Page 64 of Never a Duchess
“I have a letter from Lord Melbourne. It should be enough for your mistress to grant me an audience.” Lillian pulled the letter from her reticule and handed it to Mrs Gregory’s butler. She had insisted her chaperones wait in their respective carriages, though she hadn’t expected the servant to be quite so obstinate. “This is a police matter. Hopefully, I won’t need to fetch a constable.”
The dour-faced butler left her waiting on the doorstep, returning moments later to show her into the drawing room. He did not offer to take her outdoor apparel.
Mrs Gregory lounged on an elegant chaise, a blanket draped over her legs while she played the sick patient. At least the woman was alive, though the scratch on her neck suggested she may have been dragged from Lord Kinver’s garden at knifepoint.
“What on earth is this about, Miss Ware?” The dark-haired beauty pressed a limp hand to her brow. “Can’t you see I am unwell?”
The widow’s coiffure resembled a bird’s nest, wild strands sticking up here and there. Faint remnants of red rouge stained her lips. Lillian would wager the blanket disguised the fact she was without stockings. That the widow had company, male company.
“I am here on behalf of Lord Melbourne to discuss a matter of the utmost importance. To save time, I suggest you invite Lord Sheridan to join us. Or shall I inform the Prime Minister you’re hindering an investigation?”
Mrs Gregory gulped. After a silent debate, she called, “Smithers! Fetch his lordship!” The widow grumbled to herself. “Let me guess. That devil has fabricated a story and implicated us in a crime. I should have known she would do something wicked to get Sherry’s attention.”
Doubtless she referred to Madame Delafont. “Three witnesses claim Lord Sheridan is in league with his cousin Mr Valmary. They compete for lovers. An innocent man was poisoned in their attempt to beat the competition.”
“Poisoned? Who?”
Lord Sheridan entered. He hadn’t shaved. His crumpled evening clothes said he’d spent the night in the widow’s bed. From the sudden whiff of brandy, one might think he’d bathed in a keg.
He addressed Lillian and inclined his head before dropping into the chair. “I heard the ridiculous claims and know nothing about any poisoning. Though I imagine that fop Baudelaire made the statement.”
“Then you admit to knowing him?”
“I know of his feud with Thaddeus Valmary. The men have been rivals for years. I find Thaddeus’ stories amusing, but that is the extent of my involvement.”
“I’m told they were competing for Madame Delafont’s affections. That you beat them in a game to claim her first.”
“You see!” the widow blurted, distressed. “Did I not say she would cause trouble? She will stop at nothing to exact her revenge on you. Oh, Sherry. That woman has the devil’s own stare, and I—”
“Amelia! Calm down. This has nothing to do with her.”
The pair argued, though Lillian interrupted to ask, “Forgive me, Mrs Gregory, but have you lost a handkerchief embroidered with your initials? Did you leave via the mews on the night of Lord Kinver’s ball?”
“What? Ageing spinsters carry monogrammed handkerchiefs. Do I look like I’m struggling for male company? And we both left via the mews to avoid …” She waved at her lover, expecting him to finish the sentence.
“To avoid my wife and Madame Delafont,” he said shamelessly.
“Did you see anyone else there?”
They shook their heads.
“Might I ask how you got the mark on your neck?”
Mrs Gregory shrugged. “How is it relevant to the poisoning?”
“If you will just answer the question, I shall leave you in peace.” Indeed, she was like an automaton, going through the motions when her heart and head were consumed with thoughts of Dounreay.
How could she fix this?
How might she change his mind?
The widow gave a discreet cough. “Some men are quitephysicalin the bedchamber. I shall say no more than that.”
Lord Sheridan’s lips curled into an arrogant grin. “I doubt an innocent could comprehend your meaning, my dear.”
“Rest assured, my lord. I understand perfectly well.” She had witnessed enough amorous interludes to grasp the situation.
“You do? How intriguing.” His gaze slipped over her body, his interest piqued. “Ladies rarely take me by surprise, Miss Ware.”
