The Devious Duchess (14 page)

“That’s the clothing Uncle wore when he—when they took him away. It will be thrown out. It’s all dirty,” Deirdre said.

Belami stepped forward and opened the hamper. Inside, a small brown packet held the contents of his pockets. There was a pencil, a pince-nez, some loose change, a handkerchief, a snuffbox, and a piece of paper with some scribbling on it.

Belami lifted the snuffbox and examined it. A picture of a nude Venus smiled provocatively at him. “Adelaide sent this to Dudley for his birthday” he said. He opened the box and tried the snuff. It was a surprisingly good brand. He looked around the dresser and saw the tin of snuff she had also mentioned. It was the same sort.

Deirdre watched him, remembering Nevil’s remark that Belami had entertained Adelaide at the inn. It rankled even though she suspected Dick’s aim hadn’t been romantic. “I suppose you’ve been seeing a fair bit of Adelaide, have you?” she asked, but before he had time to do more than shoot a sharp glance at her, she spoke on. “Is it possible Dudley was poisoned by the snuff, do you think?”

“According to Straus, it was in his stomach, not his lungs, though after several hours, perhaps it might have gotten around in his body. I’m going to take both the tin and the box, Deirdre. I’ll get them back to you shortly. No, it’s easier just to take samples.” He took a sample from each container, wrapping one in his handkerchief and the other in the piece of paper from Dudley’s possessions. He looked at the paper first, trying to make sense of it. It looked like a list, but done in a kind of shorthand using initials. It would also be studied at leisure when he returned to the inn.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” she asked. He shook his head.

“I’ll have a go at the desk. You look around the dresser.” The desk yielded letters from the duchess, Nevil, Adelaide, and a few other relatives. There were also bills from tradesmen and receipts of various household expenditures. Belami pocketed the letters and went to the dresser with Deirdre. They stood looking at a clutter of brushes and combs, an open jewelry box containing a few tiepins, a dusty ivory miniature of a lady that Deirdre identified as Dudley’s mother, a bottle of lavender water, and a few more snuffboxes.

The remainder of the room was given a cursory search, but there seemed to be nothing to be learned there.

“I’d best be going,” Belami said. “You’ll be missed below stairs.”

“Yes,” Deirdre agreed, but neither of them made a move. They stood, gazing at each other, in the still room. Even their breath seemed to be suspended as they stood, each waiting for the other to speak.

Belami cleared his throat and said, “Will your aunt mind if I go to the funeral tomorrow? And, even more important, will you mind, Deirdre? I shan’t push my luck by coming back here after for the funeral party.”

Her polite reply annoyed him. “Auntie welcomes anyone with a presentable carriage. She fears the cortège won’t be up to the Patmore standard, but the funeral party will. She’s ordered prunes,” she added, allowing a small smile to peep out. “Did you realize prunes are standard fare at an old-fashioned averil? She said it’s the black skin that makes them particularly suitable.”

Dick gazed at her, beguiled by the little dimples that peeped out at the corners of her lips. He was enchanted by the many facets of this girl-woman he had fallen in love with. She had appeared older, more grown-up and sophisticated, tonight, all in black and with her hair bound up. It gave him a foretaste of how she would look in, say, ten years. He wanted to be there still to enjoy her.

“I’ve missed you, Deirdre,” he said. He didn’t move toward her. He didn’t move at all, but just stood, gazing.

She lowered her eyes, and he saw the long sweep of her lashes against her ivory skin. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, so low he could hardly hear her.

“When this is all over, I’ll come back. Either way, whatever happens, I’ll be back.”

She looked up then, and he saw the film of moisture in her eyes that she was trying to hold back. “No, if my aunt is found guilty, don’t come back for me, Dick. I couldn’t do that to you. I’ll go away."

He took the pace that separated them and swept her into his arms violently, angrily. “Don’t say such a thing! Don’t insult me in that way, Deirdre. Do you think I only love you for your sterling reputation? My God, that doesn’t mean a thing to me. It’s you! Just you.” His voice was low and fierce. “I’d marry you if you had taken a gun and shot the man yourself in view of the whole world.” Her eyes were wide, gazing at him, full of love. “And so would you marry me, if the circumstances were reversed.”

“No,” she said very softly, and stepped back. She couldn’t let him ruin his life.

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, then lowered his head and kissed her. It was a long, bittersweet kiss, the best kiss Belami had ever experienced in a long and full career of kissing women. Yet there was little of desire in it. It was a protective, possessive feeling that enveloped him. He knew that he held something not only dear but essential to his life. And when they stopped and gazed at each other, he saw that her tears had subsided. She looked calm, peaceful, even verging on happy.

He squeezed her fingers and smiled. “We may have to change the itinerary of our honeymoon. Pronto threatens to hide out in the hold of the ship and come along with us, to keep us from each other’s throats. Oh, but you have such a delicious throat,” he crooned, and placed his lips on it.

A wave of dizzy yearning washed over her at the brush of his lips against her sensitive skin. There was a light prickle of incipient whiskers as his lips traveled in a warm line up to her jaw, and his hands moved over her back. She put her fingers on his neck. It felt strong, the hair rough, yet it was vulnerable beneath her fingers. She could even feel the pulse of his heartbeat, fast and heavy, like her own. She tilted his head up and looked at him.

“I meant what I said, Dick,” she whispered softly. “I shan’t marry if Auntie is proven guilty.”

He took a deep breath and prepared to persuade her from this folly.

Into the silence of the room penetrated a scratching sound coming from the door. “What’s that? There’s no cat here,” Deirdre exclaimed.

“No, there’s a Pilgrim. That’s Pronto’s signal.”

He went to the door, and Pronto straggled in, his blue eyes darting from one to the other. “Smells like April and May in here. And stale tobacco,” he added, sniffing the air.

“Has anyone missed me?” Deirdre asked.

“Dick’s been as blue as an emerald since the two of you have been on the outs. Missed you myself,” Pronto assured her.

“He’s been as blue as a ruby,” Belami added, “but I think Deirdre was talking about the folks downstairs.”

“No, they’re all gabbing and swilling and stuffing themselves on prunes. Better be a short funeral tomorrow is all I have to say. Actually, I had something else to tell you. You used to say actually, Deirdre. See you managed to break the habit.”

“And what was it you had to say?” she prompted.

“Nevil.”

“Oh, has he been looking for me?”

“No, he’s chewing that apple-cheeked young servant gel out for something or other. Seems to me he’d be better employed lighting into the Friday-faced one. Looks like a sour apple. Asked her for a glass of wine and she gave me cider.”

“Was he saying anything of interest to Polly?” Belami asked, his patience wearing thin.

 “Well, yes and no. I overheard ‘em while I was skulking along the hallway there, guarding the study door for you. Didn’t see me in the shadows. He was quizzing her about what Deirdre had said to her when they was in the dining room together, laying on the crockery and whatnot.”

“That’s when Polly and I were talking about Mrs. Haskell’s strange note,” Deirdre explained.

“He was quizzing her about what she had told you till the poor gel was close to tears, and she kept telling him she hadn’t said nothing. Seemed to satisfy him, so I don’t know whether I heard anything interesting or not. We’ll have to let Dick deduce on it for a while,” he added to Deirdre.

It didn’t take Dick long to deduce what had transpired. “Nevil did send that note to get rid of Mrs. Haskell, and Polly knew it,” he said. “You mentioned she was loose-tongued, Deirdre. You’ll have to have another go at her and see if you can find out what went on.”

“I’ll wait till Nevil leaves tonight,’’ she said.

“That would be best,” Dick agreed. “We don’t want to alert him that we suspect anything. You’ll let me know as soon as you hear?”

“Yes, I’ll get a note to you somehow.”

“Would Charney have my head on a platter if I called on you one day soon?” he asked.

Deirdre hesitated a moment before answering. “No, she blows up quickly, but she soon settles down. Rather like you,” she added, with an arch smile, but it soon faded. “
Ac
-tually—I said that just for you, Pronto—she wants to ask you about hiring a lawyer in case that is necessary.”

“Then I’ll run out tomorrow evening, but you can slip me a note at the funeral if you learn anything from Polly before that time.”

“I’ll do that. And now I must go down and speak to Adelaide.”

“Can hint her away from me while you’re at it,” Pronto told her; “You was right about the legs, Dick. I could hardly hobble to the door by the time we got here. Ain’t looking forward to the drive back, if you want the truth. Believe I’ll see if I can find someone from town needing a lift back. She’s a wild woman in a carriage.”

“Legs?” Deirdre asked in forgivable confusion.

“Don’t ask. We’ve just become friends again,” Belami said.

“Yes, I hope we’ll always be friends,” she said stiffly, her mind alive with suspicions about Dick and Adelaide. “Don’t glower so, Dick. I shan’t ask any embarrassing questions about your private meetings at the Green Man.”

“Do you have someone spying on me?” he asked, his eyes glittering.

“Eh?” Pronto demanded.

“Nevil told me. He keeps me informed on what’s going on," she replied blandly.

“Damme, Dick, and Adelaide’s asked me for your room number a dozen times,” Pronto said.

Deirdre glared at Dick, who glared back. “We’ll be going now,” he said, grabbing Pronto’s arm and hauling him out of the door by main force.

Deirdre didn’t see Belami leave, but Pronto later told her that he had gotten out undetected. She did a little gentle quizzing about Adelaide wanting Dick’s room number. Pronto swore on his honor that he hadn’t given it to her, since he couldn’t remember it himself, and she grudgingly accepted it.

Her manner to Adelaide was not as warm as it might have been, but Adelaide was not a sensitive woman and found nothing amiss in it. The callers began leaving around nine, and by ten the saloon was empty.

"We’ll lock up here, Nevil. You still have the drive to Banting,” Deirdre told him.

“I’ll be back out by nine in the morning to oversee the departure for the church,” he said. “I’ll spare you all I can,” he added to the duchess.

Deirdre took a close look at his crape funeral embellishments and thought they looked brand-new. After he left, she said to her aunt, “Did Nevil borrow any crape from you, Auntie?”

“Certainly not. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen him in funeral regalia. He’s nicely rigged out, I must say, but I didn’t care for that bonnet on Miss Pankhurst, and not even a veil for her face. I hope she has the common decency to go in proper mourning tomorrow.”

“I expect Nevil will hint her into the right style. I want to speak to Polly before we leave. I’ll be right back.”

She went to the kitchen, where Anna was loading dishes into the sink under Mrs. Haskell’s direction.

“Where’s Polly?” she asked.

“She went to bed with a sick headache,” Mrs. Haskell replied.

“Yes, as soon as I got the dishes in the sink she got sick,” Anna added over her shoulder.

“Sometime before that,” Mrs. Haskell corrected. “She did look feverish, poor girl. It’s the nature of your uncle’s passing that upsets these shatter-brained girls, Miss Gower. They’re convinced there’s a ghost behind every corner.”

“I’ll see her tomorrow,” Deirdre said, and went back to join her aunt for the trip home. She meant to be at the Grange before Nevil’s arrival at nine, to give Polly a good quizzing.

She didn’t learn till that time that Polly had left. Mrs. Haskell discovered it much sooner. She stopped at Polly’s door on her way to bed to see if she was ill and found that the girl had gone. Her dresser had been hastily emptied, and the few gowns taken from the dress hooks on the wall, so she knew that Polly hadn’t just slipped off to meet a fellow. She had left permanently. It didn’t seem an important enough matter to disturb the duchess with all her other problems, but she did just wonder if it had anything to do with Miss Gower’s wanting to speak to her. She thought it might be a matter of theft, money taken from Miss Gower’s reticule perhaps, though Polly was never a light-fingered girl. It was liking the men that was her weakness. Thoughtless chit! It would be for herself and Anna to manage the funeral unless the duchess could spare a few girls.

When Deirdre told the duchess that Dick would attend the funeral, there were no fireworks. “I thought it wouldn’t have hurt him to come to the wake. It was good of Mr. Pilgrim to do so. If we ask Mr. Pilgrim for dinner tomorrow evening, Deirdre, Belami might be induced to come with him. And if not, then you must accept an offer from Pilgrim. They’ll be scarce as hen’s teeth once I am in prison.”

Such remarks always sent a shiver of fear down Deirdre’s spine. Why did her aunt say such things if she was innocent? And if she was guilty, why didn’t she just tell everything and let Dick solve the case?

In fact, her grace had decided to take Belami into her confidence. If necessary, she would even apologize to the jackanapes. She needed the help of a thoroughly cunning, unprincipled rogue who wouldn’t balk at bending the law a little. And if that description didn’t fit Belami to a T, she was very much mistaken.

Chapter 11

No funeral is ever a happy affair, but that of Lord Dudley was even more dismal than most. A cold rain fell from leaden skies and turned to ice as it hit the ground. The plumes on the horses’ heads leaned at eerie, drunken angles as they were first sodden, then frozen into place. There was such a slipping and sliding of carriage wheels that the coffin itself was in some danger of falling to the ground and breaking open. Considering the weather and Lord Dudley's scarcity of friends, the duchess was surprised that even a half-dozen carriages made it to the Grange and thence to the church.