Page 13 of The Last Chance
Still, Aaron willed the magistrate to hurry, praying the man was competent and would bring a swift end to the nightmare.
Daventry appeared and asked them to escort him upstairs.
“Why this room?” Daventry mused, noting it was at the end of the landing. “It overlooks the street and is directly above the drawing room. What time did Madame Rossellini sing?”
Miss Lovelace addressed him. “Due to popular demand, she sang twice. At nine for an hour, then a short performance at eleven, just before the guests started leaving. They requested to hearCosta Divafrom the operaNormaagain. It’s an extremely emotional piece. Miss Stowe and Miss Moorland played violin and flute.”
“Two of your wallflowers?” Aaron asked.
“Two of my members, yes.”
“Who made the request?” Daventry said.
“A handful of people. I can ask Miss Moorland who first suggested an encore.” She looked at the closed door and frowned. “You believe the murderer requested the piece to mask sounds of a struggle?”
“It’s possible.” Daventry opened the door and stepped into the room. He appeared to absorb every detail before examining the body. “It’s quite cold in here, but based on lividity and the stiffness of the smaller muscles, I suspect he’s been dead at least five hours. We’ll need the coroner’s confirmation, of course.”
Miss Lovelace’s relieved sigh proved puzzling. “That means Fortune’s Den was open when Lord Howard died. Mr Chance will have an alibi.”
The remark knocked the wind out of Aaron’s sails. She was the prime suspect in a gruesome murder, yet showed concern for his welfare. He’d always known this woman was dangerous. That she had the power to steal past his defences.
“Let’s not count our blessings until the villain is in custody,“ Daventry said, knowing enough men would like to see Aaron hanged. “They may say Mr Chance hired someone to carry out the deed.” Daventry glanced between them. “I’m confident he can find his way out of this mess. You’re the one who needs protecting, madam.”
“Me?” The lady gulped. “Why would anyone think I’m guilty?”
Aaron froze, fearing she might mention her history with Howard. “She has no motive. If shehadkilled that popinjay, she’s clever enough to dispose of the body.”
Miss Lovelace looked astounded at the compliment.
That’s when Daventry chose to stir the pot. “One should never underestimate the role of gossip in criminal proceedings. Perhaps Miss Lovelace might tell us why the Marquess ofRothley proposed marriage when she took over her father’s gaming house. Perhaps he saw Howard as a threat.”
Aaron’s heart lurched. He’d noticed Rothley watching her premises. It explained why the marquess had a sudden interest in gambling at Fortune’s Den.
Miss Lovelace looked at Aaron, keen to give her account. “Gabriel went to school with my brother. He felt responsible for me when my father vanished and felt duty-bound to make me an offer. To my knowledge, no one else knew.”
“You received a proposal of marriage from a marquess?” Aaron’s pulse thumped hard in his throat. He could accept not having her—he would not subject them both to a life of untold misery—but he’d rather die than know she’d been forced to marry Rothley. “And you didn’t accept?”
“He doesn’t love me,” she said, lifting her proud chin. “You know what I seek in a match. There’s no point repeating my requirements.”
Yes, she wanted a fool who liked waiting in the rain.
“Some members of thetonbelieve Rothley was involved in your brother’s disappearance,” Daventry said, adding an extra ingredient to the mix. “I would use the worddeath, but remains found in the woods were inconclusive. It’s a stain on his reputation. One he has never managed to erase.”
Aaron had heard the rumours, the conflicting accounts so far-fetched he doubted they were true. Rothley had killed his lover, his housemaster, his friend, his maid. Some said poison was the weapon of choice, others mentioned a garrotte.
“Gabriel had nothing to do with Justin’s disappearance. They were as close as brothers.” Miss Lovelace was clearly shaken by the suggestion. “Nor did anyone else in their tight-knit group.”
Daventry gazed at Howard’s body. “And yet, ten years to the day since your brother went missing, one member of that group is murdered in your house.”
Miss Lovelace touched her throat with trembling fingers. “Is it exactly ten years? I try not to think about it too often.”
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Had someone deliberately targeted her, knowing the significant date?
“Did Howard confide in you?” Daventry pressed. “Did he tell you anything about the night your brother went missing?”
Aaron’s patience with Daventry had worn thin. “Can’t you see she’s suffered enough tonight without raking up painful memories of the past?”
