Page 62 of Temptress in Disguise
Before Naomi could speak, Kendrick gritted his teeth and whispered, “For God’s sake, be quiet. You know how people like to twist a story. I’m certain Miss Fontaine found a better offer elsewhere and will be in touch soon.”
“I pray you’re right,” Naomi said, keeping the truth about her sister’s whereabouts from this devious pair. At present, they were suspects in a murder investigation. “Though I find it hard to believe your tale about Edwin Budworth. I’ve never seen him at the theatre, let alone cavorting with Lydia in her dressing room.”
Miss Gray quickly dispensed with her tears, her thin lips curling into a smug grin. “Perhaps she wished to keep it from you. I’ve seen her climb into his carriage a few times while you cleaned her mess and folded her clothes.”
Aramis silently cursed. The comment only fuelled his anger towards Lydia Fontaine. His wife was no one’s slave.
“Why should I believe either of you?” Naomi said, dismay evident in her tone. The more they learned about her sister’s antics, the more disheartened she became. “Your stories change with the wind. How did you come by the key, Mr Kendrick, when Mr Budworth kept the only spare? Or was that a wicked lie, too?”
Kendrick paled. He glanced nervously around the taproom. “Maddock gave me a key because he had plans to visit his sister. He keeps one for Edwin Budworth to use during the odd times he visits town. Edwin likes to check on the theatre when there’s no one about.”
Aramis thumped the table with his clenched fist, almost sending the tankards flying. “You should have told us about this before. Lie to us again, and I’ll ensure no playhouse in England will hire you.”
People were staring, but he didn’t give a damn.
“We were trying to save the theatre.” Kendrick kept his voice low. “If Edwin did murder his brother, we’re doomed.”
“As that’s becoming increasingly likely, I suggest you start looking for work elsewhere.” He was about to demand they visit Bow Street but feared what this devious pair would say about Naomi. “You said Maddock went to visit his sister. So why has he not returned?”
Miss Gray exchanged nervous glances with Kendrick. “I can only think that Maddock is involved. I know he spies for Edwin Budworth.”
“It makes no sense.” Kendrick shook his head and stared into his tankard. “Why would Maddock give me Edwin’s secret key if he wasn’t planning to visit his sister until the next day?”
Why would the owner of a theatre not have his own key?
Only one person knew the answer, and he was nowhere to be found. “Do you know where in Hounslow his sister lives?”
They would pay Maddock a visit before moving to Uxbridge and the home of Edwin Budworth. Yet a terrible feeling in Aramis’ gut said he should leave Naomi at Fortune’s Den and take his brother Theo instead.
“His sister lives in a cottage on the road to Whitton Park.” Miss Gray’s attention strayed to the tavern door as she eyed the two men who’d just entered. “He told me she helped a wealthy lord whose coach overturned in a ditch. He gave her five pounds for her trouble.”
Aramis glanced at the newcomers, surprised to see Aaron and Theo, necks craned, scanning the busy taproom. He brought the conversation to a swift end when he met Aaron’s gaze and was beckoned outside.
“We will want to question you again on our return,” he informed both suspects while drawing out Naomi’s chair. “Be warned. If you run, we will find you.”
They left Kendrick and Miss Gray squabbling and joined his brothers outside on the narrow lane.
“I meant to catch you before you left for Northwood.” Theo thrust a note into Aramis’ hand. “It’s the evidence I gathered this morning from Mr Grant’s will at Doctors’ Commons. I saw Gibbs leaving as I returned to the mews. Luckily, Aaron had summoned his carriage, and we were able to follow you.”
Aramis peeled back the folds to reveal a list of names.
“Jeremiah Grant was the sole executor,” Aaron said, his tone frosty.
“Yes, my uncle was named executor on the copy my father gave to me. I doubt the same can be said for the witnesses.” Naomi took the note and read out the names.
Aramis picked two from the three mentioned. “Do you know Mr and Mrs Houseman of Stanhope Manor?”
“Yes, they own the neighbouring estate and signed the original copy.” She pursed her lips, evidently confused. “But why would they put their names to a forgery?”
Aaron’s dark eyes grew heavy with suspicion. When he spoke, he had the decency to soften his tone. “Perhaps your father lacked clarity in the weeks before his death. It seems odd he would give you a copy of his will and not your elder sister.”
Naomi did not falter under the weight of Aaron’s gaze. “He trusted me, and I was raised never to question his word. He wanted me to know I would be cared for in his absence.”
Aramis inwardly cursed.
Melissa had fed her to the wolves.
“The will states you would always have a home at Hartford Hall,” Aaron countered.
