Page 71 of Murder in Moonlight
Perhaps they shared charitable interests in reforming prostitutes and drinkers. His mother had met him on some charitable board and invited him because of that and his connection to Jamaica. No doubt they also shared membership of the anti-slavery societies that still existed after abolition in British territories in order to end the practice in the rest of the world.
Constance’s interests were clearly wide, and yet they did not appear to include Randolph. She treated him like a boy. In fact, he realized now she always had. Resentment and outrage boiled up inside him, not least because he suspected she might be right.
What had he ever done in his twenty years?
He was only wealthy now because his father was dead.
My father is dead. The knowledge swept over him in great waves of guilt and grief and exultation.
In the hall, he met Richards coming the other way and almost passed him without acknowledgment. Before he recalled the man had been locked up in his pantry by the police.
He halted abruptly. “Richards. They let you go, then?”
The butler inclined his head, almost his old, haughty self. “Indeed, sir.”
“Good thing,” Randolph said gruffly. “Bloody idiots. Don’t know what they were thinking of to arrest you in the first place. Where are they?”
“The policemen, sir? I believe they have returned to the inn for the night.”
Randolph nodded and carried on his way to the staircase to change for dinner. Constance was still at the forefront of his mind, though, preventing him from calling in on his mother, as he had intended. He changed quickly, admired his dramatic good looks in the glass, and twitched his necktie to make it perfect. Then he hurried down to the drawing room early, in the hope that Constance would do the same, or at least that he could corner her as soon as she arrived.
He poured himself a large brandy and sat down on the sofa, brooding. In a certain light, he could imagine Constance had been avoiding him since she got here. He had put it down to winning his parents’ approval, but other possibilities reared their ugly heads.
He was actually startled when she walked into the room in her burgundy evening gown, a necklace of jet around her throat emphasizing both its slenderness and the creaminess of her skin. If she were surprised to see him down so early, she didn’t show it. Nor did she bolt under some pretense, as he almost expected.
“Randolph,” she greeted him as he sprang to his feet. “How are you?”
“Apologetic,” he said ruefully. “Again. May I fetch you a glass of sherry?”
“Thank you.”
However, since Richards came in just then, Randolph left him to do the fetching, while he gestured for Constance to sitbeside him. Unexpectedly, she did. It struck him that she did not seem surprised to see Richards back about his duties. Word spread quickly. There had been a certain air of relief among the guests after Richards’s arrest. Randolph supposed the tension would be back in full once more.
He took the glass from Richards’s tray and presented it to Constance himself before sitting down beside her. Richards bowed and departed, no doubt to inspect the dining table.
“What are you apologetic about?” she asked lightly.
“My rudeness over your letter. I offended against your privacy and your good name. I didn’t truly mean to do either. The words just came blurting out.”
“You are under a lot of strain,” she said, patting his sleeve. “Think nothing of it.”
“I am ashamed that I gave Grey cause to defend you when that honor should be mine.”
“Nonsense,” she said. Her eyes betrayed amusement that began to rile him all over again. “If my honor ever needs defending, I shall do it myself.”
“You are very independent.”
“I have had to be.”
“Being a widow,” he said, slightly ashamed of himself. “Are we friends, Constance?”
“Of course we are.” Her voice was friendly, though entirely lacking the special warmth he longed for. “Although I feel you should call me Mrs. Goldrich.”
It felt like a red rag to a bull. “Why did you come here,Mrs. Goldrich?” he demanded. “Why did you accept my invitation to my parents’ house on such a short acquaintance? It was not because you liked me, was it?”
She met his gaze, her own as alluringly mysterious as ever. He doubted she could help that, but there was also a pride in her eyes that told him she would not answer.
“Did you use me in order to meet someone else?” he asked. “Grey? My father?”
