Pamela Sherwood (29 page)

Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.

—Arthur Conan Doyle, “A Scandal in Bohemia”

“I cannot decide—should it be pickled salmon or poached?” Lady Tresilian mused, studying the menu before her. “What do you think, Sophie?”

“Poached is more elegant, I think,” Sophie replied. “And don’t forget the lobster puffs John likes so much.”

“Oh, Cook is already making those. Should we have dressed crab too?”

“Why not? Amy served dressed crab at her last soiree—it was very popular with her guests. And this is Cornwall, Mama,” Sophie reminded her, smiling. “Where else can one find the freshest fish and shellfish in England?”

“Very true,” Lady Tresilian agreed, adding it to the menu.

From sorrow to celebration in barely a day, Sophie mused. Just yesterday she’d stood beside a grave, watching the coffin of her murdered rival being lowered into the earth. This morning she was sitting in the parlor at Roswarne, helping her mother choose the refreshments for the engagement party they’d be hosting for John and Grace three evenings from now. She longed to see Robin; worry for him fretted her like a sore tooth, but she could think of no reasonable pretext to ride over to Pendarvis Hall. And he must have his hands full in any case, keeping his guests appeased in this situation.

“Miss Tregarth is here, my lady,” Parsons observed from the doorway.

Lady Tresilian rose from her desk. “Thank you, Parsons. Show her in at once.”

“Good morning, Lady Tresilian!” Grace Tregarth, tall, fair, and pretty, entered with outstretched hands and a smile as bright as her sunny hair. “And Sophie too! I am so glad to find you both at home.”

“I shall always be at home to you, Grace dear,” Lady Tresilian fondly assured her future daughter-in-law as they sat down upon the sofa. “Now, what brings you over here so early?”

“Well, in truth, I had a favor to ask. Both of you,” Grace added, including Sophie in her smile. “I know you’ve sent out the invitations weeks ago, but would you be willing to add someone else to the guest list? A particular friend of mine?”

“That can be arranged quite easily,” Lady Tresilian told her. “Now, which friend is this?”

Grace hesitated, then ventured, “Constance Nankivell. She returned to St. Perran three days ago.”

Constance Nankivell? Sir Lucas’s
wife
? Sophie barely kept her mouth from dropping open. Glancing at her mother, she saw that her expression had grown slightly rigid. “I see.”

“I know you’re none too fond of Sir Lucas,” Grace rushed on apologetically. “And I can hardly blame you for that! But Constance and I have become good friends, and I shouldn’t like her to feel unwelcome. I imagine it was difficult enough for her to come back here in the first place. Especially since Sir Lucas wasn’t exactly an ideal husband,” she added significantly.

So the baronet’s peccadilloes were at least partly known. Sophie wondered how many in the county knew he had been Nathalie’s lover, and winced to think of Robin’s humiliation.

“Well, I suppose… we could make an exception in this case,” Lady Tresilian conceded at last. “It isn’t fair to punish Constance for Sir Lucas’s dreadful behavior, then or now. And the party
is
in your honor, my dear, and John’s. Have you consulted him on this, by the way?”

Grace nodded. “John says he’s willing to tolerate Sir Lucas’s presence on this occasion, for my sake. He likes Constance too, and has always felt rather sorry for her.”

“Very well,” Lady Tresilian acknowledged. “I shall see that an invitation is sent to the Nankivells.
And
I’ll talk to Harry to let him know how matters stand.”

“Thank you.” Grace laid a hand over the older woman’s. “I appreciate that, immensely. And now, on to a less—fraught matter,” she added with her winsome smile. “Sophie, would you be willing to sing at our party? It would mean so much to us both.”

“Grace, dear, it is your evening—yours and John’s,” Sophie began.

“And I can’t think of a better way to celebrate that than with music. We met at one of your family’s concerts, after all,” Grace reminded her. “Having you sing would be like… commemorating our first meeting. And you needn’t fear we’ll ask you to sing the whole score of
Figaro
,” she said with a gurgle of laughter. “Just a few of our favorite songs will suffice.”

Sophie smiled back. “Well, if you’re sure about it. What would you like me to sing?”

“I’ll talk to John and we’ll give you a list tomorrow, if that’s soon enough?”

“That will be fine. And Cecily would probably be willing to play the accompaniment,” Sophie added. “Just as she did back then.”

“That would be delightful!” Grace clasped her hands. “I am so happy to be gaining you both as sisters. You can’t imagine how lonely it is, being an only child!”

“We’re delighted to have you joining our family too,” Lady Tresilian told her, smiling. “Now, would you mind looking over the menu with me? I’d appreciate further suggestions.”

“Of course.” Grace bent her head to study the bill of fare.

“And Sophie”—Lady Tresilian turned to her daughter—“I was wondering if we might invite Robin Pendarvis to dinner this evening. I couldn’t help but notice how tired and thin he looked yesterday at the funeral,” she went on, as Sophie stared at her. “This has been such a difficult time for him, and I think it would do him good to spend an evening among friends.”

Sophie felt a rush of gratitude, recognizing that this was her mother’s way of giving her blessing to Robin and Sophie’s relationship. “I think that’s a fine idea, Mama. May I ride over to the hotel and give him the invitation in person?”

“You may. Indeed, I had rather suspected you would want to,” Lady Tresilian observed, a touch dryly. “Only—try to be back before dinner yourself, my love.”

Sophie blushed, kissed her mother decorously, and went to change into her riding habit.

***

At the hotel, Praed welcomed Sophie warmly, but an air of abstraction hung about him. The master was in his office, being questioned by “that inspector,” he informed her, his tone halfway between censure and apprehension.

Sophie inferred without difficulty that Taunton was by no means popular with the staff. “I see. Has Mr. Pendarvis left specific orders
not
to be disturbed?”

“On the contrary, Miss Tresilian, he has done nothing of the kind.”

They regarded each other with perfect understanding, then, “Thank you, Praed,” Sophie said brightly, and set off at once toward the west wing.

She remembered from the floor plan that Robin’s office was on the ground floor. But even without that, she’d have located it quickly, by the voices that carried into the passage. Voices that sounded anything but friendly, she noted with alarm, and quickened her pace until she was standing just outside the door.

“—a matter pertaining to your late wife?” Taunton was saying, his tone sharp and inquisitorial. “Were you in fact seeking to bring a suit of divorce against her?”

Sophie held her breath as Robin replied, his own voice level, calm, and cold as the grave. “I came to London to seek a divorce, yes. You can confirm as much with my solicitor.”

“And yet you chose to omit that detail when making your statement?”

“There seemed little point in mentioning it, as the news of Nathalie’s murder reached me before I could collect the papers from Mr. Halifax,” Robin retorted. “The dissolution of my marriage was a private matter. Under the circumstances, I preferred that it remain so.”

“I see. Well, the timing certainly worked to your advantage.”

“I beg your pardon?” The chill in Robin’s voice had deepened.

“Your wife’s death occurred
before
the divorce could take place, sparing you no small amount of expense and embarrassment. The tragedy could not have occurred at a more opportune moment… than if you had arranged it yourself.”

Sophie stifled a gasp at the blatant innuendo. Peering around the slightly open door, she saw the two men standing face to face, their postures equally stiff and unyielding.

Robin did not pretend to misunderstand. “Inspector, let us deal plainly with one another. If I were already going through the proper legal channels of divorcing my wife, I would scarcely imperil my future or that of my daughter by murdering her mother.”

“You still might have found it easier and less expensive to have her killed, rather than waiting for a divorce that might not be granted!” Taunton pointed out, almost triumphantly.

From her vantage point, Sophie saw Robin’s hands fist; she could only guess at the anger and offense surging through him.
Keep
calm, dear heart
, she willed.
This
is
what
the
inspector
wants.

Much to her relief, he unclenched his hands after a moment, then said evenly, “I had good cause to believe the divorce
would
be granted, as I possessed incontrovertible proof of Nathalie’s infidelity. However, as the mother of my child, she was entitled to some degree of maintenance, and I intended to confer an annuity upon her. But no amount of expense or embarrassment would have deterred me from pursuing the divorce.” He took a breath. “And now, if I might inquire as to the source of your information regarding my plans?”

“I am not at liberty to divulge—”

“Was it Sir Lucas Nankivell?”

Positioned as she was, Sophie did not have the best view of Taunton’s expression, but the faint shift in his stance betrayed him.

“You may wish to question
him
more closely,” Robin continued coolly. “He may have a number of interesting things to impart—as my wife’s last lover and the possible father of the child she was carrying.”

Sophie’s eyes widened, and she heard Taunton catch his breath, then swallow audibly. As well he might… Nathalie with child? By Sir Lucas? When had Robin discovered
this
?

He was still speaking, and she hurriedly recollected her thoughts to listen. “Moreover, Inspector, as one new to St. Perran, you are likely unaware that five years ago, Sir Lucas attempted to slander me, Lord Trevenan, and Sir Harry, by accusing us of conspiracy to murder Trevenan’s predecessor. His slanders were exposed, and he was persuaded to confess his wrongdoing and make reparation.”

Sophie would have wagered her violin on Taunton not knowing that, and what she could glimpse of his profile looked sufficiently nonplussed to confirm as much. “I am not sure what bearing the events of five years ago have on this present investigation—”

“A great deal, I should think,” Sophie surprised herself by saying. Then, as both men turned toward her, sporting identical startled expressions, she stepped out from behind the door and walked boldly into the room.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” she said with her brightest smile. “I could not help but overhear. Inspector, I can personally vouch for what Mr. Pendarvis has told you about Sir Lucas. Indeed, I was present when his lies,” she chose the word deliberately, “were revealed. He bears a grudge against my family and Mr. Pendarvis to this day. As a result, we seldom meet socially.”

Taunton regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Why would Sir Lucas invent such a slander in the first place, Miss Tresilian?”

Sophie matched him stare for stare. “For several reasons, no doubt, but my brother’s rejection of him as my suitor was among them. I possess a comfortable fortune, Inspector, which Sir Lucas coveted, just as he coveted some railway shares held by Mr. Pendarvis,” she added, with a nod toward Robin. “I’m sure we’re
all
aware that unscrupulous men will say and do just about anything to get what they want. Even something as petty as revenge.”

She knew she was laying it on a trifle thick, but to judge from his expression, Taunton appeared to be listening—or at any rate not dismissing what she said out of hand. By contrast, Robin’s face had gone completely unreadable.

“Indeed,” Taunton said, after a moment. “Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Tresilian. Mr. Pendarvis.” He sounded almost conciliatory. “I will be sure to take what you have both told me into account. Good day.”

“Good day,” Sophie said quickly. Robin merely inclined his head as Taunton withdrew.

“That didn’t go
too
badly,” she ventured once they were alone.

Robin raised a sardonic brow. “No?”

“At least he knows better now than to swallow everything Sir Lucas tells him about you.”

“True enough,” he conceded, then sighed, looking unutterably weary. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, my love, but why have you come?”

“To invite you to dine with us tonight, at Roswarne. Mama’s idea,” she added, smiling.

His eyes warmed. “I accept with pleasure. Now, how long were you hiding behind that door?”

Sophie considered dissembling, then discarded the idea. “Long enough to hear you say Nathalie was pregnant by Sir Lucas when she died.”

“She was pregnant, yes. But it’s not yet certain Nankivell was the father,” he corrected.

She fretted her lip. “Then who else could it have been?”

“Any man who shared her bed in the last three months.” His lips twisted. “Not that I kept a tally. And I’d swear there was no one during Cyril’s last illness, or right after his death.”

“So that would mean… April or thereabouts?”

He nodded, tight-lipped. “I don’t know if she and Nankivell were involved then. I suppose it’s possible. To be frank, I didn’t care to know.”

“He was at the funeral yesterday. Not among the mourners,” she added, as Robin glanced at her sharply. “But I saw him, afterward, standing behind a gravestone, watching you. I couldn’t believe he had the gall to come!”

“Neither can I.” Robin shook his head. “I thought for certain he’d be lying low, especially now that Lady Nankivell’s returned to Cornwall.”

“That’s what I heard from Grace.” Sophie grimaced. “Under the circumstances, Lady Nankivell would’ve been wiser to stay away. And now Sir Lucas is trying to make trouble for you again. I wonder how he found out about the divorce.”

“From Nathalie, I suspect. She may have guessed my intent when I left for London.” Robin rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, however Nankivell found out, he knows casting suspicion on me would divert suspicion from
him
. A preemptive attack, I suppose, since I hadn’t so much as mentioned his name to the police before today.”