more of Lady Drummond’s friends this evening to see if they will speak to me. Maybe one of them will know something that could help us.”

Gage glanced down at me. “Would you like me to approach Lady Willoughby de Eresby?” he asked, clearly reading my thoughts.

Lady Willoughby de Eresby was perhaps the most coldly correct of society’s matrons, and definitely the most surprising of Lady Drummond’s friends. Her family had originally held the barony of Drummond, but they had lost their titles and lands after supporting the Jacobite rebellion in 1716. Though some of their previous rights and property had eventually been restored, the title of Drummond had been given to a distant cousin, the current Lord Drummond, for his services to the Crown during the wars with France. That Lady Willoughby de Eresby had willingly befriended Lady Drummond I could only attribute to either Lady Drummond’s appealing nature or Lady Willoughby de Eresby’s calculating one.

“Would you? I certainly don’t relish an encounter with her. And you’re far more likely to charm her into giving you information than I am.”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile. “Though I have a favor to ask of you in return.”

“Oh?”

He pulled me closer and for a moment I thought this favor was going to be of the sensual variety.

“You recall I’m investigating a small matter for my father?”

I blinked, making myself focus on his words rather than the proximity of his lips. “Yes.”

“I believe I’m close to solving it, and then I can devote my full attention to the matter of Lady Drummond. But first I need your opinion.”

I felt something warm spread through me that had nothing to do with Gage’s body pressed along my side. “You do?”

He tilted his head to look at me more closely. “You’re very perceptive. Even more than I am. And though I feel almost certain I’m right, I would be more comfortable if our findings were in agreement.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Do you recall when I asked Philip about Lord Kirkcowan over dinner last week?”

I nodded.

“He recently reported the theft of several items of jewelry from his town house here in Edinburgh. Well, I discovered that Lord Kirkcowan has something of a gambling problem. At first I thought he might have sold the jewelry to pay off his debts and then reported the theft to pacify his wife.”

My lips twisted. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be the first. Though why wouldn’t he just have replaced them with paste?”

“I had the same thought.”

“Maybe he was too lazy,” I suggested.

Gage’s eyes lit with excitement, as they always did when he was close to solving an inquiry. “I now think Lady Kirkcowan took them.”

I frowned in confusion. “But they’re her own jewels?”

“Yes, but if she’s aware of her husband’s proclivity for the gaming tables, then she may have hidden them away as future assurance.”

“In case he bet and lost everything on a hand of cards,” I added, finishing his thought.

“Precisely.”

I tipped my head to consider his hypothesis. “I could see myself doing something similar if you ever became enamored by lady luck.”

He pulled my close again. “The only lady I’ll ever be enamored of is you.”

I smirked. “I made that too easy for you, didn’t I?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “You did. So will you speak with Lady Kirkcowan tonight? Be direct if you must. I just want you to get a sense of whether she’s hiding something.”

“If she did take the jewels, what do you plan to do? Are you going to tell her husband?” I hedged.

“As far as I’m concerned, they would still be in the hands of their owner, and my involvement would no longer be necessary. There’s no need to expose Lady Kirkcowan’s precautions.”

I arched my eyebrows in skepticism. “Would your father accept that answer?”

A frown formed between his brows. “No. But I’ve fobbed him off before. I can do so again.”

I smiled at his chivalrous spirit. Relations between Gage and his father were strained at best, and yet he was still willing to risk the consequences of defying him to do what was right by Lady Kirkcowan. His unobtrusive gallantry was definitely one of the reasons I had fallen in love with him. Rather than wait for him to do so, I leaned forward and kissed him.

“Not that I’m complaining . . .” he murmured in a deeper voice as I pulled back “. . . but what prompted that? I want to be sure to repeat it.”

I felt my cheeks turn pink. It was true, I rarely initiated our kisses, but not out of lack of desire. I was simply not used to the fact yet that Gage was mine to kiss whenever I wanted.

I began to tell him so when the door suddenly opened. In our distraction, we’d failed to realize our carriage had reached the front of the queue. I pulled my wrap tighter around me and allowed the footman to help me from the coach. Gage descended behind me and took my arm to guide me through the door.

In terms of architecture, Inverleith House would never win any prizes. Its grandeur and appeal lay in the gardens surrounding it, not
in the manor home itself. Its exterior was the epitome of Georgian simplicity and order, built in a solid block of sturdy stone and symmetrically placed single windows. The only nod to anything unconventional was a rounded section in the middle of the façade connected to the small portico entrance.

Gage and I passed through this door, passing our outer garments to a pair of footmen waiting to take them. I twitched the overskirt of my rose-colored gown into place and tried to tug discreetly at the deep V of the bodice, which was lower than I was accustomed to. I knew I was not in danger of spilling out, but that did not make me feel less exposed.

I forced a tight smile to my face as Gage turned to me and paused. His eyes immediately swept up and down my figure.

I glanced down at myself. “Is something out of place?” I whispered, smoothing my hand over the decorative detail at the center of my cleavage and down over the white lace belt.

Gage reached out to still my hands. “No. You look lovely. I’m just not used to seeing you in pink.”

I inhaled shakily. “Alana convinced me to choose it.” I bit my lip, glancing to the side at the throng of people passing us. Nonsensically, I felt the backs of my eyes begin to sting. “I knew I should have insisted on the cornflower blue.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

I looked up, surprised by the conviction in his voice. His pale winter blue eyes looked decidedly warmer than their normal crystalline quality. That sight steadied me.

“You’re sure?”

His gaze traveled over me one more time, leaving a heated trail everywhere it touched. “On second thought, I don’t want you questioning anyone tonight. You’re going to remain firmly affixed to my side.”

I smiled.

“I’m serious,” he told me, pulling me closer. “I already want to plant a facer on every man who walks by and looks at you in that dress.”

I pressed a hand to his chest. “Gage, no one is looking at me.”

His eyebrows arched. “You truly don’t know,” he replied in incredulity.

I frowned in confusion and his lips curled into a tiny smile.

“Come,” he murmured, linking my arm through his and tucking me in close to his side.

After being greeted by our hosts, the Rocheids, we threaded our way through the crowd, pausing periodically to exchange pleasantries with one person or another. At first I thought nothing of it when the wife of one of Gage’s acquaintances stared down her nose at me. I’d grown accustomed to being subjected to unfriendly looks since the scandal broke over my involvement with my late husband’s anatomical studies. It was true, these snubbings had occurred less and less often in recent months, but they had never really stopped. But as I encountered three more hostile glares, and then a gaggle of women who all turned to whisper to one another as I passed, I began to wonder at the return of their coldness.

I glanced at Gage out of the corner of my eye to see if he had noticed, but his expression revealed nothing but bored politeness. Perhaps I was imagining things, allowing my own insecurities to influence what I saw. It would not be the first time I’d done so. So taking my cue from Gage, I squared my shoulders and tried my best to be as charming and unaffected by the swirl of people surrounding us as he was. If my smile was a shade too tight or my voice modulated a bit too high, I assured myself that few would notice. Most of society was perpetually self-absorbed, and terribly unobservant of anything but clothing and potential disgrace. If the bright pink of my gown distracted them from the rest of my appearance, then perhaps it had not been such a poor choice after all.

When Gage paused to speak to a man who had hailed him, I
spotted Mrs. Fitzhugh, a friend of Lady Drummond’s, just a few steps away. I excused myself and began to cross to her, but at that moment she turned away, though I could have sworn she’d seen me coming. I stumbled to a halt, unsure whether I should still approach her and force a conversation if necessary or return to Gage.

Fortunately, Gage’s friend Mr. Knighton, being true to his surname, came to my rescue.

“Lady Darby, how nice to see you,” he murmured, offering me a genuine smile. “You look enchanting this evening.” He glanced around him. “How on earth could Gage let you out of his sight?”

I couldn’t help but smile at his outrageous flattery. “Don’t be alarmed. He’s nearby.”

He gestured to the man at his side. “Are you acquainted with Dr. Graham?”

“I am,” I replied in delight. “You must be quite pleased with the turnout this evening. It’s an absolute crush.”

As if to illustrate my point, Mr. Knighton moved closer to allow a couple to pass behind him deeper into the room.

“I am,” Dr. Graham proclaimed. “So kind of the Rocheids to lend their backing to our cause. The remainder of our plants are scheduled to be moved here in April and May, depending on the weather.”

“That must be a relief.”

“Oh, indeed, indeed.” He reached up to straighten the front of his hair, a nervous habit of his I’d noticed before.

“I’ve yet to visit the collection that is here, but I hope to soon.”

“Oh, yes, please do. Though you might wait until later this year. In addition to our exotic species, we’re cultivating a section exclusively of Scottish flora.” He rocked back on his heels in pride. “Filled with both rare specimens, like the Scottish primrose, the twinflower, and the Shetland mouse-ear, as well as common—the spear thistle, of course, devil’s cap, and even the harebell.”

“I will,” I promised him. Then seeing Gage weaving through the
crowd, looking left and right, I excused myself. He was so tall, it was much easier to spot him and his golden curls than it would be for him to find me.