Page 56 of Lord Trafford's Folly
Brendan gave a bow, presenting his card. “Please inform Mr. Stone that Lord Filminster and Lord Trafford wish to meet with him.”
The housekeeper’s watery vision flickered with surprise, and she dropped into a hasty curtsy, clearly not used to such esteemed guests. “Milords.”
She scurried down the hall, returning a few minutes later. “Please, milords, come this way.”
They were shown into the study, which was packed with books and overstuffed chairs. Vestments were hanging behind the door, while Stone’s weighty form was dressed in a dark gray coat with long tails. His breeches were an even darker gray, and his calves were covered in black stockings. The vestments were favorable, in Julius’s estimation, in that they would forgive the rounded form they concealed. In his early fifties, Stone had a wide face, bulbous nose, and a full shock of white hair.
Julius watched him carefully, but Stone did not seem alarmed by their presence. The killer would know who Julius and Brendan were, so would be guarded if surprised by a visit from them.
Stone bobbed his head in quick bows, his expression amiable if perplexed. “Lord Filminster, Lord Trafford, welcome.”
“Mr. Stone, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Julius considered the vicar while they took their seats at his desk. He was hearty and had enjoyed too many biscuits and cake visiting his parish, but there were no signs of strain regarding their visit. After a few minutes of preamble, Julius leaned forward.
“We have been most impressed with what we hear about your parish. Lord Filminster and I are here to make a donation to your church.”
Brendan smiled. “Indeed. I have instructed my man of business to do so.”
Stone blinked in surprise before clapping his hands in gratitude. “That is wonderful news, milords. The church is always in need of repairs.”
Julius nodded, observing with attention. “We hear that you have a most esteemed connection. Is it true that your brother is Lord Harlyn?”
Stone smiled, revealing a full set of slightly yellowed teeth. “Indeed, Lord Harlyn is a patron of our little church here in London.”
Brendan chatted about Harlyn and the Stone family roots in Cornwall for several minutes until steering to the purpose of their visit. “Were you so fortunate as to attend the coronation in July with your brother?”
The vicar shook his head. “Oh, no! That would have been a fine event to attend, but my brother could not procure an additional invitation. No, I am afraid we had a bereaved family in our parish that day. My wife and I attended them well into the night. Sad business.”
Julius set his face into sympathetic lines, despite the triumph he felt. Now that they were confident in approaching Stone and Montague directly, it was going to be short work ruling them out so the investigation could focus on Simon Scott.
“That is terrible news. Is there something we can do to assist?”
Stone gave them an account of the merchant who had passed, and the wife and children he had left behind. It was, as he had stated, a sad affair. Brendan was quick to state that they would like to visit and deliver their condolences. Having secured the name and address of the alibi, Brendan and Julius bade Stone farewell with a promise that the donation would be delivered to the church within the coming days. It would be simple to confirm the vicar’s presence the night of the coronation with the family he provided solace to.
They returned to the carriage, setting off to pay a call to Montague. Brendan placed his beaver on the bench seat beside him, pulling off a glove to rake his hair, a sure sign he was uncomfortable about what he wished to say.
“Julius … are you certain about this arrangement with Miss Gideon? She is a beautiful and competent young lady. Considering you will be wed, would she not make a good wife?”
Julius stared out the window at the passing traffic. He had been afraid Brendan might return to the subject. It was rare that he and his friends discussed such private issues, but Brendan was besotted with the delicate Lily since they had wed. “I do not wish to be wed.”
Brendan sighed. “Why are you marrying her? You must care about what happens to her?”
He could not answer that question, even to himself. The idea of marriage filled him with dread. The thought of Audrey leaving England made him want to howl. Reconciling these conflicting emotions was proving impossible.
“I must protect her,” was the reply Julius could give. They fell into a deep silence; the sounds of people and vehicles in the street outside, wheels hitting the beaten earth, filled in for any further conversation until they reached their destination.
Montague was fortuitously in, and they made their excuses for meeting. This time it was not quite so easy to ascertain where he had been on the night of the coronation, Montague being rather evasive, so they left without settling it. Discussing it on the way back to the Stirling townhouse, they agreed the man appeared to be more embarrassed than defensive about it. Brendan suggested that two runners working on the investigation might pay a visit to the physician’s surgery. One could distract the doctor while the other took a peek at the accounts book which would list the specifics of Montague’s visits for billing.
Perhaps Montague had received the same barbaric blistering treatment that Audrey had declared would incapacitate him. It would account for his unwillingness to discuss it. If that was the case, they could rule him out. It was unlikely Montague wouldhave visited Ridley House at midnight to bludgeon the late baron if he were covered in painful blisters.
Now that matters were almost settled, and it was days until they confronted Simon Scott with his murderous deeds, Julius had nothing to distract him from the problem of his wretched betrothal. He wished he and Audrey could return to Aunty Gertrude’s. Their time together had been genuinely diverting—the most fun he had in years. It had been far simpler when expectations and scandal had not imposed on their intriguing new alliance. He wished he could seek Audrey out to kiss her soft mouth, but he doubted such advances would be welcome after his dreadful proposal.
CHAPTER 17
“By recollecting the pleasures I have had formerly, I renew them, I enjoy them a second time, while I laugh at the remembrance of troubles now past, and which I no longer feel.”
Giacomo Casanova
