“Blackmail,” Christopher said flatly, and Tom’s eyebrows rose.
“You lost me. Can you go back to the beginning and start from there?”
“That would be me,” I said, lifting a hand. “On Friday night, after St George showed up at the flat and told us Kit had to come here tomorrow—yesterday—for a visit with his grandfather, he—Christopher—left. You know all about that, I’m aware.”
Tom nodded.
“After he left, Grimsby showed up. He wanted to talk to Christopher. When I told him Christopher wasn’t home but that I could take a message, he said he’d speak to him, Christopher, tomorrow—yesterday—here at Sutherland Hall.”
Tom nodded.
“When we arrived, the duke was talking to Francis, so we went into the parlor to wait. Then Grimsby came and said it was Christopher’s turn. On the way up, they made an assignation—” I grimaced, “—to take place in Christopher’s room after his dressing down by the duke. It was indicated that I could be there if Christopher wanted me to be, so I was.”
Tom nodded.
“He had been subtly threatening all along, and I didn’t want Christopher to deal with him alone. So—”
“I’ll take it, Pippa,” Christopher interrupted, and turned to Tom. “He had figured out about Kitty, and what I’ve been doing in London. He said he hadn’t told Grandfather about it—and I believe him, because Grandfather didn’t bring it up, and he absolutely would have had he known; instead it was all about how I needed to get off my duff and propose to Pippa, and he wouldn’t have suggested that if he’d known—”
He swallowed. “Well, that might not be true. It might be even more likely, actually…”
He trailed off, caught up in the tangent, and I decided I might as well take over again. Christopher was clearly preoccupied with his not entirely pleasant train of thought.
“So,” I said, “Grimsby didn’t seem to have spilled the beans about Kitty to his employer, and he said if Christopher would pay him—Grimsby—a thousand pounds, he wouldn’t tell the duke then, either.”
Tom whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
“You’re telling me,” Christopher said, recalled to himself. “And that’s what I told him. I said I needed time to figure out how to get it. So we arranged to meet in the formal garden, by the fountain, at eleven. He went on his merry way, and Pippa and I tried to come up with a solution.”
I nodded. “Neither of us has that kind of money lying around, though. We could get it, but it would take asking Aunt Roz or else living on beans on toast for a while, and we discussed those options. We even decided that perhaps getting engaged would be a good idea, just in case it might make everyone—or someone, like the duke—more inclined to be generous. Engagement gifts and whatnot.”
“Hence the truncated proposal before tea,” Tom said, looking amused.
Christopher nodded. “It’s not like we want to get married, you know. Or like we actually would have. We would have waited a decent period of time and broken it off. It was never more than a hoax.”
“I’m sure,” Tom said blandly. “So that takes us through tea and to dinner, I assume. The local doctor showed up, diagnosed natural death, and departed.”
“And we didn’t return to the proposal,” I confirmed. “Christopher’s grandfather was the one who had been pushing for it, and he was dead. It didn’t seem worthwhile.”
“But you still had Grimsby and his extortion to deal with.”
I nodded. “After dinner, we both went downstairs together. I stayed in a corner of the conservatory to make sure Christopher could get back inside. He went outside to meet Grimsby.”
“By the fountain.” It was impossible to tell from Tom’s tone whether it was a statement or a question, and whether he believed it or not.
“That was the agreement,” Christopher nodded. “Pippa was there, she knows it, too. I waited by the fountain, and he never showed up.”
“But at one point you heard a shot. When was that?”
Christopher and I looked at each other. “Maybe a quarter after eleven? Maybe a bit later?”
“It was after the light went out in Francis’s room,” I said. “He might be able to tell you more specifically when that was.”
Tom nodded. “What did Grimsby have on you, Miss Darling?”
“Pippa,” I said, “please. Any friend of Christopher’s is a friend of mine.”
He didn’t respond, just arched his brows, and I added, “He didn’t have anything on me. Or nothing he mentioned. I wasn’t related to Christopher’s grandfather—I’m Roslyn’s niece through her sister—so I can’t imagine he found it worthwhile to dig into my indiscretions.”
