Wouldn't It Be Deadly (28 page)

“You realize what this means, don't you?” Eliza said finally.

“We must pass on Miss Page's sad story to your cousin.”

“Yes, and I pray Jack doesn't clap her in irons right away without better proof of her guilt. From where I sit, she's about as likely a murder suspect as you are.”

“I beg your pardon,” Higgins said. “You aren't comparing motives, are you? If so, her motive is a bit stronger than mine.”

“It's not motives I'm comparing,” Eliza retorted. “It's alibis. And I'm afraid I don't know which of you has the weaker one.”

She also feared that both Rosalind Page and Professor Higgins were lying.

 

SIXTEEN

Henry Higgins tipped his hat to a fellow Etonian on his way to the playing fields. The late May sunshine bathed his face. Ah, spring. He'd best enjoy it before the jail cell slammed shut behind him. It was an odd time of year to be heading for Eton's cricket ground. But thanks to a whim of the Prince of Wales, the players and fans of both Eton and Harrow were gathering weeks early for an unprecedented exhibition match.

He walked at a brisk pace past the copse surrounding Fellow's Pond. At the sight of the pond, he broke into a grin. Years ago, he'd pushed a rival batsman into the water for being a sore loser. Higgins's team had beaten Harrow, and the boy dared to call them cheats. As if Eton needed to do that to defeat Harrow. He continued on along oak-lined Pococks Lane, and then toward Agar's emerald green fields.

Given recent events, Higgins wanted only to enjoy the afternoon. Who knew if he would still be a free man once cricket season officially began? The restful train ride to Windsor had been much needed. He hadn't even bothered to note down a single odd turn of speech. And Higgins didn't care one whit if Detective Inspector Shaw forbade him to leave London. He had to get away from Scotland Yard, Wimpole Street, and Belgrave Square.

The weeks since returning from Spain had been frustrating beyond belief. Scotland Yard's investigation into Nepommuck's murder let Higgins see firsthand how wrong the police could be. And yesterday's encounter at the theater with Miss Page made the hunt for the killer only sadder and more puzzling. He couldn't imagine how Jack would handle the startling revelations about Rosalind Page. Higgins hoped he would not be unkind to the actress. Actually she was an actor. Or was he an actress? Blast, he felt as if he had fallen down the rabbit hole.

Higgins walked faster. He disliked being late for an Eton match, but Mrs. Pearce had trouble finding the correct silver-topped cane. She'd pressed his morning coat last night, and set out his top hat and gloves. While he preferred wearing his daily outfit of tweeds and fedora, attire at these matches was far more formal. Especially since the students' own uniforms included black morning coats and top hats.

A bit winded, Higgins at last joined the back of the crowd watching the under-sixteen cricket match. An Eton-Harrow match always elicited high spirits, but as Higgins moved through the crowd, he sensed a growing excitement. He looked about and spotted the source of the fevered attention.

Several yards away stood the Prince of Wales. The Earl and Countess of Craven flanked the young royal, who was not yet nineteen years of age. Rather dull company for the boy, Higgins thought. However, from every corner of the playing field, blue-blooded girls cast flirtatious looks his way. As if any of them had a chance. When the time came, Prince Edward would be married off to whatever dull young woman his parents deemed sufficiently royal and suitable. Higgins couldn't think of anything grimmer.

Today the Prince of Wales was here for only one reason: cricket. As a student at Oxford's Magdalen College, Edward's interest in cricket and racing was well known. It was he who requested today's special demonstration between the two celebrated teams. The usual Eton-Harrow exhibition match took place in July at Lord's in London. Higgins had also heard Prince Edward favored Harrow. And while the lad seemed charming enough—especially in his naval hat and uniform—Higgins hoped his future king would be disappointed with the outcome of today's match.

Bored by the royal watching, Higgins moved on. He scanned the crowd for a lovely woman wearing what would surely be an unusual hat. After a moment he caught sight of two sweeping white swan wings mounted on an upturned rose-hued straw brim. This absurd creation sat perched at an angle atop the Duchess of Waterbury's honey-blond head. Only Lady Helen could appear graceful and charming in such a ridiculous chapeau.

When he recognized the two elderly ladies who accompanied the Duchess, Higgins sighed in relief. Then again, the Duke was not a fan of cricket. It was no surprise his wife had attended without him.

With the match now under way, Higgins moved to a different vantage spot where he watched the Harrow batsmen score more than a half-dozen runs. Damnation. They were probably playing all out because the Prince of Wales was here. Eton's home crowd applauded with restrained politeness.

A new bowler from Eton stepped up, cheeks reddened from the sun, and delivered a spectacular ball. The ball bounced once and knocked down a wicket before the batsman could make any contact. Loud cheers rose above the crowd. Higgins let out a cheer of his own. The boy accepted his teammates' congratulatory cuffs on the shoulder with a wide grin. As he watched the strapping young Etonian, Higgins swelled with pride. Good man, good play. His mother would be proud.

“They're all growing up so fast,” he murmured.

Higgins continued to watch the match for at least fifteen minutes, aware that Lady Helen had noted his arrival. She slowly made her way along the sidelines, heading toward the trees that divided the playing fields. He followed ten minutes later. Careful to remain discreet, he ducked under the low-hanging branches. Higgins circled the area to allow her to catch up with him. When they met up, they didn't exchange a word but only walked together in silence.

Several Eton boys passed by, complaining about their various beaks and chiding each for having to sign the Tardy Book this past month.

“I say, let's go watch the wet bobs on Sunday,” the shortest one said. “We've nothing else to do.”

“They can row to kingdom come for all I care.”

“Beg pardon, sir. Didn't see you walkin' there,” the tallest student said as he dodged Lady Helen.

“Have a care where you step, young man,” Higgins said. “And it's walk
ing
, not walk
inn
. Practice correct diction and the world will be at your beck and call.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the boys hurried off, Lady Helen smiled at him. She looked radiant in a rose dress set off by a wide lace collar and pearls. “Must you always play professor, Henry?”

“I'm hardly playing at it. I am a professor.”

She laughed, which made her hat's ridiculous swan wings bob. “I think you're still irritated Oxford didn't create a chair for you.”

“By George, the last thing I want to waste my time on is reading dryasdust papers written by students who have trouble diagramming a compound sentence.”

“I suppose you're even less interested in acting as Master of Literature here. Would it really be so bad to join the college faculty? You've always said your finest memories took place at Eton.”

“Only in the cricket fields, not the classroom.” Higgins shook his head. “I would never fit in as a professor at Eton. The students would hang me from Lupton's Tower in the space of a week. I'm too demanding when it comes to teaching phonetics. Only paying pupils are willing to tolerate such draconian treatment from a martinet like me.”

“Martinet? You've a heart of gold.”

“I believe you've forgotten all the tears you shed over our own elocution lessons.”

Actually, he doubted either of them would forget that they met soon after she arrived in England as the fiancée of the Duke of Waterbury. Helen was yet another lively American millionairess about to marry an English lord. But unlike the Astor and Vanderbilt heiresses, this pretty American had an appalling Bostonian accent.

The Duke hired Higgins to eradicate Helen's dreadful flatness of vowels and the lack of the ‘r' consonant. The entire ducal family—along with Higgins—cringed whenever she opened her mouth. Although the Marsh family boasted an impressive fortune, their ancestry paled beside those of the Boston Brahmins. The one thing lacking was an English title, which Helen's mother insisted on securing for her oldest daughter. Only that troubling accent stood in the way of perfection.

Helen initially agreed with the plan to lose her Boston speech, at least until she met the arrogant young Professor Higgins. They battled for weeks over his teaching methods, but at last he succeeded. In fact, he'd been quite proud of the result—and her. He was also reluctant to see her married.

She winced. “Don't remind me about those lessons. But you ought to give yourself more credit, Henry. My husband was so pleased at the result, he paid double your fee.”

Higgins stiffened at the mention of her husband. “And how is Lord Edward?”

“Very well, thank you. He's meeting with the Chancellor of the Exchequer this afternoon. Otherwise he would have been here to watch William play.”

“Really?” Higgins couldn't disguise his skepticism. “I don't believe I have ever seen the Duke at one of these matches.”

Lady Helen's smile faded. “I feared that you would not be here, either. With everything going on, I don't know how you managed to find the time to attend.”

“I wanted to be here. You know that.”

She turned to face him. Even in the bright sunlight, Helen looked almost as young and fresh as the girl of twenty-one he'd taught when she first arrived in England. Only a few fine lines around her hazel green eyes hinted that she was now close to forty. “I'm worried about Scotland Yard's handling of the Hungarian's murder.”

“Let's not talk about that. I came here for cricket, not crime. I haven't given a single lesson since that scoundrel was found dead. It's a messy, unpleasant matter. You ought not concern yourself with it.”

“Of course I must concern myself about it. I've been alarmed since I first heard about the murder. I told you it was madness to expose that man in the press. You've drawn attention to yourself, Henry.”

“I don't want to discuss it.”

Helen slammed the tip of her silk parasol into the gravel walk. “Well, I do.”

He'd forgotten how stubborn and unconventional she could be. At this moment, she reminded him of Eliza. Higgins chalked it up to her being a brash American. It was ironic that he had trained two young women to be duchesses, even if Helen was the only one to marry an actual duke. It was even stranger that both ladies had become far too important to him. How had a reasonable man such as himself become so infernally concerned with the welfare of two exasperating females? Sometimes he feared he was a bigger romantic fool than the poetic Major Redstone. But at least he took care to conceal this absurd side to his otherwise sterling character.

“Right then. What is it you want to discuss?”

“Don't take that tone with me. I am hearing ominous things about this police investigation. In my own circle of friends, it's been a constant topic of conversation, especially because the murdered man was engaged to Lady Gresham.”

That caught his interest. “What are your friends saying?”

“Everyone believes Verena was a fool to accept the marriage proposal of that preening bore. His premature death was seen as a blessing, except for the garish fact that it was a murder. But I don't know if Verena's reputation can recover from the revelations in the newspapers. The consensus is that she'd best take herself off to the Continent for a year or two until this scandal is forgotten.” She sighed. “As for Verena, she's complaining to anyone who will listen that she was shamefully deceived by this Nepommuck. Was she?”

“Helen, she's a woman of seventy. Verena ought to have hired a detective to investigate him, rather than agreeing to marry the cad so soon after they met. I'm not sorry for exposing Nepommuck. He was a fraud.”

“But why do most of Verena's circle believe you were the one who stabbed him?”

If Lady Helen had heard such gossip from her aristocratic friends, it didn't bode well. “Because the dreary lords and ladies in her set have as little imagination as the police. I had nothing to do with the murder.”

“Good grief, have you forgotten I am the one person who knows for a fact that you did not murder him? Why do you think I'm so worried?”

“There's no need.” His feigned cheerfulness didn't seem to reassure Lady Helen. Higgins held out his arm. With a resigned sigh she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Just that slight touch was enough to set his blood afire. If only … But it was too late to dwell on the past. Helen Louise Marsh was the fifteenth Duchess of Waterbury now, and he was Henry Higgins, London's most celebrated professor of phonetics—and a confirmed bachelor. But only Higgins and Lady Helen knew why he was so averse to marriage. The only woman he had ever wished to marry was another man's wife. Even in their impulsive youth, both knew that divorce was out of the question for the Duchess. And once her son was born, any foolish dreams of one day being together were dashed.

Higgins believed duty and responsibility trumped passion. Without it, life would be chaos. At least the Duke of Waterbury was not a malicious fellow. Higgins didn't think he could tolerate the idea of Helen being tied to a drunken lout or a mean-spirited tyrant. However, the Duke was a cold man, far more interested in politics and gardening than his lovely American wife. Had he been at all attentive to Helen, Higgins doubted they would ever have begun their romance.

To their credit, they behaved honorably during the months of elocution lessons as Helen prepared for her aristocratic wedding. And while their affection for each other was obvious from the beginning, they never acted upon it. But Higgins never forgot the charming American heiress. How could he? During the first two years of her marriage, she was a society darling. Photographs of the pretty young Duchess of Waterbury appeared almost daily in the papers during the Season. All that was needed for a happy ending was the birth of an heir and a spare. Yet she was still childless when Higgins bumped into her at the Cambridge wedding of a mutual friend.