Page 62 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
Twenty-Three
POLISHED TO DECEIVE
The interior of the carriage was dim and close, the windows fogged with breath and the lingering damp of dusk. Hooves clattered over the cobblestones as we rolled toward Grosvenor Square, the lamplight outside flickering like uncertain stars through the mist.
Neither of us spoke. Steele sat across from me, silent, his gaze fixed on the glass. Whatever thoughts occupied him, I didn’t ask. I couldn’t trust myself to say anything civil.
At last, he shifted. His jaw clenched once before he spoke. “I went to the Caledonian Club.”
“Did you?” I didn’t look at him.
“I asked the steward about the crest we saw. The arc.”
Still, I said nothing.
“It’s the Arcendale crest.”
The name stirred nothing in me.
“Belongs to the Vale family.”
Nowthatwas familiar.
“There are three brothers,” he continued. “The eldest—Lord Arcendale—is something of a recluse. Poor health, apparently.The youngest, Henry, is disreputable. Gambles, drinks. Known to take liberties with the staff.”
My fingers curled into the folds of my skirt.
H.V.
The fine linen handkerchief I’d found tucked in Elsie’s belongings at St. Agnes had those initials. And now we had a name—Henry Vale. He had to be the one. The seducer. The reason Elsie’s life had been snuffed out without a second thought.
I forced my voice to stay level. “And the middle son?” I asked, although I already knew.
“Nathaniel. A botanist. Polished. Reserved. The steward says he dines at the club now and then.”
I could have told Steele I knew Nathaniel Vale. That he’d dined at Rosehaven House. That he’d stood beside me just days ago, explaining a diagram of hybrid blooms. But I was still furious—from the alley, from the kiss, from the way he presumed to handle me.
He studied me for a beat, then added quietly, “Perhaps your brother’s familiar with him. You should ask.”
His olive branch was clear enough. But I turned back to the window, offering no reply.
The silence pressed in again, heavier than before.
When we arrived at Rosehaven House, Steele helped me down from the cab as if we hadn’t just argued in a grimy alley. As if he hadn’t pressed me to a wall and stolen my breath away. As if he hadn’t—blast him—kissed me. Worst of all, he’d shattered our one clear chance to discover who killed Elsie.
I didn’t speak to him. Didn’t look at him. When the front door closed behind me, I marched upstairs with my chin held high and murder in my heart.
I bathed and dressed for dinner without fuss, choosing a navy blue gown I’d worn countless times before. It was practical,modest, a spinster’s choice. I didn’t think about how it set off the copper in my hair or brought out the blue in my eyes. I wasn’t dressing to impress. I wasn’t in the hunt. I only wanted to slip into the evening unnoticed and unchallenged.
The drawing room had other plans.
I entered quietly—and stopped short.
Nathaniel Vale had returned.
He stood in the drawing room beside Cosmos, deep in conversation over a book of botanical drawings. I took one look at him and knew I’d been handed a gift.
Wrapped in velvet. Tied with a ribbon. Served on a silver platter.
