The Mayfair Affair (15 page)

Malcolm met his spymaster's gaze. There was no reason to suspect Carfax knew Raoul O'Roarke was his father. No reason, except the fact that he was Carfax. "We saw a lot of him in Ireland."

"A clever man, O'Roarke." Carfax dropped into his desk chair and waved Malcolm to a chair across from him. "In '98, I'd have called him one of the most dangerous men in Ireland. Perhaps the most dangerous. Then, of course, in the Peninsula he became an ally. Odd how things change."

Malcolm sat in the proffered chair. Surely if Carfax had an inkling O'Roarke had really been working for the French, he wouldn't invite him to his house. Or so Malcolm tried to tell himself. Underneath, he knew it might be just what Carfax would do to keep an eye on O'Roarke. "Enemies have a way of melting into allies in our world."

"And back again." Carfax adjusted his spectacle earpiece. "I suppose now O'Roarke's trying to convince you Britain should throw support behind the Liberals in Spain."

"It would hardly take O'Roarke to convince me on that score."

"No, I suppose not. There are times I'm grateful to have you out of the diplomatic corps, Malcolm. Though I could do without your speeches in the House."

"I'm flattered you're even aware of my speeches."

"False modesty doesn't become you, my boy. Though, even if you were still in my employ, you're hardly the agent I'd have set on O'Roarke, given your connections to him."

Malcolm leaned back in his chair, aware of the pressure of the stolen papers through his coat. "Do you have an agent on him?"

"You can hardly expect me to answer that."

"He really was just giving us information on Suzanne's friends this evening."

"I forget how well Suzanne knows him."

Again, there was no reason to take it at more than face value. It was just difficult not to look for hidden meanings with Carfax. "We saw quite a bit of him in Paris."

"Of course. The insularity of the expatriate community. Amelia used to say it was a mathematical challenge not to seat people next to the same person twice in a week. Not that our circles in London are so very vast. But at least one can pick and choose a bit more." Carfax spread his hands on the desktop. "Everyone's talking about Trenchard, of course. Which, as you must have realized, is why I wanted the party to go forwards, for all it's distasteful. I trust you've learned something to balance the unpleasantness of the gossip?"

Malcolm met his spymaster's gaze. "David says Trenchard struck Mary."

Carfax's gaze narrowed. As usual, he'd positioned himself with the light at his back. "I should have known David would tell you."

"Is that why you neglected to tell me yourself?"

Carfax leaned back, further into the shadows. "I saw no reason to distract you with something that has no bearing on Trenchard's murder."

"Unless Trenchard's treatment of Mary
is
the motive for the murder."

Carfax raised his brows. "My dear boy, are you accusing me of having had my son-in-law killed?'

"It gives you a motive. Along with others."

Carfax's brows snapped together. "If you mean Mary—"

"My dear sir, I want to protect Mary as— No, I suppose I can't claim as much as you do, but you must know I think of her practically as a sister. Which is why it's all the more important I have all the pertinent facts so I can arrive at a solution as quickly and cleanly as possible."

Rather to his surprise, Carfax gave a faint smile. "Do you know, if I had had Trenchard killed, I rather think I'd have told you about his abominable treatment of Mary. Confessing to throw you off the scent. I should never have let the bastard— But that's neither here nor there."

"Trenchard had also changed his will recently and cut out a large part of Mary's portion."

Carfax's brows snapped together. "By God—"

"You didn't know?"

"No." The anger that suffused the earl's face seemed genuine, but with Carfax one could never be sure.

"Do you have any idea why?"

"Good God, no. But I can hardly claim to have been privy to my late son-in-law's innermost thoughts."

"Did you know Trenchard was a member of the Elsinore League?"

Carfax went still. "You have been busy."

"Did you?"

Carfax adjusted the other earpiece of his spectacles. "Suspected."

"Before he married Mary?"

"My God, do you think I would use my own daughter to spy for me?"

"Yes, if you thought the potential gains valuable enough."

Carfax got to his feet. "You may be right. As it happens, I didn't know."

Malcolm got to his feet as well and turned, his back against the cabinet with the sculpture the papers had come from. "You'd say that anyway."

"Probably. I can only hope your skills at reading people are as good as I've credited, and you don't waste time on me." Carfax moved to the drinks trolley, his back to Malcolm. Malcolm stayed still, wary of a feint. "What told you Trenchard was an Elsinore League member?"

"Papers." Malcolm reached behind him for the sculpture, one-handed. "He seems to have angered members of the League recently, though it's not clear over what."

"Letting the personal interfere with his larger goals perhaps. Not a mistake I'd have thought Trenchard would make." Carfax splashed liquid into a glass. The pungent aroma of cognac filled the air.

"Not a mistake you'd make?" Malcolm had the sculpture open.

"A mistake I've tried to avoid. I think we're all vulnerable. Especially where our children are concerned. Though I thought if anything, Trenchard was less vulnerable than I am. Particularly when it came to James."

"I understand he favored Jack."

"Difficult to see why. Jack was the sort a man warns away from his daughters. Whereas James has given his father everything a man could want in a son and heir." Carfax splashed brandy into a second glass.

"Everything you'd like in your heir?" Malcolm slid the papers out of his coat and behind his back. Carfax turned round, a glass held out, a split second after Malcolm got his hand behind his back. At least Malcolm thought it was a split second after.

"Don't try to change the subject, Malcolm." Carfax advanced, the drink held out.

Malcolm accepted the glass with his right hand while with his left he slid the papers into the compartment in the sculpture. "You're the one who mentioned sons and heirs."

"You can't deny James is more conventional than David."

"No one takes his duty more seriously than David." Malcolm reached for the lid, but the fingers of his left hand couldn't quite manipulate it.

"No, that's true." Carfax returned to his chair and ook a sip of brandy. "And he wouldn't thank me for interfering on his behalf any more than James would."

"Trenchard had also apparently quarreled with Jack's wife's father recently." Malcolm snapped the lid back in place.

"Frederick Hampson? I'd have thought Trenchard was eager to be rid of the connection. He was always a bit of a snob."

"Could Hampson have been an Elsinore League member?"

Carfax clunked down his glass. "Who told you that?"

"It's just an idea. We were wondering if they could have been quarreling about something more recent than Hampson's late daughter."

"I never heard anything to suggest it. Hampson was a good man. Is a good man, though I haven't had dealings with him in years."

"You knew him?"

"Back in my military days." Carfax had served in the military until the deaths of his nephew and elder brother led to his unexpected ascension to the earldom. "Hampson commanded the garrison at Fort Arthur and had the misfortune to have his command in India at the time of the war between East Adilabad and West Basmat. Two small princely states that hadn't yet come under British control. We'd have been better off staying out of it, but of course the East India Company wanted to use it to gain a tactical advantage, and East Adilabad was willing to sign a treaty and cede trading rights in exchange for support. Hampson protested, but he sent British troops in when the order came down from the Governor General. Lord Minto. Hampson's the sort of man who blamed himself when it went sour, for all he'd warned everyone that it would."

"Could he and Trenchard have quarreled about that?"

"It's possible. Trenchard was there as an envoy at that time and he was involved in negotiations before the hostilities broke out, but I never heard that he and Hampson disagreed."

"Can you think of anything else they might have quarreled about?"

Carfax took a meditative sip of cognac. "Unless he changed dramatically when he went to India—and by all reports, he didn't—Jack Tarrington wouldn't have been the best of husbands. It's the sort of thing one doesn't get over, one's daughter being made unhappy. Sometimes the explanation really is merely personal, Malcolm."

"But something made matters between Trenchard and Hampson flare up now."

"Yes." Carfax turned his glass in his hand. "Interesting."

"Was there anything suspect about the accident that killed Jane and Jack?"

Carfax's brows rose. "My word, Malcolm. You really do jump at shadows."

"Half of an investigation is asking questions outside the box. Most of them will be flights of fancy. But a few will be the key to the puzzle."

"Especially when you're trying to exonerate a friend."

"You of all people should know better than to take things at face value, sir."

Carfax leaned back in his chair, his glass cradled in one hand. "I never heard any talk. That doesn't mean there wasn't anything untoward. But Hampson and Trenchard both lost children. Hampson could hardly blame Trenchard."

"Suppose an enemy of Trenchard's was behind the accident. Someone wanting to send a message, or who blamed Trenchard for the loss of his or her own child. Or spouse, or lover. I imagine Trenchard has made more than his share of enemies."

Carfax drummed his fingers on the well-worn arm of his chair. "It's an interesting theory. But I do remember Mary telling me Hampson and his wife had been to dine at Trenchard House when they returned to London a couple of years ago. My daughter can be self-absorbed, but she's an astute woman. I think she'd have noticed if Hampson had been harboring a deep-seated resentment."

"Hampson would have to have discovered something recently."

"That could give him a motive for murdering Trenchard."

"Quite. Of course if someone harbored enough resentment of Trenchard to have killed his son and daughter-in-law, that person would also be a suspect."

"My compliments, Malcolm. Purely through speculation, you've managed to give yourself two suspects other than Miss Dudley."

"I'm not such a fool as to claim they are viable suspects, sir. Not yet. But I do intend to call on Colonel Hampson."

"By all means."

Malcolm couldn't help but wonder if part of Carfax's cordiality came from the potential new suspects also being a distraction from his own family.

As Malcolm and Carfax moved down the passage, Raoul held out his arm to Suzanne. Suzanne hesitated a moment, then curled her fingers round his arm. It was a simple social formality, after all. Malcolm should understand that.

Strains of a piece that must be Schubert's sounded as they neared the music room. They slipped into empty gilt-and-damask seats at the back of the white and gold room in time to hear the end of the concert. Franz Schubert had become a good friend during their days at the Congress of Vienna. He had only been seventeen, but already at the start of a promising musical career. He sent his new music to Suzanne, but playing pieces herself on the pianoforte was different from hearing the full piano trios and string quartets. The soaring lyricism and gut-clenching emotion beneath the intricate melodies never failed to stun her.

"Suzanne. Mr. O'Roarke." Cordelia swept to their side in a stir of gold tulle as the music came to an end. "I was wondering where you'd got to."

"In truth, we had something to discuss," Suzanne said.

Cordelia dropped into an empty chair beside them. "I suspected so, but didn't want to ask." She settled the folds of her skirt. "It sounds horrid, but at least to the two of you I can confess that it's rather nice to have something to investigate again. Balls and musicales are so much more interesting when one is asking all sorts of shocking questions about the people round one."