Page 23 of A Moveable Feast
“Is that why you are in your current guise?” I asked. “Instead of off having Easter dinner with your son?”
Daniel huffed a laugh. “I couldn’t watch over you if Lord Babcock’s neighbor recognized me as the rather annoying secretary he’d employed last year. Also, James is lurking too, but he’s better than me at being unobserved. He insisted on helping.” His expression held forbearance.
“Oh.” I darted my gaze about but saw no one who resembled the tall James. “Well, tell him he has become quite skilled.”
“Nothing that should worry a father,” Daniel said tightly.
James was a good lad, I knew. He’d take care of himself, and Daniel too.
“Speaking of fathers,” I continued. “Do you know if there is any truth to the rumor that Lord Alfred wasn’t Lord Babcock’s son?”
Daniel shook his head. “Probably not. From what I understand, Lord Babcock and his first wife were a devoted couple. The first Lady Babcock bore Lord Alfred several years into the marriage, so he cannot have been the product of a liaison before their engagement. I believe the first Lady Babcock gained her reputation for promiscuity because she had many offers to wed in her youth. She turned them all down to choose Lord Babcock, who was fifteen years her senior and a respectable marquess to boot. The younger gentlemen were jealously enraged, the young ladies who’d hoped to land themselves a lordship were furious, and so the rumors began.”
“Despicable,” I said in disgust. “Because the woman found someone she liked better than the twits who fluttered about her?” I’d seen similar young bucks flirt determinedly with Cynthia because her father had a title, as well as young lady debutants sneer at her for being unmarried still.
I tamped down my outrage to return to our problem. “How do you know all this?” I asked Daniel. “Do you have a dossier on every family in Mayfair?”
“The neighbor. When I was with him in my capacity as a snobbish secretary, he gossiped at length about everyone he knew.”
Daniel would have tucked away these bits and pieces of information in case they came in handy with an investigation later. That, and he was simply interested in people.
I reluctantly stepped away from Daniel, resigning myself to the reality of the day. “Well, I must return and make certain Jane speaks to the inspector, and then visit Mrs. Morgan.”
Daniel put a hand on my arm. “Take care,” he said in a low voice. “Someone in that house is not averse to sliding a knife into whomever they wish. I’d rather you and Tess returned home and let McGregor and Sergeant Scott handle things.”
“I will, once the person is arrested and taken away,” I promised. “I don’t like to leave Jane and Mary to the machinations of the police.”
“You have no obligation to either of those young women,” Daniel pointed out.
“Why does that matter? If there is danger in Lord Babcock’s home, I can’t callously abandon them to it.”
Daniel’s smile told me he liked my answer. “I will be nearby, if you need to shout for me. As I say, so is James.”
“I will be careful, I promise you.” I should turn away now and hurry back to the house, but I hesitated. “I wish …”
“Yes?” Daniel asked with interest. “What do you wish, Kat?”
His voice had grown quieter, and the space between us decreased.
What I wished was to go home with him, to have the only Easter dinner I cooked be one for him, James, and Grace. To have my own life instead of dedicating all my time to those who little appreciated it.
I let out a breath. “Never mind. No use pining for castles in the air.”
Daniel’s hands closed around mine and squeezed them. I thought he would speak, give me hope for such a future, but in the end, he only flashed me his warm smile, released me, and faded into the shadow of the fence.
I made myself turn and leave him, squaring my shoulders as Jane had done, and walked back to the house in Portman Square.
I wanted to speak to Mary first thing upon my return and question her about leaving her post, but I did not see Mary at her sink.
“She’s in with the sergeant,” Tess informed me. “Jane’s next.”
Jane was busily spooning cooked vegetables into bowls to be covered with cheesecloth and stored in the larder for later consumption. She glanced up at me when Tess spoke her name but remained silent. She looked more at ease, though, and I hoped I’d reassured her somewhat.
For now, I prepared several pots of tea and a large platter of pastries I’d meant for the Easter dinner. The ladies of the house would be upset with the arrival of the police, and tea and pastries might soothe them. I made a smaller pot and plate for Mrs. Morgan and asked Tess to help me carry it all upstairs.
Before we could leave, Mary banged out of the housekeeper’s parlor and dashed into the kitchen, tears smeared on her face.
“I never,” she sobbed. “I never killed him. I loved him. Tell him, Mrs. Holloway.”
