Death Comes to the Nursery Page 15

  “Are you quite sure about this, Sir Robert?” the butler asked. “Because—”

  “Quite sure,” Robert said firmly. “Please lead the way.”

  He followed the stiff-backed butler down one of the corridors that led toward the servants’ stairs until he opened a door into a cramped office that belonged to the earl of Harrington’s secretary.

  “I will fetch Lady Kurland, sir, and if you permit, I will ask one of my footmen to wait outside this door in case you need anything.” The butler bowed.

  “As you wish.” Robert lit one of the candles from the embers of the fire, banked up the coals, and lit the remaining candles in the candelabra.

  “Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Carter.”

  “There’s no comfort on this earth, Mr. Kurland, that will cover the stench of sin.”

  “I beg to differ, sir, but please remain standing if you wish.”

  Mr. Carter glared at him, one hand pressing the leather-clad book to his chest as they waited for Lucy to join them. Robert didn’t bother to fill the silence with polite chatter. He had a sense that Mr. Carter would not respond well, and he had no desire to enrage the man further before he knew why he’d turned up at the Harringtons’.

  Lucy came in, her gaze moving instantly from Robert to Mr. Carter, who scowled at her.

  “You must be Mr. Carter, Agnes’s uncle. She is such a credit to your family.” Lucy said pleasantly. “I will make sure to tell her that we saw you while we were in town. Do you have any message you wish me to pass onto her?”

  “I didn’t come here to talk about Agnes.”

  “Then why did you come?” Robert asked.

  “Because she,” Mr. Carter pointed at Lucy, “has been upsetting my wife.”

  “How so?”

  “By coming around, asking questions, stirring things up that don’t need to see the light of day.” He frowned at Robert. “You, sir, should have your wife under better control.”

  Robert’s lips twitched, but he didn’t reply. He was fairly certain Lucy was perfectly capable of defending herself.

  “All I did, Mr. Carter, was ask your wife if she had seen her own daughter,” Lucy stated.

  “Well, she ain’t,” Mr. Carter still addressed his remarks to Robert. “And she isn’t going to be seeing her for a long time.”

  Lucy stiffened, and Robert leaned forward, took her fisted hand in his, and gently drew her back to stand in front of him.

  “Why is that, Mr. Carter?”

  “Because Polly came around today to see her and said she’s leaving London for good because of you lot.”

  “Because of us?” Robert frowned. “I hardly see the logic of such a statement when we have never even met her.”

  “She’s leaving because you have been going around town asking after her and making her afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?” Robert persisted. “We merely wish to deliver a letter to her from her cousin Agnes and ascertain that she is well. What’s the harm in that?”

  “Because Polly does not need your attention or that of any aristocrat!” Mr. Carter snapped. “I knew allowing her to work with those whores and posturers at the theater would turn out badly. And I was right. Her reputation is ruined.”

  “Simply because she worked at a theater? How small-minded of you, sir,” Robert replied.

  “I know my Bible, Sir Robert. She has consorted with sinners and now must pay the price by being separated from her family.”

  “I thought she already was,” Robert said, and continued by asking, “Didn’t you make her leave because she was friendly with Flora Rosa?”

  Mr. Carter’s color grew noticeably redder. “Polly was brought up in a godly home! She only needed to repent of her wickedness, and she would’ve been allowed back into the fold.”

  “Then seeing as she obviously hasn’t repented and would rather leave London than come back to live at home, I hardly see what this has to do with me or my wife.” Robert glared at Mr. Carter. “You are at fault, and you chose to come here merely to vent your spleen on an innocent party, my wife, because you are angry that your daughter disobeyed you.”

  He stalked over to the door. “We have nothing to apologize for.” He opened it wide. “I bid you good night, sir.”

  For a moment, Mr. Carter locked gazes with Robert, and then, with a last indignant sniff, he turned and walked away, his nose in the air. Robert beckoned to the footman stationed outside door.

  “Escort Mr. Carter to the front door, please. And make sure he leaves.”

  “Yes, Sir Robert.”

  He turned to see his wife sink down into one of the chairs and regarded her from the doorway.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, but what on earth was that all about?” Lucy asked.

  “I’m not quite sure, but we did learn one important thing.” He sauntered back toward her. “Polly Carter isn’t dead, and that, my dear, was well worth hearing.”

  Chapter 13

  Lucy plaited her hair into a single braid and climbed into bed to wait for Robert to emerge from the dressing room. After dealing with Mr. Carter, they had parted company again and gone to complete their social duties. It was now almost midnight, and Lucy, who was not used to keeping town hours, was almost ready to fall asleep again.

  Robert emerged from the dressing room wrapped in his silk banyan and got into bed beside her.

  “Did you know your uncle was going to offer me the opportunity to represent his interests in parliament?”

  “He did mention it, but I thought it would be best for him to approach you directly,” Lucy said.

  “How very diplomatic of you.”

  She smiled at him. “What did you say?”

  “I said I would consider my options.” Robert settled back against the headboard. “The thought of having to live in London while the House is in session doesn’t appeal to me much.”

  “It’s not a place I would choose to raise our children, either,” Lucy said. “Until they are older, I would probably not accompany you.”

  “Which would make for a very lonely existence.” Robert kissed her cheek. “I miss my son more than I anticipated.”

  Lucy savored his unguarded response. He was not a man who expressed his emotions easily, and the fact that he was even admitting that he missed Ned was worthy of note. She yawned again and hastily covered her mouth.

  “Do you want me to blow the candles out?” Robert inquired.

  “Not yet. I’d like to tell you what happened today with Marjory, the parlor maid, and review the possibilities about Flora’s murderer.”

  ‘Please go ahead.”

  His somewhat smug smile was unexpected, as was the way he leaned back on the pillows and invited her with an extravagant gesture to continue.

  “Marjory was the chatty sort and told me quite a lot about the goings-on in Flora Rosa’s house. She also raised an interesting question. If Flora had found a new protector, why wasn’t she flaunting him at the theater to enhance her reputation?”

  “Because someone had murdered her and left her body in a ditch in Kurland St. Mary?”

  Lucy ignored her husband’s attempt at sarcasm. “Marjory also said that Flora was still close to Viscount Gravely’s sons.”

  For the first time, Robert looked thoughtful. “Which disputes their account of hating her somewhat.”

  “Exactly.” Lucy nodded. “Marjory wondered whether Flora had gone back to Neville, and that was why Viscount Gravely was so angry about what had happened.”

  “I definitely don’t think Viscount Gravely would’ve approved of her taking up with his son again after he’d spent all that money on her.”

  “Perhaps he didn’t approve?” Lucy faced Robert. “Perhaps he decided to teach Flora a lesson?”

  “And pop down to Kurland St. Mary and kill her? I think Mr. Jarvis or one of the village gossips might have noticed if a viscount had appeared in their midst.” Robert countered.

  “But what other man?”
Lucy frowned. “I agree with Marjory. If there was someone else, I’m fairly sure we would have found him by now. Don’t you think he might be wondering where she’s gone as well?”

  “You’re also assuming that Viscount Gravely somehow knew Flora had switched places with Polly Carter and taken her job at Kurland Hall. How do you think he would know that?” Robert asked.

  “Seeing as Polly is doing everything she can to stay away from us, maybe she told him.” Lucy suggested.

  She searched his face, but he seemed remarkably unperturbed by all her suggestions.

  “What is it?” she demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “These are all very interesting theories, my dear, but I have an even better one.” He grinned infuriatingly at her.

  Lucy raised her eyebrows and sat back. “Then do, pray, tell.”

  “Mr. Biggins wasn’t the first Gravely employee to drive Flora Rosa around.”

  “So?”

  “The original driver was a man named Bert, who quarreled with Flora and was replaced when she complained about him to Viscount Gravely.”

  “Our Bert?”

  “Apparently so.” Robert’s smile disappeared. “One might begin to come to the conclusion that our journey to London was wasted, and that we had the culprit safely locked up in Mr. Jarvis’s cellar all along.”

  Lucy stared at him. “Are you quite certain it is Bert Speers who worked for Viscount Gravely?”

  “I believe so. Mr. Biggins described him to me quite accurately. I’ll attempt to confirm it tomorrow when I speak to Viscount Gravely.”

  “But what if Viscount Gravely sent Bert to murder Flora?”

  “I suppose that is possible.” To her annoyance, he didn’t sound in the least bit convinced. “But surely Bert has already half-convicted himself. He was seen with Flora, and he admits to manhandling her. Maybe, for once, this is far more straightforward than we realized. Bert falls in love with Flora, he oversteps his place, and she complains about him to Viscount Gravely, who removes him from his position. Angry that he has been denied access to his “one true love,” Bert decides to follow her down to Kurland St. Mary and kill her.”

  “But—”

  Robert held up a finger. “Will you at least concede that I might be right? You do tend to overcomplicate things.”

  She regarded him in silence, her arms folded over her chest. “I just like to make sure that I ask all the questions, even the silly ones.”

  “You certainly do.”

  “And sometimes I am right to do so.” She raised her chin.

  “I can’t argue with that.” Robert agreed, mollifying her slightly, and then ruined it by patting her cheek. “I promise that I will speak to Viscount Gravely tomorrow and make sure that Bert Speers was employed by him. Will that suffice to make you believe the matter is settled?”

  “What about Polly?”

  He frowned. “What about her?”

  “Aren’t you worried about what has become of her?”

  “I assume that after we leave London and stop attempting to speak to her, she will resume her life as usual.”

  Lucy sniffed. “I think you are wrong.”

  “And I think you are making mountains out of molehills.” He kissed her nose. “Shall we agree to disagree and go to sleep? We will have a busy day tomorrow. Not only must I speak to Viscount Gravely, but Mr. Biggins gave me the address of a place where he took Flora’s possessions when she left.”

  “What?” Lucy sat bolt upright again. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to get all excited about something that has no bearing on our investigation.”

  “Only if your scenario is correct,” Lucy reminded him.

  He started to blow out the candles beside the bed. “I’m not saying we can’t go and look, so don’t get too cross with me.”

  Lucy lay down on her side and allowed Robert to put his arm around her. She feared her mind was wrestling with too many possibilities for her to sleep.

  “Ouch,” Robert murmured against her ear. “The little blighter just kicked me.”

  “Serves you right,” she whispered back. He chuckled, and his arm tightened around her

  Her eyes closed despite her worries, and she smiled her way into sleep.

  * * *

  After instructing Betty to let Lucy sleep for as long as she needed, Robert tiptoed out of the bedchamber, ate a hurried breakfast, and walked around the back of the house to the Harrington mews to borrow a horse. He’d willingly take Lucy to Flora’s other address, but he saw no reason to inflict Viscount Gravely on her. He also hated riding so much that the mere thought of getting on the back of a horse was making him feel physically sick.

  He reminded himself that it was only a short distance to Grosvenor Square, and he needed an excuse to visit the Gravely stables before he confronted the master of the house. The Harrington groom was rather surprised when he asked for the oldest, most docile horse in the stables, but he was far too well trained to ask awkward questions.

  After two minutes of contemplating getting up on the back of the horse and failing to execute his plan, Robert decided he was bloody well going to walk his steed the quarter mile to the Gravely House and be damned to anyone who saw him. He could always claim that the horse had gone lame.

  When Robert arrived at the Gravely House mews, he waited while his horse was led away and asked to speak to the head coachman.

  Five minutes later, he was on his way up to the house. He hadn’t sent notice of his arrival and hoped to catch the viscount before he left home. From his quick survey of the stables, none of the carriages or horses had been absent, which he assumed meant that all the Gravely men were present.

  He knocked on the front door, and the Indian butler let him into the hall before asking his business.

  “Good morning. I’d like to speak to Viscount Gravely.”

  “He is not available to callers yet, Sir Robert. Would you like to leave your card?”

  “I’d prefer to see him immediately. Can you go and tell him I’m here?”

  The butler frowned. “Viscount Gravely is not well, sir. He is still in bed.”

  “And I would still like to speak him.” Robert held the butler’s gaze. “I’m leaving town tomorrow, so it is imperative that I see him on a matter of great importance.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Robert turned as Trevor Gravely came down the staircase dressed for a morning ride, a whip dangling from one of his hands.

  “Good morning, Mr. Trevor.” The butler bowed. “This gentleman wishes to see your father, sir. I am trying to explain that the viscount is not well enough to receive visitors.”

  Trevor stared at Robert. “Is this about that woman?”

  “Yes, I just need to clarify a couple of points with your father, and then I promise I will leave him in peace.”

  “I’ll take him up,” Trevor announced to the butler. “Don’t worry, Ahuja. I’ll take complete responsibility for this.”

  Robert handed over his hat and cane to the reluctant butler, and followed Trevor up the stairs.

  “My father is awake and eating his breakfast. I spoke to him just before I came down. I’m not sure why Ahuja didn’t want you to see him.”

  Robert was fairly certain that Viscount Gravely wouldn’t want to see him but said nothing as Trevor knocked on the door and went in.

  “Father? Sir Robert Kurland is here to see you.”

  Trevor stepped aside, allowing Robert to see that the viscount was propped up on his pillows in his large bed, reading the paper. His expression when he saw Robert was not encouraging,

  “I thought we had agreed to part company on this matter, Sir Robert.”

  Robert shrugged. “I don’t remember agreeing to that. I asked you to let me know if you had any further thoughts about the murder of your mistress.”

  “I don’t.” The viscount looked past Robert to his son, who was leaning against the door fra
me. “Tell Ahuja to escort Sir Robert out.”

  Trevor sighed. “Father, just let him speak, and then I promise I will escort him out myself. This attempt to pretend that everything is fine is ridiculous.”

  The viscount slammed his glass down on the tray with such force that the liquid inside spilled over the top. “If I am going to be subjected to Sir Robert’s company, then you will leave us in peace!”

  Trevor held up his hands. “As you wish.”

  He left the room, and Robert turned his attention to the man in the bed.

  “Do you have a man named Bert Speers currently in your employ?”

  There was a flicker of interest in the viscount’s eyes. “No.”

  “Did you ever have such a man?”

  “It’s possible that he once worked in my stables. He left a while ago.”

  “Why was that?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business, sir.”

  “It is when he has turned up in my village and is currently incarcerated in the cellars of my local inn. I am the local magistrate, and I can assure you that I take accusations of murder very seriously indeed.”

  The viscount put down his knife and carefully wiped his thin lips with his napkin.

  “What an interesting coincidence that Speers turned up in Kurland St. Mary.”

  “Indeed.” Robert tried to hold the viscount’s gaze. “I understand that Bert drove Flora Rosa’s carriage for a while.”

  “Did he?” The viscount raised an eyebrow. “I leave such piddling matters to my head coachman and butler to manage.”

  “I’ve already spoken to your coachman. He confirmed that Bert Speers worked for you, and that he drove Flora Rosa for a while before she asked for him to be replaced.”

  “If you know all this, why are you bothering me with this matter?”

  Robert took a moment to gather his rapidly diminishing patience. “Do you not care that your mistress was found murdered?”

  “She chose to leave me.” The viscount looked up at Robert. “What happened to her after that is hardly my concern, is it?”

  “From what I understand, she left because she was afraid of someone.”