Page 38 of Never a Duchess
She huffed impatiently. “For heaven’s sake, Tompkins, I’m aware of what goes on in dark corridors. Did you notice a gentleman in a hat sneaking off to meet a lady in the garden?”
He shook his head. “All hats are left in the cloakroom.”
Perhaps the mystery gentleman entered via the mews.
“Did you see a lady wearing a dark cloak?”
“Only the opera singer, but I’m told she was crying upstairs.”
As eager as a hound for blood, Miss Ware scribbled that snippet of information in her book. “Do you know why?”
“No, but some say she keeps company with Lord Sheridan, and he was keeping company with Mrs Gregory that night.”
They needed to speak to the opera singer as a matter of urgency. Establish the real reason she had come to the Kinver residence.
“Ye caught Sheridan in a compromising position?” Callan asked.
“He was in the men’s retiring room while the perfumer stocked the soaps and cologne. The assistant was supposed to deliver the items earlier that day, but he was sick, and Mr Valmary had to bring them himself.”
This titbit left Miss Ware struggling to sit still. “Why would his lordship discuss personal matters with a perfumer?”
“They’re related, miss. Second cousins, I think.”
ChapterSeven
“If I write to my sister to mention the theft and the missing maid, she will return from the Cotswolds posthaste.” Devon’s frustration was evident as he paced the pavement outside the Kinvers’ impressive townhouse. “After all she’s suffered, I’ll not ruin her honeymoon.”
Lillian had no desire to spoil Lady Kinver’s plans, either. “In all probability, we will have solved the case by the time the letter arrives. And if Anne stole the figurine, she will have sold it and likely left town.”
Unless Anne Grimes was the woman abducted from the garden, and someone else stole the figurine and thought to blame the maid. But how could she afford such an expensive handkerchief?
“We’ll question the opera singer after we’ve visited the perfumer,” Dounreay said, sounding like an enquiry agent, not a devilish duke skilled in seduction. “Major Rowlands will be at the Templeton ball tomorrow night. We’ll ask him why he argued with Anne.”
“That reminds me, I received a note from Roxburgh while you were conducting the interviews.” Devon reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the missive. He handed it to Dounreay. “He demands you visit him in Hanover Square within the hour.”
Hell’s bells!
Lillian’s heart thundered faster than the muscled beasts on Rotten Row. “What does he want?” Oh, her brother would ruin everything.
Panic flared. No one had seen them kiss in Lord MacTavish’s dark drawing room. No one had seen Dounreay enter the bedchamber via the secret staircase.
The duke studied the note. “Daventry called to tell him we witnessed an abduction and that he’s asked for our assistance in the case.”
“What?” Lillian gulped past the large lump in her throat. “Why on earth would he do that? Now my brother will insist on accompanying us during our investigation.” Or he would refuse to let her leave the house, let alone question suspects.
Worse still, there would be no time for secret kisses. She would never know what it felt like to lose herself in Dounreay’s arms. And that proved more troubling than it should have.
Dounreay’s full lips curled into a confident smile. “Roxburgh will want certain assurances, that is all.”
“What sort of assurances?” Lillian snapped, but knew exactly what her brother would demand. He’d wanted her to marry the duke five years ago. Feeling like a rabbit in a snare, she said, “I am almost five and twenty, past the age of majority, and will not be held to ransom.”
Dounreay pushed the note into his pocket and cupped her elbow gently. “Come. Valmary’s is a stone’s throw from Hanover Square. Let us call there and continue our enquiries.”
Lillian looked at him, half impressed, half annoyed. He was so calm in a crisis. Did he not care to kiss her again? Was he not the least bit concerned this could mark the end of their research?
Before she could tidy her thoughts into neat little boxes, she was trundling along in Devon Masters’ carriage with Dounreay squashed beside her.
No one spoke during the mile journey.
