Why Earls Fall in Love (16 page)

“The Earl of Coniston?” Lettice’s eyes widened. “The same Earl of Coniston we saw at the art gallery, my dear? The artist? Why, Georgie, you do know him better than you let on, don’t you?”

Knowing that if she allowed her friends to continue their interrogation they’d be there all day, Georgie changed the subject. “So, I see that you two have found one another,” she said. “How have you been passing the time?”

The three women chatted for several moments about the various sights Lettice had been showing Mary that week, though Lettice—naturally—mourned that the weather wasn’t nicer, the shops weren’t cleaner and Bath in general wasn’t so nice as London.

When there was a break in Lettice’s complaints, Mary said, “Oh, Georgina, I meant to ask you about something the other day when we met in the lending library.”

Thinking back to that uncomfortable day, Georgie braced herself for what might be innocuous but might also be painful. One never knew with Mary, she’d come to learn.

“Before he left that night for battle, my Jem mentioned that Robert had said something about ensuring his legacy.” Georgie felt Mary’s eyes on her face, as if the other woman were watching for some infinitesimal clue that would give away her thoughts. “I simply wondered if his letter mightn’t have said something about it.”

Lettice’s eyes widened. “A letter?” She gasped. “You never said aught of a letter to me, Mary.” Turning to Georgina, she prodded, “What did it say, Georgie?”

But Georgie had no intention of revealing the contents of Robert’s letter to either of them. Especially given that Robert had confessed to an affair with one of her friends. Though she doubted it had been either Mary or Lettice, she still did not wish to share with them the knowledge that he’d been unfaithful. “I’m afraid it was private, Lettice,” she said without rancor. “But there was nothing about a legacy in it, I can tell you that much.”

Was it Georgie’s imagination or did Mary look disappointed? Could she have been hoping for Georgie to come into some sort of property? Perhaps in the hopes that Georgie would share some of it with her dear friends?

Lettice’s face fell as well. “Oh, dear. I had hoped that he’d left you an independence so that you would be able to live on your own and not as the companion of Lady Russell. I do so hate that you are under that woman’s thumb.”

Georgie felt ashamed at thinking so poorly of her friends. Of course they wanted to know if she would be able to take care of herself. “I’m afraid not, Lettice, dear,” she told her friend, including Mary in her apologetic gaze. “And I do assure you that Lady Russell is not the tyrant you think she is.”

“Come, Lettice,” Mary said with a sympathetic smile for Georgie. “We will go have some tea while Georgie consumes these horrid waters.”

Agreeing to meet her friend again later in the week, Georgie watched as they walked out of the Pump Room. What had Mary been talking about? she wondered. Could Robert have been more well off than he’d given her to believe? She had packed his few belongings into a small trunk which was currently being stored at Ormond House. And try as she might, she couldn’t think a few books, some medals, and a few bits of jewelry he’d inherited from his parents, would be enough for him to call them a legacy.

Finally reaching the head of the line, she took the cup of cloudy water from the fellow at the pump. Stepping to the side, she took a sip and found that while it was not something she’d ever crave, the water wasn’t so bad as all that. Deciding not to dally, she gulped it down without stopping.

The man who had been in the queue behind her took a spot beside her and sipped from his cup. He looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place him. “I see that you are from the ‘the faster the better’ school of thought when it comes to drinking the waters,” he said, raising his cup.

Amused, she said, “Yes, while I see that you are from the ‘if I take small enough sips I won’t ever actually taste it’ school.”

He was an average-looking sort, of middle years, whose pallor seemed to indicate some sort of ailment was part of his lot in life. “You are Lady Russell’s companion, I think,” he said with a smile. “I am your neighbor on Henrietta Street. Mr. Giles Corey.”

Georgie realized then that she’d seen him on their street. “Of course,” she said with a smile. “I’m Mrs. Georgina Mowbray, though I suppose you already know that.”

“I do indeed,” he said with a nod. “I had thought to meet you sooner, but I’ve been holed up in my house with the exception of the lending library this past week. This bad chest of mine strikes at the most inopportune moments.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Georgie said, thinking that his attitude was much more positive than hers would be under similar circumstances. “Do you find that the waters help?”

He shrugged. “I can’t really say that they make much of a difference. I think I’m going to have to remove to Italy or Greece in the next month or so. England’s climate is decidedly unhealthy for those with lungs as bad as mine are.”

Georgie was about to voice her sadness to lose him to the Continent, when Mr. Corey’s expression turned serious. “I am glad to have come across you here, Mrs. Mowbray, because I wonder if you might know anything about a man I’ve seen of late lurking in the mews behind our row of houses.”

All thoughts of trivialities fled as Georgie took in her neighbor’s demeanor. “You’ve seen someone in the garden too?” she asked, trying not to let her excitement show in her voice.

Mr. Corey nodded. “I have,” he said. “I thought perhaps you might know him since he seems to be standing there at the behest of someone in your household.”

“Why would you think that?” Georgie asked, surprised that he would think Robert’s look-alike was there at the behest of someone in Lady Russell’s household.

“Oh, I simply assumed,” Mr. Corey said quickly, “that since he ended up in your back garden that he was there guarding the house or something.”

At Georgie’s puzzled look, he went on. “I wanted to know if you could ask the fellow to stop trampling my herbs. Or rather my cook’s herbs. She’s the most pleasant woman imaginable but when her garden is trampled she’s nigh impossible to live with.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know who the man is, Mr. Corey,” Georgina said. “But do you perhaps know whether he is there every evening or just some evenings? Is there a pattern to it, I mean.”

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Corey said with enthusiasm. “He’s out there every night. Without fail. I should go out there and ask him to give off stomping on my cook’s herbs myself, but I am in poor health, you see.”

Georgie interpreted this to mean that he was afraid. Which she did not blame him for in the least. Of course a strange man in his garden frightened him.

Thanking Mr. Corey and promising that she’d do her best to see that the damage to Mr. Corey’s garden came to an end, she hurried over to where Lady Russell chatted with her friends.

*   *   *

While Georgina and his aunt and cousin were at the Pump Room, Con visited the office of the magistrate for Bath and its surrounding area. Before leaving the theater last night, he’d informed the manager of the dead man’s presence, and true to the adage “the show must go on,” the man had waited until the performance was over and all the theatergoers were gone before contacting the authorities. Now, however, the investigator was determined to learn whatever he could from Con.

When he’d been shown into the man’s office, Con had expected that he’d be speaking with someone a bit older than the man before him. In his early thirties, Michael McGilloway was as thin as a rail and his neck hardly looked strong enough to hold up the large whiskers he sported, much less the ears that protruded from either side of his head.

“Tell me again just what you were doing on the roof of the theater?” Mr. McGilloway asked, his sizable mustache quivering from the force of his question.

Trying to maintain his patience, Con repeated the answer to the same question he’d already been asked twice. “Mrs. Mowbray and I were searching for the man who has been stalking her. Since he disappeared into the corridor with the stairwell in it, we guessed that if he hadn’t left the building he had to have gone onto the roof.”

He had hoped to simply inform the man that he and Georgina were available for questions should they arise. As an earl, he was unaccustomed to having his word as a gentleman questioned, but the fact that this man kept asking the same questions again and again implied that that’s just what he was doing.

“Who is this Mrs. Mowbray to you, my lord?” the investigator asked, leaning back in his chair. “Is she your mistress that you would disappear with her into a darkened corridor?”

While he was already annoyed, the man’s disparagement of Georgie’s good name sent Con’s temper from a simmer to boiling. “Watch your tongue, man,” he said through clenched teeth. “Mrs. Mowbray is a lady and a friend of the family and if you value your position you will speak of her with the courtesy to which she is entitled or our business is done here.”

Seeing that he’d crossed a line, the investigator held up a staying hand. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but you must understand that I have to ask these questions no matter how upsetting they might be. What if, for instance, the man on the roof were the lady’s husband?”

“We have already established that the lady’s husband is dead,” Con said, exasperation evident in his tone. “First, Mrs Mowbray saw the man who has been following her. Second, she tried to follow him but was accosted by four men. Third, when I had extricated her from the situation we went to the roof to see if her stalker had taken refuge there. Finally, we found a dead man on the roof. A dead man who appeared to be one of the four men who accosted her.”

“Yes, my lord.” McGilloway nodded like an approving parent. “Those are all the same points you’ve given me before. But if you have some other, deeper relationship with Mrs. Mowbray, then what is there to indicate that it wasn’t you who killed the man who accosted her on the roof?”

“Aside from the fact that it was only one of them who was dead and not all four, each of whom I wanted to flay within inches of their lives when I saw them attacking her?” Con asked curtly. “Is that what you wished me to say?”

“Exactly what I wished you to say, my lord,” McGilloway said, rising from his desk. “You said precisely what I needed to hear.”

Con stared openmouthed at the man. “I don’t follow.”

“Well,” McGilloway said, coming around his desk to sit on the edge. “If I were to see a lady I held in affection surrounded by four young men, like yourself I’d have wanted to tear each of those four limb from limb. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to choose one of the four for punishment.”

The man’s explanation began to make some sense.

“So, because only one of the men was found dead on the roof, you believe I cannot have been the one to kill him,” Con said, stroking his chin. There was some logic in the man’s conclusion.

“I merely asked if she was your mistress to determine just where your affections lay,” McAllister. “Your response answered my question.”

Shaking his head ruefully, Con had to admit that he was impressed. “You know your business, McGilloway,” he said. “I’ll give you that.”

Offering Con a short bow, McGilloway said, “I’ll still need to ask Mrs. Mowbray some questions, but for the time being, I am satisfied with your responses and you are free to go.”

At his words, Con paused. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t need to question Mrs. Mowbray now.”

McGilloway had the grace to look apologetic. “I had hoped that might be the case, but since she was the only one to see the stalker—and I’ve a notion that he might be the one who killed that young fellow on the roof—I shall need to speak with her. It can’t be helped, I’m afraid.”

Taking his leave of the other man, Con stepped out into the street and headed in the direction of Angelini’s studio.

Whenever Con was in Bath he made it a point to get a match in. Though the art of fencing was perhaps not so popular as it had been earlier in the century, there were still enough men who wished to learn at the hand of someone like Signor Angelini that the man was able to keep himself quite well, even in Bath.

He stepped into the main room of the studio to see a couple of matches already under way. Con retired to the dressing room to remove his coat and boots and was surprised to see Lord Archer there doing the same. “What are you still doing here?” he demanded of his friend.

“Not still,” Archer replied. “What am I doing back?”

“What are you doing back?” Con said, feeling rather like a parrot. “I thought you were headed back to London.”

“I was,” Archer said, allowing one of the assistants to remove his boot. “I did go back, but found myself retracing my steps not long thereafter.”

“What’s happened?” Con asked in a low tone. “Did you learn something?”

His boots removed, the other man stood and flexed his shoulders. “Hardly,” he said with an exasperated expression. “I was, rather, required to accompany the young dowager here.”

Con’s brows snapped together. “Oh, no. Please tell me that you didn’t bring Perdita here to muddy the waters.”

“Then I shan’t tell you,” Archer said, taking a couple of practice lunges with an imaginary foil. “Though you will regret not being aware of it when you find she’s muddied your waters.”

“It’s not as if I don’t already have enough to deal with, considering that Georgina refuses to leave matters to me,” Con groused. “Now I shall be forced to deal with Perdita. You are a bastard, you know.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of it,” Archer said without affront. “I don’t look a bit like my siblings.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Con retorted. “What the devil am I going to do now? Do you even realize what a coil you’ve brought Perdita into?” He told his friend about what had happened the night before at the theater, and about how he and Georgina had found the dead man on the roof.

Archer whistled. “You weren’t joking when you talked about muddy waters,” he said. “Though I daresay that Perdita’s arrival here will soothe Georgina’s feelings a bit. Those two are thick as thieves and are always ready to run to one another’s aid when they need it.”