“I have some business to take care of on the Continent, which means I will be leaving at first light.”
Audrey nodded. The earl left on Crown business from time to time, so it was not unexpected. He usually forewarned her by more than a few hours, but she supposed something urgent had arisen without warning.
“Lady Hays is not in Town, so I have arranged to have Lady Astley collect you in the morning.”
Audrey’s heart plummeted into her slippers. “Lady Astley?”
“That is correct.”
She scrambled to think of an alternative proposal. Lady Astley was an embittered noblewoman who embodied all the worst traits of high society. She was also very proper and not to be offended. Audrey would be restricted to feminine pursuits that Lady Astley deemed suitable … which would drive her demented until she was begging to be removed to Bedlam.
“How … long … will you be gone?”
The earl took a moment to respond, as if he had not heard her. “It could be as much as two weeks.”
Audrey nodded, her thoughts still scrambling. There must be something she could do. “What if I remain here? I would not want to inconvenience Lady Astley.”
The earl shook his head. “You must have a chaperone. Next month, your mourning period will be over, which means we can begin the hunt for an appropriate husband. Your reputation must remain pristine.”
Audrey’s heart sank from her slippers into the servants’ hall belowstairs. They had not discussed what would happen when her mourning period was over, but finding an appropriate husband was not in her plans. She did not wish to be disrespectful, but …
“Perhaps the maid assigned to me could act as a chaperone? She has accompanied me to the bookshop, and to the modiste?”
“It will not do for a prolonged period, I am afraid. Lady Astley is a peeress of quality who will ensure that there is no doubt of how you spent your days.”
Audrey wished to stomp her feet and howl in protest. She would spend her days in a great depression if she were in the Astley household. Better to be a Bedlamite! Her ladyship was horrid beyond words. Audrey would be lucky to be allowed her books at all. She doubted Flapper would be ready to take flight in the morning. Would she be permitted to care for the starling under Lady Astley’s censorious watch?
The earl had been kind and generous in taking her in, but he did not understand the life she had led in Stirling as her father’s apprentice. She had treated patients, taken care of the ill and injured, been a person of consequence in their village.
In London, she was nobody. A hindrance living in the earl’s household. The moment she came of age, she would take control of her inheritance and forge her own path, but in the meantime, she needed to be grateful for the assistance Lord Stirling had provided in her hour of need.
“I … understand.”
What could she say? The Season was over, and most members of high society had left Town. Lady Astley must be the last remaining noblewoman of his acquaintance whom the earl could prevail on at such short notice.
Drat! It is going to be an awful fortnight!
She could only hope that Lord Stirling was successful in his mission and returned in good time. And that the weather remained fair to facilitate a speedy journey.
Julius knewit was a terrible idea. Not one of his friends or acquaintances would support it. It was reckless. Brazen. Rash. Idiotic. Which meant Julius was in his element.
Since his friends had each irrevocably tied the knot over the past two years, he had grown dissatisfied with his idle pursuits. He had no interest in following his chums into matrimonial hell, but found himself stuck in a half-life. Too bored to carouse. Too bored to attend events. Determined to not grow up.
He had considered visiting his mother in Paris, to bury himself in the pleasures to be found there, but the notion held little appeal. If Julius were honest, Lord Snarling was not incorrect—his mother would disapprove of whom he had become. This decision had absolutely nothing to do with his last trip over the Channel when he spewed his guts into a bucket for the entire journey.
It pained him that he was rebelling against his austere father with ludicrous behavior and outlandish fashion, but it was the only escape he found from the march of time. Julius had no desire to become a humorless old goat like Lord Snarling, so he was fighting against any inclination to mature.
Which was why, despite his fears for Brendan and the baroness, or his worries over Abbott’s forced marriage, Julius was chipper while inking his notes to the three remaining suspects. He was tempted to prepare one for Smythe, but Abbott was investigating his father-in-law and Julius knew it would be overstepping to insert himself.
Nay, he would focus his energies on the remaining men on the list.
Henry Montague, heir to Lord Montague. Julius had established through his investigations that Montague had a penchant for gambling. That had been a promising clue. Perhaps Montague was desperate for funds. Desperate enough to commit murder to ensure no one stood in the way of his inheritance. But, from what Julius could learn, Montague’s wagers were not reckless. The man usually won more than he lost.
Then there was Simon Scott, half-brother to Lord Blackwood. A charming and handsome gentleman with aspirations. There were no indications of dubious activities. Perhaps a strong ambition to succeed, and a ruthless approach to marriage, based on his choice of bride. Scott was courting a higher-ranking debutante, and Julius did not believe it was for her scintillating personality. She had the right pedigree but with few redeeming qualities, in Julius’s estimation. The sort he steered clear of and who posed no threat of luring him into marriage. Julius would rather eat his own arm than spend more than a few minutes in her company.
And, finally, the vicar Edward Stone. A jolly, well-liked priest and youngest brother of Lord Harlyn. He seemed an unlikely suspect, content to administer to his flock in a local parish. But Stone could not be ruled out as a craven killer, determined to acquire wealth and power when his older brother passed on. Perhaps he needed the funds to fix the church roof?
One of these men could very well be a stone-cold, murderous thug who had bludgeoned the late baron in his private study.
